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Beaufort, South Carolina

March 13

Twitch readied her bungalow for her guest. A cheese board was ready with a sliced baguette beside it. She topped off the vase of wildflowers with water and replaced it on the kitchen island. Good to go.

Pleased with her efforts, she perched on a kitchen stool and grabbed her phone. One other person knew she was pregnant—the one person in the world who was utterly without judgment and certainly understood unplanned pregnancy. He’d been responsible for one or two in his life.

Her father answered on the first ring, his working-class British accent a balm to her frayed nerves.

“How ya doin’ Ginger Biscuit?”

“I’m good, Dad.”

“You know your mum tells me her pregnancy with you was a cinch—no morning sickness, no swollen feet. It’s really quite a fucking miracle. I hope you’re enjoying it.”

Twitch beamed. Her dad’s biggest negatives were also his biggest positives. He never judged, never considered what other people thought, never worried about consequences. He simply embraced whatever reality presented itself.

“Well, there’s not much to enjoy yet. I don’t feel that much different,” Twitch replied.

“Your mum said the same thing with you. She kept doing that pee stick over and over to make sure.” Her dad chuckled.

“It is weird. All the books say the things I’m feeling now, I should have been feeling weeks ago. My symptoms are all screwy.”

“Bin the bloody book Charlotte. Every pregnancy is different. Every woman is different. Well, that’s what I imagine anyway,”

“I think you’re right.” Twitch eyed the pregnancy book on the counter but left it for the time being.

“Now, do you want to tell your mother, or shall I? Don’t want to add another divorce to my impressive list.”

Twitch inhaled audibly through her teeth. “Can we do it together?”

Her father’s response was to call her mother into the room. “Daisy! Can you come in here, my love? Charlotte’s on the phone.”

Her father switched the phone to speaker, and her mother’s soothing voice filled Twitch’s ears.

“Hi, pumpkin. How’s everything in South Carolina? You feeling okay?”

Twitch pulled the phone away from her ear and switched the call to FaceTime. Her father’s sheepish grin and her mother’s perfect smile appeared on the screen. “You already told her.”

“Hey, I may be a tosser from Brixton, but I know better than to keep a secret from this lady,” he kissed his wife’s hand.

Twitch gave him her best expression of mock annoyance. Deep down, she knew he would tell her mother, and, frankly, she was relieved.

“I feel great, mom,” Twitch said.

“And the father?” Her mother arched her brow.

“He’s… working through some stuff,” Twitch mumbled.

“I’d like a word with him,” Daisy said.

Twitch’s mother was a tigress. She wasn’t sure how to tell her that Finn had disappeared. Fortunately, her father did.

“Now, Daisy, let them be. If the boy isn’t ready to be a father, you whacking him over the head with a frying pan isn’t going to change that.”

“No, it won’t. But it’ll make me feel better,” her mother said coolly.

“Hey, you’re going to be a nan. Why don’t you focus on that?”


Tags: Debbie Baldwin Bishop Security Mystery