Finally she smiles. “There.”
“What?”
I look at her and the monitor, straining to see what she sees. Maybe something is wrong. Maybe it’s a cyst or a tumor or cancer but she’s smiling. She wouldn’t be smiling if it was cancer would she?
“Look, Ana,” she says. “There is your baby.”
It doesn't look like a baby. It looks like a peanut or a blob. It looks like the blob on the ceiling that resembled the lake. I can't look at the monitor anymore.
“What is it?” I whisper. “A boy or a girl?”
“It's too soon to tell,” she says. “We'll probably be able to see by the time you come for your next appointment.”
But I already know. I don't need someone to look at a monitor and tell me. It's a girl. That little blobby peanut growing inside my belly is a girl.
“Congratulations. You must be so excited.”
“I am,” I smile.
After all isn't that what new mothers are supposed to say? And I am. At least I think I am. No. I am. Finally I'll have something to love of my own. Something to make up for all the bad stuff that’s happened.
Dr. Bright carries on about prenatal vitamins and all the things I'm supposed to do while I’m pregnant. I'm only half listening. I know nothing is going to happen to this baby. I could drink, smoke, heck I could jump off a building and this baby would survive. She’s a fighter. Even though she's just a blob I can feel her growing and when she's ready she'll burst out of me like a brilliant white light and split me open with her own soul. I should have known this would happen. I don't know why I didn't see it before.
I smile and nod and say I'll do all the healthy things Dr. Bright recommends but all I really want to do is go home. I feel exhausted. The fat women out in the waiting room all smile at me as I make my next appointment and leave. They know I’m a member of the club now. I'll sit there getting fat and rosy as the months go by. I’ll talk about how the baby kicks and keeps me up at night and how I’ve painted the nursery pink. I'll be normal and boring and it will be the best damn thing that has ever happened to me.
“See you next time,” they wave as I leave. I smile and nod, holding my hand protectively over my belly to shield my unborn child from their sugary sweetness.
The sun sinks low on the horizon as I drive home. It's been a beautiful day but I can hardly keep my eyes open. The baby is taking energy I don't have. I'll have to eat more, eat healthy. I guess I'll have to take some of those prenatal things after all.
The gate at the end of the drive is still open. I pull in and get out, closing it behind the car and feel the first chill of fall in the air. Soon the nights will draw in and the damp cold will seep into the house. I'll have to lug the wood inside ready to light the fire.
“I'm home.” I call as I step inside.
76.
It's quiet, too quiet. I don't hear a sound and it scares me. My heart beats erratically in my chest. I reach into my bag for a pill but realize I can’t take them anymore. Mind numbing medications are sure to hurt the baby. Big Sally's not going to be pleased about that. After the summer she adamantly put me back on a cocktail of meds and I hate to admit it but I think they’ve been working. Now this is really going to mess up her plan for my mental recovery.
I sink into the nearest chair. I’m so tired. I’ll just close my eyes for a second.
But the nightmare’s back. Water fills my lungs. It burns. I've changed my mind. I don't want to breathe the water anymore. I struggle to swim to the surface but the rocks pull me down. The more I struggle the deeper I sink. I try and pull them out but they are stuck, wedged into pockets that have shrunk with the water. I can't get them out.
The water doesn’t burn as much now. At first I gagged on it but now I feel like I'm breathing underwater. I stop struggling. Everything has happened just as it was meant to. I'm completing the circle of life, the circle of death.
Julia is beside me. She's far more beautiful than I ever was or ever could be. She's smiling and she reaches for my hand. I let her take it.
“This isn't the circle of life,” she says and I can hear her as clearly as if we were standing on the shore in the sunshine.
“You aren’t meant to die today. You know that don't you?”
I just smile at her, the light above growing stronger as I slip away.
“This is the circle of life right here, you and me.”
She takes my other hand and holds me and I can hear her heart beating in rhythm with mine. I can only just make out her face as she smiles sadly.
“I'm sorry,” she says.
Suddenly she's pushing into me, her hands clawing through my flesh. Her fist is in my stomach and she's slipping into it like I’m an empty shell of skin. It hurts. I want her out. She can't do this, I won't let her. I try and push her away but my hands slip through her. I try and scream but my lungs are full of water. There isn't a sound as she violates my body and pushes herself inside.
77.
I'm screaming but someone is holding me, someone real. I feel a hand against my cheek as I fight my way out of the nightmare and back to reality.
“It's okay,” he whispers. “You're all right.”
Then I feel a wet tongue against my face.
