Never Change

by Anne Carol

  I decided to share the news with Patrick, and he asked if I wanted to do any special poses.

  “I’m not really showing yet.” I shrugged.

  “Hmm…” He studied me for a moment, and then said, “Ah! How about you rest your hand on your stomach and glance down with a tender expression. It could make a sweet portrait. David will be blown away.”

  A fluttery sensation bubbled in my stomach, and I wondered if it was my baby, giving his approval. My eyes grew moist at the thought, and I smiled wide. “I love that idea. Let’s do it.”

  This round of shots, with one hand lifting my shirt and the other resting on my belly, was without a doubt my favorite. I knew David would love them, hopefully enough to ease any anger over the previous shots. And the flutters continued throughout the photo shoot.

  “These shots are amazing, Beth. You’re a natural,” Patrick kept saying.

  With the photo session completed, he then asked a set of questions for the body of the article. They were typical ones: where I grew up, how I met David, what my plans were for the future, and—finally—what it was like being married to a rock star. It was fun telling my story, and I wished I could offer to write it myself, but I doubted he’d let me. Someday I’ll finish writing and eventually publish our love story, I thought as I sat there.

  On the taxi ride home, I reflected over the day and felt few regrets. I couldn’t wait to read the article in Musician’s Life Magazine. Maybe it was wrong to go behind David’s back, but it was probably the only way I could have done this. It was an honor to be included in the series of articles, and I hoped the publicity would bring on more opportunities for me, perhaps in journalism.

  Keeping the details of my afternoon hidden from David would be a struggle, so I jumped back into a routine as soon as I walked in the door. The Duran Duran song, “Girls On Film” was stuck in my head, so I hummed it while doing laundry and again while preparing dinner.

  “Duran Duran, huh?” I heard David’s voice, followed by the sound of the door shutting. He came up behind me and circled his arms around my waist, kissing the back of my neck. I shivered. “How is my baby?” He placed his hand on my belly.

  “Still in there, making his mommy sick at random times of the day.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” He crouched down and lifted my shirt, talking to my stomach. “Listen here, little peanut, you need to take care of your mum while I’m gone. You can’t keep making her sick, you hear me?”

  I ruffled his hair. “You’re weird. The baby isn’t making me sick. It’s the stupid hormones. It’s God I need to chat with. Why did he make it so rough on women?”

  David stood up and faced me. “Hmm…you’ll have to ask when you get to heaven, but hopefully not for another seventy years at least.”

  “Seventy years! I’d be almost ninety-two. Can you imagine being married that long?”

  He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Still wouldn’t be long enough.”

  “I hope you always feel that way, David,” I whispered.

  He took me in his arms and squeezed me. “Always,” he breathed into my ear.

  I closed my eyes and buried my face in the crook of his neck, praying he wouldn’t be too livid when the article hit the newsstands.

  It wasn’t until a month and a half later, when we were home on a short break from the tour, that the truth came out.

  London

  Late February 1984

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I was numb.

  As my wife stood silently, head down, I turned on my heel and walked out the door, letting the blasted magazine slip from my grasp. She called after me, but I continued on, desperate for space. Desperate for time to process what she’d done. How could she have been so careless? Did she have any idea how protective I was over her and our unborn child?

  Adrenaline flooded my body. I couldn’t calm down. My stomach churned as I frantically worried about those photos, and what the exposure would mean for Beth. Is this really what she had wanted? Or did that prick photographer talk her into this? My pulse raced at the thought of him cornering my pregnant wife. I could strangle the sod. All I wanted was to protect her from the world…

  But she wasn’t making it very easy.

  Tottering around our small neighborhood did nothing to settle my nerves, so I picked up the pace and began jogging—where to, I wasn’t sure. I needed to clear my head and work out my anger before returning home. The last thing I wanted was to shout at Beth; I was doing everything in my power to make her pregnancy go smoothly. Yelling and arguing with her would only harm her, and I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her or the baby.

