#oc: ephraim | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rom-e-o · 1 month ago

Note

Imagine in your Simsverse or your og timeline, Connie finding out Bess can't have children.

Maybe they've just co-hosted a baby shower for one of the ladies and are cleaning up and Connie makes a light-hearted comment about wondering who's going to be next to need one: "Maybe you, Bess?"

And Bess just smiles a little wryly: "Nope. Not me. I can guarantee that."

"Truly?"

"You sound surprised."

"I am a little, I'll admit. I'm sorry--it's not my place to pry; every couple has a right to decide if and when to grow their family. But... you're absolutely amazing with children, Bess. You're so natural with all ages from babies to teens and they all take to you so easily. You're a natural mother. And... pardon me, but... I see the way you look at the rest of us with our babies or our pregnancies. I've seen how you stop and linger at the baby sections when we go shopping. There always seems to be a look in your eyes of... longing. Of wishing it could be you."

"... You've seen that?"

"I'm so sorry if it feels as though I've been spying on you."

"No, it's not that, Connie. It's just... I thought I was... hiding it better, I suppose. I wish I could say "over it", but I'm afraid this is something I'll never get "over"."

"So, it's not a matter of not wanting more family than just your siblings, you would like more children?"

"A brood of children has been my dream as long as I can remember. Some of my own and otherwise."

"Does Wolf not?"

"No, it's not that. He's wary of pregnancy, of course, after Jen. I can't tell you how many panic attacks he had during your pregnancy with little Starry. So I think he'd prefer not growing our family that way, but he's not against it."

"So he's not putting you off, then?"

"When it comes to that, there's not really anything to "put off" where I'm concerned."

"Oh?"

A significant, somewhat melancholy look from Bess.

"... Oh...."

Oh, Bess. 💔

Okay, so ... I had to give this a shot, because there's so much to say, and a simple answer can't suffice. Especially when it comes to the soul-sisters and the bond they share.

So, we're giving this a classic-verse shot! I hope you enjoy it! As always, I had WAY too much fun. I hope you enjoy!

TW for pregnancy discussions & infertility references. No graphic content.

Rated 16+ for mild innuendo, haha.

Through Any Storm

Oh.

In hindsight, the pieces fit together so easily that she felt embarrassed she hadn’t drawn the conclusion sooner.

The way Bess was always so happy to babysit or watch any of the family children, even if it created a hassle for her to move around her schedule. The way she brushed off any and all questions from peers who nosily inquired when their colleague may need to take ‘time off’ in the future. The way that every spare room in the house she and Ephraim Scrooge shared was occupied, and despite being happily married, none were designed as a spot for a potential nursery.

Just the other day, Constance had noted a peculiar way Bess had stopped to stare a beat longer than normal at the department store’s front window. On the other side of the polished glass were curtains of lace and reflective tinsel all hung to showcase the latest toddler and infant fashions for the season.

At the time, Bess had muttered the words, “What smart clothes for very lucky families.”

Constance had reasonably assumed the word ‘lucky’ was her sister-in-law’s way of describing the hefty coin purses of the families that could afford the latest fashions for their growing children.

It dawned on her with nauseating quickness that she had misunderstood. It wasn’t the coin purses that made the families lucky – Bess and her husband had plenty of money, after all.

No.

It was about what they didn’t have, yet both yearned for with all their hearts.

Constance floundered for something, anything, to say. Yet, she knew there was nothing.

"B-Bess, I..."

Before an apology could leave Connie's lips, Magda rounded the corner to the kitchen briskly to meet the two ladies. With a heavy stack of dishes captivating her attention, she didn't notice the melancholy air surrounding the two women.

"My, I will say this," she started breathlessly before she heaved stack of dishes onto the kitchen counter, "Nobody can accuse the Scrooge family of not knowing how to throw a party, that's for certain. I think they probably use less dishes when celebrating at Buckingham Palace!"

“Well, we did have many guests,” Bess said, then sighed. “It’s a bittersweet feeling, all things considered.”

Constance exchanged a sad smile with the other woman. “Very much so.”

The city of London, ever a posh and esteemed dowager, had a dance card of notable residents as long as its storied history. With that history, it was also a metropolis where that many less than fortunate souls called ‘home.’ Thousands of people – men, women, children – all needed help to survive. Some were forced to turn to the treadmills and poorhouses, and others were even less lucky.

