BRIEF SYNOPSIS - or, PREVIOUSLY ON "A MOTHER'S LOVE",

In London, Steve and Mary are young lovers who meet and marry. Though their love is strong, there are complicating factors. Mary has HIV, contracted from a one night stand she had before she met Steve. She's also given birth to their daughter, who is free of HIV but did inherit the same severe intolerance to cow's milk that Steve has. The obvious answer is breastfeeding, but Mary's HIV+ status (not to mention all of the anti-HIV drugs she's on) makes her a poor candidate for that. So ... Steve volunteers for the duty. He takes hormones to grow his breasts and begin lactation.

All goes well, until ... complications!
**Steve's very prominent breasts and his breastfeeding his daughter produce uncomfortable public circumstances; he begins dressing as a woman for work, which eases the discomfort because he passes pretty well. TOO well ...
**Mary comes down with cancer; she leaves Steve and the children to stay with her mother because she feels she's a burden AND because she doesn't like to see her husband becoming more female; she stops HIV treatment and progresses to full-blown AIDS.
**Steve, who goes by Stephanie when dressed as a woman, meets a new Doctor who then talks to Mary and convinces her to restart treatment for both the AIDS and cancer; the AIDS holds in check and her cancer goes into remission!
**BUT on two or three occasions now, the new Dr. (Jonathan Brown) has kissed Stephanie - sending her into totally unexpected and unsettling throes of infatuation! (Mary is unaware of this)
**Despite all of this, Steve and Mary's life returns to some normalcy; in addition to daughter Bekka, the couple now have a young infant son, so Steve's breastfeeding (and time spent as Stephanie) must continue. Mary announces that Steve needs to wean baby Hugh off breast milk - and that Steve should get a bilateral mastectomy ASAP! Problem: the surgeon REFUSES.

YESTERDAY'S CHAPTER
Mary learns of the surgeon's refusal; blames Steve/Stephanie, and takes off to her mother's with both children in tow. She leaves an ultimatum: return to being a man full time now, or their marriage is essentially over. Steve/Stephanie is broken over this.

Now without further ado, here is today's continuation ...

~o~O~o~

After a restless night spent alone in the house, I awoke and prepared for the workday. I intended initially to go to the office in my male persona, which optimally meant minimizing my bosom; however, I required my nursing bra with extra padding as I was leaking milk from my tight, unsuckled breasts. For some reason I could not find the electric breast pump I used when needing relief from the pressure (or to build up a refrigerated supply of milk for Hugh).

To have a full female shape protruding from a man’s shirt and jacket would be unacceptable in public, I reasoned. Therefore it was Stephanie that stepped out the front door and into the car.

~o~O~o~

“So as you can see, I need to change back to working as Steven, for all of those reasons,” I said.

Susan Williams, the proprietor of Adventure Travel, sat and listened. She appeared stymied. “Let me look at something,” she finally muttered, tapping some keys on her laptop. “Ah, here. You’ve been presenting as Steffi here at the office constantly for almost the past year. In that time, many of our clients came to know you only as a female agent; in fact, two of the women’s groups assigned to you had specifically requested a woman to handle their travel affairs. And now, what you’re asking for may destroy those client relationships.”

“But Susan – you knew that my situation was temporary. That I’d be eventually be returning as Steve.”

“Perhaps in the beginning. But frankly, you’ve remained Stephanie for so long that I almost figured that you had decided to be her from now on.”

“Susan – I have to change back.”

“Are you sure you really want that? Look at you. You’re immensely good looking; haven’t you noticed how some guys in the office will twist their necks to get a gander as you walk by? You are naturally feminine in your speech, your actions, and what we call deportment. The ladies practically consider you a girlfriend, and they let you in on all the juicy gossip. Will you be able to be happy if you’re never Steffi again?”

“I … I …” Why was I struggling to answer? “I … honestly, I don’t know.”

“I won’t oppose your decision, whichever it is. Be advised, this office is under significant financial pressure; agents who lose clients will be at risk. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I sighed, feeling a little more burdened. My move back to Steve full-time was supposed to simplify things, not complicate them.

~o~O~o~

As I parked back at my house that evening, I felt horrid in almost every way. Hopping up the entry steps, my swollen breasts jiggled and reminded me that some of the misery was physical. Thank God I’m home, now Hugh can relieve me -

“Bollocks!” I spat, remembering that of course Hugh was gone with Bekka and Mary at my in-laws. Well, I’ll use the pump then. Wait – I couldn’t find it this morning! Where is it?

I searched the place from stem to stern; no breast pump was found. Did Mary take it with her, to force-wean ME from the breastfeedings as well? Multiple calls and texts to Mary’s number continued to go unanswered.

I tried to express milk using my fingers; it was messy and inefficient – after 10 minutes I experienced no relief. I was now having occasional fleeting sharp pains from the tight mammaries. I cannot go all night this way. Perhaps the chemist?

It was now after 8 pm; there were some late night chemists within driving range, but calls placed to them found that none had a breast pump. The attendant at Lloyd’s was especially helpful, searching the store until he came back on with the news that they’d sold their last one earlier today.

