But perhaps the biggest surprise of the day was Mama Lita, who tore into the first organ solo like she’d been performing in rock bands all her life. And maybe she had.
“Damn, she’s good,” said one of the other people in line. He was right—Mama Lita rocked it out.
When the organ solo ended, Logan stepped forward. He’d already proved he could play better than every other guitarist who’d auditioned combined—and that was before he ripped into an intricate solo that blew Gentry’s mind. Gentry didn’t realize he’d risen to his feet or that his mouth had fallen open until the solo ended. Gentry had performed with a lot of musicians over the years, which is why he knew with absolute certainty that it was only a matter of time before Logan Rider was a household name across the country. He was that good.
It wasn’t until after the guitar solo ended that Gentry noticed that Granny June had either gotten bored with the tambourine or her arm had gotten tired, because the instrument was out of her hand and she’d taken to dancing and prancing around the stage, clearly having a hoot of a time, much to Mama Lita’s obvious chagrin.
Gentry raised his hand for them to stop, which they all did except Granny June, who just kept on dancing to the music in her head until Mama Lita stuck her foot out and tried to trip her.
Nick had to do a bit of a dance himself to get around Granny June, but once he did, he jumped off the stage, leaned over the table, and whispered to Gentry, “Geriatric band, it is. Make the call, man. That chick on keyboards might be old, but she can rock.”
So it seemed. “I don’t need to hear any more. You’re in. All three of you. Granny June, I’m taking you off tambourine and making you our—”
“Mascot,” Mama Lita called. Granny June elbowed her in the ribs.
“Stage manager and go-go dancer,” Gentry countered. Because what the hell? She owned the resort and she was mighty entertaining. “Band practice is Monday night at six, right here. See you there.”
While Mama Lita and Logan packed up their instruments, and Granny June gathered her collection of grade-school instruments from the table, Gentry checked his phone and was startled at the time. He didn’t know a lot about becoming a Catholic, but he was pretty sure being late to his first RCIA class wouldn’t be a good start. He turned to the dozen or so people still in line. “I’m so sorry, but the audition is closed. I found all the players I need, and I have to go. I have an appointment that I can’t be late to.”
He was gathering up his notes when Mama Lita planted herself in front of him, her arms crossed. “You’re putting together a band, you’re buying a house, and you have important appointments to get to. You’ve lived in this town for, what, four weeks? What’s your plan?”
What she probably meant was, what’s your plan with my granddaughter? And the answer to that was, he had a lot of plans, but even though she was Skye’s family, none of those plans were any of her business. Not yet, anyway. “I don’t have time to talk right now, but we will. Soon. I’ll see you at practice Monday night.”
He shook a few of the hands of the people who’d only come to the audition for the chance to meet him, then hustled across the resort to the truck he’d bought a few days earlier and sped to town, arriving at the church just in the nick of time.
He was in such a hurry that he didn’t recognize the greeter at the classroom door until he was right up on top of her. And when he saw who it was, he nearly put it in reverse and moonwalked out of the building and back to his truck. If only his future wasn’t at stake. So he sucked it up and smiled in greeting. “Hello, Mrs. Martinez. What a surprise.”
“I’ll say,” she groused. “What are you doing here? What are you trying to prove?”
Mr. Martinez appeared in the door. He put his arm around his wife. “Yessica, let’s welcome this young man to class. Whatever brought him to Catholicism is a blessing.”
“Your daughter, sir,” Gentry said before he could think better of it. “I’m here because I want to be the kind of man your daughter wants in her life.”
Mr. Martinez let out a genial laugh. “Who would have thought our baby girl would inspire a person to seek out God? That’s an extra blessing. Come on in, Mr. Wells. We’re happy you’re here.”
Mrs. Martinez drew a sharp breath through her nose, but she stood aside to let Gentry pass. He took off his hat and found a seat. Three other men and a woman smiled at him in greeting.