With their passion for philanthropy born anew since coming to the city, Bess and Connie had spent the better part of the post-Christmas season tag-teaming the planning of a major spring event benefitting impoverished women and mothers across the city.

They had called the fundraiser “April Showers.” The name was self-explanatory – a day for less fortunate brides and expecting mothers to come enjoy bridal shower or baby shower festivities.

For months leading up to the date, the ladies had petitioned for local stores and boutiques to donate baby clothes and other essentials like carriages and toys. Other institutions had provided bottles and hygiene items like diapers. Young brides, on the other hand, were gifted dresses and shoes. Tailors were on-site to make slight alterations, as well as assist in recommending the proper accessories, like the right shade of pearls for the bride’s skin tone and a proper shade of rouge.

The day had been amazingly successful, with ladies of many backgrounds queueing out of the Scrooge manor, across the small courtyard and around the block. No guest left the event empty-handed.

In fact, many of the guests had even brought gifts. That was because the event coincided with the birthday of Constance’s firstborn daughter: Starla Florence DoGoode-Scrooge.

Not a single soul in the Scrooge family had asked guests to bring gifts for the infant, but the giving women of London had other plans. With the child being a semi-public figure in some aspects, her birthday was hardly a secret. So in exchange for the family’s kindness, Starla had her own stack of trinkets, handmade potpourri bundles, candles, and baked goods by the end of the event. One young woman had even brought a star-shaped cookie cutter that she’d hammered herself with the extra tin from her husband’s factory. This piece was the baby’s favorite, and Constance knew it would be used for many batches of cookies far into the future.

The giggly, red-headed bundle proved to be quite the popular hostess as Constance carried her around the event, greeting women and bidding them hello. Some women had asked questions about marriage and childbirth, which Constance was more than happy to answer. For the more medically inclined questions, specifically ones regarding pregnancy and midwifery, she had pointed the way to Bess and directed them to her as the better source.

Looking back, Constance now wondered if the myriads of questions might have added to any discomfort on Bess’ part around the subject. She was a professional midwife, of course, but the volume of questions alone had the potential to be dizzying.

Guilt gnawing at her, Constance gingerly took the woman’s shoulder. She whispered, “Are you …?”

“I’m fine,” Bess answered sincerely. “I promise.”

“Still …”

Upon hearing the ladies’ conspiratorial whispering, Magda turned to them inquisitively. Initially only curious, he bout of good humor faded completely as she glimpsed the dour expressions on their faces. "Why, those are troubling frowns! What is amiss?"

"Nothing," Bess said, cutting Connie off before she could sneak a word in edgewise. "We're just a bit tired, I would venture. After all, like you said, we do know how to throw quite the party."

Bess' smile was able to convince Magda to drop her inquiry, but Constance remained troubled.

"Do you need help?" Bess asked the maid, ready to swoop in.

Magda tossed the woman a smirk. "I never need help."

Bess rolled her eyes, but Constance stepped up beside her. "Please leave the chalices, Magda. They'll need to be hand-washed."

Over the course of the evening, they'd drained an entire barrel of small-batch Maine apple cider, which Connie had imported specifically for the momentous occasion. There were many, many cinnamon-flecked glasses that would need a thorough scrubbing.

"You've done more than your share tonight," the redhead continued. "Why, it'll be midnight soon! You should go home and rest."

Alarmed, Bess rustled about to check her own watch, which was in a gifted locket brooch. Surely enough, midnight was less than an hour away. "My, we really did make merry."

Magda lofted her hands to her hips teasingly. "I say, does Mr. Scrooge know that the lady of the house is encouraging his one and only maid to slack off?"

"Both Mr. Scrooges are aware, and encourage it."

The Scrooge brothers suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway, both dazzling examples of handsomeness, especially when reveling in the impact of their own perfect timing.

The two brothers were nearly identical, with the only exceptions being how they styled their hair (Ephraim, known colloquially as 'Wolf', boasted a longer and more roguish mane) and their builds (Ebenezer, or 'Adonis', was more lean and toned while his brother had a more muscular bulk.)

"I believe you're outnumbered," Wolf chided gently, a smirk decorating his handsome face. While he'd long since abandoned his jacket earlier in the evening, he was still dressed handsomely in a starched cream-colored shirt and charcoal slacks, the cotton flecked with plum and navy threads. "The ladies are correct, dear woman. You've been here since ... what? 8 a.m.?"

