by Cindy Kirk
Whenever she’d envisioned having a baby, it had always been just her. But when Adam smiled and walked toward her, Charlotte was glad he was here to share this moment.
“Do you think we’ll hear the heartbeat today?” she asked in lieu of a greeting.
“I’ve been doing some reading, and we should be able to hear it, but we’re not to be alarmed if we don’t.”
“I read the same thing.” Charlotte dropped her voice, though there was no one else around. “I still think I’m going to be upset if we don’t.”
He nodded and held open the door. “All the way over here, I was gearing myself up to not be disappointed if we don’t hear it.”
Adam took her arm as they stepped into the entryway and headed up the curving staircase to the second floor. His protective nature didn’t irritate her as it once might have.
After the nurse took some blood and checked her vitals, Charlotte found herself in a small room with a machine, a tech and Dr. Swanson.
Adam stood at her side, and she could feel the tension radiating off of him.
Dr. Swanson offered them both a reassuring smile. “Sometimes we can hear the heartbeat—”
Charlotte clasped Adam’s hand and forced herself to breathe. She’d been doing a lot of reading. She knew what to expect now, just as she knew the importance of the results of the blood sample she’d given.
She was high risk, which meant her baby had an increased chance of issues, some small, others more severe. Her heart beat even faster, and she clutched Adam’s hand tighter.
The sound of the muffled beat of a tiny heart filling the small room pulled Charlotte from her thoughts. She looked up to see a grin split Adam’s face.
He gave her hand a squeeze.
“Is that—?” Her mouth went dry even as tears filled her eyes.
“Your baby’s heart beating. Currently, at 164 beats per minute.”
“That’s normal, right?” Charlotte asked, her gaze now riveted to the screen. She should know the rates. She’d looked them up again last night. Right now, her brain didn’t seem to want to function.
“We expect anything between 110 to 170 at this stage, so yes, 164 is perfect.”
Charlotte watched as the tech took measurements of the shape on the screen. If she looked close, she could make out a head and body and… “Are those arms and legs moving?”
She hated that her voice trembled. Charlotte prided herself on being in control of her emotions. But this baby, her baby, was a miracle.
Slanting a glance at Adam, she saw she wasn’t the only one affected. It might have been the lighting, but his eyes appeared to hold a sheen as his gaze remained focused on the screen.
“It is indeed. You’ve got an active little one in there.”
“You’re taking measurements.” Adam glanced at the tech and cleared his throat. “Is there something that concerns you?”
“The measurements are all part of the first-trimester screening.” Dr. Swanson’s smile had everything in Charlotte relaxing. “What I’m seeing is a perfectly normal eleven-week-old fetus with a strong heartbeat.”
Adam expelled an audible breath. Or maybe, Charlotte thought, she’d heard her own breath coming out in a whoosh.
Adam leaned close for a better look. “He looks so small.”
Charlotte shot him a glance, but she couldn’t fault him. Ever since Madame Gitana’s “prediction” she, too, had found herself thinking of her child as a boy. Which was absolutely ridiculous.
The doctor took several minutes to point out the size. “Your little one is the size of a strawberry. While that does seem small, your baby’s length will double in the next three weeks.”
Adam’s hand tightened around hers.
“Your baby has working arm joints, and cartilage and bones are forming. Fingernails and hair are starting to appear.”
Charlotte exchanged a look with Adam. Was he feeling as overwhelmed as she was?
“Why don’t you get dressed, and we’ll meet in my office?” The doctor’s gaze shifted to the image on the screen. “We’ll have some pictures for you to take home.”
Since Charlotte had to get back to the salon for her afternoon appointments, she was glad the appointment was clipping right along. On the other hand, she wished it could all slow down.
She wanted to linger in the small room with the pale gray paint and faint smell of disinfectant and simply gaze at her baby on the screen and listen to his heartbeat.
When Adam took her arm on the short trip to the doctor’s office, Charlotte was grateful.
“What do you think she wants?” Adam spoke in a low tone. “Do you think she’s worried about something?”
“I believe this is just how these visits go.” Charlotte pulled her brows together. “I think.”
The smile on Dr. Swanson’s lips when they entered her office had Charlotte letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Once they were seated, the doctor took the lead. “Everything I saw today is completely normal. The size and heartbeat are what I’d expect, and from what I could see, the placenta is in a good spot. It all looks good.” Dr. Swanson narrowed her gaze on Charlotte. “Tell me how it’s been going for you.”
“My breasts are getting bigger,” Charlotte said.
“Some women grow a full cup size.” Dr. Swanson nodded. “They also may be more tingly or tender.”
Charlotte didn’t dare glance in Adam’s direction. They were also more sensitive, but she was sure that the doctor would tell her that was completely normal.
“Some foods make me nauseated.”
“Food aversions are also very common.”
“She can drink coffee now without any problem—” Adam began.
“I stick to one cup.”
