Eva stood at the kitchen sink, one hand braced on the marble surface while she looked out the window that provided a view of everything towards the left of the house, and the other hand resting on the bump in her stomach.
It was a girl, theyâd told her.
Without her really being fully aware of it, her mouth curved upwards into a soft smile.
She was going to have a little girl. And the fact still amazed her as it did the first time sheâd heard those words.
Two months. In just two months, she was going to bring a little girl into this world, into her arms. Her mind ran free, wondering if maybe her daughter would inherit Evaâs cornflower blue eyes, or Vinceâs dark brown locks. Maybe sheâd have Evaâs thin lips, or maybe Vinceâs slender nose and strong cheekbones.
Or maybe, sheâd be born as plain as anyone ever could possibly beâ it wouldnât matter. Because Eva knew the babyâ her babyâ would be the most beautiful creation in this entire world to her.
Yes, she thought as her eyes left the window and landed on her stomach, the most beautiful. Evaâs smile widened, her teeth pulling in the corner of her bottom lip as she lost herself to the thoughts running around in her head.
A sharp sound pierced the bubble of silence thatâd enveloped the house since Vincent had left for work, harshly yanking Eva out of her trance and making her turn towards the archway that led out of the kitchen.
Nobody ever showed up at the door at this time, or any other time for that matter. The only visitors this house ever had was a few salesmen or, in rare occasions, Vincentâs colleagues for business dinners.
Eva took those cautious, evenly-paced steps to the door, allowing that hand to remain on her belly as if to reassure herself of the presence inside. Her other hand reached out to pull open the knob and reveal the pleasant face of Millie Morgan.
âMrs Morgan,â Eva blinked hard in surprise, both taken aback and yet unusually pleased to see the woman. The last time the sheâd seen Millie Morgan was with her husband, Noah, whoâd come to their home for a dinner that followed a discussion between both men relating to Vincentâs business.
Eva had uncharacteristically taken a quick liking to this woman, back then. Maybe it was the shared passion for baking, seeing that Mrs Morgan owned Millieâs Family Bakery and had invited Eva to try her hand in that place. Eva didnât dwell on the loss of that opportunity, thoughâshe knew it was for dreamers, for those who built castles in the clouds while having their feet planted to the ground.
And Eva Dyer was no dreamer.
âPlease,â Mrs Morgan smiled, âdo call me Millie.â
âRight,â Eva nodded, her lips slowly rising to an uncertain and hesitant smile, âMillie.â
A moment passed and Eva just stood there, very uncomfortable and not sure what she was supposed to do, when Mrs Morgan cleared her throat and smiled pointedly gesturing towards the interior of the house. âWell, arenât you going to invite me in?â
âOh,â Eva started, alarm flashing through her. She wasnât used to having people over when Vincent wasnât there too. It was like one of those unspoken rules. No guests without Vincent. Food better not be cold by the time Vincent came back from work. No going to bed before Vincent was home for the night.
Just a list of things that Eva knew to follow and stick by if she wanted to go to bed without red patches of skin that would turn purple the following day. Vincent didnât have to say the words, to voice out these guidelines to a peaceful householdâbut they hung in the air, tangible enough for Evaâs fingers.
âOh, of course,â Eva said, feeling panic bubble in her gut. She tightened her hold on the fabric covering her belly. What was she doing? What if Vincent found out sheâd let someone come in when he wasnât there? But what if Eva turned Mrs Morgan away and then Vincent found out she hadnât let his colleagueâs wife enter their home? Oh god. Oh god. Which would make him less angry?
She took reluctant steps aside and widened the gap between door and frame, allowing Mrs Morgan to walk through with that small picnic basket, woven with rattan and its lid unattached.
âI heard you were expecting,â Mrs Morgan remarked, flickering her eyes to Evaâs stomach for emphasis and looking back at her once again. âAnd figured Iâd bring some food over, you know, just save you this one day of cooking.â
There was a small rush of warmth inside Evaâs chest and this time, her smile was more genuine. âThank you, Mrs Morâ Millie,â she quickly corrected herself, feeling like an idiot to have made that blunder when Mrs Morgan had corrected her just minutes ago. âSorry.â
Mrs Morgan shrugged, looking around for something to probably place the basket on â Eva and Vincent didnât have one of those desks or mantelshelves by the entrance of the door, after all.
âItâs alright,â Mrs Morgan said in regards to Evaâs slip of the tongue, âmakes sense for you to call me Mrs Morgan instead of Millie. Iâm pretty sure Iâm at least twice your ageâor just a few years lesser than that.â She gazed at Eva with an altogether different look now, âhow old are you, Eva?â
âTwenty two,â she answered, closing the door gently.
