Garrick waits
Garrick stood gazing at the closed door before him. It seemed such an easy thing to reach out with one hand, a gentle flick of the wrist and the application of a minimal amount of pressure and it would swing slowly open to reveal the scene beyond it.
But then again it also seemed like an impenetrable barrier, a gateway to the forbidden. He could not turn the doorknob any more than he could protect his wife from the variety of complications that could assail her. It was beyond his control.
What had he been thinking losing his temper with her like that? What a brute he had been. His stomach swam with steaming red nausea just thinking about it. The clinging fingers of the wine he had drank prying open his brain to test each nerve for an unpleasant response. They poked gingerly at every sensitive part conferring with detachedness, if you touch here he will feel ill, press gently on this tender spot and his eyeballs will throb in their sockets, this is the area that will illicit a strong urge to vomit.
He leant forward, resting his aching head on the wall, the slight dampness of the warped wood soothing his burning forehead.
His wife lay on the other side of this hardwood obstruction. He breathed in deeply the faint scent of salt, worked into the fibres of the wood tanging in his nostrils. She may as well have lain a thousand miles from him so unreachable was she. He only knew she was still there from the occasional soft cries and moans that rang in his ears, echoing through his troubled head.
His wife. His wife he had shouted at, frightened and reduced to tears. And the tiny fragile life of their baby, lying in the warmth of her womb, below a heart that he had caused to pound, lungs he had caused to contract and squeeze as she panted in anger and fear.
He was not fit to be husband. Not fit to be a father. And Isabelle… dearest Isabelle with her smiling eyes… he had not been fit to be a brother either.
His heart contracted painfully in his chest, the part of it that belonged to her still, twitching in torment like a fish on a hook.
A great rolling sob burst from his throat, vibrating into the salt stained walls. It had been so many years, the thought of her still clinging tenuously, but new joys in his life so he thought he could finally live again. He knew now he would never escape the pain, never run fast enough and far enough to outreach the sorrow. She would keep with him forever, pattering behind on soft feet, graceful as a deer, hidden from sight whenever he looked back.
And now his wife dreamt of her too… how could it be, she knew nothing of her. They had all respected him enough for that.
“Isabelle… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… please… not her too. She is just a child”, he whimpered into the empty corridor.
An answer came from within the room, a single cry of agony wrenching from his wife’s throat and then another sound he could not comprehend for a moment. It was the sound of a baby wailing.
He drew back from the wall as though its salty coolness had suddenly grown scorchingly hot.
He waited for long minutes, though in his mind they became torturous hours, the sound of his wife’s agonised cry resounded in his head, bouncing off the sides of his skull.
He closed his eyes tightly to try and rid himself of the dreadful noise, but the voice only continued to ring out until there were two voices, the voice of wife juxtaposed with cry of a long-dead sister.
Suddenly the door clicked open and he leapt back from it startled, the horrible sound his head cutting out instantly.
The figure in the door smiled at him as he tried to refocus his eyes. He realised it was Lisbet and in her arms she held a pink, chubby baby.
“Well then Garrick”, she giggled, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Don’t worry you silly man, it’s just your fat little son”.
He gazed past her through the door and caught a glimpse of his wife lying wanly in the bed, Hepsie fussing with the blankets.
Lisbet catching him looking quickly closed the door with resounding click behind her.
“Now then you naughty man, no peeking in there”, she scolded.
“Cindra…”, he gasped, his voice catching in his throat.
“Oh she’ll be just fine dear, she was a brave little thing. And look at the size of this big boy she had to squeeze out”, she chided, “makes me glad I’m about the same size as Cordell it does”
He stared down at the creature she carried in her arms.
“He looks just like her”, he mused in amazement.
“He sure does… has her chubby cheeks and her little pouty mouth doesn’t he. He’s got her eyes too and looks like he’ll be getting her hair as well. He’s going to be tall like you though, mark my words. Poor thing might be getting your nose too”.
The baby looked up at him, one hand brushing against his mouth with a sweet expression on his face.
He looked up to see Lisbet smiling down at him as he stared in wonder at his son.
“Did you want to hold him?”, she asked.
“Yes…”, he whispered barely able to find his voice.
He lifted the small snuffling bundle to his shoulder, and his son buried his heavy head in the scratchy fold of his mane of hair.
