Of Lorenz Theory & Love

JHMD: A Coconut Craving

48: JHMD: A Coconut Craving

11 am, 1 month before the wedding, Vera Manor, Living Room

"Oh! Well fancy that! It seems as if we have ourselves a little Whitelighter who wanted to say hi to its parents." Harry and Macy stared at each other incredulously, at Macy's belly, then back up at Morgana, who was now positively beaming with joy. "Take care of that little one. I'll be back next month!" And with that, Morgana vanished.

11:05 am, Vera Manor, Living Room

"Wow," Macy said in awe, as she rose to a sitting position, now looking at the sonogram photo of the fetus that Morgana had provided her. Harry looked over her shoulder. A head, tiny arms, little legs. Everyone procreates and has been since the beginning of time, but when it was your own baby, somehow something so commonplace felt downright miraculous, he thought to himself. Especially when the baby was a product of the woman he was absolutely enamored with.

Harry half-expected Macy to utter something transcendental or philosophical, about how birthing a child would change her, or something just as profound. Instead, Macy still appeared somewhat shell-shocked. "How...how on earth did this happen?"

"Well, Macy, technically, when a man and a woman love each other very much—," Harry hid a fleeting smirk.

"I know my human reproductive anatomy, thanks," Macy responded testily. "I mean, I've been so busy lately—I can't remember the last time we—" her voice faltered.

"Counting back to ten weeks ago—what momentous occasion occurred ten weeks ago, pray tell?" Harry instantaneously knew the answer as always, but was cognizant of the fact that Macy, being mortal, though no less gifted in the area of intellect, needed time and space to do her own fact-finding. She read through her phone's calendar, counting back the weeks, until it suddenly hit her.

"SafeSpace Post Prom."

11:10/6:10 pm Azores, Vera Manor, Kitchen

Harry looked at Macy for a moment, knowing that she finally understood the where, and when. The clock chimed, startling them both. It was noon.

"Do you want anything from the kitchen to eat?" Harry asked, placing the sonogram photo on the fridge using a nearby magnet. Macy grimaced slightly. There wasn't a single thing she found appetizing inside or outside the fridge. She was sick of plain toast with peanut butter, bland oatmeal gave her the heaves, and if she so much as smelled rotisserie chicken again...ugh. To be honest, she could've gone for a coquito, but as that contained alcohol, that certainly wasn't possible. The coconut itself, however...

Macy shook her head after some time. "I could really go for some fresh coconut though."

Harry smiled. It was the first time Macy had thought of eating something other than dry toast, which to him seemed woefully insufficient for a growing fetus. "Let's get our things, I know just the place."

6:30 pm Faial Island, Azores, Open Market

"Harry, where exactly are we?" Macy looked around the stalls uncertainly. It seemed as though she was in the Azores, but she didn't recall ever being in this particular section before. She could see bundles of rambutans, succulent maroon-colored lychee fruit that she knew held floral-scented, sweet nectar within, bushels upon bushels of miniature plantain bananas of every which size, shape, and color. Harry had taken his time orbing, and Macy was grateful, since this time, she hadn't experienced as much dizziness as before.

"The fruit market of Faial—one of the adjoining isles. Wait here, love," Harry replied, then disappeared into the throng of customers for ten minutes or so, reappearing with a small brown paper bag of guavas, pre-sliced coconuts, miniature plantain bananas, and other items. Macy closed her eyes and breathed in the warm ocean breeze; she felt better already.

7 pm Madalena Village, Azores, Epicenter Pico No. 23

Harry plucked a handful of pre-sliced coconut from the paper bag, rinsed them thoroughly, then placed them on a cutting board, mincing the fruit into smaller, bite-sized cubes. He placed these in a small teacup and walked through the screened door to the balcony, where Macy sat in her ecru chair. He presented the coconut to her along with a glass of ginger-flavored sparkling water, a wedge of lime atop the cup's rim. "For you, Dr. Vaughn."

She graciously accepted. "Oh, my, Mr. Greenwood, you certainly do know how to spoil a woman."

"It's the least I could do, given that I've put you into this peculiarly delicate situation," Harry answered.

"Pregnancy, Harry. I'm not delicate—just pregnant. And if I recall correctly, I was the one blindfolding you in the nude," replied Macy, as Harry's cheeks turned a shade of pink at that particular memory in question. She continued on. "Call it what it is. I'm knocked up, preggers, a bun in my oven, positively enceinte—"

Harry's spine tingled at the word enceinte. The French word for pregnant. He, Harry Greenwood, had made Macy Vaughn enceinte in a nocturnal act of pure, unadulterated passion that involved Macy's unzipped crimson red, tulle gown and a black cloth blindfold that obscured his vision, even if for only a moment, before he ripped it off and their amorous activity had begun. He shivered. It made him picture all manner of incredibly inappropriate things that a Whitelighter was not supposed to think of. Body parts changing, purely as a result of his silvery-hot, fecund seed. The glow emanating from her soft womb, the—

"Harry!" Macy spoke suddenly.

"What is it?" Harry asked, jolted out of his Macy-centric, wandering thoughts.

"Matias is stopping by for a few, he wanted to ask how Morgana's obstetric observation went, and we're discussing a few last-minute wedding details," said Macy, still seated in the balcony.

Harry groaned, his eyes cast downward at his now-emerging erection. Unfortunately, this would have to wait.