I gently cradled my painful bosom with one arm whilst dialing with my free hand. I do NOT want to visit the A&E … but perhaps they have a spare pump?

A call to the nearest hospital emergency department brought hope. “Yes, love, we have a pump here; can you get to us easily enough?”

“I’ll have to put my top and bra on, but carefully as I’m really hurting.”

“Wait one bit, ma’am; you said your name was Stephanie Jones?”

“Well, I’m registered as Steven Jones with the NHS. It’s a long story.”

“That’s all right, Stephanie – we deal with the transgendered quite often.” The nurse’s voice then suddenly got distant, as if she’d pulled the phone away from her face. I could make out a few words still: “Are you sure … you do know her? …”

I opened my mouth to tell the nurse that I wasn’t transgender; then thought better of it and just sighed. This was no time to quibble; I needed relief.

“Ms. Jones, hang on. One of our staff was leaving his shift, and he’s volunteered to bring the pump by your place. Please verify your address.”

“Oh thank you so much! Will they be by soon?”

“He’s leaving right now. Come out here if this doesn’t help. Goodbye.”

My current state of dress was topless, with a large towel draped over my breasts and lightly pressed against the nipples. I tossed the towel in the dirty hamper and reapplied the nursing bra, pulling a loose button-up sweater on over it; I attached enough buttons to be modest, then sat awaiting the doorbell.

I didn’t wait for long. A ring came through, and I stepped quickly to the entry. “Is this the worker from the A&E? With the pump?” I spoke through the door.

“Well, essentially, yes,” came the answer.

I opened the door. “Please come –“ no further words were spoken, as my tongue was frozen in surprise. I instantly recognized the hospital “staff” person.

“Hello, Stephanie,” smiled Dr. Jonathan Maurice Brown.

~o~O~o~

NOTICE TO READERS:

This is a fan-fiction story continuation of Alys's unfinished story, "A Mother's Love." As I have stated in my blog, Alys has given her permission for this work. This is not meant to alter or detract at all from her superb original story, merely to build upon it and achieve a resolution for these wonderful characters.

The setting of this story is Great Britain, and superstar Big Closet author Angharad graciously consented to help me retain a British "feel" for the narrative and dialogue. She is a godsend/lifesaver. I have now had the privilege of working with multiple stars here to bring my humble little indulgent tales to be published in BC. What a giving, loving community.

If you aren't familiar with Alys's story, I have typed a brief summary to set the stage (see the Brief Synopsis at the top). If you want to read Alys's part of this tale (all chapters are super quick reads and great stories!), then look into:
A Mother's Love - Prequel
A Mother's Love - Volume 1 (11 parts)
A Mother's Love - Volume 3 (2 parts)

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've gotten this far, please leave me a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! Hugz - **Sigh**

Previously on "A Mother's Love":

Mary has suddenly left for her mother's house in Manchester, four hours away (and she's taken the children with her!). Stephanie is trying to return to "Steve" mode full time but is meeting resistance at work. With suddenly no baby to suckle (and unable to find the breast pump), Stephanie is having significant breast pains. The hospital A&E has sent her a pump, delivered by ... Dr. Jonathan Brown, whom Stephanie has had unexpected attraction to in the past!

(for a more extensive recap - all the way back to the beginning - please check out the "Brief Synopsis" at the beginning of Chapter 3.04, posted yesterday)

And now, today's continuation ...

~o~O~o~

“Jonathan?!”

“I have your pump right here,” he said. “I saw the intake nurse write your name down as she was talking to you on the phone. I figured there probably aren’t that many lactating patients in this area named Stephanie Jones.”

“You’re not an A&E physician! You’re a cancer and HIV specialist. What were you doing down in emergency?”

“I had finished all of my inpatient work for the day; as the last task before I left for home, I did an initial consultation on a patient there with newly diagnosed acute leukemia. So I was writing my findings when I overheard the nurse on the phone.” He saw me wince a few times as he talked; this caused him to frown with concern. “You’re really suffering, aren’t you? Is the pain that bad?”

I had been holding back tears, but now let them loose. “Oh, Jonathan. This has been the worst day of my life.” My head hung towards the floor. “My marriage, my job, my children, my future, and now even my gender – it’s all up in the air, coming down for a huge crash. Then tonight there’s this bloody breast pain!”

“Well, much of that I can’t help with – except the last problem. Let’s get this pump assembled and relieve some of that pressure.”

He unboxed the pump with its tubing and suction cups. I was taken with the sight: a respected, learned man who seemed to hurt with every pang of pain I experienced. It seemed he actually, truly cared deeply for me. He removed his coat as he was starting to perspire some; his wiry, lean musculature could now be better seen through his shirt. I began to feel an unusual desire, a need for him to be closer.

This appeared to be his first time putting together this type of machine, as he fumbled with the components and held up the instructions, scanning them quickly with a scowl on his face. “I’m so sorry, Stephanie. I know you’re hurting. I’m doing this as quickly as I can; have you assembled one of these before?”

“Jonathan.” I began to unbutton my sweater. “Can you come over here?”

