Let God Be The Author: Chapter 2

Chapter 46

Elisha's POV:

It's been raining. All. Day. Long. The weather was terrible. From time to time again, you could see flashes of lightening and after two good seconds, hear the deafening roar of thunder.

Everyone was stuck indoors, bored out of their minds. And by everyone, I especially meant myself.

"What do you want to do?" Bennet asked for the hundredth time, cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

My reply remained the same. "I don't know." I said and snuggle tighter into the fuzzy blanket, watching him from a distance as he made brunch.

It was a wet Wednesday morning that marked 5 days before my due date.

Crazy how fast time passes by.

Was I scared of giving birth. Heck no, I was petrified. I was scared out of my wits. The thought of not only delivering one baby but two made the fear even worse.

It was all fun and games until  I entered my third trimester and heard the personal stories of other mother's giving birth. They shook me to the core. The only thought that was keeping sane was how the pain was going to be all worth it when I finally had my precious babies in my hands.

"How about we make choc chip cookies?" Ben came out the kitchen with a dish cloth resting on his broad shoulders.

He made his way to the couch and plucked himself beside me. Like a moth drawn to light, he instantly pulled up my shirt and exposed my big, pregnant belly, gently resting his head on it like a pillow and caressing it with his hands.

"I'm craving something else." I replied and just by my tone, his head shot up and he gave a defeated look.

"Don't. say. it," He threw a playful death stare. "Chubs, pickles and peanut butter is an abomination to the food industry. How do you live with yourself knowing you eat such a thing. That is serial killer tendencies."

"Its called cravings!" I defended myself, giggling at his reaction as I threw a pillow at him.

He caught it and threw it back at me.

I threw it again and it landed straight in his face, making burst into laughter and full on wheeze.

Next thing I knew, we were running around the house like 7 year old's, immersed in an intense pillow fight as loud chuckles and giggles bounced off the walls and down the hallway.

Everything was in shambles. Pillows sprawled on the floor, rugs wrinkled and folded at their ends, laying disorderly on the ground, doors left ajar and random objects, that were used as defense weapons, littered all over.

The war went on for quite some time, a lot of ducking and diving until we both became exhausted and a boisterous lightening strike scared the living out of us.

Maybe, it was the way we still ran around like teenagers, although we were grown, married and about to have kids.

Maybe it was the way he wrote letters and sent me flowers every other day.

The way he never forgot to buy pickles and peanut butter when going to the store.

The way he eased my pain and kissed away my self doubt.