"8 a.m.? What do you take me for? A slacker? I’ve been on my feet since five—"

He patted the doorframe in emphasis of his victory. "Exactly my point. It's dark, so I will walk you home."

"That is hardly necessary," Magda replied, though her tone embodied gratefulness. "I live next-door."

"Then we'll walk next-door together. I'll not have you fall victim to neighborhood vagabonds."

“In this ritzy part of town, I’d be more concerned with magpies stealing hair ornaments than law-breaking criminals.”

“Magda.”

Defeated, the maid began to untie her hand-embroidered apron with a dramatic shake of the head. "Very well. I know better than to argue. Since working for you boys, I've earned ever gray hair and wrinkle I have."

As Magda went to fetch her coat and purse, Wolf ducked past her and went to Bess. They’d been married for months, yet he still looked at her with the same besotted look he’d worn on his wedding day.

He greeted her warmly, like he always did, and his hand notching itself into a familiar nook at her hip that he loved to cradle. She fit so perfectly into his arm, and he couldn't resist dipping down to press a kiss to her brow. It wasn’t enough (it never was) and he cast social protocol to the wind and kissed her rosy lips in full, hauling her close so Bess has to tip her entire head back to reciprocate the kiss. She hardly minded, if the delighted smirk at the end was any indication.

“Golly.”

He chuckled warmly, a brow arcing in amusement as he pulled away. “Permission to accept that as a glowing review, Mrs. Scrooge?”

Oh, he was too dashing for his own good.

“Permission happily granted, Mr. Scrooge,” Bess barely squeaked out, wonderfully dazed.

Even after marriage, his kisses still made her as dizzy as a glass of fine champagne. Or perhaps a tall, perfectly aged glass of warming scotch was a more apt comparison.

"It’s very chivalrous of you to walk Magda home, by the way," she added, hand coming to rest over his chest. It had been such a joy to see Wolf take such a shine to the matriarch, Bess thought. As much as he teased the Hungarian maid for her Old World ways, he'd grown quite fond of her.

"I'll be back in a jiffy, Brightness,” he promised. “Then, what do you say? Are you ready to head home, or do you still have some energy to siphon out?"

Bess laughed. "You'd prefer for us to go home, wouldn't you?"

He smirked, not denying the indictment.

"Today is not about me," he said, dodging the question expertly, which caused Bess to roll her eyes. "It's about all the amazing women you both filled with hope and delight on this very evening. And, of course, little Starla."

He paused for a moment, glancing around the kitchen and then back into the entry hall with sudden curiosity. "Speaking of which, where is the dear thing?”

"She’s napping in her crib in the nursery,” Adonis piped up, having since assumed his usual position beside Connie. He always seemed to magnetize to her, wherever she was. The woman was like a locator - put her in the middle of a rat maze, and Adonis could probably make a beeline to her.

"She was quite the little celebrity all evening,” he added, fatherly pride shining through with each word. “The little one is plum tuckered out, so I put her to bed before she became fussy.”

“Well, of course,” Bess enthused. “She had a big day, and it’s late.”

The statement inspired Ephraim to check his own watch, just as Bess had done moments before. At the sight of the time, his thick brows arched. “Late indeed.”

Ebenezer then turned to his wife, squeezing her hand. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m afraid…”

"I’m more than happy to feed her again is she wakes early,” Constance said, reading his mind. “And I’ll prepare our bed for her to sleep in too, just in case.”

With a thankful kiss, he then turned his attention to his brother and his wife.

Before he had the chance to open his mouth, Wolf lofted a hand and cut him off. "We don't need a room."

"Well, I was only trying to be polite!" he huffed. "Besides, I wasn't only asking you. Elizabeth?"

She chuckled warmly, and if she noticed Constance concerned gaze, she didn't entertain it. "I appreciate your concern, but-"

All of a sudden, a loud crash of thunder made the house shake. Both couples held onto each other as the lamps flickered from the force, and then again as a bright flash of lightning filled the room with ghoulish white light.

Outside the kitchen window, rivulets of icy rain carved trails into the stained-glass pane.

Magda, who had just finished tying her vintage hair scarf over her gray-streaked hair, sighed. Well, the short walk home just got slightly more miserable.

As for the other two, who had a longer distance to travel, they merely blinked in unison. When they looked back to Adonis, he was grinning smugly.