Jon walked to me, confused as to what I wanted. He stopped about a foot from me; I clasped his shirt collar and pulled his face to mine, delivering a warm soft kiss; after a few seconds, I broke it and pulled away slightly. Tugging the right side of the sweater from my chest, I then unlatched the nursing flap from that breast. The organ was full and tight, slightly leaking a drop of milk from the nipple. I spoke not a word but looked intently in his eyes with a visage that asked him to understand … and invited him to act.

He withdrew a bit and returned my gaze intently. His head tilted, as if incredulous of the request.

“Please,” I whispered between deep, shuddering breaths.

Jonathan looked at my breast, then back into my eyes. He then slowly lowered his head towards the nipple.

“Please. Hurry,” I whispered.

His lips wrapped around my nipple and areola, and he began to suck. Immediately a forceful burst of warm, thick milk hit the back of his throat; he pulled away coughing.

“Jon? Are you okay?”

“Wasn’t prepared for the force of that first squirt. Don’t worry, I’ve got it now.” He reapplied his mouth to the same area and began to suck with more gusto. I leaned my head back and breathed “Oooohh.”

Jonathan continued to nurse, but as he did he put his arms around me and lowered his hands to my skirt, which he pulled on until the hem was up around my hips. His hands now grabbed my buttocks, and he lifted me up off the floor. I hung onto the back of his head to keep from tipping over.

He carried me to the couch, then turned and sat down on it, all the while continuing the suckling. He pulled my legs to where they now rested, flexed, on either side of his torso. I could now feel a warm bulge from Jonathan’s groin pressing into my knickers.

The right breast was reducing in tightness and output. Jonathan came ‘up for air’. “Ready for the left?” he said with a sly grin. I just smiled and nodded my head.

He began to minister to the other side, and I began to get more vocal. At first, my sighs were from the relief of tightness; as time progressed, I began to moan in a more erotic response.

As the last of the milk finally emptied, Jonathan leaned his head back and looked into my eyes.

“Have you ever had a full drink of your breast milk? It’s quite good,” he asked.

“Just a drop or two; never a mouthful, and definitely not a meal’s worth like you just had.”

“Let me give you a taste,” he whispered. Then he brought his lips to mine, and we kissed long and deep. As we did, our hands wandered. He unclasped my bra. I unbuttoned his shirt. Both of us were topless in short order; but as he grasped for my panties, I grabbed his arm.

“I’m only a woman from waist-up. But I would still love to show you my gratitude.” With that, I snaked my arm down the inside of his trousers and began caressing his manhood.

~o~O~o~

Minutes later, we both lay on the couch, our heavy breathing gradually subsiding.

“Is your discomfort gone?” he queried.

“I am feeling no pain.” I pulled herself tighter against his body. “I know this won’t last, but I just want to enjoy it a little longer. Can you continue to lie here with me a while?”

“Your wish is my command, Madame,” he purred. “I wish you knew how long I have dreamed of being with you like this.”

“Me too,” I answered.

“So … all is right with the world, then,” he replied.

As we lay on the settee, he fell asleep. I could not; my mind was in a whirlwind of turmoil contemplating the previous 24 hours, especially the last one.

~o~O~o~

“Jonathan. Wake up.”

The doctor opened his eyes; he was still on the couch, naked from the waist up. I was clothed and sitting on a chair in the living room, holding out a cup towards him.

“It’s lemon herbal tea; if you prefer, I can get you something with caffeine – but it’s only eleven and I didn’t want you to be up all night.”

“Why did you get up? I was hoping to awaken beside you in the morning,” he yawned.

I grasped his hand but stayed in the chair. “Jonathan. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’ve come to some decisions that we need to talk about.

“Tonight was wonderful. I needed to be held, to be desired. It’s been so long since Mary has really wanted me sexually, due to how female my shape has become. Your loving has renewed my soul.

“And yet at the same time, tonight was horrible. I have cheated on my wife – something I am deeply ashamed of. Even if I make the changes she’s demanded, this one act could torpedo our marriage.”

“But you’re attracted to me,” the doctor replied. “Are you bisexual? Or are you staying in a loveless marriage just for the sake of it?”

I shook my head. “When first we met, I staunchly believed I was 100% male and fully heterosexual, and that I had only developed my breasts for the sole purpose of feeding my infant child. But our first kiss – it shook my whole world. And now it has culminated in what we did tonight. It came so … naturally to me. I’m beginning to think that perhaps my soul is really female. I am at home, at peace, being Stephanie. My Steve persona feels more and more alien.”

“So, then. Perhaps it’s time to make a clean break, and be Stephanie full time. You would lose your wife, but you’d gain me.”

“Jonathan – you aren’t suggesting we start a relationship, are you?” I gasped with alarm.

He hadn’t expected quite this reaction. “Well, um … would that be a problem?”

“Yes! I'm still married! In spite of how Mary's treated me recently, and even with what just happened tonight, it doesn't excuse more infidelity on my part!” I exclaimed. “Not to mention that I don't need to give her another reason to keep Hugh and Bekka from me! Then there’s the problem of your medical license.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Even though you haven’t treated her in nearly two years, you’re still one of Mary’s physicians. And you’ve now had a sexual liaison with the spouse of one of your patients. As I understand it, that could result in you being sanctioned – if news of this got out, that is.”

