That I Would Be Good (Leo)

It was common knowledge that Rebekah was to be a grandmother, even before Euphadora considered announcing it to her mother directly. That had only been last month, but Euphadora was nearly eight months along by then. She had always been a selfish child, never considering the needs of her family or putting anyone before herself. Even as a grown witch, the girl still acted like a petty child, coming to her mother only when she needed something and never offering anything in return. Rebekah shouldn’t have been surprised when a frazzled Euphadora showed up on her doorstep, looking as though she hadn’t run a brush through her hair all day and clearly wasn’t even attempting to watch her figure. Beks was annoyed but she wasn’t heartless. Even after being told straight from the horse’s mouth that Rebekah was the last person Dora had considered going to – her own mother – Rebekah still begrudgingly agreed to escort her first born and only living child to hospital where she could have her bastard babe.

Euphadora squeezed on Rebekah’s arm, wailing and groaning like a dying pig. Beks could do nothing in the moment but bear through the discomfort. It would be short-lived like the others so far, but when her arm was released Rebekah moved away from the bed and sat in one of the two chairs under the window, out of her daughter’s grasp. “It’s childbirth dear, not a tropical holiday. It’s only going to get worse.” The younger Parkinson was only on her first child – hopefully there would be no more. Beks had gone through the woes of childbirth twice, and she had never found it to be worth the hassle. There was so much more to life than raising children and here Dora had gone and thrown her life away simply because she couldn’t keep her knees together. The girl complained again and Beks had had enough. “I’ll find the matron.” She rose from her chair and crossed the room, pulling the door open and then closed behind herself. To her credit, Rebekah approached the matron’s station with the intent of actually calling for someone to give her daughter something for the pain but when she found the station empty Rebekah grew annoyed. Euphadora had tried to exploit Beks’ maternal instincts in order to gain a servant while she was in labor, and Beks had done enough by bringing her to hospital and helping her get sorted in her room. She wasn’t about to go chasing down the entire bloody hospital staff just because Dora couldn’t handle the results of what she’d gotten herself into. Shaking her head, black curls bouncing over her shoulders, Rebekah exhaled loudly in aggravation and headed for the exit door.

Pacing in her socks across the white tiled floor had felt unnatural at first – she ought to have been in heels and at least four inches taller than this – but short of wearing an actual hole in the floor, she’d been pacing long enough that she’d grown accustomed to it. It was soothing to her mind while she waited for the next contraction which was still several minutes after the last. They were supposed to become even more frequent in the very near future and pacing helped Dora to keep her mind occupied. It was work waddling back and forth, counting the tiles on the floor, the steps from the bed to the window, the tiles on the ceiling, and even the minutes since her mum had disappeared – she’d lost track after 13 or so. She was halfway between the window and the bed when the pain returned, causing Dora to cry out to the empty room and stop in her tracks. Unknowingly, she held her breath again as she bore through the anguish, making it a few steps further toward the bed and finally being able to grab hold of the blankets to keep herself from cutting open her palms with her own painted fingernails. The tears fell again and she called out for her mummy but no one answered except the pain. It seemed to last even longer than the last time, taking nearly all of her energy with it.

Groaning, Dora let her head fall forward onto the bed, her legs spread to support her in the strange position that seemed the most comfortable she could manage at the moment. A few deep breaths later she wiped away her tears yet again, just as a knock came at the door. “I thought you’d left-” Her hopeful tone was cut short as she realized the person entering the room was not her mother, but the healer Rebekah had gone off to retrieve. At least she’d given her daughter this tiny favor before disappearing. “Oh, you’re not my mum,” she said sheepishly, easily recognizing the tall, dark skinned man was in fact not Rebekah Parkinson. Brushing the limp strands of hair from her face, Dora straightened herself up and looked at the man better. Had he not been smiling, Dora might not have recognized him straight away. She’d only just met him last month, but that smile was something a girl couldn’t easily forget.

“Euphadora,” she said with a nod, in case he was unclear why her paperwork might not match the name he’d been given at the barbecue. It was a long name and most people shortened it naturally. Dora was much better than “Euphie” as she’d been called as a young child, but never by her parents. They had always called her Euphadora and though in reality both Heath and Rebekah had probably done so with a distasteful tone more often than a caring one, Dora had always imagined her father used her full name out of love. Any bloke who called her Euphadora had an instant in with the raven-haired beauty. It made her swoon at just the sound of it. She tucked her hair behind her ears, face puffy and eyes still glistening from the recent pain, but she tried to make herself the tiniest bit more presentable. “Lo didn’t tell me you worked maternity.” She ought to have, given Dora’s state. Dora pulled at her flowery robe, covering the dreary blue hospital gown she wore and the relatively giant boobs the pregnancy had afforded her temporarily. She still wasn’t used to having such a heavy front-side, but it had come in handy for boosting her continually falling self-esteem, though it did nothing to actually help her with all the randiness she’d been feeling throughout the ordeal. Her clearly pregnant belly seemed to scare all the handsome ones right off. She was pleased to be at the end of it all.

