RAYANNE PUT THE ISSUE of Lily and Ryan firmly out of her mind as she ran her fingers over her new purchases. The lovely silks and satins of her new dresses made her feel positively giddy! She couldn’t wait to put one on and hit the town.
She held one up in the mirror. Should she wear the blue? The pink? The red?
Then the pain hit.
It hit hard and fast, twisting like a knife low in her belly. No, not like a knife. Like a million knives. No, a hot poker. That was it. Someone had just thrust a white-hot poker into her gut and churned it around.
She doubled over, holding her stomach. Tears pooled in her eyes before pouring down her face. She knew her mascara had to be ruined, but for once she didn’t care. The pain was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Was she dying?
Rayanne hurried to the bathroom, not sure if she needed to pee or throw up. Maybe both. The minute she pulled down her panties she nearly fainted.
“Oh my god, is that blood? Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m gonna die.”
Then a thought niggled its way into her panicking brain. She wasn’t going to die.
“Holy mother of ... my first period!”
Not something she’d ever dreamed she’d say, back when she was Ryan. And, frankly, she could have done without this part of being a woman. She doubled over as another stab of pain hit her.
She had nothing to deal with an emergency like this. Nothing. She needed to get to a store, fast. But how to get there without making a mess?
She jammed a wad of toilet paper into her panties, grabbed her purse, and scurried out the door. The trip to the local IGA grocery store passed in a haze of pain. How did women do this every month?
Rayanne hurried to the feminine aisle and came to a dead stop. There were so many choices and she had no idea what to get. Another cramp hit, doubling her over.
“Shit.”
No time to waste. She grabbed one of everything, from painkillers to the world’s biggest maxi pads, and headed for the checkout. The girl behind the register gave Rayanne a sympathetic look.
“Damn, girl, you got it bad.”
“You have no idea.”
“Shoo,” the girl shook her head as she scanned in Rayanne’s purchases. “You better believe I do. Every month like clockwork. Have to take the day off and spend it on the couch doped up on Midol and a bottle of red wine. Works like a charm.” She waved the box marked Midol from Rayanne’s stash. “You want some wine, too? It’s on sale.”
“No, thanks. I’ve got some at home.”
Rayanne tuned out as the girl chattered away. She quickly paid for her purchases and shuffled back to the car. The pain was like a giant tidal wave of glass, sweeping through her gut and ripping her to shreds. She was very nearly almost totally absolutely positive she was going to die.
Back home she ripped open one of her boxes and read the instructions. “I have to stick that WHERE?”
The box of tampons went into the garbage. Old school it was.
Damn. She shifted uncomfortably. It was like wearing a freaking diaper. But what was a girl to do? Either shove a wad of cotton up where the sun don’t shine or wear a diaper. This woman thing was not quite as much fun as she’d expected.
Instead of a night on the town showing off her new body and her new dresses, Rayanne spent it (between hurried trips to the bathroom) curled up on the couch doped to the gills with painkillers and vino and feeling very much like a beached whale.
By morning, she’d had enough.
She shuffled across the hall and banged on Branwen’s door. No answer. She banged harder. Still no answer.
“Branwen, god dammit, open up!”
Between one blink and the next, Rayanne found herself standing on a grassy hillside overlooking a lovely, sandy beach. The morning sun was warm against her back, no doubt highlighting the rat’s nest that was her hair.
The hillside was dotted with little park benches, everyone occupied. Around her, people glanced up from their picnics or newspapers to stare at the woman that had suddenly appeared in their midst.
Rayanne tugged at her oversized sweatshirt, one that had been hers back when she was Ryan, uncomfortably aware she wasn’t wearing a bra. Fortunately no one was paying any attention to her. They were all focused on the rather ample woman lounging on a park bench near the top of the hill. She had her feet propped up on a cooler and she was munching on a very large, pink frosted cupcake.
Branwen.
“Welcome to Tenby.”
Rayanne blinked. “Where?”
Branwen rolled her eyes. “Tenby. In Wales. It’s been one of my favorite vacation spots since before the damn Romans mucked things up with their religious proselytizing. Fortunately,” she beamed at her fellow sunbathers, “they still remember me a bit ‘round these parts. Which is why I come here to get my batteries recharged. So to speak.”
Rayanne wasn’t so sure they remembered the goddess Branwen so much as they were in complete awe of the woman currently downing cupcakes like a trucker downs steak. But she wasn’t about to burst Branwen’s bubble. “Um, Branwen, I want to thank you for giving me this ... gift.”
Branwen lifted an eyebrow. “Told you. Wasn’t a gift.”
“No. Good point,” Rayanne agreed as another stabbing pain hit her belly. “Perhaps you would consider taking it back?”
“Taking it back?” The goddess appeared so outraged she actually dropped a chunk of cupcake on the grass. “Do you have any idea how much power it takes to grant a wish? Never mind taking it back!”
Rayanne was pretty sure the incomprehensible words coming out of the other woman’s mouth were not repeatable in polite company. Fortunately they also sounded like they were in Welsh.
“I’m sorry, Branwen, really. But this pain...” Rayanne doubled over, clutching at her stomach as another wave passed. “I
