“It’s going to be fine,” Buttercup reassured herself, waving the doubt away with her hand. “Just fine.”
“If it isn’t just fine, even for a second, you come right back here, Buttercup. Understood?” Wes said.
Blushing at the sound of Wes’ stern tone, Buttercup shyly answered, “Okay.”
“I mean it. And I know Ray told you the same.” Wes and Ray had a long discussion on the night Buttercup had booked her ticket home. Concerned by this boyfriend, and his hold over Buttercup, they had both wanted to forbid her to go back. But she was a grown woman, at eighteen, and had to make her own decisions. It didn’t make it any easier to see her leave.
“He did,” Buttercup said, the blush on her cheeks turning a deep crimson. Wes wouldn’t put it past the gentle giant to have threatened the existence of Buttercup’s rear end if she didn’t call him if there was trouble.
“Good.” Wes pulled the truck into a parking spot at the airport. Getting out of the driver’s side, Wes met Buttercup at the back of the truck. Reaching in and lifting the suitcase out of the truck bed, Wes was pleased to see that Buttercup did not attempt to take the big green suitcase from him. Allowing him to escort her, suitcase in hand, Wes walked Buttercup into the airport.
After she was checked in, suitcase tagged and on its way with the airport luggage, Buttercup and Wes stood at the entrance to the security checkpoint.
“You tell Tom to carry that suitcase for you when he picks you up, you hear?” Wes said.
“Yes, sir,” Buttercup said shyly. “Goodbye, Weston,” she said, looking up at him hesitantly.
“Goodbye, Buttercup. Don’t be a stranger.”
“Thanks for everything.” With a sweet smile and a little wave, Buttercup headed to the security checkpoint. She did not look back.
Watching Buttercup depart, Wes sighed. Without family and under the thumb of a man that wasn’t worthy of her, Wes couldn’t see her future being the peaceful, happy one the young woman deserved.
When Buttercup was out of sight, Wes hooked his thumbs in the loops of his jeans. Turning, Wes headed back to the truck. Goodbyes were always sad, this one particularly so. But it was time to move on with his day. Wes had yet another obstacle to tackle. His wife.
“We are going to the doctor. You can go and be a good girl about it and I will take you to the steakhouse for lunch. Or you can go and be naughty and come home to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a long nap. Your choice.” Wes stood, patiently, by the doorway, hoping he wouldn’t have to scoop Carrie from the couch and carry her kicking and screaming to the car.
“What kind of doctor?” Carrie asked grumpily, snuggling further into the blanket on the couch. Having taken to sleeping as much as she was eating, Wes was glad the appointment had come. Something had to be wrong.
Sitting down next to her, Wes wrapped his arm around Carrie. “An OB/GYN.”
“But the test was negative.”
“And you’re still late,” Wes said. Carrie’s face flushed and she picked at the fringe lining the edges of the blanket. “Sometimes the test can be negative for a few weeks, and you can still be pregnant. They can do an internal ultrasound and see if there is anything there.”
Looking up at Wes with a surprised look on her face, Carrie said, “You sure know a lot for someone who didn’t know the word, prenatal, a few months ago.”
Wes had been doing constant research ever since the day Carrie had brought up the idea of having a baby. Internet, phone calls, even interrogating Dr. Burton who had cared for Carrie in the hospital, there was no end to his worried information gathering.
Laughing, Wes said, “I even know what a sonogram is now. I have a whole new vocabulary. Do you know what a perineum is?”
Groaning, Carrie said, “Gosh, Wes, don’t be gross,” while wrinkling her nose.
“It’s your body, there is nothing gross about it. And it can tear during birth, did you know that?”
Carrie’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? Jessica is the only one I know who’s had a baby and they cut Evan right out of her.” Carrie made scissor motions over her belly with her fingers.
“Now you’re being gross.”
“What?” Carrie said, laughing. “That’s the way to do it. Plain and simple.”
Wes felt a cloud of turmoil roll over him. “No surgeries,” he said, quietly.
“I’m not pregnant,” Carrie said softly, placing her hand over Wes’. “And if I was, I’m as healthy as a horse. You have nothing to worry about.”