“Damn,” he cursed, realizing the tangled knot this situation had become.

“So,” I continued, “Here’s what will happen. You’re going to quietly drive home from here. I am going to seek out a gender specialist to confirm what/who I truly am. I will try to come to an agreement with Mary for the children. And you and I will remember tonight fondly – but we won’t repeat it. Agreed?”

“And if I disagree?” he countered.

“Don’t,” I warned.

~o~O~o~

NOTICE TO READERS:

This is a fan-fiction story continuation of Alys's unfinished story, "A Mother's Love." As I have stated in my blog, Alys has given her permission for this work. This is not meant to alter or detract at all from her superb original story, merely to build upon it and achieve a resolution for these wonderful characters.

The setting of this story is Great Britain, and superstar Big Closet author Angharad graciously consented to help me retain a British "feel" for the narrative and dialogue. She is a godsend/lifesaver. I have now had the privilege of working with multiple stars here to bring my humble little indulgent tales to be published in BC. What a giving, loving community.

If you aren't familiar with Alys's story, I have typed a brief summary to set the stage (see the Brief Synopsis at the top). If you want to read Alys's part of this tale (all chapters are super quick reads and great stories!), then look into:
A Mother's Love - Prequel
A Mother's Love - Volume 1 (11 parts)
A Mother's Love - Volume 3 (2 parts)

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've gotten this far, please leave me a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! Hugz - **Sigh**

~o~O~o~

SIX MONTHS LATER

“My goodness.”

I paused after donning my knickers to assess the appearance of my nearly nude form, first from the front, and then turning to see a profile. My DD-cup breasts hung in large teardrop shapes, a genetic gift from my well-endowed mother. My slim waist expanded to modest hips before tapering to lithe legs below. The addition of testosterone blockers and electrolysis to the usual hormone therapy had produced stunning results; indeed, my groin contained the only evidence that I’d been born male.

Amazing. I never was thought of as effeminate when I was Steve; yet as Stephanie, I am near-unreadable, I mused, and shook my head in mild wonderment at my good fortune. A glance at the clock reminded me to return to the task at hand. I went to apply makeup before putting on the rest of the outfit.

~o~O~o~

“Steffie! Aren’t you supposed to be off today? I thought you were headed to Manchester to spend time with your tots?”

“And a proper hello to you too, Susan,” I laughed. “Have no fear; I’m just here to drop off the itineraries I worked on last night at home, then I’m off to Mary’s mother’s house.”

“Well take care of yourself – mentally, emotionally, physically. I worry about you having to interact with your ex-wife – ”

“You mean my eventual ex,” I corrected. “It won’t be official for a while, I’m afraid.”

“Either way, she’s still an ex. She has a knack of stirring the pot with your emotions and even your self-esteem. When that happens, it affects us too.”

“Well, I promise to be on my ‘A’ game when I return to work on Monday.”

“Psh! I’m not worried about that,” Susan snorted. “Ever since you committed to living life exclusively as a woman six months ago, you’ve been more focused and productive than ever, as your top sales status shows. No – what I mean is that I, and all the rest of us here, care for you as a person. Don’t let yourself be abused or manipulated by a vengeful wife.”

I smiled even as my eyes surely betrayed scars of emotional pain. “I appreciate that. But know that I will suffer whatever I have to in order to be in my kid’s lives. I really must be off, now; thank you for the kind words, Susan.” With that, I left the office.

~o~O~o~

To all appearances, I was an attractive young woman in a sleeveless sundress and strappy sandals walking up to the front door of a small house in Manchester. I took a big breath in, then rang the doorbell. My brown shoulder-length hair was parted on the right side, partially obscuring the left eye as it fell across my face. Red lips and a faux pearl necklace framed a nervous smile.

Mary opened the door and greeted me with a grimace. “God. You’re not even trying to hide it anymore, are you? Not even dressing neutrally. Come in, I guess.”

I followed her inside to find our children, Bekka and Hugh, playing on the floor with their maternal grandmother, Andrea James. The older woman smiled. “Hello there! Children – your Auntie Stephanie is here!”

“Auntie Stephanie!” yelled Bekka as she ran to me and latched onto my upper thigh. Hugh screamed as he ran and hugged the opposite leg.

“Oh my darlings, I’ve missed you so much!” I cried. I squatted down and grabbed them – one in each arm – then stood up with an ‘uff!’ and carried them to the sofa where all three of us landed in a laughing, hugging, tickling heap.

After a good hour of play, I took a kitchen break to drink some coffee that Andrea had made. Mary gave me my instructions.

“I want Mum to have the weekend off from the kids. She’s been doing most of their care while I establish at my new job here, and it’s nearly exhausted her. So it’s a good thing you’re here, as Koz and I have had this cycle regatta planned for a few weeks. It would really disappoint him if I had to cancel.”

“Mary – who is this ‘Cause,’ and how long have you known him?”

“That’s Koz, K-O-Z. He’s my boyfriend; we met at a pub here two months ago.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“Is this the Spanish Inquisition? He does on-site car repair and odd jobs. What he prefers to do is motorcycle the country – preferably with me hanging on his back. Is this interrogation over? Let’s change the subject.”