Father Ellwood looked up from the podium. A broad grin brightened his face. Gentry tried to return the smiles from everyone in the room, but he was having trouble shaking off Mrs. Martinez’s accusations. Of all the obstacles that he faced in winning Skye over, he’d never considered how her family might feel about him, the resentment and blame for getting her in that accident and for stealing her away from her job at inconvenient times.
If converting to Catholicism wasn’t enough to sway Skye’s mother’s view of him, then nothing would.
“You came, praise God!” Father Ellwood said as he approached. He embraced Gentry in a strong hug full of warmth and acceptance.
Gentry tried to relax, wanting to be just as friendly in response, but all he could think to do was lean in to whisper from behind his clenched teeth, “You didn’t mention that Mr. and Mrs. Martinez were teachers.”
Father Ellwood stood up straighter. His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Oh, I must have forgotten. This mind sometimes. Can’t be trusted. Why don’t you take a seat because we’re about to get started.”
* * *
Skye’s OB/GYN was located in a nondescript medical building two towns over. She’d been going to this doctor since she was twenty, after her miscarriage. She’d never seen an OB/GYN before that, never needed one. Dr. Ghosh had been there for her in the difficult months after she lost the baby and had held her hand throughout her painful divorce. Other than Father Ellwood, Dr. Ghosh probably knew the most about Skye’s secrets and sins than anyone else in her life.
It was only fitting that she would face this new disaster with the doctor’s help.
In the hospital, she’d seen the obstetrician who’d been on-call. She’d made sure the baby was unharmed by the accident and had approved the pain medication they’d prescribed to Skye, but this was her first real appointment.
She hadn’t realized the depths of her fear that the doctor would check for a heartbeat and there wouldn’t be any until she got lost twice on the way to the doctor’s office, along familiar roads she’d driven her whole life. Dressed in a paper gown and sitting on the exam table, she couldn’t even look at the baby on the cover of the parenting magazine in the plastic rack on the wall. What if she wasn’t pregnant anymore? What if she’d already lost it?
It was possible. She didn’t feel pregnant. She wasn’t even sure how being pregnant felt, exactly, even though it’d happened to her twice. She was nauseous, but that could be psychosomatic from the stress of thinking she was pregnant.
“Hi, Skye.”
Dr. Ghosh was only a few years older than Skye, with a youthful face and figure, with her black hair pulled in a youthful ponytail and jade post earrings that complemented her green eyes. She closed the door to the exam room and slid onto the rolling stool, Skye’s file in her hands. “What can I do for you today?”
As though she didn’t know why Skye was there. As though the hospital hadn’t contacted her or she hadn’t read Skye’s chart, which she most certainly had.
“Why do doctors do that? Pretend they don’t know why the patient’s there? What if we’re not up to spelling it out again? It’s almost cruel.” She heard the hitch in her voice, the plea to avoid this part. She had yet to speak the words aloud to anyone except Mama Lita, and even then, she hadn’t been the one to speak them. Mama Lita had.
Dr. Ghosh’s smile fell. She rolled forward and took Skye’s hand. “Hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you. We ask because we like to hear it from the patient instead of making assumptions. Didn’t you ever play the game ‘Telephone’ when you were a kid? People screw up me
ssages all the time.”
And, furthermore, why did people keep telling Skye she was okay? She wasn’t okay. She was anything but okay. “I got in an accident. A motorcycle accident. I was thrown from it.”
Dr. Ghosh nodded. “You were in the hospital. Your legs, how are they? Still banged up?”
Skye held her right leg out for the doctor to see, the web of scars, scabs, and fading bruises. “A little. For the most part the scabs are going away. I’ll always have some scars. And I’ve got another two weeks of this cast for my wrist, which is making work tough, but I’m managing.”
“Good. What brings you here today?” she asked again, still holding fast to Skye’s hand.
