“Jack,” she whispered, her voice husky with sleep but the sweetness was gone. She sounded frightened and defeated.
At her tone, Jack’s arms tightened reflexively around her and he rolled them to their sides.
“Poppet, put your arms around me and hold tight,” he ordered and without delay, she did even as she tucked her face in his throat, her body still shaking. He kissed the top of her head before asking, “Did you have a nightmare?”
She didn’t hesitate with her reply.
“I remembered,” she whispered, her voice hitched on a sob and brokenly she went on, “Jack, I remembered the bus. I dreamed the whole thing. The whole thing. Penny, Davey, everything.” The shaking became intense and uncontrolled, wracking her body against his and she went on in a voice filled with horror, “Oh my God, Jack, I remembered everything. Every second.”
Jack pulled her deeper into him. Keeping one arm tight around her waist, he let his other hand drift up and into her hair, his fingers sliding through it and then back again.
“You just had a nightmare. Talking about it the other night made you –” Jack started but Belle’s head snapped back and she looked at him through tear-filled eyes.
“It wasn’t a nightmare,” she spoke fiercely through her crying. “It all came back to me. It was awful. I knew I didn’t want to remember it, Jack. I knew it.”
“Poppet –” he began again but she jerked her head in the negative and clenched her arms tight around him.
“Now it’s there. I’ll never get it out of my head. Never. Never, never, never,” she declared, a fresh wave of tears overcame her and she pressed her face into his throat again.
“Hold tight to me, love,” Jack urged and when she did he continued, “It’s over. It’s done. You’re here and safe. It’s finished.”
“Their eyes were open, Jack,” she choked and he felt his own body jerk at her hideous words but she either didn’t feel it or ignored it and went on, “They were staring at me but not seeing me. Their hair floating. Their arms adrift. Oh my God, Jack. It was so terrible. It was unspeakable. Oh my God. Oh my God.”
She began chanting these three words and rocking in his arms and Jack repeated, “Hold tight, love.”
She shook her head but held onto him.
“Take deep breaths,” he demanded but she shook her head again, forcefully this time, and then tilted it back with a sudden snap.
“What if that happens to Nathan?” she asked hysterically, eyes round with fear and horror. “Oh my God, Jack, what if –”
Jack cut her off by saying firmly, “That’s not going to happen to our child.”
Panic undeterred, her hands moved to his chest and pushed but he held her close as she exclaimed, “Jack, what if he’s smothered in his bed like Myrtle and Lewis?”
Jack gave her a gentle shake in an effort to break through her irrational fear. “Belle, he’s not going to be smothered in his bed.”
This effort as well was unsuccessful.
“We shouldn’t have a baby. Anything could happen,” she declared then suggested wildly, “You’re rich! Too rich! You own a castle, for goodness sakes! No one owns a castle. What if he’s kidnapped? Held for ransom!”
Still attempting to control her rampaging hysterics, Jack rolled into her and covered her body with the warmth of his. “Belle, calm down. He’s not going to be kidnapped.”
“It could happen!” she asserted, voice rising. “It happens all the time!”
“It doesn’t happen all the time,” Jack returned. “In fact, it rarely happens.”
“It could happen.” she pushed.
“It isn’t going to happen.”
“But it could,” she stressed.
“It isn’t going to,” he repeated.
“But it could!” she declared on a near shout.
“So you’re saying we shouldn’t have a child because there’s an absurdly remote possibility that he might get kidnapped?” Jack asked.