After a beat of silence, Constance cleared her throat. "I will prepare two beds."

While it was sometimes a curse that the very opinionated and very traditional Magda lived next-door to Scrooge manor, this occasion was one of the few ones that illuminated the arrangement as the blessing it was.

Magda was safely home with Errol, and Wolf was able to return fairly quickly. He was soaked to the bone, but it was nothing a warm bath and fresh towels couldn’t fix. Fresh towels, and some clothes from their hosts.

The couples spent so much time at each other’s homes that each one had sets of clothes at the other in the event of unexpected longer stays.

For sleeping quarters, Bess and Wolf were given Connie's former bedroom for the night, which also had its own attached toilette and facilities. Upon her arrival in London years ago, it had been the bedroom Ebenezer had given her for what they both thought would be a temporary stay. Little did they know that, a short period later, she’d be moving into the master bedchamber.

The furniture and bed linens were varying shades of blue toile, accented with the familiar gold accents prevalent throughout all the manor’s décor.

“A funny choice,” Wolf said, laughing as Bess helped towel is long hair after a bath. Steam was still rolling off his freshly scrubbed skin through the long underwear and dressing gown he’d donned on top.

“What is?” she asked with a smile.

“Her preparing this room for us, above all others.” He glanced around with a smirk of amusement, eyes shining a bit. “Lots of blue.”

It was almost like Ebenezer himself had anticipated her arrival, Bess thought with amusement. After all, Connie’s ex-husband had despised all shades of blues, especially on women.

Then, lo and behold, she washes ashore in London and the gentleman that was to become her husband offers her a blue bedroom to start anew in.

“Well, the attached bathroom is a large plus,” she teased, casting the towel to the side to pick up a hairbrush and ribbon to tie back his hair for sleeping.

It was something of a ritual they had. Even after long days or arguments, Bess always helped Wolf tie his hair back before bed. It was a tradition that neither could fathom passing a night without undertaking.

One hand rose to gently caress the long silver locks, cupping them tight so she could work the brush through any tangles first.

“You men have such an easy time growing your hair out,” Bess observed, eyes wide as she measured the length. “I swear, it was just yesterday that the locks were starting to curl at your neck.”

He laughed; a sound as resonant as thunder but twice as comforting. “It helps to have a doting wife that knows how to care for hair.”

She thwacked the wooden brush gently on the meat of his shoulder cap. “Now, now. Don’t give me that. You Scrooge men may think you don’t have much in common, but you know how to take care of your hair.”

“Well, you would be an apt judge of that.” Bess’ mane of obsidian-colored locks was something many men and women coveted for a wide array of reasons.

“And you both know how to be flirts, too,” she added, placing a kiss on the nape of his neck. “Something I’m also quite apt to judge.”

Wolf hummed, playing nice until he felt her tie the little ribbon securely in his hair. Then, he pivoted swiftly and captured her chin in his hand. His roguish smirk turned besotted as he leaned in and kissed her jam-colored lips.

She giggled as he nudged her back onto the bed, their lips barely parting for the entirety of the short journey.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” Bess teased, her fingertips reaching up to gently caress his jaw. The scrape of his muttonchop against her palm nearly melted her, as did the sight of him lolling his head into the warmth of her familiar grasp. He really was like a loyal, touch-starved wolf.

Then, like the morning of dawn disrupting a dream, a knock on the bedroom door broke the spell.

Wolf let out a minor grunt of annoyance, but straightened up and dismounted nonetheless.

Bess followed suit, adjusting her own dressing gown and lace slip. She also slipped her feet into the periwinkle and silver slippers she’d previously left at the foot of the bed. “Who is it?”

“It’s Constance.” An excited babble followed the woman’s voice. “Haha. And Starla.”

Just like that, the annoyance on Wolf’s face evaporated.

Bess went to the door and opened it to see Connie dressed in her own chocolate brown peignoir, her hair adorned with a cream-colored ribbon. In her arms, Starla wiggled about with the excitement of a bear cub eyeing a river of salmon.

“It looks like all that sleep earlier this evening gave her plenty of energy,” the redhead said as the girl squirmed in her arms. “She is becoming quite the little armful already!”

“Heaven help all of us once she learns to walk,” Wolf added with a laugh.

Constance sighed, pressed her lips to her daughter’s downy head. “I’m equal parts excited and prematurely exhausted.”