Skye drew a tremulous breath. “I screwed up. We used protection, but it didn’t work. And you know what happened last time. You know I lost it and…” She shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed.
Dr. Ghosh jiggled their joined hands. “You know what? We’re going to do things a little out of order today. Why don’t you lie back? Let’s get this ultrasound started and see what we can see.”
Queasiness bubbled up her throat, making her gag. “We could wait.”
“Come on, Skye. I know you’re scared, and with good reason, but waiting isn’t going to help.”
She was right, so Skye steeled herself and laid back on the exam table. Dr. Ghosh helped her legs into stirrups.
“What we’re going to do today is called a trans-vaginal ultrasound. I’m going to insert a wand into your vaginal canal and that should let us see what’s going on in your uterus. With any luck, we can get a sound on that heartbeat even though you’re only eight weeks along.”
“Ultrasound?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thanks to the motorcycle accident, you get an early look at the little peanut with an ultrasound.”
In an effort to completely ignore her fear or, worse, the blossoming excitement at the thought of actually getting to see the baby—if it was there, she reminded herself, refusing to get her hopes up—Skye closed her eyes and focused on the physical sensations between her legs. Cold jelly. The wand sliding inside her, invasive but not uncomfortable.
Within moments, the room filled with the sound of rhythmic bursts of electronic sound waves. A heartbeat.
Skye squeezed her eyes closed and tried not to weep. A heartbeat meant a baby. Her baby.
“Skye, open your eyes and look at the monitor.” Dr. Ghosh’s voice was quiet but optimistic. Surely she wouldn’t tell Skye to look at the monitor if there was a problem.
She turned her head and looked at the screen. It was filled with gray and black grainy shapes. Skye remembered those types of images from Gloria’s pregnancies, but she’d completely forgotten how to interpret the waves and splotches.
“Where is it?” she croaked.
Dr. Ghosh stretched her arm to the monitor from her position between Skye’s legs. “See that peanut? That’s your peanut. The head, the torso, the legs,” she said, pointing out each body part in turn. Then she pointed at a black spot in the torso that seemed to be fluttering. “And its heart. Look at it go, so strong. The heart rate is perfect for this stage of development. Absolutely perfect.”
The image blurred as tears crowded Skye’s eyes as she was overcome with love. This was her baby. All these weeks, she’d been so ashamed of getting pregnant and so scared about the future. She’d thought this had ruined her life, this precious little baby inside her. But that wasn’t true at all. Nothing so perfect was to be ashamed of and her future was going to be filled with more love and joy than she’d ever thought possible for herself. This baby was the biggest blessing of her life.
“Hi there,” she said to the monitor in a quivering voice.
Dr. Ghosh patted her knee. “You’re having a baby.”
“Oh, my God. I am.” Tears filled her eyes. This time, motherhood wasn’t going to slip through her fingers like a dream she couldn’t hold on to. This time, she and the baby were going to be all right.
“Say it, Skye. Say it loud and proud. What are you having?”
“A baby,” she whispered, and then, louder, “I’m having a baby.”
“Yes, you are. Congratulations, mama.”
Skye closed her eyes and prayed. For strength, for patience—and for forgiveness that she’d ever been ashamed and afraid of such a miracle.
Her only shame now was that she’d deprived Gentry of this moment. This was his baby, too, and he was missing out because she’d been too scared to face the truth. But he had a right to know. Immediately. And then she would beg his forgiveness for letting fear control her for so long. Not just fear about the baby, but fear about her love life. What was she doing, holding herself back from the man she really wanted? How could she have been so afraid to take a chance on something with Gentry that felt too good to be true? What if it was true?
“I haven’t told the father yet.”
Dr. Ghosh nodded, nonplussed. “I hear that a lot, more than you might guess. Are you two an item?”
