Something was definitely wrong. Mary kept feeling bad. She had to go to the doctor.
Dr. Ambrose gave her a cursory examination and said, "There's nothing wrong with you. You'll be back to normal in about ... eight and a half months."
Mary was stunned. "Eight and a half months. But I can't be...I mean, I haven't...I mean since..."
Dr. Ambrose just smiled. "You'll be fine. Call me in a couple of weeks."
Dazed, Mary staggered out of the doctor's office. She felt dizzy. She grabbed a column to hold herself.
"What's wrong, dear?" Surprised, Mary looked up into the wrinkled, gray face of a stout, but withered old lady. The old lady was holding a leash, with a scruffy, dirty-white scottish terrier attached.
Mary struggled, but couldn't say a word.
"Oh. I see. Been there, done that. Betcha don't believe me, to look at me now. Used to be quite a looker. Yes, he knocked me up and took the next freight out of town. Need a place to stay?" Mary shook her head. "Need some food? Well, anything I can do to help, dearie?"
"No. Thank you," Mary said at last.
"Listen, child. It doesn't get any easier, from here on out. Morning sickness, bloating, feeling waterlogged, weighed down. Then, if you go through with it--" the old lady eyed Mary closely. Mary didn't respond. "...if you go through with it, there's feeding at all hours of the night and day, diapers, food, clothes, more expense than you can imagine, dear -- all by yourself. Believe me, I know. Let an old woman help. It would give me pleasure. I'm all alone -- except for Charlie, of course. We could use a guest, couldn't we, Charlie? Take away some of the boredom. What do you say, child? Come with me."
The old lady reached out and touched Mary's elbow. Mary shrank, feeling cold and hot. She pulled away, frightened. "Don't be afraid, honey. Come if you want. Stay if you want."
"No! Thank you," Mary said, with emphasis this time. She turned and hurried off down the street. When she turned the corner, Snakefoot growled, snatched up the scruffy dog and swallowed it in one bite of his cavernous mouth.
------
"She's making a fool of you!" Screwtape screamed after Snakefoot's second failure.
"You're underestimating her," Snakefoot shot back. "We all are. She's got an unexpected amount of the Enemy's power. I should have noticed it the first time. She's being protected. It's like there's an invisible screen around her."
"Miserable excuse. You're an incompetent boob. You better come up with something. You know the Boss deals rather harshly with failure."
"I told you before. I don't fail."
------
News travels fast in the Underworld -- especially bad news. Glubwart licked his lips. He had been enraged when Screwtape called in Snakefoot to poach on his territory. He would show the charlatan who was the real demon.
Impersonating one of the enemy's troops carries its own risks. It makes one a target from both sides. But Glubwart was willing to chance it. "Brother" Glubwart was decked out in all his Sunday finery; white suit, white broad-brimmed hat and shiny black boots with absurd silver buckles. He wore a skinny, western-style tie with a turquoise clasp. Under his arm was a black, well-worn book that could be mistaken for a Bible.
-----
Mary staggered home. She still couldn't believe what was happening to her. It was impossible. The doctor must have made a mistake. What was she going to do? Need to get another test; had to be a mistake. What would she do if it's true? She had enough trouble taking care of herself. Suddenly it hit her -- Joe -- what would she say to Joe? How would he take it? After the big scene she had made. What would he think? She wandered home on automatic pilot; her feet taking her; her mind racing like a gerbil in a cage; round and round, round and round; one thought after another, then the whole sequence starting again; starting again; starting again; make it stop; can't make it stop.
Somehow she made it to the front door. In. Go to bed. Can't sleep. Mind racing; won't stop. She couldn't catch sleep. Finally, sleep caught her.
[Mary floated on a cloud. No more demons. She was flying, free; carefree. No danger. Suddenly, by her side on the cloud, was the withered old black man. But this time was different. This time she was not afraid. He smiled at her. "Take the child and go," he said. "There are those who seek his life."]
Mary woke. All her fears, all her hesitancy gone. She knew what she had to do. She quickly packed her few things. Polly just gaped at her when she said, "Thanks for everything. I'm leaving."
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