“Okay. Why is Bekka calling me ‘Auntie’? Her name for me was Mum-Stephanie.”

“Because I’M her mum. I’m her only mum! You were her Dad, but clearly you’re not anymore. So you can be an auntie. That’s what I’ve told her to call you.”

“Mary … this time and distance from my kids … it’s killing me. Are you sure there’s no equitable way we can work this out? You could even still seek your divorce from me yet we could live in the same house. I’d even be open to you dating men; we could live as roommates. I just need to be around the kids; and I’d love to still be around you, too.”

“Then you should have stayed a man! That’s what I married – a man named Steve, and he was a pretty good one! But when I look at you I’m reminded of how you rejected that life – you rejected ME – and it all disgusts me. No, it’s over. I’m rebuilding what’s left of my life and moving on, and the kids with me – except for court-ordered visitation, of course.”

The doorbell rang. “Ah. That’s probably him,” smiled Mary. She left to the door, then re-entered the kitchen with a man in tow. This man wore a white T-shirt with a sleeveless denim jacket above his holey jeans and leather boots. Copious tattoos adorned his arms with various skulls and partially naked women. A handlebar moustache seemed to give him a permanent glower; his long hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, quite a contrast to the receding hairline he had on his front scalp.

Mary made the introduction. “Stephanie, this is Koz. Koz, this is my ex.”

Koz’s left eyebrow arched high. “You’re the bloke? Or, rather, used to be?” He shook his head, then turned to Mary. “You ready to blow this burg, babe?”

“Let me get my backpack,” she squeaked eagerly and ran off to her bedroom.

“Where are you two motoring to?” I asked Koz.

“Big biker meeting in the countryside. Spending one or two nights there. Partying and good times.” Koz walked to the refrigerator and procured a beer, which he chugged down quite briskly; he glanced back towards me. “Mary never mentioned how lush you are. Have you taken that bod for a test run with a high-octane stud? ‘Cause I am one, ya know.”

I was gobsmacked. “You know that your girlfriend – my wife – is in the next room? And that I haven’t had surgery? Yet you are flirting with me. You’re either pissed or a pillock.”

“Pfft. Your loss, lass.” Koz now was quaffing his second beer.

“Um, aren’t you about to go on a motorcycle trip? Should you be drinking?” I fretted.

“If I go too long without one, I get the shakes – see?” Koz held out his hand to reveal a mild tremor. “These are my first brews today. I’ll be fine after a couple more.” With that, he started to gulp down another.

I turned and hopped to Mary’s bedroom and knocked on the door, then went in.

“Mary. Did you know that Koz is on his third or fourth beer out of the fridge? And he smells like skunk. Riding with a cyclist who’s drunk and high on marijuana is a bad idea, don’t you think?”

“Koz will be fine. You’d be amazed how well he holds his liquor.”

“Please tell me he doesn’t interact with the kids; he doesn’t smoke pot around them, does he? And why date a guy like him? You can do better; you deserve better.”

Mary suddenly looked furious. “I’m damaged goods! I’m HIV positive, and even though I’m stable on meds, to most guys that’s a deal-breaker. I’m also in remission from cancer – not cured, in remission – meaning there’s a chance it will come back. That makes me a burden to any partner. I can do better? I DID have better – you, while you were still Steve! But no, now you’ve ‘found your true self’ as a woman. So don’t you dare lecture me when you’re the cause of this current situation!” She walked past me in a huff, out to the kitchen.

“Koz, I’m ready. Let’s leave this mess.”

I watched in silence as they mounted the cycle together and sped off.

~o~O~o~

After supper (I made spaghetti with meat sauce for all of them; Hugh still got baby food) I rested with my two tots in the living room.

“Mum-Stephanie – oops, I mean Auntie-Stephanie,” Bekka corrected herself.

“Love, you can call me Mum-Stephanie when it’s just us two here,” I cooed.

“Okay. Why haven’t you visited us more often? I miss you so much; so does Hugh.”

“Well, Mum-Mary and I are having some disagreements about who you should be with and when. But know that I can’t stand being away from you; I would see you every day if I was allowed to.”

“I’m sorry, Mummie. I’m bad sometimes. But I’m trying to be good.”

“Darling! What’s happened between us Mums is NOT your fault! It’s our fault. And … probably mostly mine.” I started to dab my eyes.

“Please stay here with us. Please don’t go away again.”

My heart was breaking into a million little pieces. Nothing – NOTHING – is worth hurting my children like this! If I have to go back to being a man forever, so be it – as long as I can be with them. I need to tell Mary –

Those thoughts were interrupted by a ring of the doorbell.

“It’s nearly nine in the evening. Who could this be?” wondered Andrea as she walked to the entryway. “Hello? Who is it?” she yelled through the door.

“Police, ma’am,” came the answer.

The door swiftly opened, and there were two Bobbies standing there. Both were in uniform, holding their hats in their hands. “Is this the current residence of Mary Jones?” the closest one asked.

“It is; I’m her mother. Whatever is the problem?”