  The baby…my precious baby. Gosh, if I was this riled up over Beth’s photo spread, what would I become once our baby arrived? I was liable to be a loony, overprotective father. But the thought of someone hurting my son or daughter made me insane.

  As I charged ahead, frigid in just my button-up, I passed by a local pub. Slowing down, I rubbed my arms as I peeked inside at the patrons. They were drinking and having a great time. My throat suddenly felt parched. Instinctively I reached down and patted my pockets, checking for my wallet. No, Somers. You’ve been dry for almost six months. Don’t ruin it. Think about Beth and your baby.

  I nearly told the voice to shut up, but I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook the destructive thoughts away. There was no way I was going into that pub. Move on. As if God was giving me one last push, a heavy-set man darted out the door, crouched near the entryway, and wretched. The sound and the stench had me exiting the scene as fast as possible.

  Thank you, God.

  Though the temptation to drink had passed, I had yet to find a release for my anger. If only I could…

  I knew at that moment what I needed to do. It was time to pay Patrick a visit. Yes, I need to have a little chat. Avoiding eye contact with anyone, I hurried to the nearest underground station. Thankfully, nobody disturbed me. I was in no mood to be ambushed by a crowd of teenage girls.

  After a few transfers, I arrived close to the studio. My heart pounded as I took the steps two at a time to get to the pavement, and then stopped when I took in the area where the studio was located.

  I’d forgotten what a dodgy neighborhood it was. Our band had only done a few photo shoots here, and, of course, we’d been taken directly to the entrance.

  I swore under my breath. So this is where Beth went, presumably alone? Slapping my hand to my chest and gazing upward, I prayed, Thank you, God, for keeping her safe. This wasn’t exactly Chelsea or Notting Hill. It was a slum. Taking in a deep breath, I continued on, weaving through pedestrians, until I reached the studio. I opened the creaking door and entered a small reception area, where the walls were lined with celebrity portraits, including a few of Vinyl Fog.

  My eyes grew wide when I came across a photo of my wife, decked out in a tight shirt, black leather pants, and stilettos as she hugged a guitar. Her makeup was darker and heavier than usual, and her long hair was blown back, as if she were standing over a vent. I was mesmerized by this photo, to the point my breath caught. What a beauty. And she’s my girl.

  “Somers?”

  I quickly refocused my attention on the man in front of me, who wore a mischievous grin on his stubbly face. The heat rose inside me, and my hands buzzed with nervous energy. Acting on impulse, I grabbed Patrick by the collar, drew my fist back and struck him in the face, causing him to stumble back against the front counter. The room grew eerily silent as we each composed ourselves—me, staring in shock at my inflamed knuckles and Patrick, pushing himself upright with a dazed expression. I swallowed hard. Dear heavens, now I’ve done it.

  Once he found his footing, Patrick grabbed a few tissues and blotted his nose, which was now dripping with blood. He swore loudly. “You’ve busted my nose! What in the name of…” He sighed. “I take it you’ve seen the glossy.” His voice was muffled as he held the tissue to his face.

  “I’m sorry, mate, but yo
u knew I didn’t want her to do that article, and yet, you did it anyway!” I paced back and forth.

  Still dabbing his nose, his face hardened. “Did it occur to you that your wife was the one who arranged this? She wanted this! Is she not allowed to decide for herself? Do you own her?”

  “No, but Beth doesn’t understand the consequences. She doesn’t know the business like we do. She’ll be hounded.” I took a deep breath to relax my racing heart. “I can’t handle this. She’s carrying my child, Patrick. I’m a wreck.” My voice shook, in spite of my effort to regain composure.

  Patrick looked away. “I’m sorry, David. I can understand your fears. Can you hire extra security for a while?”

  “I don’t think I have a choice. She’ll go nuts if I tell her not to leave the house.”

  He watched me with sympathetic eyes. “You know I wasn’t trying to put her in harm’s way, right? She desperately wanted to be in that photo spread. I think she figured you’d change your mind when you saw the article.”