At the sound of Wolf’s familiar voice, the baby turned her head in his direction, her eyes as bright and icy as her father’s.

In his younger years as a more ruthless drifter, Ephraim Scrooge had been renowned for his tact and intimidation. It was not his heart that had moved others to action, but rather his frosty gaze and hardened disposition. Like a blade fashioned from heat and hammers, he had been baptized by fire to issue that same deliverance upon others. Lawyers and shrewd businessmen would scatter at the mere utterance of his name from the next town over.

Now, as he watched Starla reach out to him in squealing excitement, he was the one forced to pause and collect himself. The little girl didn’t stir fear in him, but something else. A paternal emotion he struggled to pin down exactly.

He couldn’t put a name to the feeling, but as Bess glimpsed the softness in his eyes, she knew the feeling instantly. Because she knew it all too well.

Yearning.

“I confess, Bess, there is something I’d like to discuss with you about today’s event,” Constance said. Then, she looked to Ephraim hopefully. “I’m sorry to ask, but would you…?”

“I’d love to walk her around the house,” he offered before she could even finish the sentence.

Bless his heart, he sounded positively giddy. Even better, he made no attempt to hide how chuffed he was about the privilege. He accepted the precious bundle in his arms gently, giving her a soft bounce to help her settle in. “There we go. Comfortable enough, Starla?”

He looked so natural holding a baby, Bess thought. Pain stabbed at her chest, but she forced a tight smile.

Constance noticed it, and kept her eyes trained on her soul-sister as she stepped out of the way. “We’ll be just a moment, Ephraim.”

“Take your time,” he said, smiling at Starla as he walked out. “No rush. Come now, little one. Where shall we go? I’m afraid you’ll have to guide me. Your papa is a smart businessman, but terrible tour guide.”

The little girl kicked her feet in excitement, and Wolf nodded resolutely. “I see, I see. Off we go, then.”

As they traipsed away, Connie carefully shut the bedroom door behind him. When it clicked into place, she turned to see Bess eyeing her with concern.

“Did something happen after we finished cleaning up from today?” Bess asked. As she inclined her head, a few inky curls slipped free and danced about her freckled cheeks. “I thought everything had gone swimmingly.”

“It did,” Connie quickly assured her.

As Bess sighed in relief, Connie fidgeted with her wedding ring, still trying to find the proper words to start the conversation.

Yet, that action was all Bess needed to see to know exactly why her friend had visited her.

“You did not come to talk about today’s event.” It wasn’t a question.

“…No. Well, not about the event, exactly.”

With a gentle nudge on the elbow, Connie encouraged Bess to the bed, where they could sit side by side. She followed suit, and the two women perched comfortably upon the edge of the mattress. Like two songbirds sharing a branch.

Once settled, Connie reached over and took Bess’ hand in hers. Their fingers twined naturally, both searching for comfort in each other’s touch.

“It’s regarding our earlier conversation. Well, before it was cut short.”

A small smile broke across Bess’ face. “I thought it might be.”

“Bess, darling, I’m truly—”

“I told you to not worry,” she said. “Connie, it’s fine. I am fine. My situation is a fact of my life that I have come to accept.”

“That’s not what you said before, dear,” Connie reminded her.

I wish I could say "over it", but I'm afraid this is something I'll never get "over".

Imposing silence followed that statement, and Bess cleared her throat nervously. “Well, maybe ‘accept’ is a strong word. But I’ve lived with it this long, and Wolf and I are perfectly fine. More than fine, actually.”

“Really?”

“Of course! The life I’ve found myself sharing with him is one I never thought would be possible for me, and I’m speechless with gratitude daily for it. For him. For you.”

Another stretch of silence followed as Connie gave Bess’ hand another squeeze. She wasn’t trying to goad Bess into affording feelings or sentiments she didn’t want express. However, she had doubts that someone who was truly as ‘fine’ as she claimed she was would have such forlorn sadness in their eyes.

Constance also possessed the perk of knowing her soul-sister well. Well enough to believe that there was more Bess wanted to say but felt like she couldn’t.

“Bess, I didn’t just come here to apologize,” Constance confessed heavily. “To be truthful, I did not like the note we left the conversation on, and I don’t believe in sleeping on disagreements.”

“Well, ‘disagreement’ is a harsh term.”

