by Amie Knight
“I think we need another test.” My voice sounded croaky. Nothing like the sultry voice that had captivated audiences in small clubs all across the Southeast.
He was still smiling. “We can do another test, but, Ms. Potter, the results aren’t going to miraculously change. You’re having a baby.”
My body locked tight as I sucked in air through my nose. My life as I knew it was over and there he sat grinning at me like this was an episode of The Price Is Right and he’d just handed me the keys to a brand-spanking-new car.
He didn’t know that children were never in my life’s game plan. Yeah, I was a thirty-two-year-old woman, but I was a far cry from mother material. And my biological clock had never started ticking. Hell, I didn’t even own a watch. To an outsider looking in, I might be the perfect picture of a mother-in-waiting, but I was anything but. I was a girl still trying to live her dream. Still trying to make it big. I just wanted to play drums and sing my life away, and I’d been doing that for the last ten years.
The doctor’s face finally registered my panic and the smile was gone. Thank God.
He cleared his throat and diverted his eyes. “There are other options,” he said, not meeting my eyes and grabbing one of the many pamphlets that sat on the counter next to him.
He handed it to me, but I didn’t look at him. I just grabbed that folded piece of paper in my hands and slipped off the hard table beneath me. The paper felt all wrong in my hands, so I shoved it into my purse that sat on the only chair in the room.
“Thanks,” I grumbled, slipping my jeans on beneath the gown. I had to get out of here. Pronto. I was going to suffocate if I didn’t.
I tore the gown off over my head, not bothering to untie it.
“Ms. Potter. I—” The doctor’s cheeks turned an interesting shade of pink before he turned away.
“Thanks,” I gritted out. This conversation was over. I couldn’t breathe. No matter how I looked to him, I simply wasn’t ready for a child. Ever.
I’d fled that doctor’s office that day like a bat out of hell. Then, I’d been panicked, so emotionally charged. I remembered it now with quiet resolve. That was the day I thought my everything had changed.
I’d been so wrong.
I’d gone to the hotel the band was staying at for the night, thankful I could be alone and not piled into the van with three smelly rockers while I had my breakdown. Pissed off that I’d been stupid and hooked up one too many damn times with my bandmate, Cash. And break down I did. I cried. I hiccupped. I sobbed into that flat pillow in that cheap hotel in Alabama. I read that pamphlet that made me sick. It made me sick because I wanted to do it. It made me sick because I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
I just had to accept it.
I’d never get my dream.
But what I didn’t expect was that I’d get a nightmare.
A mother’s worse nightmare.
Because just when I’d come to accept that I wouldn’t get to perform for millions under the colored, flashing, scorching lights of a sold-out stadium. Just when I’d come to accept that no one would call me famous or a rock star. No, I’d just be mom, and I was finally okay with that. Now. Just when I thought I’d figured it all out, I had the rug jerked out so fast and hard from under me, I had burns to show for it.
It was the twenty-week scan that really changed everything. Not that day in the doctor’s office in Alabama that seemed so damn trivial now.
The ultrasound tech had looked so happy as she squirted the goop on my round stomach and my baby girl gave a kick that even made my lips tip up in a barely there smile. She was growing in me. She was growing on me, too. I already loved her.
So imagine my shock when ten minutes into that ultrasound the tech’s face fell. She excused herself and came back with a doctor, and I knew. Something bad was wrong.
Things only got harder after that. Once again, I was handed that same pamphlet, only this time by a different doctor. It was equally awkward and still too damn wrong.
I still couldn’t do it.
Even knowing what I did.
So, I pulled up my momma britches. They were ugly and had a huge elastic band at the waist, but at least they were comfy.
And I placed my child’s heart in the hands of the lead pediatric heart surgeon at Duke University Hospital.
Dr. Anthony Jackson, heart doctor extraordinaire.
Anthony Jackson, the devil with dimples.
Anthony, the biggest asshole in the world.
Anthony fucking Jackson, my ex.