There was a little flutter in her chest as Leo repeated her full name, and Dora smiled before the feeling moved to her back and turned to a sharp pain. Adjusting her weight, she pressed her knuckles into the side of her back, hoping to knead the pain away but to no avail. She’d been standing still for too long and had grown uncomfortable but the idea of pacing back and forth in front of the healer wasn’t appealing, so she turned and tried, not so gracefully, to slide onto the bed. It took nearly a full minute and a bit of unattractive moans of discomfort, but she made it, and looked to Leo pretending she hadn’t just made sounds that rivaled a dying cow. Doing her best to pay attention to what he had said while she shifted onto the mattress, all Dora caught was ‘covering someone’s shift’ and ‘good hands’. She laughed lightly to cover up the fact that she hadn’t heard it all, but she could put enough together to determine maternity wasn’t his typical fare. Just so long as those good hands weren’t going anywhere near her lady bits, Dora would be fine. He was far too attractive to see whatever mess was going to be made down there when it was finally time for the baby to come; a moment which felt as though it would never arrive.

Leo asked after her mum. Dora, in too much discomfort, didn’t have the energy or presence of mind to lie about her relationship with her mother at that very moment. She rolled her eyes loudly, arching her back a little as she tried and failed to reach the offending pain in her back. “No. She’s gone home, probably off to moan about me to her friends.” There had been a time in her life when Dora still loved her mother and sought her affections but in recent years, since her father’s untimely death, the veil had lifted. Now she saw that it was all an act, a part not well played by Rebekah, but there were still underlying feelings there, at least for Dora. She hated her mother but wished she had stayed around just a bit longer, at least until someone who loved her could make it in. Where was Fin anyway?! Resentment toward her own cousin was beginning to brew, knowing Jovi was keeping Fin too busy to get the message she’d left for him about her labor. Feelings of aggravation were quickly averted, however, when Leo asked about her father. “No,” she said with a perplexed look, large eyes turned up to him. “My dad’s been gone a few years now.” The baby kicked her hard, as if on cue, reminding her of its existence. “Oh! The baby’s father. Right. Erm… no. No father.” Shaking her head, limp strands of black hair fell in front of her eyes. “Immaculate conception.” She gave a false laugh which turned into a whimper as the pain in her back intensified. She shifted uncomfortably on the bed, trying to massage away the ache.

He was sweet. It made Dora smile throughout the pain. She appreciated that he played along with her story of immaculate conception, even if it was painfully clear to both of them that she was nothing more than harlot who couldn’t narrow down the list of men she’d been with in order to identify a possible father. She didn’t even know all of their names. It wasn’t fair, really. Fin had had just as much fun as she had on that beach resort holiday but if he managed to knock up any of the witches he’d been with, he didn’t know about it. Wizards had all the luck. No shameful looks when they sneak off after a night fun, and no carrying ‘round a bowling ball in your uterus for nine months. And the contractions… The ones she’d had thus far were no fun at all, and the only sage advice her mum had given her before disappearing was to expect loads more pain before she had a sweet little baby to cuddle. Rebekah hadn’t put it quite so lovingly but the thought of holding her baby was the only thing keeping her going now. That, and Leo’s skillful hands on her back. She let out an unattractive moan of pleasure as he managed to massage away the ache she’d been failing to reach. “Oh bloody hell, that feels brilliant.”

The absence of his hands on her back left a chill over her skin but a flash of heat quickly washed it away and she was soon all too aware that she was sweating again. Childbirth was so unattractive; this was certain to be the only time she’d go through this. She’d be more mindful of her potion in the future to avoid another accident. She shifted on the mattress to look at him more directly, swiping her hair back behind her ears and subtly trying to blot away any moisture from her forehead.

A boy or a girl, that was a difficult question. One that seemed loaded with pitfalls and landmines if answered incorrectly, or worse, came to fruition disappointingly. At least the handsome healer was trying to lighten the conversation with a little joke, and honestly if she hadn’t already had her son’s name picked out long ago, she might have considered it. Leo was a nice name. Leo Parkinson. Dora Zabini also had a nice ring to it but no one in their right mind would name their daughter after her. Not even Dora herself. There would be no Dora Jr, even if she and Lola had jokingly referred to her unborn child as such. “If it’s a boy, he’ll be named for my father. Heath.” She paused, a slightly distant look in her eyes. “And my brother, Theon, as well. I can’t quite decide which order to put them in, though. I like it both ways.”

Had Clementine suggested a similar name combination for her son, given Dora had no attachment to the names as she clearly did with her choices now, she would have figured out a kind way to tell her friend that both were horrible options. Heath Theon sounded liked like a toddler trying to pronounce the name of a Roman coliseum and Theon Heath sounded like a battle worn city from a Tolkien novel. Dora, however, made neither of those connections and was utterly blinded by her love for the men she no longer had in her life.

Her gaze focused once more on the handsome healer. “It would be fun to dress up a little girl, though. Definitely not naming her after my mum.” It was a serious remark but there was a touch of humor there as well. “Maybe Rose,” she mused aloud. “That’s my middle name, but it sounds a little…” She made a face that expressed her displeasure with her only option for a girl’s name. “Let’s hope I don’t have worry about that. Everyone wants a boy, right?” She shrugged and looked down at her belly, her solemn expression reappearing as she caressed her stomach. “Bollocks, it’s hot in here.” Her remark was more directed at herself, her ability to keep her thoughts to herself slowly slipping away as her discomfort grew. “Have you got any kids? I bet you’d make attractive babies.”