Even though Carrie and Buttercup stayed up late, talking into the night, the circles under Carrie’s eyes still worried him. “I just don’t want to risk losing you, Carrie girl. I can’t.” Anxiety plagued Wes, the thought of every complication that could come of a pregnancy nagging him constantly.
“Wes, would it make you feel better if I go to the baby doctor with you?” Carrie’s chocolate brown eyes lovingly looked at Wes.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Okay, I’ll go.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, Carrie said, “I know how scary that time was for you, Wes. But look at me,” Wes locked eyes with his wife, “I’m here. And well.” Carrie placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I don’t like to see my daddy worried.”
“I know, baby. I will feel better after we talk to a doctor. Thank you for going,” Wes said.
Carrie stood and made her way into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll just grab a snack for the road. I’m feeling a little peckish.”
Shaking his head to himself, Wes stood, grabbing his car keys. After waiting for Carrie to return from the kitchen, Wes started to get antsy, checking his watch. He would not allow them to be late. “Carrie,” he called.
A moment later the petite blonde reappeared at the living room doorway, her arms full of bags of snack foods.
“I’m ready,” she said, smiling as a bag of sour cream and onion chips hit the ground. “Oops,” she said, bending over to pick up the chips, and laughing as a snack cake and pretzel rod fell to the ground as well.
Wes walked over, picking up the goodies from the floor. “What else do you have?” Sifting through the confections, Wes named the foods she had chosen, “Licorice, gummy bears, Carrie, is that a Choco Taco in there?”
“What?” she shrugged. “It’s a long drive.”
“You can keep the pretzel rod, but everything else goes back,” Wes said, brushing past Carrie heading into the kitchen. “I am making you a sandwich.”
“Why, Wes? These snacks all look delicious to me.”
“Delicious maybe, nutritious, definitely not.” Wes opened the fridge collecting the ham, cheddar and mayo to make Carrie’s sandwich for the drive. “I swear, I just fed you,” Wes murmured to himself.
“What was that, Wes?” Carrie asked heatedly, dumping the snacks onto the counter in front of Wes, junk food in crinkling packages flying everywhere.
Sighing, Wes spread the mayo on the white, not wheat, bread that he had just cut the crusts from. “It just feels like you are eating a ton lately, Carrie.”
Carrie’s wide eyes suddenly filled with tears, her hands going to her mouth in dismay. “You think I’m fat,” she whispered to herself. Louder, she directed the statement at him. “You. Think. I’m. Fat.”
Dropping the knife on the plate, Wes walked over to Carrie, wrapping his arms around her. “I do not think you are fat, Carrie.”
Shoving away from him, temper flaring, Carrie turned away from Wes.
Pregnant or not, Wes could not help his immediate reaction. His hand shot out and spanked her bottom hard. Grabbing her shoulder, Wes turned Carrie back to face him. “Stop it,” he said. Holding her there until he saw that she was over her fit, Wes returned to making the sandwich. Looking at Carrie standing pitifully on the other side of the counter, Wes said, “And you can bring the chips and the snack cake.” Pointing the butter knife in her direction, he added, “Just behave yourself, woman.”
Carrie happily grabbed her snacks up in
to her arms, “I’ll be in the truck,” she said, skipping off towards the driveway, forgetting her anger. Hesitating by the door, Carrie turned to Wes saying sweetly, “Triangles, please,” then was off.
Chuckling to himself, Wes cut the sandwich into triangles. Grabbing a paper plate from the cupboard, he neatly set the ham and cheese on the plate. Food in hand, Wes left the kitchen following Carrie. Stopping as he passed the mound of junk, Wes grabbed the pack of gummy bears stashing them in his pocket.
“I cannot go in there, Carrie, it’s a women’s bathroom.” Wes untangled Carrie’s hands from his shirt, which were currently pulling him into the restroom with her.
“It’s just one toilet, it’s a private room with a lock. Please come with me. I’m too nervous to go alone,” Carrie said.
Inwardly groaning, Wes debated if this was a rational request from his wife. Wes would do anything for Carrie but this seemed to cross some line.
“It’s just pee,” Carrie hissed at him. Seeing another couple coming down the hallway towards them, Carrie smiled and waved. The couple passed, giving Carrie a curious look. Once they were out of sight, Carrie grabbed Wes’ arm and pulled him into the bathroom. Shutting the door, she locked it behind him.