When he looked up he saw Lisbet staring at him accusatorily.
“What did you say to that poor dear in there to make her so upset?”, she asked a hint of anger in her voice, “she was absolutely distraught when I arrived”.
His tongue caught in his throat, unable to answer her but it did not matter since she continued speaking.
“She wants to call him Atholt you know… and I think you should let her”, her tone of voice was challenging him to defy her.
Atholt, Cindra’s beloved father. Of course she could name him that, it wasn’t as though Garrick would name him after his own.
He was about to say as much when a figure flew around the corner almost colliding with them.
“Oi!”, he roared, finding his voice again now that his son was threatened, “What were you’re going you young hooligan!”.
He regretted his words when he realised who it was. It was that young man, Barran wasn’t it, that’s right Arran Barran, unfortunate name that. The poor man had not recovered well from the death of his wife and Garrick thought he deserved a bit of kindness.
“What is it then lad?”, he asked more gently.
“It… it’s Gena… sorry Goodwife Ulcar yer Lordship, she goin’ ta have her baby and Noah… sorry Goodman Ulcar is thinkin’ it’s goin’ to be a hard one. He reckons’ babies got itself a bit turned around if yer know what I’m meanin. I’m here ta’ see if I could be fetchin’ Hepsie… I mean sorry… Goodwife Cade”.
He stopped suddenly as he noticed the squirming baby in Garrick’s arms.
“Oh… a baby”, he said as the air rushed out of his body in a deflated sigh, the urgency of the moment before gone.
His face was suddenly childlike, a little boy who had been told off for some misdemeanour, at the same time his eyes growing wide like a frightened rabbit while his lip trembled.
Garrick felt deeply sorry for the young man, so terrible for him to lose his wife like that. He had heard that he was living at the Ulcar’s farm now, Goodman Ulcar had taken him under his wing. It was just what the poor fellow needed, a bit of family on this godforsaken island.
Lisbet hadn’t seemed to notice, “Well I don’t know Goodman, the Baroness has just given birth you see and it might not be the best time for Goodwife Cade to leave”.
The man’s face fell at her words but then the door beside them clicked open and Hepsie walked through.
“What’s all this commotion bein’ out here then. Yer botherin’ her ladyship with yer howlin’ and caterwaulin’”.
“Oh hello then young Arran”, she said, surprised when she saw him, “What’re yer doin’ here?”.
He quickly explained the situation to her, while she asked some questions about the progress of Gena’s labour.
“Gena… Gena… me love, why’d yew have to be choosin’ now… uer bein’ two weeks earlier than I was thinkin’. I’m never goin’ to get a sit down am I”, she tutted, smiling at Arran comfortingly.
Then she turned to Garrick, “Arright me Lordship… it’s seemin’ that Goodwife Ulcar’s bein’ in sore need of some help. Of course if yew want me to be stayin’ I will but yer wife has done a find job, and there’s bein’ no problems. I ask yew now whether I can be goin’ an’ givin’ some help to the poor girl?”.
Garrick’s first instinct was to forbid it, what if something were to happen to Cindra or the baby while she was gone. Then he thought of Goodman Ulcar and his poor blind wife, struggling in the throes of a difficult childrbirth with no help. He could not do that, what if it had been him in that man’s place. And he trusted Hepsie, if she said Cindra would be fine then she was probably right.
“Yes… yes go”, he managed to croak.
“Thank yew me Lordship”, she replied with an awkward curtsy, the weight of her belly dragging her down slightly, “Yer a good man yew are”.
“Yes… yes… thank yew… yer very kind”, Arran echoed.
Hepsie looked over to Lisbet who seemed less impressed with the idea.
“Yer in charge now love, yew’ll do just fine. She’s bein’ through it now. Yew just need to be makin’ sure she’s eatin’ somethin’ when she feels like and drinkin’ some water. If she’s wantin’ she can nurse this littl’ fella too”.
Lisbet nodded bravely.
“Well then, if you ladies are finished I would like to see my wife”, he opened the door before they could cite any feminine laws barring entrance and walked through.
Hehehe… “Arran Barran”… he is a comical sort of fellow. “Oh… a baby”! It certainly made things pick up a bit from Garrick’s understandable angsting. Poor Garrick.
