Thirty-second. Sunshine in the shady place
The soul’s calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy.
Alexander Pope, Essay on Man. Epistle iv.
Her angels face,
As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place.
Edmund Spenser, Faerie Queene. Book i. Canto iii. St. 4.
Nights of storm, days of mist, without end;
Sad days when the sun
Shone in vain: old griefs and griefs
Not yet begun.
Edward Thomas, The New House
Beneath the sun’s rays our shadow is our comrade;
When clouds obscure the sun our shadow flees.
So Fortune’s smiles the fickle crowd pursues,
But swift is gone whenever she veils her face.
Publius Ovidius Naso, Tristia
One week into her confinement and Buffy was sure she would be climbing the walls if not for Will’s suggestions. The first one she’d embraced with enthusiasm, anxious to get everything in the house in order. He’d gotten her a laptop, hooked it up and told her to look at furniture for them and for the baby. She’d spent two days picking out a new bedroom set, taking his one request, which was “Nothing too frilly, pet” – into consideration. Unsure about what he wanted, Buffy had waited until he’d come home from school, showing him what she’d picked out. Will had agreed with her choice, which was a wrought iron frame with high posts and almost oriental-looking dressers. All nice clean lines. Buffy was pleasantly surprised to find their tastes were quite similar, their only real divergence on the question of colors. Thankfully they both agreed on material, and they managed to compromise on the color scheme.
The baby’s room proved even easier, both of them agreeing on a maple set in neutral tan, and classic Winnie the Pooh designs, with soft sky blue walls.
Picking furniture had been relatively easy.
Will’s second suggestion had her pulling her hair and fighting mad. Not at him, but at the circumstances. He’d suggested, since she was stuck, and had no intention of ever returning to Sunnydale High, that she start studying for her GED. Buffy was all for it, until she started looking for schools offering the test. Unfortunately, the school offering the most classes and tests was – Sunnydale. The local all girls school was a Catholic school and didn’t offer the GED test until the fall, the next town over only had one high school and only had one prep class, and the test was next week. Too soon for her.
The frustration levels weren’t helping and Buffy had to restrain herself from pushing the laptop onto the floor. “Gggrrrrr. Not going back there.”
Clem thumped his tail in agreement, rolling his head to look at her with his perpetually sad eyes. “Really, he promised me I didn’t have to go back there. So I don’t have to, right?”
“Don’t have to do what, kitten?” Will came in from the kitchen, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.
“The only school with lots of GED classes is Sunnydale.” She crossed her arms and pouted, looking all of five years old.
How much longer do we have to go without? She knows that drives me round the bend. . . . “What about UC Sunnydale?”
“Oh! They have, they offer it there?” Buffy dropped her arms, looking at him eagerly over the back of the couch.
“Sure do.” He walked further into the room, intent on kissing his wife senseless. “And if you do that, you could probably start taking a couple of classes before the baby comes.”
“Really?” He was within arms reach and Buffy grabbed for him, her fingers curling around his belt loops, pulling him closer. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too.”
“They’d let me take classes? Isn’t it too late for spring semester?” Buffy surged up on her knees, lifting her face toward his for a kiss.
“UC Sunnydale has quick courses, cram courses during holiday weeks and the summer semester starts May tenth.” Will leaned down, his arms on either side of her, hands gripping the back of the couch. He looked at her deeply before dropping a kiss on her forehead.
“How come you know so much about UC Sunnydale’s schedule?” Buffy pulled back a little after his kiss, her eyes on his.
“Well, that’s another thing we need to talk about.” She tensed and he shushed her, saying, “Not like that, just that I’ve got some good news, I hope.”
“Spill, husband of mine.” Her hands tightened briefly around his waist and he ran one of his hands over her arm, down her hand, and gently loosened her grip.
“Been sending out my resume and finally got a couple of responses. One of them is from UC Sunnydale.”
“What? Where else? Oh my god! Will, that’s great!” Her face fell a moment and she looked away, biting her lip. “It’s my fault you have to . . . “
She never finished that statement, because his kiss cut her off. When he was finished, his thumb caressed her cheek, his voice low and firm, despite the tenor of his words. “Not your fault. I’ll admit it’s because of you, but not in the way you’re thinking.”