“Aversions come and go. And a cup of coffee in the morning is one of life’s little pleasures and perfectly acceptable.” Dr. Swanson tapped a pen against her thigh. “I want you to keep drinking water. It’s important to stay hydrated.”
Charlotte nodded. Drinking more meant she had to hit the restroom frequently, not easy when you were working with a client.
“I’d like to run some additional tests on the blood we drew today. These tests will detect risks for trisomies 13, 18 and 21, as well as let us know the gender. We leave it up to you whether you want to know the gender.”
Charlotte’s hand stole to rest against her still-flat stomach. “What’s the point in the testing? Even if there is something wrong with the baby, I wouldn’t do anything.”
Beside her, Adam remained silent.
“Let me clarify that this test is not about whether you want to continue with the pregnancy or not. It gives me information on how to better care for you and how you can prepare if we do find something.”
A jerky nod was the best Charlotte could muster as a ball of fear lodged in her throat, rendering her temporarily mute.
“The vast majority of these tests show no signs of heightened risk.” Dr. Swanson’s tone turned reassuring. “I’ll also be reviewing the ultrasound in more depth and have that information for you at the same time as the blood test results.”
“Can Charlotte and I discuss doing the test and get back to you?” Adam asked, obviously picking up on her hesitation.
It’s my decision. Not yours. Even as the thought rose inside her, Charlotte felt ashamed.
Giving birth to a baby with anomalies wouldn’t just affect her. She and Adam were in this together, and she was grateful he was here with her.
“Let’s do it.” Charlotte glanced in Adam’s direction and got his nod. “If it gives you more information that can help the baby, I’m all for it.”
The rest of the conversation, about taking vitamins and getting proper rest and avoiding alcohol, flowed around Charlotte. But once they walked out of the office, she couldn’t recall much of what had been said. Other than they had another appointment to go over the test results.
Adam walked with her to her car. “Do you
have to go right back to the salon?”
Charlotte glanced at her Apple Watch. She expelled a long breath and nodded.
“Hey.” He tipped her chin up. “It’s the doctor’s job to offer these tests. Even if one of them shows something, that doesn’t mean we have to act on it.”
“I won’t have an abortion.”
“We’ll keep our baby safe.” Then his arms were around her, and he was holding her close. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m fine.” Despite the response, she leaned her head against his chest, drawing strength from him. “I don’t know why her bringing up the tests bothered me so much.”
He stroked her hair, and she was reminded of the gentle way he had with Molly and his kindness toward his dad. This was a man who loved and protected those close to him.
The realization that she could get used to having such a man in her life had her stepping back. Not way back, just a little.
“I need to get back to the salon.” Inhaling deeply, she squared her shoulders.
A strong hand settled on her shoulders before she could step farther away. “Your apartment or my house?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ll be waiting for you after you get off.” He brushed her lips lightly with his. “Just tell me where and when.”
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte returned to the salon barely in time for her next appointment. When she’d seen Anita Fishback’s name on her schedule that morning, she hadn’t been sure how to feel.
While she’d been a loyal customer, Anita could also be demanding. Dealing with her took energy that Charlotte didn’t have at the moment.
Still, she managed a smile and polite conversation as Anita settled into the chair.
“I got my last cut when Len and I indulged in this romantic weekend getaway at the Delafield Hotel.” Anita’s bright red lips curved.
“I don’t know that I’ve heard of that hotel.”
“Oh, my dear, it’s very well known in the region. It’s about three hours from here. The town is quaint, and the hotel possesses the sophisticated elegance I love with the old-world charm that Len likes. We had a couples massage and—”
“It sounds amazing. You had your hair cut there?” Charlotte interrupted, knowing she had three more appointments to get through this afternoon and still wasn’t sure what Anita wanted done with her hair.
“Not there.” Anita waved a hand. “At an adorable boutique salon a short walk away.”
Charlotte studied her hair. “How do you like the cut?”
“I loved it. At first.” Anita heaved a breath. “But I find it—”
“Difficult to style?”
Anita pointed a perfectly manicured nail at her. “Exactly. And you know I’m good at styling.”
“You’re practically a professional.” Charlotte rubbed one of the strands between her fingers. “I believe even I’d find this style difficult to manage.”
The tension on Anita’s face eased. “So what are we going to do about it?”
An hour later, Anita beamed as Charlotte finished showing her how to use a round brush to obtain the appearance of volume and body.
“I didn’t take much off. The length wasn’t the problem.” Charlotte whipped off the cape and stepped back. “I swear you look ten years younger.”
“You’re a genius.” Anita cast one last look in the mirror and stood. “You’re absolutely right. We could be sisters.”
“I’m happy you’re pleased.” This was the part of being a hairstylist that Charlotte enjoyed most. She loved making people feel good about themselves.
“I’m going to tell all my friends they need to come in and see you.” Anita continued to rave as she made her next appointment and paid, adding a hefty tip.
She paused for a moment and studied Charlotte. “Those bags under your eyes need some attention. You really should get more sleep.”
As Anita breezed out of the salon, Charlotte turned at the snort of laughter.