Sort of.
Snow. Fucking snow.
I turned on my windshield wipers and blew out a long breath.
I couldn’t believe it. Yes, it was January, but I thought it didn’t snow much around the Carolinas. Truth was I wasn’t surprised. The snow was just icing on the shit cake that was my life right now.
“I know, baby girl. I know,” I said, taking one hand off the steering wheel long enough to give my thirty week along belly a slow rub. She was a big one. If she grew much more, I wouldn’t be fitting behind the steering wheel so easily. Lord knew I was already squeezing myself into sweats and leggings nowadays. The blissful days of cute jeans and crop tops were long gone. Hello, stretchy tops, elastic waistbands, and giant bras.
She gave me a good kick. It was like she knew I was a nervous wreck. She’d been rolling around in my stomach the entire four-hour drive from my friend Ainsley’s house in South Carolina. The signs for Raleigh, North Carolina, that sat along the side of the interstate only seemed to send my anxiety higher. Pulling off the exit for Duke University Hospital, I swallowed hard and clenched my teeth. A slight pinch in my chest and hitch in my breath sent me turning off the main road that led to the hospital and straight into the parking lot of a McDonald’s.
I parked and tried to breathe through my nervousness. The heat in the car blasted, and I cranked it down, feeling like I was burning up. It was the shame. It was like fire in my veins, all-encompassing and so very hot. The shame of swallowing my pride and begging for help from someone I didn’t even really like. No, that wasn’t true. I’d really liked him once. For one single night. I might have even more than liked him. But I couldn’t think about that now. I couldn’t think about how that night had ended.
I had to think of the baby girl growing inside of me. I’d learned quickly that the moment you found out you were going to be a mom, pride and shame and embarrassment could fuck right off. Little else mattered in comparison to the sweet life that seemed to mean more to me every day.
Every hour.
Every minute.
“You can do this,” I whispered into the stifling air of the car. “Go to hell, pride. Fuck you, shame.”
I’d been giving myself this pep talk the entire way here. It wasn’t working. I was still terrified of what I had to do, but it didn’t matter. I’d do anything for her.
I placed both of my hands to my round stomach. I glanced down. My small but strong drummer hands didn’t cover her anymore. I was running out of time. In there, she was safe. Once she arrived, once she was out here, things were too uncertain. Tears stung my eyes, and I hated them. I’d never been a crier, but I was now. Damn pregnancy hormones.
Looking up at the car ceiling, I blinked back my tears before staring back down at my stomach. “We got this. You and me. Together, we’re gonna be a force, baby girl. Team hope.”
I was talking a lot to my girl lately. Since leaving the band and the road, I’d been spending a lot of time alone. Just her and me and a slew of doctors except for my quick visit to Ainsley. I’d kept playing with the band for as long as I could. Until I started to show, until the diagnosis. Then, I’d stayed with Ainsley for a couple of weeks, garnering up the courage to come here.
I patted my tummy. “He’s gonna be a dickhead, but we can handle it. We can handle anything.”
I nodded and prayed that even if he was a dickhead, he’d help me. He was my last hope. My only hope really.
A ring sounded out in the silent car, c
ausing me to jump. A breathy “fuck” flew past my lips as I rolled my eyes at myself and reached for my cell phone.
Ainsley, the screen said, so I hit the green button. It was like she knew.
“Hey,” I said softly into the phone.
“How’s it going? Did you make it? How’s the weather? Have you seen him yet?”
“Fucking Christ, Ains. Take a damn breath.” I laughed out.
“Language, Kells. You’re having a baby. You have got to tone it down. You want her first word to be fuck?”
I honestly didn’t care as long as she got a first word. I needed that first word like I needed my breath. I mean, did I really want her first word to be fuck? Absolutely not. But I didn’t have the same luxury as most expectant moms. I didn’t get to look forward to all the firsts. I only got to pray and hope I actually got them.
Her first smile.
