Life as a New Hire Ch. 42

She put her hand over her lower abdomen and rubbed the spot with her palm.

"Seeing you and giving you the news in person is enough," she glowed with happiness.

"Have you picked out a name yet?" seemed weak.

"I will leave that up to you."

"Oh, come on," I relaxed slightly. "This is something we are doing together."

"No, it is not, kind Cáel."

"Just because she will most likely end up an Isharan doesn't ..."

"No, Cáel. This birth will cost me my life. I am not destined to ever see my daughter draw her first breath," she confided in me.

"No!" I recoiled. "That's unfair." What else could I say? 'I take it back. I shouldn't have listened to my Goddess and screwed you out of what little life you had left.'

"I am content with my fate, Cáel Nyilas Wakko Ishara. Our daughter will be the first female of the Isharan line in nearly 1600 years. Rejoice that we have been confronted by Destiny and triumphed. The light of the Peacemakers will shine once more among our sisters."

"It is not worth the cost of your life," I responded bitterly. This was colossally unfair to all three of us.

"That you grieve for the short time I have left gives me strength, knowing our daughter will grow up with a strong, caring father. I ..."

I could sense Ishara close by my side.

"You must go, my Cáel. We will next see each other in the Halls of our Ancestors. Take our daughter and raise her well. I have faith in you," she sighed pleasantly, as if I had sheltered her from the rainstorm with my umbrella.

"We must go," Ishara whispered in my ear and then we left. I was back in the hotel room, looking down at the tears on my sleeping face and it hurt so much.

"You gave me that command knowing what it would cost her," I sounded so hollow, chin on my chest, eyes closed instead of looking at my feet.

"We are not an easy people to love, Cáel. We are harsh. Endless centuries of suffering, pain and mistrust have made us this way. Please understand that what you see as one life passing is really one life coming into being. It is a life Fate would have denied the line of Ishara. I took you to meet Tadêfi because I wanted you to greet your daughter with understanding, not sorrow. I owed you."

"Steal my anger why don't you?" I chuckled bitterly. "Can I even blame myself for this tragedy? It isn't like you made me do anything. I did it because I wanted to and never gave much thought to the frail health Tadêfi was hanging on to. This is so wrong and I don't know what to do."

"Wake up. Keep living. If this news turns your heart, or fills your mind with doubt, then both of us have failed you. Tadêfi didn't have to tell you. I didn't have to bring you to her. I believed you were owed the chance to say good-bye."

"I didn't say that," I exhaled sadly.

"You openly grieved and let her comfort you. That is more of a 'goodbye' than most people are able to convey. She knows your heart. You were honest in your sorrow. She saw that and that eased her suffering knowing that you are a person who is free with their heart. For a woman who expected nothing but wickedness from men for so long, that was the ultimate gift. You did help her. You truly did."

"I ..." I woke up. Anais was looking down at me, concerned.

"You've been crying," she noted by touching my cheek with a finger then showing me the dampness.

"Do you believe a person's soul can fracture?" I murmured. That sort of talk was unlike the 'me' she once knew.

"Do you believe that another can help you put your soul back together if that happens?" I continued.

"You are not talking about us, are you?" she studied me.

"No. I'm thinking about being a parent, not just a father. Can I fuck that up as much as I've screwed up so many of the other women I've cared for ... am I going to be worthy of being a Dad?"

"Oh ... I don't know. You are not the man I knew two years ago. I think you have changed for the better. You are still far from perfect yet ... you seem to be trying so much harder than previously."

"You think I'm going to screw things up, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I do, but I also think you will only make the same mistake once. That is better than most men can hope for," she let her gaze soften.

"This is us breaking up ..."

"Yes. I think if I stayed, you would break my heart; and I am starting to believe neither one of us wants that," she nodded. "One more time?"

"I'd love to," I smiled at her. I still hurt. I was using sex to bandage my pain. Anais knew that and was giving me this unlooked for piece of kindness. It was the best break up I'd ever had, or could ever hope for.