I stood at the back of the entryway, watching the officers interact with my mother-in-law. Suddenly my stomach felt as if weighted down with twenty pounds of lead. “Oh no,” I whispered faintly.

“Ma’am – I regret to tell you some bad news. There’s been an accident …”

~o~O~o~

NOTICE TO READERS:

This is a fan-fiction story continuation of Alys's unfinished story, "A Mother's Love." As I have stated in my blog, Alys has given her permission for this work. This is not meant to alter or detract at all from her superb original story, merely to build upon it and achieve a resolution for these wonderful characters.

The setting of this story is Great Britain, and superstar Big Closet author Angharad graciously consented to help me retain a British "feel" for the narrative and dialogue. She is a godsend/lifesaver. I have now had the privilege of working with multiple stars here to bring my humble little indulgent tales to be published in BC. What a giving, loving community.

If you aren't familiar with Alys's story, I have typed a brief summary to set the stage (see the Brief Synopsis at the top). If you want to read Alys's part of this tale (all chapters are super quick reads and great stories!), then look into:
A Mother's Love - Prequel
A Mother's Love - Volume 1 (11 parts)
A Mother's Love - Volume 3 (2 parts)

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If you've gotten this far, please leave me a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! Hugz - **Sigh**

NOTICE: FINAL POSTING TODAY

Hi there, reader - Sigh here.
I've been posting the continuation of this story in short bits (between 1K and 2K words per part, as was the original author's habit). However, these last 3 parts are SUPER short, so I've combined them into one post that will wrap up this tale in a neat little bow. One more time, huge kudos to Angharad for her invaluable British phrasing and charm! Kudos to Alys for the original story! And much thanks to anyone who took the time to read this flight of fancy. I owe you all big-time hugz!

~o~O~o~

Chapter 3.07

Bekka gazed into my floor length mirror and smiled. The three-year-old wore a bright red dress with petticoats; they swirled and fluffed as she spun ‘round.

“Mum-Stephanie! Do you like my dress? I think it’s so pretty!”

“It’s gorgeous, honey; YOU’RE gorgeous. I am so proud to call you my daughter. Mum-Mary will love it.”

Bekka frowned. “But how can she see me in my dress if she’s gone to heaven already?”

“I believe she can see you – and all of us – from heaven. And part of her is still with us here on earth; the part of her heart that is always living inside us.”

“Mummie, why aren’t you wearing red like me? Don’t you want us to match?”

“For this occasion, grown-ups wear black. We do it to … show how much we miss Mary.”

Bekka began to sob. “I miss her too. I still love her.” She rubbed her chest as if to ease a pain. “I’m … I’m sorry, Mum-Steph … Stephanie … I can’t stop it …”

“Don’t try to stop it, baby. It’s okay to cry; you’re supposed to. In fact, I’m about to join you,” I said, embracing my youngster and now leaking tears of my own. “I miss her and love her too. I’ve never stopped loving her.”

The service was being held at a crematorium in London, as this is where most of Mary’s friends and acquaintances lived. She had suffered severe head injuries in the crash and died quickly. I’d found a picture of her from before her illness and we included it on the front of the order of service.

At the chapel, I carried Hugh in my right arm while holding Bekka’s hand with the left. A familiar face from the crèche I used made me smile, and I walked to it to hand over my son.

“Janis, thank you so much for being here and agreeing to look after him.”

“You’re welcome, love. I’ll be in the back room where the young mothers take their children. I’m praying for you to get through this.”

I sat through the service; the vicar had encouraging words. My emotions were all over the map. With Mary’s death, she would no longer live another day feeling as if she was damaged goods; and of course, now I had both of my children living with me every day. These thoughts gave me comfort and yet also guilt for being relieved about the situation. There were bittersweet memories too; I had now permanently lost the woman who truly was my soul mate. I remembered our first meeting, our courtship, and early marriage; the loss of that bliss, especially my role in that loss, haunted me. If I only had rejected the idea of me nursing Bekka; she and our marriage might still exist.

The service came to the eulogies, where those who knew Mary were invited to share how Mary had affected their lives. I spoke for about ten minutes, remembering our best times. Andrea spoke highly of her daughter.

“Are there any more recollections?” the vicar asked. To my surprise, a tall man in the back stood up and approached the podium.

Dr. Jonathan Maurice Brown. He leaned towards the microphone and spoke:

“Mary was my patient for a short time. I was privileged to be her oncologist. We got her cancer into remission just 2 years ago. Now, many might shake their heads and remark about what a shame it is to elude death by malignancy only to receive it from a motorcycle accident. I assure you, Mary would disagree. She felt that each day was a gift, and living it fully was a success. Instead of moping that we only bought her two more years, I will rejoice in the fact that this woman got over seven hundred more days to experience her life, and love on those she loved. We who survive her would do well to emulate that attitude: live with what we have, and love who we have, today – while we still have them. God bless you all, and bless Mary’s soul.”

The ceremony was taped so that my children could watch it later when they were old enough to comprehend fully what was said. There was a wake of course, and to my happy surprise, Jonathan was there also. I approached him.

“What nice things you had to say about Mary. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Stephanie. I realize she wasn’t a total saint; but at times like this, one focuses on the positive.”