“No. There were clear signs about how you felt that I still failed to notice. As your family, I think I should have been more astute.”

After a moment of silence, Bess shook her head. “That’s … a novel sentiment. Having someone notice those things, and then apologize for them.”

“Your mother.” It wasn’t a question. “And Geroge…?”

“Oh, George absolutely did, of course! He was always so careful and mindful. But … he could only speak for himself. If he had been the only authority figure in my life, perhaps that could have nullified other things. But …”

But it wasn’t enough to balance out the agony of emotional abuse her mother had bestowed upon her. The love of a father was powerful, but it couldn’t replace the love of a mother. The same all-encompassing love and adoration that Bess longed to bestow upon a child of her own. Children of her own, plural, to be more precise.

Sons.

Daughters.

An entire litter of little wolf pups to call her own. To love and nurture, all while stomping out the maternal cruelty she had faced before it could grow legs and walk through future generations.

“I’m sorry,” Bess whispered. She looked to the wall in shame, trying to search for solace in the shadows the dancing candle flame cast on the wall. “M-Maybe today was more taxing than I wanted to admit.”

“I had a feeling.”

“It was a beautiful event, truly. I’m proud of it and what we accomplished, but … seeing all those women pregnant. Holding babies. Asking questions about the birthing process. Perhaps it was because I wasn’t at work, but it all hit me all at once and so suddenly. I hate feeling so immature about it. I’m so happy for those ladies, but I just … it pains me that I can’t give him a baby, Connie.”

“You’ll have a family one day, Bess,” Constance said. “One way or another.”

“There is only one way for me.”

“Have you and Ephraim discussed it? Adoption, I mean?”

“We have. Like I mentioned before, he is very wary of pregnancy. In many ways, I think adoption would provide him with some relief. We’ve had some small discussions, but nothing concrete. Yet.”

“And?”

Bess sighed shakily. “Of course, we’d love any child we took in. A brood of children has been my lifelong dream. Some of my own and otherwise. So …”

Hesitancy laced her voice. She steepled her fingers nervously in front of her lips, pursing them tight in an attempt to keep tears at bay. Connie reached up and rubbed circles into the small of her back.

Words failed. As Bess’ voice faded away on the cusp of a sob, Connie spoke up.

“I think you’re one of the most nurturing, motherly individuals I’ve ever met, Bess,” she said. “Well, second to my own mother. But I’m biased.”

“Oh, Connie, that’s different! Theresea is in her own league. She’s beloved by so many. She’s a natural mother to everyone she meets, and she does it so flawlessly. Even I feel that way toward her. All the children in her care adore her, as they should! She’s so giving and—”

“And she has no biological children of her own. Not a single one. And one adopted child.” She smiled softly. “An unplanned adopted child.”

Bess paused; Constance beamed. “Obviously, you and Ephraim must choose the path that’s right for you two, and on your own timeline and terms. But, if you’re worried about not being seen as a ‘real’ mother by naysayers and that possibly impacting your relationship with your children, I think Mama would be happy to offer advice. Not to mention, she’d vouch for you publicly. As would I.”

A single, silvery tear dripped from her black lashes. “…Really?”

“Bess, dear, you’re one of London’s most sought-after midwives. You have helped build countless families by guiding them through successful births. You have nurtured more children than most women have in a lifetime. If that’s not the true spirit of motherhood in full splendor, I don’t know what is.”

Bess wiped her eyes, sniffling against her sleeve. “…You’re too sweet to me.”

“I’m merely honest.”

“…Do you remember anything about your other mom? I mean, your birth one?”

“No.”

“…Do you wish you did?”

“No. Mama chose me when the other left me. There’s beauty in being someone’s chosen family.”

Someone’s daughter. Someone’s spouse. Someone’s sister.

After one last sniffle, Bess leaned in and wrapped her arms around her soul-sister, squeezing tight. Connie reciprocated with a kiss on the forehead and a soothing murmur, patting her back all the while.

“I’m so sorry for making you cry,” Connie whispered again. “For future reference, should I…?”

“No. If women have questions, making sure they have answers is important. Who knows. For some of those women, I might be the first person they were able to talk to outside women in their own family. I don’t need anyone to dance around me. I love what I do, and I could never send someone away. But you’ve given me wonderful encouragement.”

“I’m very glad.”

“Ephraim and I still have much to discuss, but seeing the way his eyes light up when he holds Starla? It’s motivating.”