“See, you’re still alive,” Carrie said, picking up a plastic specimen cup from a basket behind the toilet. Squinting her eyes, Carrie read the instructions on the sticker.
Wes turned towards the bathroom door, arms crossed and head down. There was a steady stream, then a flush of the toilet. Figuring the flush was his signal it was safe to turn around, Wes uncrossed his arms and turned back to Carrie. As he was turning his elbow bumped Carrie’s arm. Her arm lifted, and the small plastic cup flew from her hands. Wes watched as the contents of the cup splashed out and over the floor. The empty cup made a soft thunk, as it hit the ground.
“No,” Carrie moaned, quietly. “No way.” Standing in the puddle and looking around her, tears filled her eyes.
Quickly jumping to action, Wes grabbed handfuls of paper towels from the dispenser. Throwing the towels on the ground, Wes pressed them into the liquid with the heel of his boot. “It’s okay, Carrie. I’ll clean this up and you just fill up another one.”
“I can’t Wes, that was everything I had. Scoop it up, Wes, put it back into the cup!”
Looking up from his boots, Wes read Carrie’s face to gauge if she was serious. She was. “Sweetheart, baby, I can’t put the pee back in the cup,” he said as gently as possible. Wes could see that Carrie was going to cry.
“I’m so embarrassed. I can’t go back out there without a cup, they are going to think I’m crazy.” Carrie grabbed a second cup from the basket, holding it out to Wes. “Here, you pee in this one.”
“I am not peeing in that cup, Carrie Ann.” Kneeling down, Wes gathered the wet paper towels, careful to pinch them by their dry corners. “We will tell the nurse what happened. It’s fine.”
Sniffing back tears, Carrie stood by the toilet, motionless. Wes tossed the paper towels into the trashcan. Washing his hands, then drying them, Wes racked his brain for words that would comfort his wife. Closing the lid to the toilet seat, Wes sat down. Not his first choice for seating, but calming Carrie was too important to worry over germs. Grabbing Carrie’s hands, Wes pulled Carrie onto his lap.
Instantly, she melted into him, his arms holding her. “It’s okay, baby. Everything is okay.”
“But how can I possibly take care of a baby if I can’t even pee in a cup?” she wailed.
“I bumped your arm, Carrie. Accidents happen. You will make an excellent mother, if not today, soon.” Wes kissed her head through her golden curls. Carrie made no motion to give him the impression she was ever leaving this bathroom of her own free will. They couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever. The rip the Band-Aid off approach would work; Wes placed Carrie on the floor, stood, grabbed her hand in his and opened the door. Throwing a, “Howdy, ma’am” to the baffled woman waiting for the restroom, Wes pulled Carrie up to the nurse’s station.
“I apologize,” Wes read the nurses nametag, “Ms. Sharon. We have misplaced our urine sample and will not be able to provide one for a little while.”
Glancing down at the splash marks on Carrie’s long skirt, the nurse smiled. “No problem. Dr. Glace will still be able to see you.” She directed her gaze to Carrie, who was hiding behind Wes. “Can I get you a bottle of water, sweetie?”
“Yes, please,” a little voice answered from behind Wes.
With another smile, the nurse grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge under the desk. Sharon handed it to Wes. “You can both have a seat in the waiting room. They will call you shortly.”
Wes guided Carrie to the waiting room, his arm tightening around her shoulders. With the pee cup incident behind them, Wes wasn’t going to take the chance on Carrie doing one of her famous bolting scenes. Instead, he pulled the package of candy from his pocket. “Gummy bears?” he asked, holding the bag out to Carrie.
“Wes,” she said, taking the bag, “you are just too good to me.”
Sitting side by side in the plush chairs, the couple sat quietly. Carrie munching on her gummy bears, Wes lost in thought.
Taking a deep breath, Wes tried to reason with Carrie, holding the cloth gown in front of him. They had been ushered back to an exam room and the nurse had handed Wes the gown, saying, “Have her take off everything underneath.”
After the door shut, Carrie hissed, “Why do I need to take them off? What are they even going to do down there?” while sitting on the examining table, her skirt wrapped tightly around her legs.
“I’m sure they peek down there.” In all his research, it had not crossed Wes’ mind to read up on what the procedures were during an internal ultrasound. “Just give me your panties and I will put them in my pocket. Surely the doctor can work around the skirt.”