He paused once more to place another kiss, this one on the tip of her nose. “I’m wasting my time teaching high school, sweets, and its not what I wanted to do anyway. Was just a means to an end. Now that I’ve got a reason to leave, I’m taking advantage of it. Snyder’s been on my arse for, well, since I started, so now I get to stick it to him.”
“So where else did you send your resume to?” Buffy understood him, what he meant about Snyder and wasting his time. She also knew he’d like nothing better than to spend most of his time writing and that in the last few nights he’d been writing almost obsessively. There were a few nights when she’d wake up to find him typing away on the laptop, pecking away at the keyboard, churning out short stories and poetry. It was a soothing sort of noise for her, the tapping a rhythm she found calming for some strange reason and she found herself wondering what he was writing. She was dying to ask him, but some residual shyness held her back, afraid he wouldn’t be willing to share that part of himself with her.
“Four different UC schools, Sunnydale, Irvine, San Diego and Riverside. I also sent off to Coleman College, Redlands and San Diego State.” He took a deep breath, preparing to lay one more surprise on her. “Sweetheart, the other thing I did is possibly even bigger. I sent some of my poems off to a publisher.”
“Oh my god . . . which ones? Oh, Will. . . . “ Complete shock and surprise flooded through her, and yet there was a corresponding sense of inevitability about his actions, both applying for a new job and sending the poems out. Buffy stared up at him for long minutes, almost afraid to say anything more. After a long silence, she finally whispered, “When did you send them?”
“Last Wednesday.”
A slight flush covered his high cheekbones and she grinned, her smile threatening to over take her whole face. The sparkle in her eyes was blinding and Will shook his head, fighting her effect, knowing he couldn’t act on his impulses. Buffy could barely contain her excitement – this was something he’d wanted for a long time – something he wanted so deeply that he could hardly even bring himself to talk about, afraid of never achieving it.
“Oh Will. . . .” She breathed out his name, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. “This is. . . . Which poems did you send?”
He’d shifted, sitting down on the back of the couch, facing her. Reaching out with his left hand, Will started playing with the ends of her hair. “Most of the old ones. Ones you’ve already read, kitten.”
Buffy dropped her head onto his thigh, content to just be near him. “How soon will you know something?”
His warm fingers were now tracing the contours of her face. “Could be weeks, if not months.”
Her face fell a little and the pout he both loved and hated appeared. “Not fair. They should know how brilliant you are.”
A little laugh escaped him. “Dunno about brilliant love, I’d settle for anyone who thinks I’m good enough to publish.”
Riley found himself thinking about her at the oddest moments, when he was walking between classes and the few rare times he’d been in the library, but not one single thought was strong enough for him to risk talking to Willow again. He couldn’t dare go near her house, knowing Buffy’s mother would call the cops the second she caught a glimpse of him. And yet, curiosity was beginning to grate on him, though and he needed to get some sort of closure on the whole situation, whether it was a message to her or some information about how she was or even where she was. Something to let him know, to get this niggling feeling of her out of his head. He still figured the best way to get through to Buffy was through her redheaded best friend, which was why he’d been cautiously following her for the last couple of days – at least during school hours.
Last week, Harmony had overheard Willow talking to Xander and Cordelia, their conversation focused on the missing blond. Unfortunately, in typical Harmony fashion, she couldn’t remember all the details of the conversation, knowing only one thing for sure, that not too long ago Willow had talked to – and seen – Buffy.
Looking back on it now, Riley knew he’d made a lot of mistakes. His first reaction to her news had been worry for himself only and how it affected his life, not about Buffy. What was happening to her hadn’t even crossed his mind, hadn’t even registered with him at all. Part of him wished he could go back, do it all over again. . . . No, maybe not all of it. He certainly wished away his current circumstances – on probation with the academy before he’d even stepped foot in the door. Another part of him wanted to go back and do the last year over completely, maybe even go back to sophomore year, before his family had moved to Sunnydale. Anything would be better than this.
He wasn’t watching closely, and as he rounded the corner leading to the administration offices, Riley barreled right into Willow, who was talking with Mr. Giles.
Books and bodies went flying and somehow Willow landed squarely on Riley’s chest.