“The day you two start your family, no matter how that journey begins, will be a day of momentous celebration,” Connie said. “We’ll bring marble cake and plenty of dark chocolate. Enough to last months.”

The two girls shared a final laugh as a gentle knock came at the door. Slowly, Ephraim entered, a sleeping Starla cradled in his arms.

Bess waved him in, noting the way he had all but cocooned the sleeping bundle in his embrace.

“I just went to sleep,” he mouthed, stepping toward them with cartoonish caution. He lowered the bundle into Connie’s awaiting arms, then stepped back to allow her ample space to stand.

Before she left, she pivoted to Bess so the raven-haired woman could bestow a goodnight air-kiss upon her goddaughter’s forehead.

“Goodnight, Starshine,” she mouthed noiselessly. Then, to Connie, she reached up and fluffed her coppery curls affectionately. “Goodnight, Connie.”

The redhead reciprocated with a tilt of her head and a delicate curtsey.

“Goodnight, you two. Rest well. You’ve earned it.”

Wolf held the door was she passed through, the closed it with featherlight softness after she was gone. Then, once the sound of her footsteps faded, he let out a sigh of relief.

“You got Starla to sleep,” Bess enthused. “I’m proud of you.”

“It was not easy,” he said with a laugh as he approached the bed and sank into the spot beside her. “My brother is going to have a fit tomorrow when he sees that I arranged the items of his study for an impromptu puppet show. Oh, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

She lofted a finger to her rosy lips. “Mum’s the word.”

He chuckled handsomely, then leaned in to kiss her forehead. It was at that moment that he noticed a telltale redness in her eyes. “Oh, Brightness? Is everything alright?”

As Bess stared at the concern reflected in her loving husband’s eyes, realization crashed into her. For the first time in a long while, things finally felt alright. More than alright, if she was being honest.

“I’m fine,” she said, her tone sincere but resolute.

“Truly?”

“Truly,” she said. Then, noticing the unusual silence of the room, she turned to gaze out one of the impressive manor windows. A grin split her face as she saw that the rain had stopped, the clouds giving way to vibrant moonlight.

Wolf followed her gaze. “Ah, it seems that pesky storm finally stopped.”

“So it seems,” she said. “A pity. I do love falling asleep to the sound of rain.”

“Well, if you’re…”

“It’s my second favorite sound,” she said, smirking at him sweetly, “Second only to your snoring, that is.”

“I’m sorry, my snoring?”

She laughed at the look of mock-offense that bloomed on his face, Yet, moments later, he seized revenge by snuffing out her laughter by kissing her lips. While her chuckle faded, her smile remained even as he wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her up and back onto the bed’s impressive swan feather pillows. For a moment, he was so distract by how the moonlight carved out her features that he lost the ability to speak.

“Thankfully, considering where we left off, I think I have another idea for helping you get some sleep,” he finally husked. He reached back and pulled the ribbon from his hair, the silver strands falling loose over his shoulders. “Well, eventually.”

Another musical laughter left her. She reached up and ran her fingers through the starlight-colored locks. “Now, we don’t want to sleep in and overstay our welcome, Wolf. Or risk traumatizing Magda.”

“Tell her I have a dreadful cold from walking her home in the rain.”

“That’s cruel!”

“Oh, please, she won’t fall for it,” he said. “She’s too bloody astute. But perhaps she’ll give us an extra hour or two in bed.”

“You are incorrigible, Wolf!”

With a smirk, he reached down and pulled the sash of her peignoir open. As the fabric pooled on either side of her cotton-draped form, the adoration in his eyes turned to pure hunger.

Hunger than hadn’t dimmed despite marriage, arguments, discussions of children, and more.

“When it comes to you, and us together? Oh, most definitely, Brightness.”

Whatever laid ahead, however their family began, there was no question regarding one thing. If destiny was to bless her with the opportunity for motherhood in any shape or form, there was only one man she ever wanted to be the father. One Wolf she wanted to build that family with.

And come what may, she would build that family with all the love and joy she’d been deprived of.

A man what would stay by her, and their children, through any storm.

#scrooge 2022 #scroogeverse #scrooge netflix #ask #quill-pen #bess scrooge #scrooge x oc #constance dogoode #magda vandergeissan #ebenezer scrooge #ephraim scrooge #tw pregnancy

6 notes · View notes