Marigold stood there, grinning. “Just when you think you might possibly be able to like the piranha, she takes a bite out of your ego.”
Charlotte lifted her hands. “Anita is right. I am tired and I look it.”
The receptionist was in the back, so only she and Marigold were at the front desk. One of the things Charlotte really liked about this salon was the quiet. The massage therapists and aestheticians had their own waiting areas and the nail technicians their own entrance.
“You were plenty peppy this morning.” Marigold’s gaze searched her face. “Did something happen at lunch?”
Charlotte longed to confide in Marigold. Her partner was pregnant, too, and a lot of what Charlotte was going through, Marigold was also dealing with. And because she was having twins, her pregnancy would also be considered high risk.
Which meant she might be able to understand what Charlotte was feeling.
When the bells chimed and Marigold’s next client stepped through the door, Charlotte realized this wasn’t the time or place for confidences.
Ignoring her partner’s concerned glance, Charlotte smiled at the young woman with the curly mop of red hair. “Welcome to Marigold’s Golden Door.”
Adam returned to the farm and spent an hour researching everything related to genetic screenings during pregnancy. Which only made him more stressed. To work off the tension, he spent the rest of the afternoon cutting down a couple of dead trees on the edge of the property.
Stan left at four thirty for dinner at the Living Center, followed by bingo. Adam was glad he’d been busy when Stan had come to tell him of his plans for the evening. Stan had a tendency to see too much, and the conversation at the doctor’s office had shaken him as much as it had Charlotte.
He texted Charlotte at five.
What will it be? Your place or mine?
The response came just before six. Right before he was set to get into his truck and drive to town.
Rain check? Long day.
He knew how she felt, or rather, he knew how he felt. Like her, he was exhausted physically. But the mental fatigue weighed on him the most.
I’ll bring you a pizza.
Bayside Pizza had come out with an app at the beginning of the summer, and it saved him a call. By the time he picked up the pizza and reached the back door leading up to Charlotte’s apartment, nearly forty minutes had passed.
He knocked, and when he got no response, he knocked louder the second time. This time, the lights inside flashed on, and a moment later the door opened.
She’d changed into yoga pants and a hot pink tee.
Adam held out the pizza. “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I got the supreme. I figure you can pick off the ingredients you don’t like.”
Cocking her head, she studied him with a slightly puzzled expression. “I told you not to come.”
“I’m the pizza delivery guy. And your friend. It’s my job to show up.”
After a long moment, she turned and started up the stairs.
Adam figured that was as close as an invitation as he was going to get. “How was your afternoon?”
“Long,” she said without looking over her shoulder. “Lousy.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He paused on the steps while she pushed open her door and stepped inside.
“It wasn’t that bad, actually,” she told him. “My clients were all very nice. I was just tired and didn’t feel like making idle conversation, which is what most of them expect. But I faked it.”
“I won’t stay.” He set the pizza on the small dinette table. The large box took up the entire tabletop. “I thought you might be too tired to make dinner, so I brought it to you.”
“That’s not the main reason you came.”
“No.” He met her gaze. “It’s not.”
She raked a hand through her hair. “At least you’re honest.”
“The visit to the doctor stressed me.” Stepping to her, Adam ran a hand down her arm. “I c
ould see it shook you as well. I thought maybe we could talk about it.”
Charlotte turned abruptly, took a few steps, then paused as if she’d forgotten where she was heading. Glancing around the small space, she finally dropped down on the sofa.
He sat beside her, considered whether he should take her hand, took it anyway.
She didn’t pull away, but neither did she initiate the conversation.
“When Dr. Swanson was reviewing all the things that test looks for and then said you’re at higher risk because of your age, I felt as if she’d punched me in the gut.” Adam tightened his hold on her hand. “I don’t want anything to be wrong with our baby.”
“The odds are in our favor,” Charlotte said, focusing on the positive. “Why is it, then, my mind keeps leaping to the worst-case scenario?”
“Mine, too,” he admitted. “Let’s just get it out there.”
Her brows furrowed with confusion. “Get what out there?”
“Worst-case scenario.”
She shuddered and shook her head.
“It’s in your head.” And in mine, he silently added. “My dad says speaking your fears robs them of power.”
Her lips trembled before she clamped them tight.
“Worst case,” he said, “is the baby has multiple serious issues incompatible with life.” His words hung in the air for several seconds. “Or the baby has serious medical issues that cause him or her to live in pain.”
Charlotte’s head dipped. In acknowledgment? In agreement? He didn’t know.
After a long moment, she spoke. “Worst-case scenario is I won’t be the kind of mother a special-needs child deserves.”
“The fact that you’re worrying about that tells me you’ll handle it.” He gently tipped her chin up with the curve of one finger. “You won’t be alone in the fight. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
The promise had barely left his lips when Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck, rested her head against his shoulder and sobbed.
Some of the tears, he knew, came from worry, some from fatigue and some likely from the heavy burden she placed on herself by her refusal—until this point—to share the load.