“Ooohfffff.” Willow raised her head, uncertain of what had just happened, when she realized who’d knocked her down. “Damn. You gotta watch where you’re going.”
Giles leaned down to help, his hands cupping Willow’s arms in an effort to lift her off Riley’s prone form. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Sure, just a little shell-shocked,” was Riley’s answer, which turned to spluttering when Giles looked at him strangely.
“Actually, I was inquiring about Miss Rosenberg.” His voice held the strange stilted tone perfected by countless generations of upperclass English nobility, leaving Riley feeling like a huge oaf. Which was probably the old man’s intention. Way to go Riley. Grace and carriage.
The two scrabbled about, picking up books, while he sat on the floor, shaking his head. After getting the ringing to stop, Riley climbed to his feet. “I’m sorry Willow. Didn’t see you at all.”
Willow shrugged him off, unwilling to have any contact with the boy who’d dumped her best friend. “Its okay.”
She handed him one of his books and started to walk away, her conversation with the assistant principal resuming seamlessly. Riley almost called her back, but he heard her mention Buffy, so he thought better of it.
They wandered down the hallway, toward Giles’ office and for once Riley used his head. Following behind them discretely, Riley listened, straining his ears to catch any stray sounds.
It was easier to pick out Willow’s words, because Giles habitually spoke quickly and low, the cadence of his accent making eavesdropping difficult. He was able to pick up one word in four and from the gist of things, he understood that Buffy was somewhere in Sunnydale and she wasn’t necessarily feeling all that well. Beyond that, he couldn’t make sense of anything else.
He nearly jumped out of his skin, when a high-pitched voice startled him.
“Why are you listening to someone else’s conversation? Don’t you think that’s just a little bit rude, Mr. Finn?” Careers teacher Anya Jenkins tapped him on the shoulder, freezing him in place. “Don’t you have something better to do with your time?”
He’d spun around to face her, frantically trying to cover his ass and get her to lower her voice. So it was kind of understandable then, when he let out a completely unmanly squeak when Giles asked nearly the same question. “Yes, don’t you have something better. . . . ?” He paused, waiting for Riley to formulate some sort of response. Once it was clear none would be forthcoming, Giles smiled at him.
It wasn’t a friendly sort of grin either.
‘No, then I’ll just have to see to it that you do have something better to occupy both your staggering intellect and your overabundance of time.” Pointing a finger, down the hallway, Giles motioned Riley forward. “Detention, Mr. Finn, every day for the next week. Go see Mr. Casey.”
God damn it! How the hell do I get myself into these stupid situations. . . .
“Do you think he was listening?”
Willow’s anxious tones cut through his musings and Giles lifted his eyes from the items strewn about his desk. “Why, do you think he was?”
“He’s sort of been around all the time lately. I keep running into him between classes.” She fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt, rolling and bunching the fabric between nervous fingers. “He never did stuff like that before, even when he was dating Buffy.”
Giles wrinkled his brow, then peered at her over the top of his glasses. “I doubt there’s much of anything to his behavior. If he was that curious about Buffy’s circumstances, don’t you think he would have done this before?”
“I guess. Sort of. I dunno, I just get a weird feeling about it, that’s all.”
Directing his attention back down to the catalog in front of him, Giles shrugged off her worries. “I don’t think it’s anything to be worried about. Nothing he can do can affect her now, in any case.”
“If you say so.” Pointing down at one of the pictures, Willow said, “That’s the pattern they’ve picked out. But I wanna get her something from here too.” She held up the Disney catalog, her smile bright and infectious.
She fell asleep, long before he did, which was pretty much a given lately. Will glanced over the side of the laptop, his eyes resting on her sleeping form. This enforced rest was good for her, but hell on him. It was ten times worse than before, when they had been reduced to meeting in the cemeteries at night. At least then he could go home without her sleeping beside him every night, without the feel of her curled up in his arms, her breath washing over him as he tried to sleep. Now he didn’t have that respite, but looking over at her golden hair gracing the pillow, Will wouldn’t trade his present for the past at all. Thankfully though, they had less than a week left, only three more days before they saw the doctor again, and he, with any kind of luck, would be releasing her from complete bed rest.