Skye held up her casted left arm and wiggled the empty ring finger, proving exactly how old-fashioned she was. No marriage, no baby. Except now, she had to decide what to do, if she even had a choice. What if Gentry offered to do the noble thing and marry her? Could she say yes to a man who didn’t love her because it was the right thing to do for her and the baby? Could she take the chance that she could be happy with him for the rest of her life? Because the next time she got married, it was going to be forever. Or was she fated to be a single mom like Gloria?
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. I got pregnant the second day we’d known each other.”
“Wow, fertile much?”
Skye let out a gasp of surprise. “Dr. Ghosh!”
“Hey, if you can’t joke about this, then wait until you get a load of motherhood. You’ve got this, Skye. I know you. I know your family. This baby is going to be well loved. Get your phone out. Let’s make a recording of the heartbeat for you to share with its daddy. And I’ve already printed out some ultrasound images for you to share with him too. If he gets mad at you, just show him these and have him listen to the heartbeat, and I’m sure he’ll forget all about you not telling him promptly.”
An hour later, Skye was back on the road, driving straight to the resort, before she had time to lose her nerve or second-guess her decision, armed with the printouts of the ultrasound images, grainy white silhouettes of a peanut with a heart. Instead of parking in the employee lot and risking seeing anyone she knew, she parked in the guest lot nearest the villas and let herself through the security gate.
Déjà vu spread like an ink stain inside her. The last time she’d sought out her man to tell him she was pregnant, she’d caught him with another woman. Skye’s whole world had collapsed. As she raised her fist to Gentry’s door, she couldn’t stop the barrage of flashbacks. Pain and insecurities crowded her like ghosts. Her throat tightened with panic. She gasped for air and clutched the ultrasound images to her heart.
“I’m not twenty anymore,” she soothed herself. “And Gentry is not Mike.” It was an insult to Gentry that she’d been subconsciously comparing the two all this time.
And, furthermore, so what if she knocked on his door and discovered that he was entertaining another woman? Unlike with Mike, whom she was married to, she had no claim on Gentry and had even told him more than once to leave her alone and give her space. Skye was stronger, wiser, and more grounded than she’d been when she left Mike. Whatever happened next, she could handle it. As her father had told her, she could save herself. All she had to do was not panic.
Summoning every ounce of courage she could muster, she knocked on his door. And waited.
She strained an ear to the door, listening, but didn’t hear anything. Technically, she could let herself in with her resort master key, but there was no way she’d take a chance at catching him in the act of something she didn’t want to see. No need to invite heartache.
After a minute, she rang the doorbell.
&
nbsp; Still, nothing.
A bubble of crazed laughter burst out of her, diffusing some of her tension. More than likely, he wasn’t home and she’d worked herself up for nothing. She found her phone in her purse and texted him.
Where are you? I’m at your villa.
He didn’t reply immediately, so she forced herself to draw a full breath, then another, getting her heart rate back down. She dropped into the nearest seat on the little patio out front and let her attention be drawn to Lake Bandit, which bordered the southeast corner of the resort. She’d grown up skipping stones on that lake, and it had been where her dad had taught her to fish, but it had been years since she’d slowed down enough to really look at it. All this time, she’d had her head down, grinding out a daily existence.
Like her mom.
It was as though her mom believed that if she could just work even harder, give even more, and sacrifice enough, she could keep herself and the people she loved safe and healthy and happy, even if doing so meant that she, herself, wasn’t. Even if her joy and sense of peace had to be sacrificed.
What a lie. What a terrible, destructive lie that her mother had perpetuated out of love. Out of fear of losing those she loved.
She dialed the Polished Pros office number. Her mom picked up on the second ring. “Polished Pros. This is Yessica.”
“Hey, Mom.”
“Are you okay? You don’t sound okay.”
Skye had to smile, her mom sounded so worried. “I’m more than okay. I just wanted to tell you thank you.”
“For writing this week’s schedule for you? You’re welcome. But how’d you even know about that? You’re off today.”
“No. Thank you for just … for loving me so much.”
One Wild Night Page 25