“I was thinking about the last thing you said – live and love with those we have while we still have them. That wasn’t a veiled message meant for me, was it?”

“That depends. Are you taking it that way, and are you offended if it was?”

“Not offended. Oh, I’m just going to say it. You still intrigue me.” I was beginning to blush.

Jonathan put on his trademark wry smile. “You know, those problems that you had with us pursuing a relationship – what you told me six months ago? It appears those are no longer are an issue. I know you just lost your wife, and you are probably not ready for a new lover –“

“No, I’m not,” I interrupted, “but I could definitely use a new friend. Why don’t we start from there and go ‘low and slow’ for a while? We can see where that takes us.”

~o~O~o~

Chapter 3.08

TWO YEARS LATER

“For the thousandth time, don’t worry! I’ve cared for my grandkids before. Even though this time it will be for a week, they are so well behaved that I think I can handle it. And if I need a break, I’ll use the Child Care Centre to help me for a few hours – as you’ve suggested. Now you go and have a fantastic honeymoon in Bermuda, please!”

Andrea was doing her best to reassure me, but since this was to be the longest time in two years that I’d be separated from my darlings – well, I was worrying. Jonathan came up to me from behind and laid his manly hands on my shoulders.

“Hey there, my sweet. I promise we’ll call back daily to check on Hugh and Bekka. You need to finish packing so we can head to the airport in time.”

I still needed to make sure. “Andrea – I’ve listed you as their carer for this week over at the crèche. Do use them – daily, if you need – so you can get a midday rest. And I’ve left all the emergency numbers –“

“On the refrigerator, yes, you’ve told me three times already. Now scoot to your closet and pack; oh, and one last thing …”

“What’s that?” I fretted.

“DON’T WORRY! That’s all.”

~o~O~o~

I looked out the window of the plane, seeing nothing but a distant ocean below. My previous fears of leaving the children for a week seemed more distant too. I turned to my new husband; he was reading a book, yet his arm was intertwined with mine, betraying our still vibrant infatuation with each other.

“I’m sorry for all the anxiety I had over Hugh and Bekka.”

“I took no offence, my love. Andrea might feel that you lack confidence in her, though.”

“Yes, I can see that. I’ll text her my apology when we land.”

“In the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you so fearful. Why do you think you were?”

“Hmm. Actually, the last time I went more than a day seeing the kids, they were gone for the better part of six months – the last time that Mary took them from me. I think I was having flashbacks to that time. I don’t know why – Andrea has been totally trustworthy.”

“A lot has happened since then. You’ve weaned Hugh off of breast milk completely, then finished your transition, despite the NHS dragging its feet on that. Then you planned and pulled off a most impressive wedding. Were you happy with it?”

“Oh yes. But if I could take a time machine to go back one year, I would beg my then-self to please elope,” I laughed. “It took so much time and energy! Perhaps with the pictures and a little time, I’ll appreciate it more. You’ve been quite busy too, Jonathan. Overseeing the new inpatient wing of the cancer ward, with the expansion of research capabilities? You and I have been burning our candles at both ends.”

“Right now I’m only burning at one end; you’re so sexy, sitting next to me,” he breathed in my ear.

“Soon, my love,” I whispered back. I wish it were sooner! I thought.

~o~O~o~

We had dropped our bags off at our beach condo unit and gone for dinner at a recommended local seafood grill. Now we were unpacked and changed into swimwear to hit the poolside Jacuzzi. Being virtually alone there for the last twenty minutes, we snuggled and made the hot tub a little hotter.

Back in the condo, we showered together. I dried off quickly and hopped out of the bath area, leaving Jonathan to finish towelling himself there. I grabbed one of the cuplets of coffee creamer on the minibar and turned off all the lights, whilst opening the shades to show the moonshine over the waves at the beach below.

My new husband stepped out of the brightly lit loo into the pitch dark of the bedroom, forced to stand still as his eyes adjusted. “Stephanie?”

“Jonathan. I’m over here. I’m having a problem,” I groaned. I now sat up on the side of the bed so that my silhouette was visible against the window.

“What’s the matter, darling?” He hurried to my side, vision already adjusting.

“I didn’t bring my pump. They’re so uncomfortably tight. And I’m leaking,” I said as I lifted one of my breasts into the moon glow. There was a drop of cream glistening on the nipple. “Please,” I breathed, recreating our first sexual escapade from two years prior.

My lover smiled, and then lowered his face to minister unspeakable joy to my bosom.

~o~O~o~

Chapter 3.09

“I’m so nervous. Are there complications? It’s been too long since we’ve heard anything. If she’d allowed me to be in the birthing suite –“

“But she didn’t. She wants us to remain as anonymous as possible. Just relax, Steph. Have you read the letter she wants us to hold on to?” Jonathan, as ever, was being a steady rock for me.

It had always been a goal for Jon to have a child that was naturally his. Of course, I could not provide him with an egg, so we looked into in vitro treatments with the use of a surrogate mother. However, in the preliminary tests Jon was found to have a genetic condition – testicular azoospermia, they called it – that made him untreatably impotent.

