A Laird for All Time by Angeline Fortin (room on the broom read aloud txt) 📗

“Twins?” they both echoed.

Emmy held up two fingers and said.  “Twins.  Two.”

Ian suddenly grinned and whooped turning to crush Dory in his embrace before apologizing and holding her more tenderly.  He lay one hand down on her stomach and she covered it with her own as they stared at each other in amazement.  He bent to kiss her tenderly whispering in her ear and feeling like an interloper, Emmy cleared her throat to remind them of her presence.

Ian hopped up and hugged her as well and she returned the embrace with a smile.  “Congratulations.”

“I can’t believe it,” Dory said in awe staring down at her stomach.

“Well, it’s not surprising if you think about it,” Emmy reasoned as she gathered up the tape and steth.  “Twins are often genetic.  They run in families,” she clarified and they nodded.  “We’ll talk more about all that later.  For now, I’ll just give you a chance to celebrate.”  She excused herself from the room with a smile but as soon as she got into the hall she leaned against the wall and covered her face with her hands.  Worries cropped up in Emmy’s mind as she pictured natural childbirth with multiples in this setting, with the medical advancements available.  Twins were almost always done by C-Section in her time just to avoid any complications that might crop up during a vaginal birth.  Video from medical school replayed itself in her mind and she shuddered with dread.

She rubbed her hands over her face and pushed away from the wall only to see Connor standing just a few feet away.  They stared at each other for a long moment each replaying the events of the night before in their minds.  She was sure his version was probably different than hers.  Male recollection usually put a woman at fault when they were left with sexual frustrations.  Well, she hadn’t slept at all last night either!

Chapter 18

“Connor,” she nodded curtly intended to bypass him and return to her room where she could brood over medieval childbirth in private.

“Is Dory going to be all right then?” he asked catching her arm.  “Did she lose the babe?”

“Mother and babies are doing fine so far,” she told him wearily.

“Babies?”

“She’s going to have twins, Connor,” she told him and enjoyed the surprised look on his face.  “Shocking, isn’t it?”

“Ian must be over-the-top,” he said with a smile shaking his head.

“He is.  They both are.”

“But ye’re not.  Why?” he asked but as she remained silent wondered her expression.  She did not look happy at all. Indeed, she appeared troubled and ashen, but hadn’t she just said the babies were doing well?  There was something else she was holding back and his curiosity outweighed his need to avoid her company.  He turned and offered his arm to her.  “Ye look like you could use a drink.  Shall we?”

“Why not?” Clearly he was willing to forget the previous night and move on.  Why shouldn’t she?  Emmy took his arm as he escorted her down the stairs passing the parlor and instead leading her toward his study where he ushered her in and shut the door behind him.  It was a dark paneled room,  scholarly and manly like a condensed version of the Library of Congress.  The walls were covered with book shelves, filing cabinets and maps.  A large desk in the center was mounded over with piles of papers and ledgers.  Obviously, he was not a neat freak, but it suited him.  Thankfully the gas lighting shed enough light the room wasn’t cave-like.  He sat her in a wingback chair near the fire as the October day was cold and went to pour her a drink.  “Whiskey or Claret?”

Emmy wrinkled her nose at the thought of whiskey straight up.  “Claret, I guess.  Thanks.”

He handed her a glass of the wine and sat with his own in the chair across from her.  “I am curious, why aren’t ye happy for them?  Jealous?”

Emmy scowled at him as she took a sip from the glass.  “Just love to think the worst of people, don’t you?”

“People are often predictably self-absorbed,” Connor replied simply.

“Sure they are, but a little optimism in the human condition wouldn’t be amiss from time to time,” she admonished.  “Occasionally they might even surprise you.”

“And ye’re an optimist?”

Surprised at the question, Emmy laughed in a self-deprecating way and shook her head.  “No, I am and have always been a ‘glass is half empty’ kind of girl.  If something can go wrong, it will.  Murphy’s law and all that.  It’s terrible really to always have worse case scenarios running around in your mind.  Seeing the worst in everyone, imaging the worst of every situation.”

“Ye don’t do that.”  He looked surprised that she said as much.

“Oh, but I do.”  She laughed at herself as she took another sip.  She slipped off her little shoes and relaxed into the chair tucking a foot up underneath her and allowing the other to swing freely.  “When my friends are late meeting me somewhere, like a club or something, I always imagine that they were in a horrific car wreck and are lying bleeding and broken on the side of the street.  I sit at weddings contemplating how long it will last. When guys ask me out, it’s never because they like me, it’s just because they want a piece of ass.  That kind of stuff.”

Connor looked appalled at her words and she laughed again.  “Oh, yea, like you’re Mr. Positive Thinking.”

He finally offered a smile.  “Ye just don’t seem that way…outwardly.”

“I don’t want to be.  Things just pop in my head.  Weird stuff.  Stephen King-y kind of things,” she told him forgetting that he wouldn’t know who the famous author was.  “Worst case scenarios. But that’s why I do obstetrics,” she explained.  “Babies are all light and possibilities.  Innocence and new-beginnings.  Nothing is better or brighter than bringing a baby into the world.”

In that moment her face lit up and he could tell from the