And I still really, really love Hepsie. She just has such a fantastic personality, very fitting of a midwife. Waddling around and caring for everyone else and lording over them like a mother hen. It’s fantastic.
Mhalwae is certainly in the midst of a baby boom! If those creepy creatures have some issue with babies, this should make for a most interesting development…
I loved those pictures of Garrick sobbing with his forehead pressed against the wall — totally overcome — just perfect. Also the first couple of paragraphs made me feel a little ill. You are the queen of nausea-writing, Verity.
Heh! I knew Isabelle was his sister. :-> But what is this about his father? New mystery??
Aside from the unfortunate name (which I am so glad you kept) and his failing attempts to call everyone goodman and goodwife and so forth, I found Arran Barran more tragic than comical, though. His “Oh… a baby” seemed quite sad and solemn to me. As I recall, his wife ran out that night because she was upset about not being able to have children, so I’m sure the sight of a baby must affect him quite a bit.
I’m so glad he’s living with Noah and Gena. I just want to put my arms through the screen and give him a hug, and since I can’t do that, Gena and Noah are the next best thing. I hope we will get to see more of him.
I can’t wait to see the baby grow up, if he has Cindra’s pinchable cheeks! A shame it’s going to take months of real time, probably.
I hope Garrick is going to clean himself up now, if he wants to be a good father and husband. And now that Cindra has mentioned Isabelle, they can finally get that out into the open. Maybe it will help him merely to talk about it… looks like he has never told Cindra about her at all. Maybe she never knew he ever had a sister.
And I would like to say that I am soooo glad Lisbet won her bet. I guess a girl could be reincarnated as a boy, but it seems that much less likely now.
Yeah a baby! Poor Arran
though. I hope Gena is going to be ok! I really want to see her baby!
Hi. ahh poor Arran. It’s good that he’s living with Gena and Noah and at least he’ll be able to play with their baby. I hope that both Gena and her baby will be ok.
Keep Simming!.
See ya.
Wow it really is a baby boom I hope Gena and the baby will make it.
Hi guys… sorry for not replying to your comments for an age and also for the lack of posts… having the week from hell
. Hopefully I’ll get some time tomorrow, failing that the weekend. Meh.
Arran is sort of supposed to be both comical and tragic at the same time… rushing in there a complete muddled mess and then noticing the baby after rambling on for ages. But then Lothere is right, he did lose his wife because they argued about her not being able to have a baby so it’s really sad for him as well. But you are both right, I sort of intended it to be a mix between the two. Actually it was very funny, when I was taking the pictures I was thinking it would be cool to have him suddenly notice the baby. And then one second later he looked at it like that. I was like… thanks Arran Barran
. Isn’t he cute though… I think he is so adorable. He looks like a rabbit caught in the headlights in that one pic (although of course I couldn’t use that analogy since headlights weren’t invented yet).
We are in the middle of a big baby boom… this month has been insane. Gena’s is the last for a while though so maybe I can move forward a bit faster after this.
It made me feel ill writing about the nausea too… I was trying to channel that lovely hangover feeling and since it is one I’m sure most of us have experienced it is not hard to empathise with Garrick. Ugh.
And you were very right about the sister Lothere… you picked it the first post where we heard about her I think. Although of course I couldn’t say so at the time
And I want to pinch the baby’s cheeks now. Isn’t he cute? I think out of all the babies so far Prince Kendrick is going to be the best looking though (but with Madlenka’s genes how could he not).
Whew! All caught up. Ugh. If that’s what a hangover feels like I’m glad I’ve never experienced it.
Mhalwae certainly does strange things to people. Hopefully Garrick can pull himself together now that the baby is here.
Hope your week from hell gets better!
Ugh… hangovers. You are lucky to have never experienced one…. but I guess the getting there is fun. Although now when I drink a lot I just feel sick… getting old
. Or I fall asleep. I think I am past the getting plastered phase of my life. Now I just like a dinner with a nice bottle of wine. Or a gin and tonic when I get home from work… I am addicted to Bombay sapphire which is the most exquisite drink known to man.
The week from hell is officially over! Hurrah! The weekend and now I can Mhalwae all night tonight when I get home. So happy
“to Mhalwae” is now a verb? Regular, I presume?