He put on a brave front having heard that news; he even said he was glad that I had no cause to feel guilty for an inability to carry his children. I took no such comfort because my husband was clearly devastated by this discovery.

Therefore two months ago Jonathan and I, after much discussion and contemplation, decided to apply for the adoption of a child. Bekka had been hinting at wanting a little sister, and I was hoping for a tot that my husband and I could raise from the start together. To his credit, he (along with me) kept Susan’s memory alive for Hugh and Bekka; yet this emphasized his role with them as more like a step-parent. Anyway, we were hoping for a baby of less than one year old. Then we got a phone call from the agency two weeks ago.

“Stephanie Brown? This is Alice from the adoption bureau. We have a pregnant girl who wants to surrender her child to a worthy couple, and for it to occur just after giving birth. Are you open to this?”

“Of course we are!”

The next we knew, there were papers and processes. We had an ‘audio only’ phone discussion with the girl.

“So, Emily; how did you come to the decision to give this baby up for adoption?” I asked.

“Because I waited too late to abort,” replied the girl. “To be honest, I’ve been stoned and high on heroin and other crap for most of the last year. Somewhere in that time, I got knocked up; it could have been any of a dozen different blokes. Now I’ve been in rehab treatment for six weeks, and have been clean for that time. I finally realised – after the fog lifted – that I needed to deal with this pregnancy, but I was already past 24 weeks, and in the UK they won’t do one this late unless there’s severe deformity (there isn’t – I got tested) or my life is in danger (it’s not). So I want to give her up. I understand that you already have two well-adjusted tykes?”

“Yes, we do. And since I’m now infertile, we can’t have any more naturally.”

“It sounds like I’ve found the folks for my foetus then.”

As we hung up, I looked at Jonathan. “We’re going to be parents of a newborn infant. I need to get in with my endocrinologist now!”

Sixty-three days later we are here in the obstetrical waiting area, and I’m looking for the letter. The letter that Emily wanted us to read, then seal and save to give to our newborn daughter 18 years from now. Ah! I’ve found it. I call my husband over and we start reading.

Hello, daughter.

This is your birth mother. Not your real mother. The real one is the one who’s committed to raising you these last 18 years. I imagine you wonder why I was willing to give you up. You probably think it’s because I didn’t love you.

Wrong. I’m giving you up BECAUSE I love you!

See, my mother was abused, molested, on drugs, and pregnant (with me) at age 16. She could not care for me adequately with all that baggage, and so now here I am, a victim of abuse, rape, hooked on drugs most of my life, and now pregnant with you at age 18. I’m just now getting clean; yet, I feel that to keep you would condemn you to repeat this pattern.

So I’m breaking the cycle. I’m giving you to people who are proven to be good parents, who love each other, and who really, really want a new child. I pray they will be as good as advertised; yet I KNOW they will be better than I would be.

Maybe someday I can pull it together enough to be a good mum for someone. But I am far from that at this point. Since you are an adult – this is to be given to you at your 18th – then if you want to seek me out, I’ll allow it now. I pray that I am clean and still alive. If not, then know that I do love you, and want the best for you. I always will.

Love, Emily

“What a letter!” exclaimed my husband.

“Jonathan. This is a sacred duty for us now. We must prove worthy of Emily’s trust by loving this new little girl just as much as we do Hugh and Bekka. I vow I will, at this moment and from now on,” I swore.

“Mr. and Mrs. Brown? I am proud to announce: here is your new daughter!” The OB nurse entered the room with a crying, swaddled baby.

“Britney. Her name’s Britney,” smiled Jonathan.

“Is she hungry?” I asked, receiving her from the nurse.

“Yes, I imagine – oh! You’ve come prepared, I see; I didn’t know that you were –“

I already had my new baby to my breast; she latched on and had begun feeding without a hitch. “Yes, I am.” My new nursing blouse allowed discretion even in a semi-public area.

“You two have bonded immediately. Impressive,” smiled the nurse.

“God, how I’ve missed this – this intimacy, this sense of connection with my baby,” I emoted. “It’s beyond physical; it’s spiritual.”

“There’s nothing more transcendent than A Mother’s Love,” replied the nurse.

~o~O~o~

NOTICE TO READERS:

This is a fan-fiction story continuation of Alys's unfinished story, "A Mother's Love." As I have stated in my blog, Alys has given her permission for this work. This is not meant to alter or detract at all from her superb original story, merely to build upon it and achieve a resolution for these wonderful characters.

The setting of this story is Great Britain, and superstar Big Closet author Angharad graciously consented to help me retain a British "feel" for the narrative and dialogue. She is a godsend/lifesaver. I have now had the privilege of working with multiple stars here to bring my humble little indulgent tales to be published in BC. What a giving, loving community.

If you aren't familiar with Alys's story, I have typed a brief summary to set the stage (see the Brief Synopsis at the top). If you want to read Alys's part of this tale (all chapters are super quick reads and great stories!), then look into:
A Mother's Love - Prequel
A Mother's Love - Volume 1 (11 parts)
A Mother's Love - Volume 3 (2 parts)

~o~O~o~

If you've gotten this far, please leave me a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! Hugz - **Sigh**