“Charlie.”
Smiling, I push the concerned dog out of my lap.
“He was worried about you. So was I.”
“I’m fine.”
I reach up and kiss him. Noah. The one who saved me.
“The nightmare again, huh?”
I nod, unable to speak about it.
“It's all right. You know I won't let anything happen to you.”
“I know,” I say softly. “You saved me and you know I love you more than anything right?”
“Not as much as I love you,” he grins. “So how were your doctor’s appointments?”
He goes to the kitchen and puts the kettle on, knowing how tea always soothes my frazzled nerves.
“Everything was fine.”
I follow him and sit on the counter, swinging my legs as he makes the tea and feeds Charlie.
“Big Sally is happy with how things are going.”
“That's great, I’m so glad.”
“There is something else,” I say.
“What? What’s wrong?”
I see the concern on his face, the way he tries to hide it beneath his smile but he can't. I know it's always going to be there. I know he’ll always worry about me.
“Come here.”
I pull him into me and kiss him, running my hands under his shirt and up his back. I feel the scar on his right shoulder where the fire burned him and rest my head on his chest. The doctors said that jumping into the cold lake helped save his scorched skin but I still feel guilty when I see his scars.
“You swear everything is okay?” he says.
“Everything is better than okay. I'm pregnant.”
“You are?”
I laugh as I see the excitement on his face. I was worried it wouldn’t be there. That instead there would be some sign of regret or remorse but he holds me tight, then scoops me up in his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Making this official,” he grins.
He takes me to the bedroom and lays me on the bed, then leans over and kisses me gently.
“I need you,” I whisper, tugging his shirt off.
My hands roam his skin, feeling every imperfection I now know so well. He unbuttons my shirt and unclasps my bra, softly running his fingers over my nipples. I arch up to meet him, unbuckling his belt.
“I’ve got it,” he whispers, pulling his pants off and sliding mine down.
He kisses his way back up my legs, then buries his face between them. Tongue teasing me until I’m a squirming mess beneath him.
“Oh God,” I gasp as I come, grabbing his hair and pulling him up to kiss me. “Take me.”
He does in his gentle, sweet way. Loving me like I’m the most important thing in the world to
him. When it’s over he lays his head against my stomach.
“I can’t believe there is a baby in there,” he says.
“I know. Me either but is it okay? I’m mean, you’re happy about it right?”
“I can’t wait to meet our baby,” he says, kissing my belly tenderly.
So the three of us will be a family. No point in telling him that the baby may not be his. That there is a small chance the child I'm carrying might have a father who was the most talented sculptor I’ve ever seen. Because deep down I know this child isn't really ours anyway. I know who she is and what she'll grow up to be.
“Have you thought of any names?” he asks.
“Julia,” I say.
THE END
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Author’s Notes (they’re funny – you should read them!)
I have a secret to tell you. I love to write books. Okay, maybe it’s not so much of a secret but it is the truth. And I’m assuming that you love to read, considering the fact that you’ve made it this far and haven’t thrown your e-reader/paperback/stone tablet with caveman drawings on it across the room. For that, I thank you.
So if you liked my book and you want me to write more (although who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway but they’ll just be relegated to friends and family and used only as devices of torture and bribery) then I need your help. You see there is this mountain we authors have to climb. It’s called the ‘Nobody Knows Who I Am’ mountain and it’s huge. Picture the biggest mountain you’ve ever seen in the whole world, then times it by a million. That’s how big it is. Now, everyone knows you need help to climb a mountain. Someone to carry your backpack, ropes, tanks of oxygen. Someone to set off the flares if you get stuck in an avalanche and need to be air lifted to safety. Clearly I’ve never actually climbed a mountain but that’s how I imagine it works. But the point is, every time you spread the word about me, my books, my weird quirky author’s notes, you help push me a little further up that mountain. You see, I can’t do it without your help.
So tell a friend, tell all your friends, tell your Aunt Mildred who secretly likes books with sex and murder but will obviously deny it. Buy the book for her anyway. Write a book review at the outlet you purchased my book from and tell me how much you loved it, or tell me you hated it and why and I’ll try to do better next time. And while you’re using your voice, I’ll be using my fingers, writing the next book for you. So I guess I’ll see you next time, and until then be sure to check out my blog where you can get more of my witty charm for free!
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
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Author’s Notes (they’re funny – you should read them!)
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
1.
2.
3.
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Author’s Notes (they’re funny – you should read them!)
My Deliberate Mistake Page 15