Her first tooth.
Her first step.
God, I wanted them.
I didn’t share that with Ainsley, though. I held my feelings close to my vest, too scared to voice them. Too afraid I’d jinx it all.
“You think she understands now? You think she can hear me? Should I start playing her a little Metallica now?” I asked, smiling. I knew she could hear me. I knew she was 15.7 inches long and weighed three pounds. I knew she was about the size of a large cabbage. I knew it all. I had the damn Baby Center app like every other expecting mom out there. I just liked to fuck with Ainsley.
Ainsley laughed. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“Hey, watch your mouth around my baby!”
She giggled harder at my pretend outrage.
Her laughter eventually grew quiet and faded out to nothing, and my smile fell. Silence hit the phone line like an anvil, the mood instantly somber.
“Have you seen him?” she whispered.
I let out a hard laugh. “No. I’m a chicken shit, so I’m sitting at a McDonald’s a block away according to my GPS.” I held the phone tightly in my hand.
“You’re doing the right thing.” Her voice was quiet.
I nodded. “I know, but the right thing isn’t always easy.”
“You got this. You’re the bravest person I know. You’ve traveled and performed all over the United States. You’re a rock star, Kelly Potter. ”
I had a snarky response right on the tip of my tongue, but it just sat there as my lips trembled slightly. I had wanted to be a rock star and spent the last ten years of my life giving that my all to no avail. I might not even get to be a mother either. It was almost too much to bear, but I couldn’t sit here and feel sorry for myself. I needed to get my shit together. Or my stuff together. Ainsley was right. I needed to start watching my mouth. She’d be here soon and then I’d be fucked. Eh, fudged.
“Thanks, Ains,” I breathed.
“That bastard better not be mean to you. I will drive up there and kick his smarmy ass.” She paused. “I wish you had let me come with you.”
I laughed. She was always so good at making me laugh when I needed it. “I know, but I need to do this on my own. You can come when the baby is born. I’ll really need your help then. Okay?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. She’s going to be beautiful and fun and the kindest person I know. Just like her momma.”
I rolled my eyes, but I still grinned. “God, let a girl borrow a set of sheets in college and she’ll wax poetic about you the next fifteen years,” I smarted.
She was quiet when she replied. “I borrowed a lot more than your sheets that year, Kells.”
I thought of how sad Ainsley had been our first year of college. How isolated. How I’d pushed her to be my friend even though she’d just wanted to be alone. She’d just lost a loved one and was mourning so horribly.
“I’m here if you need me. For anything. Sheets, shoulders, hugs. Anything you need.” She finished quietly.
“I know. I’ll call you when I get settled tonight.”
“Speaking of calls, have you called your mother yet?”
I groaned over the line. “I’m not ready, Ains.”
She blew out a long breath and I could just picture the eye roll she was giving me on the other side of the phone. “I don’t care. It’s time. You’ll need her. You don’t think you will now but you will, I promise. Having that baby girl is going to change things. You’ll need your momma more than ever before.”
She’d been giving me this same speech for weeks now. How being a mother changed how you saw your own mother. I didn’t see how it could. I loved my mom. We were totally cool. We lived our lives and talked every few months. She traveled. I traveled. We were close in our own way, but I was definitely independent. I didn’t need to talk to my mother every day the way Ainsley did with hers. We just had a different kind of relationship.
Also, I wasn’t ready to tell her I’d gotten knocked up. I’d been an unplanned pregnancy after all. My mom had only been nineteen. She’d never wanted that for me. She wanted my career first, marriage second, babies third, and even though I was thirty-two, I still wasn’t married. I hadn’t even really had the career yet. I didn’t want to let my mother down. She’d never let me down once.
“I didn’t realize it either, Kelly. I didn’t know how much I’d understand my momma and all she did for me. All she gave up. How much she loved me until I had children of my own. Just think about it, okay?” Ainsley implored.
“Okay, I gotta go. It’s getting late, and I’m losing my nerve.”