It hadn’t been easy, sleeping next to her warm and willing body every night, without being able to touch her, but Will knew it was for the right reasons. After their first traumatic night home, when he’d found her almost passed out and bleeding on the bathroom floor, life had settled down into a very quiet routine. He went off to work, while she spent her days studying for her GED and on-line shopping. Their nights, however, were exercises in frustration and anticipation and every night Will spent on the knife’s edge. He refused to wank off in the bed beside her, thinking it was more torture than he could stand, instead using the bathroom. Buffy was blissfully ignorant of his dilemma, and he intended to keep it that way.
Instead, he had started pouring out his frustration and temporarily thwarted passion into his writing – and the results were astounding. Every line, every thought was inspired by her and he’d never been so productive, not even when he was younger and his hormones were raging. He’d written more than a dozen poems, finished two short stories and was working on the third, and had ideas for at least another two. Will shook his head. Hemingway and Keats had their distractions, I’ve got mine. Not that I’m anywhere near as good as either one of them, doesn’t mean I can’t dream.
Buffy shifted in her sleep, a soft whimper of pain escaping from her. Her leg twitched, the muscles jumping on their own and Will knew the spasms were the source of her pain. Before the twitching worsened, Buffy rolled over, opened her eyes a fraction and groaned.
He was closing the document, shutting down all the windows and turning the laptop off for the night when her pain filled voice caught his attention.
“Will?”
“Yeah baby?”
“Help? . . . . Ow. . . . “ Buffy tried flexing her toes, hoping to get the twinges to ease. When that didn’t work she tried rolling back onto her side, straightening her legs out from that position.
Will shut the laptop, getting off the bed smoothly. “Need anything?”
“No. Just help me up, please?”
He was at her side instantly, easing her up off the bed. “What are you doing, sweets?”
“Need to walk.”
“Are you sure? Doc said. . . .”
“I know what the doctor said. I called today to confirm the appointment for Thursday and asked them about the leg cramps at the same time.” Her jaw was clenched and he could feel the tension thrumming through her.
This was the third night in a row, maybe the fifth time in the last week she’d woken up like this. He was beginning to get a little concerned. The last thing they needed was another complication. “So what did he say?”
“Do whatever gets rid of them. And eat more bananas.” Buffy shuffled across the floor, holding onto Will’s hands as he walked backwards in front of her. “Ouchies. I’ll be really happy when all this is over.”
“Being pregnant?”
“No. Being stuck inside and in bed. This is driving me crazy. Pretty soon you’ll have psycho Buffy on your hands.”
Will rolled his eyes and with a hint of laughter in his voice, teased her with, “An’ how will I know her from every day Buffy?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Haha. Aren’t you funny.”
“You love me anyway.”
“Ahuh. Remind me again of the reasons why.”
The doctor looked up from the ultrasound monitor, a huge grin splitting his face. “Everything is fine. The minor placental tear has repaired itself, all the readings are fine, baby’s heartbeat is fine. Aside from the leg cramps, you’re feeling better, right?”
At her vigorous head nodding, the doctor smiled at both of them. “So I guess you’ll be happy to hear what I have to say?”
“Depends on what you’re going to tell us. Am I all sprung Buffy? Can I go shopping now? Go for a walk? Something?” Her look of hopeful anticipation was hard to ignore and he caught at glimpse of the grip she had on her husband’s hand, both sets of knuckles white.
Fond of overly dramatic pauses, the doctor leaned down to look at the monitor again, focusing on the placenta. It really was all healed, the slight tear hadn’t been all that serious, but he’d erred on the side of caution. One more quick look at their faces, especially hers, and the doctor relented. She was young, and with her overly protective mate at her side, she’d be fine.
“The prisoner is released. You are now free to leave the bed and the house.”
The squeal coming from the petite blond was so full of glee and sheer happiness it rivaled that of a group of hyperactive three year olds. He winced slightly as it echoed through the room, then realized he was still dealing with a very young girl. She was much changed from the wary and very scared teen who’d first appeared in his office a couple of months ago, who’d broken down completely on her second visit. The whole sad story had come tumbling out of her, and John Merrick had felt a bit of fatherly concern for the poor girl. She’d been honest with him too, telling him all about the situation with Riley Finn and on the following visit, about the growing relationship she was embarking on with an older man.