âSo young,â Mrs Morgan mumbled, staring at her with a softness in her gaze.
Evaâs heart leaped and she became defensive. âThere are so many women married at twenty two, and mothers too.â
âYes,â Mrs Morgan answered, âwomen who chose it. Women who are happy with those choices because they were ready for it.â
âI chose this life too,â Eva quickly said. And then the words hit herâtruly, truly hit her. Sheâd chosen this life.
âChoice is a funny thing, really,â Mrs Morgan sighed. âNot always so black and white. So many circumstances that need to be taken into consideration to determine whether a course of action was a choice⦠or something along the lines of it, but not exactly free will.â
âI donât understand, MrsâMillie.â
Mrs Morgan smiled. âWhy are you calling me Millie when your natural instinct is to call me otherwise?â
âBecause you said so.â
âSo youâre not comfortable addressing me as Millie?â
Eva hesitated, ânot completely.â
âBut youâre choosing to do so anyway?â Mrs Morgan raised an eyebrow. âIs that your choice? Made out of pure free will?â
Evaâs heart leaped again, feeling a small pressure in her chest. She didnât think she was entirely comfortable with this line of questioningâor topic of conversation either.
She clutched her blouse tighter over her bulging stomach and tried to even her breathing. âIt was a gesture of respect,â she said uncertainly, âyou wanted me to call you by one name and it seemed like the right thing to do.â
âAnd it was,â Mrs Morgan nodded, turning around and walking in the direction of where theyâd eaten dinner months ago, seeing as she hadnât been shown around the house to know of any other rooms.
Eva followed after her with heavy footsteps, carrying an extra weight that slowed her movements. She watched as the other woman placed the basket of food on top of their dining table.
âBut thereâs a line to be drawn when making your choices based on what another person wants,â Mrs Morgan told Eva kindly, âthereâs a point when itâs no longer common courtesy or respect.â
There was a loud, loud silence that swallowed the entire house in its gaping mouth. And Evaâs heart had now jumped to her throat. She didnât want to think too much about what Mrs Morgan was saying, all those implications behind her words. No, no, no. Eva shouldnât be thinking such horrible things, she shouldnât be questioning anything. What were these ugly doubts Mrs Morgan was planting inside her head?
A soft sigh from the other woman reminded Eva of her presence.
âTell me something,â Mrs Morgan said, meeting Evaâs eyes, âand be honest. That day, when I offered you a chance to work at my bakery⦠did you want to accept it?â
Eva didnât answer, and somehow, that seemed to be all the response Mrs Morgan needed.
âSo why did Vincent say no on your behalf? He must know you love baking,â she went on, holding Evaâs gaze. âWhy did you let him refuse for you?â
âItâs too late,â Eva finally said, swallowing. âI have a kid now. I canât⦠I canât work after her.â She rubbed her stomach, âI need to be with her.â Sheâd never, never leave her babyâs side. Never. She couldnât become another Caroline Monroe.
âItâs never too late, Eva,â Mrs Morgan whispered, shaking her head slowly. âI canât have children, so I donât know what it must be that youâre feeling right now.â She slipped a hand into her handbag and struggled for a moment or two, before pulling out a cream card with rose coloured borders. âButâ¦â she placed it on the table by Evaâs hand. âThatâs my business card. If youâre ever ready to help me out at the bakery, thereâll always be a place for you there.â
Eva didnât pick it up, just staring at it for a long moment. Then she met Mrs Morganâs eyes. âYou gave me a chance around seven months ago⦠thatâs a long time to still want me there.â
âLike I said, itâs never too late,â Mrs Morgan gave her a small smile, âand I can always find a spot to squeeze you in.â
But Eva was not a dreamer. She hadnât been one as Evelyn Monroe, and not even now, as Eva Dyer.
So she knew there was no way that offer would always be there â not when Eva needed the next two months to bring her baby into this world, not when she needed a few years with her baby completely to herself before she could even think about allowing someone else to take care of the child whilst Eva was out working. How long was that going to be? Five years? Six years? That was too, too late, no matter how much Mrs Morgan kept insisting that it could never be too late.
âThank you, Millie,â Eva said, not able to remember a time when sheâd uttered those two words to someone and meant them with all her heart.
Eva would never be able to do what she knew Mrs Morgan wanted her to do, but she was undoubtedly grateful for the opportunity the woman was kind enough to offer her.
Mrs Morgan seemed to believe in Eva, seemed to have faith in her â and that alone was all the water needed for those seeds of doubt Eva held in her mind about this life Vincent had given her.
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Written on; 17th April 2019
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i think there's about 5-6 chapters more before we say goodbye to Eva <3