“Drive safe, and call me.”
I hung up the phone and pulled out of my parking space with a firm resolve. The worst he could say was go to hell, right? He’d basically done that to me before and it had crushed my heart and soul. So, the worst had already happened, and I’d lived through it. I’d even managed to move on. I could do it again.
The huge hospital came into view and my heart kicked up a notch. Finding a parking space proved difficult and took longer than I expected, but I found his office easily enough. It wasn’t even five o’clock yet, but it was already starting to get dark outside when I took the elevator up to the sixth floor.
I stepped off and into an office that looked beyond nice. My palms sweated. I was wearing too big gray sweats and my hair was in a knot at the top of my head. I didn’t have a stitch of makeup on. I probably should have dressed for the occasion, but honestly I didn’t expect much to come of this. All I had was hope. And you couldn’t put hope in a dress or make her up. You couldn’t fake hope. She was real and deep and there I was, huge and messy and sad, and praying for something big to happen. Me and hope.
A woman who looked to be in her fifties slid open a glass partition at the front of the room and leaned out of it a bit. She was put together, well dressed, blond hair sprinkled with gray, bun firmly in place, lipstick deep red and perfectly applied. She looked me up and down. “Can I help you?”
God, I needed help, but she couldn’t help me. Only one man could.
“I’m here to see Dr. Anthony Jackson.” I lifted my chin and prayed she couldn’t hear the nerves in my voice.
Her brow furrowed as she checked a computer in front of her. “Do you have an appointment?”
I shook my head and shuffled my feet a little. “No.”
She looked up at me, eyebrows raised.
“I’m a friend,” I tossed out there. “I’m passing through town and thought I’d stop by.”
God, I was a liar and a cusser. I patted my belly.
Good luck with me as your momma, little one.
She looked me up and down again and pursed her lips. She didn’t believe me and rightly so because I was lying through my teeth. I hadn’t spoken to Anthony Jackson in over ten years. We were not friends. I wasn’t just passing through town. If things worked out the way I wanted them to, I would move here. I would start a new life with my daughter here. And Dr. Jackson would be the one to save her. Save us.
“I’m sorry, but he’s gone for the day. I’m sure since you’re friends you can conta
ct him on his cell phone?” Her eyebrow hitched up and her lips puckered knowingly.
My whole body deflated. I’d missed him. And I sure as hell didn’t have a cell phone number. I’d have to do this again tomorrow. I nodded at the woman and turned on my heel and left the office, making my way to my piece of shit car.
I wouldn’t give up. I’d find a place to stay tonight, and I’d be here early in the morning so I could catch him as he was going into the office. I’d swallow my pride yet another day.
Me, baby girl, and hope would be back tomorrow and the next day and the day after that until I’d gotten what I’d come for.
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Tony: How do you do it? How do you put up with my crazy every book release and still encourage me to write the next one? You’re amazing. How lucky am I that you picked me?
My children: Thank you for being you and making it so easy to write funny, sweet children.
Momma: You encourage me even when I feel like a failure. I can only hope I’ll be as good to my grown children one day as you are to me.
Lauren: You can’t read this and that breaks my heart, but I feel like I owe this whole writing thing to you most days. There’d be no A Steel Heart without See Through Heart. And we all know there’d be no See Through Heart without you. I miss you every day and I love you.
To my betas Kim, Colleen, Jamie, Danielle, and Megan: You guys were invaluable through this project. I couldn’t have done it without y’all.
Hazel James and Jami Long: Thank you for reading and helping me with all of the military knowledge.
Kelly: Girl, thank you for putting up with me every time I write a book. You listen to me vent and plot and talk about people who live in my head. You’re pretty amazing.
Aly Martinez: How many times have you talked me off a ledge? A lot. I hope you’re ready for more because we’re still doing this thang. All the hugs.
Ashley Teague: I am so glad we met through this crazy indie author world and became friends. Who else would I bitch to?