Dr. Merrick watched as her new husband – the older man -- wrapped her in his arms, dropping happy kisses on her face. No sense torturing them both . . .
“Don’t you want to hear my other good news?” The couple broke apart, though they kept their arms entwined. The look of expectation on Will’s face was full of frustrated lust and he took pity on him. Man hadn’t been married a week and he was told hands off. . . . poor guy. Trying for teasing seriousness, he said, “You can also resume your regularly scheduled sex life, although I’d be careful about anything too acrobatic or rigorous. And if there’s any pain or spotting after any encounter, call me immediately.”
Buffy was too happy to be embarrassed, even when Will growled happily into her ear, his nose nuzzling her hair. Oh thank god . . . no more Will sneaking off to the bathroom . . . no more frustration. . . . She giggled when Dr. Merrick’s words really registered and ended up blushing anyway when Will nipped at her neck.
Taking pity on the newlyweds, Dr. Merrick shooed the pair out of his office. “Go. No more crisis. . . . and I’ll see you both in a month. Make sure you schedule an appointment before you go.”
They held hands the whole time they were booking next month’s appointment, neither willing to let go. Will was rapidly calculating distances and time in his head, trying to figure out which would be the quickest way back home. Buffy kept bumping into Will’s side, her heavy breasts brushing against his arm or his back as she leaned closer into him. At one point he leaned over, whispered wickedly in her ear and watched the dark red blush bloom on her features. She’d slapped him gently then, afraid to say anything in response to his remark.
“If you don’t stop that, kitten, I’m gonna shag you senseless right here.”
How the hell am I supposed to . . . . gah. He’s just such a meanie . . . Buffy moved a bit away, leaving only their hands linked together and gave him a pout.
That’s it. I’m done. Will growled out something to the receptionist, then tugged on Buffy’s hand, almost pulling her out of the office. Gotta have her now.
The ride home was pure torture, with Buffy sitting next to him, her hands demurely in her lap. Once out of the office they’d split apart, almost as if they were both afraid to touch for fear once started they couldn’t stop. Will glanced over at her, noting the dejected set to her shoulders and cursed himself for a fool.
“Sweetheart, c’mere.” He held out his hand to her, running it awkwardly up and down her arm. Buffy looked at him and he could just make out the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry. I just missed feeling you, being able to touch you and I didn’t . . . I wasn’t thinking.” She sighed, then leaned closer to him. “And I know what you were doing in the bathroom too. . so. . . . ”
Oh fucking hell.
He looked at her then, trying to compose his thoughts. On the one hand . . . oh bugger it. “Didn’t want to hurt you, baby.”
A soft, sad giggle broke the silence of the big DeSoto. “You didn’t, Will. I know why and I wasn’t upset. . . . I just feel really guilty, because it’s all my fault.”
It was a good thing they were stopped at a light, because Will’s foot hit the brake reflexively, his whole upper body swivelling around to look at her. “What?!”
The sunlight hit her, blinding him for a minute so that he couldn’t clearly see her eyes, but he reached for her hand, pulling her close. “Buffy, don’t you understand? I’d spend the rest of . . . if that’s what we had to do to keep you and the baby safe for the next four months, I’d gladly do it. You are both more important to me than just sex.”
Some car behind them honked the horn and Will just hit the flashers, putting the car into park. He held Buffy close, her head on his shoulder and he could feel tears seeping into his shirt. “Sweetheart, you are my life, my love and my family. I’m not gonna jeopardize either of you for any reason.”
“Well then, don’t you think you should get us home, because sitting here in the middle of the street isn’t so good for any of us.”
“Right.” Will brushed a kiss across her lips, tasting the tears she’d wiped off on his shirt, then cupped her face in his hands. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Buffy put her hand over his, then squeezed lightly. “Can we go home now, so I can show you just how much?”
A crooked smile played across his face. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”
He smoothly turned back to the steering wheel, hit the flashers and gunned the engine, heading them toward home.
So not much happened, but I promise, next chapter is . . . .well, you'll see. Please leave a review