Page 97 of Twilight Tears
“Did you feel that?” Luna gasps.
Before I can answer, there’s another little nudge against my palm.
Luna gasps again. “Yakov, do you feel that? Can you feel them?”
Them.
My babies.
The twins have been this vague, happy idea since I found out Luna was pregnant. But in one tiny nudge, they become real.
I’m going to be a father. Luna and I are going to be parents. Together.
“I can feel them,” I murmur, holding her closer.
Luna falls asleep like that, pressed against me, wrapped in my arms. She’s still asleep when, hours later, I press a kiss to her forehead and slip out of bed.
41
LUNA
“Everything looks fine.” Dr. Jenkins scrubs a hand down his stubbled face. “Your blood pressure is still a touch on the high side, but since I’m here to monitor it closely, I’m not worried about it right now. The babies are growing and Mom is happy. That’s the most important thing.”
I may be happy, but Dr. Jenkins definitely isn’t. Not if the pasted-on smile he’s been wearing for the last couple weeks is any way to judge.
The first few days after Yakov ordered him to live here and take care of me, Dr. Jenkins was surprisingly cheerful. He greeted me with his usual warm smile and didn’t act like it was an inconvenience at all.
Weeks later, I think the hope of Yakov changing his mind has dimmed.
Now, he plods downstairs once per day, checks my vitals and the babies’ heartbeats, and then disappears back upstairs. It only takes him about fifteen minutes each day to look me over. I have no idea what he does with the rest of his time in this house. Unless he can speak Russian, I doubt Vera and Usev are good company.
Maybe that’s another reason why Dr. Jenkins isn’t much for conversation lately: he’s rusty.
“I’m happy enough. Things are good in the dungeon,” I say with a chuckle. “But we do wonder what secrets you all are hiding upstairs.”
Dr. Jenkins frowns.
“Soundproof ceiling,” I explain. “Mariya and I can’t even hear footsteps. You all could be river dancing up there for all we know.”
He nods but doesn’t smile. “No river dancing.”
Oof. His conversation skills are even rustier than I thought.
“Are Vera and Usev good hosts?” I ask. “I hope they’re taking good care of you. I didn’t have much of a chance to meet them before I had to come down here.”
“They’re fine,” he says curtly, slipping his tools back into his black bag.
“Has Vera made you her apple sharlotka yet?”
It might be my imagination, but I think Dr. Jenkins goes a little green. “Plenty. I think it’s all Usev eats.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I think it’s all Vera knows how to make,” I whisper. “She’s been bringing us one every other day since we got here. Even Mariya has started throwing them away.”
Finally, he smiles. “If I never see another baked apple in my life, it’ll be too soon.”
Dr. Jenkins offers me his hand and helps me off of the exam table. Yakov had the exam table, along with a hospital's worth of equipment and supplies, delivered the day after the ambulance scare. I told him I did not want to deliver my babies in the bunker, and he assured me it was just in case of an emergency.
I hope it never comes to that.