  “I have nothing against the article or the photos. They were all smashing. It’s the fact my wife’s face is all over the newsstands and shops! I don’t want her bothered everywhere she goes.”

  “Mate, I hate to say it, but when you decided to pursue a music career, you took that risk of having your family on display. It goes with the territory.”

  “Well, I don’t have to like it.” I stopped pacing and directed my gaze at Patrick, noticing the skin around his nose turning purple. “Patrick, I apologize for this. Blimey, I haven’t hit anyone since my drinking days. Are you in pain?”

  He pursed his lips and shook his head like he was trying to keep it together. He’d have every right to give it back to me. “Just go home to your bride. I imagine she’s getting worried.”

  My body stiffened. “Bugger, and she’s alone.” I pointed to his discolored face. “If that requires anything, just send me the bill.”

  With a grimace, I darted out the door and jogged to the Tube station. Oh, Beth, please be understanding. I love you, girl.

  I was dying for a cigarette but fought the urge to light up as I hurried up the steps to our townhouse. When I reached the door, I paused as I took in a deep breath. Heaven knew what I was walking into. Would Beth be angry, sad, or forgiving? She was one of the most forgiving people I knew, and I hoped, in this case, she would give me grace for walking out on her earlier.

  Unlocking the door, I cautiously stepped into the dark house and called her name. “Beth?”

  The absence of a response gave me an overwhelming feeling of dread.

  “Beth?” I called more urgently. “Are you home?”

  “I’m in here, David,” a faint voice sounded from our bedroom. My throat went dry at the weak tone of her voice. Was she sick? It was only 7:00, too early for bed.

  I tore ahead, pausing when I reached the threshold of our room. She was tucked under the covers, head on the pillow. She looked so peaceful, but the pale tone of her skin had me worried. “What’s the matter? Are you not well?”

  She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, making my knees nearly buckle. I knew I’d caused her tears. “I’m just glad to see you.”

  Two seconds later I was at her side, stroking her forehead while I fought the tremor in my stomach. “I’m here, sweetie, I’m here.”

  “Good,” she said in a barely audible voice, not looking at me.

  “Baby’s all right?”

  “The baby’s fine. He was moving earlier,” she stated, touching her stomach. “I just…I was afraid when you left. You didn’t drink?” Her eyes narrowed.

  My throat thickened. “No, I didn’t.” I frowned. “I’ll admit, I was tempted, but I didn’t have a drop, I promise.”

  “Did you go see Patrick?”

  I blew out a breath. “How did you know?”

  “I just know you.”

  I smirked. “I’m that transparent, am I?”

  “David, please tell me you were easy on him.”

  My jaw clenched. “I won’t lie. I clocked him.”

  “David!”

  I put my finger to her lips. “Shh, shh, please don’t get excited.” I caressed her round belly, urging her to stay calm.

  “He had nothing to do with it, David. It was my doing. I wanted to be in that article. And, honestly, it was an amazing experience. I’d never felt so glamorous in my life. In a matter of months…” she put her hand over mine on her belly, “I may not feel so pretty.”

  “Stop it.” My adrenaline was on the rise again. How could she think this? “As I’ve said before, I can’t wait to see you nine months pregnant with our child. It’ll be the sexiest thing in the world.”

  She smiled shyly. “I adore you for saying that. But I still wanted those pictures for myself. I wish you’d understand.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “What I don’t understand is why you’d do this when I expressly told you not to.” As soon as the words came out, I realized how controlling I sounded. What a tool.

  “Stop the caveman talk,” she barked. I deserved that, of course. “I have a mind of my own, but I am sorry I deceived you. I honestly thought you’d like the pictures once you saw them.”

  I laughed dryly. “You think I don’t like those pictures?”

  “I wasn’t sure. I mean, the only reaction I got was you walking out on me.”

  Ouch. “Beth, those pictures are gorgeous. I’m only worried about your safety, angel. You’ll be recognized, and that scares me, especially with you being pregnant. If anything happened to you…” I shook my head and rubbed the tension out of my neck.