I was going to mention I never had a hangover either, but I didn’t want to feel like a comment whore myself. *shifty eyes* But hey, it’s the weekend, my birthday is tomorrow and it’s officially past midnight in Sweden, so wheeeee! Never had a hangover!
Now that I am gainfully employed again I am longing to do the after-work cocktail thing, but my husband swears I will become an alcoholic if I start. But he did promise that if I got a job we could have alcoholic beverages with dinner every night again, and I hold him to it.
Haha, most people tell me my lack of hangover experience means I haven’t lived, not that I’m lucky. Glad to know I’m not the only adult who has never had one. Alcohol makes me sleepy also. Never had gin, but vodka tonics are quite tasty.
I’ve never had a hangover either but that’s because I hate the taste of alcohol lol!. Luckly I’ve haven’t had much grieve from people over that yet except for my mum jokely telling me I’m mad for not even liking bucks fizz.
See ya.
Happy Birthday Lothere! Or gratis på födelsedag in Swedish.
And yes its now a regular verb. Might be a while before you see it in any dictionaries though
Oh dear… it sounds like I am an alcoholic compared to you guys. I don’t think you are missing out much not having a hangover… just means you are more sensible than I am. I honestly don’t think an intrinsic part of living is getting so drunk that your body is wrecked the next day. I always feel so bad because I know I have damaged my body. So I get hangover plus health-guilt. I feel the same sort of guilty when I get sunburnt, but I guess coming from Australia makes me totally freaked out about skin cancer.
Having alcohol every night with dinner sounds so good though. Not a lot of course, but I do love to have a bottle of wine (shared with my boyfriend of course… not one on my own
. Here it is so expensive though so we don’t drink very often. And they have a really weird attitude to alcohol so if someone in the corridor’s kitchen sees me making just one gin and tonic they always say “are you getting drunk tonight” and when I tell them, no I just want one drink they look at me like I’m crazy and tell me I’m wasting money. People here only drink to get absolutely off-your-face run around in the snow naked drunk. Not that that doesn’t happen in Australia (minus the snow) but people do have a respect for the couple of beers after work deal. And now I have rambled on enough about life in Sweden I should get back to life in Mhalwae 
.
wow, I never knew that about the Swedes. (Not that I know anything much at all about them.) Isn’t that one of those countries where you can only buy beer in bars or something, even if you want to buy cans to take home? I would think that would make drinking annoying enough that if you went through the trouble of buying beer you would feel obligated to make the most of it.
Here in BC you can’t buy any alcohol in grocery stores, which is one thing I miss about Oregon. Plus this city has a huge problem with homeless people, meth addicts, crazy people, drunks, etc., and the closest liquor store is in a somewhat secluded spot slightly below street level, which means I don’t often go to buy alcohol alone. I usually get a proposition or two either to share my cider or share my person. If I didn’t have a husband to go with or for me, I might have a guerilla warfare, buy all I can carry, get totally drunk afterwards mentality as well. And run around naked in the rain! Whee!
Hi. I swear the goverment here in the UK are bonkers!. They wanted to stop people from binge drinking right so what do they do? they make a law so that pubs can be opened for 24 hours!. They say it will stop people from rushing to drink before closing time or something like that. That doesn’t make any sense to me I don’t know about anyone else.
See ya.
You can buy alcohol here outside of bars but only at this one government owned chain of stores the evil systembolaget. And it is never ever open when you want to buy alcohol… most of them are open between 10-4 which makes it impossible to go there if you work. And they are not in any convenient locations where people would actually want to buy alcohol… ie there isn’t one near the student living apartments where I live. And it is expensive. So basically everything is designed to try and get people to drink less but honestly I think it has the opposite effect where people end up only binge drinking (so maybe they drink less overall but they say bingeing is the worst for you). It is funny being around drunk Swedes as well… usually they are fairly reserved then when they drink suddenly they are larger than life and actually talking to you. And I have never met a mean drunk Swede… they just get silly and fun. Haven’t seen any angry drunks here (I’m sure they exist but not as many as back home anyway).
You can’t buy alcohol in grocery stores in Australia either but it doesn’t matter because there is usually a liquor store next door or nearby. I don’t blame you for not wanting to go into your local one though Lothere
Seems like the UK has a warped mentality too Pandora… I really don’t see how having the pubs open all the time will make people drink less. That’s hilarious.