Grumbling, “What nonsense,” Carrie snuck her panties off, scrunching them into a ball and handing them to Wes. She sat back down just as there was a soft knock on the door.
“Come in,” Wes said, giving Carrie his, be on your best behavior face. Sitting up prettily, Carrie put on a brave face.
Dr. Glace was young and slender, with light brown, straight hair that hung to her shoulders. She moved into the room with a gentle grace. “Hello, Carrie,” she said in a soft, pleasant voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dr. Glace.”
Carrie shook the woman’s hand, and a smile came to her face as she said, “Pleased to meet you. This is my husband, Wes.” Wes sighed with relief to see that Carrie seemed somewhat comfortable in the doctor’s presence. After shaking hands with the doctor, Wes took a seat by Carrie’s side, holding her hand and squeezing it.
Flipping through the chart in her hand, Dr. Glace spoke quietly, “I see we weren’t able to procure a sample from you, but we can work around that.” Glancing over the papers, she continued, “Let’s see, Carrie, you are six weeks late? Is your cycle pretty normal each month?” Dr. Glace looked to Carrie for a response.
“Like clockwork,” Carrie answered. “A twenty-eight-day cycle, and I am never, ever late.”
“Without the urine test to confirm pregnancy, I’d still like to do a transvaginal ultrasound.”
“Okay,” Carrie said apprehensively.
Moving a rolling a machine to Carrie’s other side, Dr. Glace settled into a chair at the end of the bed.
“Lift your skirt for me, sweetie,” the doctor said, while pulling what looked like a long wand from the side of the computer stand. Covering it in a clear gel, Dr. Glace said, “Go ahead and scoot your bottom to the end of the exam table and let your knees drop open. As Carrie followed orders, Dr. Glace spread a white sheet over Carrie’s lap. Going back to the end of the table, Dr. Glace lifted the sheet, disappearing underneath. “Just a tick,” she said, then, “little bit of pressure.”
Carrie’s eyes went wide, and she clutched Wes’ hand. “I had no idea you were going in there,” Carrie squeaked out.
&
nbsp; Laughing, the doctor reappeared. “It’s a little uncomfortable, but it gives us the clearest view of your uterus.”
Blushing at the word, Carrie looked at the screen with the doctor and Wes. Moving around the handle of the wand, the doctor hit a key on her keyboard. The screen lit up. Around the edges was a grey blurry outline, then in the center, a black shape that looked like a cave. “This,” the doctor said, tracing her finger around the outer edges of the cave, “is your uterus.” Dr. Glace scooted her chair towards the screen, moving the wand a bit to the right. “There it is,” she said.
Wes and Carrie craned their necks closer to the screen. At the bottom center of the cave was the tiniest flicker of a white dot. “There is, what?” Wes demanded.
Dr. Glace turned to Wes, flashing a bright smile. “The heartbeat,” she said. “Listen.” Her fingers twisted at a knob on the keyboard. A gentle swish, swish, swish, sound filled the room. Carrie looked to Wes, her mouth opened, her hand squeezing his. Then they both continued to stare at the screen, baffled by the little swishing sound.
“The heartbeat,” Wes repeated. The sound was suddenly the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. Within that little sound was life. A new life that had been created by his and Carrie’s love. Wes’ throat closed, and tears stung at his eyes. Wes looked over at his wife. Tears were streaming down her face and her hand went to her mouth to cover a choked sob.
“I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life, Wes,” she said, her eyes never leaving the pinpoint dot.
Wes watched the flicker, whispering, “Hello, little one,” to the screen.
Carrie turned to Wes. “You’re going to be a father. We are going to be parents.”
“It looks that way,” Dr. Glace interjected. “There isn’t much to see, yet, but I’ll print off this little grain of rice for you anyway. Right now, hearing the heartbeat is the coolest part. One hundred fifty beats per minute. Perfect.”
Perfect. Wes rolled the word over in his mind. Inside of Carrie there was a perfect little being growing. Right now, just a flicker on a screen but one day, he would hold their child. And for the second time in his life, Wes was absolutely, unequivocally, scared to death.
The Bartender (Sweet Texas Love Book 3) Page 13