  “I’m sorry, David.” She reached up her hand and feathered my hair and soon began massaging my temple. “I wasn’t thinking about that stuff. Guess that was pretty stupid of me.”

  I cringed when she called herself “stupid.” It wasn’t my intention to make her feel bad. “What’s done is done. And you’re not stupid. We just have to take precautions.”

  She brought her hand down and placed it over her belly. “Like what?”

  I explained to her that I’d be hiring a bodyguard for her, likely until the end of her pregnancy, and perhaps indefinitely. I couldn’t risk anyone hurting her or our baby, no matter what it cost. I’d move heaven and earth to protect my family. She didn’t argue, thank goodness, just quietly nodded. After I finished explaining everything, she stared at me with a huge grin.

  “What?” I asked, grinning back.

  “So you really loved the pictures?” I nodded, and she asked, “Which one was your favorite?”

  I sat on the bed beside her and took her in my arms, kissing the top of her hair. “You can’t ask that. I love them all. But I suppose if I had to choose, it’d be the one with your hand on your stomach. It’s perfect.”

  “It’s my favorite, too. I think we should frame a copy and hang it in the baby’s room.”

  “I like that idea.”

  “What’d you think of the guitar photos?”

  “With your leather pants and heels?” My skin heated just thinking about those photos. “They should be illegal.”

  She laughed. “That bad, huh?”

  “No, they were smoking hot. Which is why I want to buy up every issue of that glossy so nobody else can fawn over you.”

  She quirked her lips. “You really are something, you know that?” With a glow on her face, she reached up and smoothed her hand over my cheek. “But I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  I soon joined her in bed, where I held her and our unborn baby all night, wishing I could keep them safe forever.

  I woke up to David’s warm lips on my forehead and his hand on my belly. “You feeling good? You’ve barely stirred, and it’s getting late.”

  At the sound of his wavering voice, I tossed the covers back and swung my feet around to the floor. “Ugh…” I moaned, clutching my stomach. Cupping a hand over my mouth, I made a dash for the bathroom. David followed me in, as he often did, to ho
ld back my hair.

  As I stood at the sink brushing my teeth, he gazed at my reflection in the mirror with a drawn expression. “I hate leaving you like this.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I managed to say with a mouthful of toothpaste. After I rinsed, I followed with, “Just a regular morning for me. Although I thought this morning sickness would be gone by now. Brooke only had it her first trimester.”

  “We should ask the doctor about it when we see him later this week.” David stroked my back as he moved in for his goodbye kiss. “Mmm…peppermint-y.” Then he knelt down on the floor and lifted my gown. Placing his hands on my growing baby bump, he leaned in and gently kissed me near my belly button. “Daddy loves you.”

  I smiled, ruffling his hair. When my stomach growled, he looked up at me, quirking his brow. “You want me to make you something to eat?”

  Shaking my head, I said, “I’ll just grab a granola bar.” I was still feeling queasy, and a big breakfast didn’t sound appetizing.

  David stood and took my face in his hands. “You need to eat, Beth. I mean eat, not snack. You’re eating for two now.”

  “I’m just afraid it’ll come back up.”

  He tapped the end of my nose. “Try,” he urged, kissing my forehead. “My baby needs food so he can develop strong hands for playing guitar.”

  “Maybe he’ll play piano or trumpet? Or maybe he’ll be a cricket player like his Uncle Cameron?” I said, referring to David’s twenty-year-old brother.

  “Perhaps. Really I just want him — or her— to be healthy. That’s why you need to take care of yourself.” His soft brown eyes traveled down to my waist. “I love watching your belly expand each week.” He smiled with a twinkle. “I’m one proud father-to-be.”

  Grinning shyly, I shook my head. “Won’t be long until you’re tying my shoelaces and massaging my feet.”

  He cupped my face. “I can’t wait.” With that he touched his lips to mine and pressed hard, giving me a burst of energy.

  Too soon he grabbed his coat and disappeared out the door. The band had a few public appearances during the week off from the tour. Never a day of rest for professional musicians, it seemed.