3

Prepping

Angie admired her swollen belly in the bathroom’s full-length mirror. Motherhood was a term she wasn’t sure would ever be applied to her life—and here she was, smack dab near the end of the second trimester. Boobs the size of watermelons, feet so swollen they looked like blocks of wood, and a sketchy memory.

She was thankful the horrific morning sickness had passed, but it had been replaced by bouts of cravings for the same food for weeks. At least she didn’t hunger for pickles and ice-cream, or some other odd food combination. Her latest kick was burritos and cheese-dip for lunch and dinner and yogurt, oats and blueberries for breakfast. The thought of eating anything else make her stomach queasy. Angie wondered how much longer the food choice would last and what the next few weeks of culinary delights her body would crave

If someone had told her fifteen years ago she’d be carrying a child, Angie would have looked at them like they were aliens. Of course, the same thoughts and feelings had been part of her psyche regarding marriage. All of her negative emotions associated with marriage and motherhood disappeared when Drake Benson burst into her world ten years before.

Angie’s slender fingers moved with a slight tremble as she caressed the taut skin. She reached over and grabbed the almond butter off the counter, squirted out a handful and rubbed it over her stretched tummy. She tried not to wince when her fingers grazed across the thick, dark stretch marks. Angie loved everything about being pregnant, except what it had done to the skin around her stomach and ass, along with bouts of what Drake lovingly called “pregnancy brain.”

She stretched her sore muscles. The exercise routine was getting harder and harder to complete as her midsection increased in size, but Angie was determined to keep herself fit. Besides, it was good for the baby. Every time she did yoga, the relaxation calmed the future soccer star inside her. This was the first day back to her regular yoga workout, and Angie sure felt it. All the effort and struggle would be worth it, though. It would make the delivery much easier, and though Drake never said a negative word about her changing body, on occasion Angie noticed the displeasure behind his eyes. She could see through the mask of excitement and heard a twinge of concern sometimes in his sugary words. Her husband worried his wife’s once sexy body would never be the same.

Oh, stop it, Angie! Drake is just as happy as you are. The hormones running amok inside your bloodstream are making you imagine things!

Though she never said a word to him, or anyone else for that matter, Angie worried about her figure too. Hell, ever since the stick turned blue, she worried about everything. Angie was pushing hard on forty’s door, and her life prior to carrying a child in her womb hadn’t exactly been lived with the utmost care. There had been too much wine, too many late nights out with Drake, schmoozing would-be clients. On her feet for twelve-hour shifts at work. It all had taken a toll on her body. Angie shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts. Silly, hormonal-induced concerns full of shallow, useless worries. Like Drake said: pregnancy brain. A life was growing inside her, a beautiful miracle made by two people in love. Parenthood was right around the corner and Angie was letting old fears she tried to hide for years get to her.

It didn’t matter if Drake wasn’t one-hundred percent on board about being a father. How could she expect him to be? He didn’t have the bond yet. Their child wasn’t wiggling around in his body, keeping him up at night while he or she practiced kicking extra points. Their connection would happen when the little one arrived. Angie smiled at the memories of the late-night ritual Drake started the minute she told him the good news. Right after they climbed under the sheets, he would rest his head on her abdomen and have a conversation with their child. At first, it was only short, sweet and to the point things, but as her belly grew in size, the one-sided conversation did as well. Each night, Drake would tell their baby a bedtime story. He would end the ritual by planting a gentle, goodnight kiss on Angie’s navel when finished. It was downright adorable and made Angie tear up almost every time. Drake Benson, the tough-as-nails lawyer, was going to make an excellent father.

The morning ritual completed, Angie finished dressing and headed to the kitchen to fix breakfast and take her prenatal pills. It was strange to be at home. After her bleeding scare almost two weeks ago, even though her obstetrician gave his blessing, her father and mother insisted Angie stay home another week. Well, her mother insisted. Her father only nodded his head in agreement, occasionally spouting out medical terminology about the dangers of spontaneous bleeding during pregnancy, the possible causes and potential remedies. Angie didn’t put up much of a protest. As a nurse, she was well aware of the dangers. Always the doctor, her father kept his cool. However, her mom fawned and cooed over her like Angie was a sick child. Her mom stayed at the house for four full days. She insisted Angie remain in bed and waited on her hand and foot.

Even though it had been over thirty years since the death of her younger sister, Amelia, Angie’s mom never quite recovered from the trauma of losing her youngest child. Though Angie didn’t understand it at the time, as she grew up and started to study science, she discovered Amelia had been born with Down’s syndrome. Her arrival was a surprise to begin with, and her medical condition sent her parents into a tizzy. Though Angie had worked hard to block out most of her childhood memories, she still shuddered at the memory of the morning her mother screamed in terror after finding Amelia unresponsive in her crib. Angie watched from the hallway, terrified into silence. Her father tried to revive her blue, unmoving sister on the floor of the bedroom, but all his efforts failed.

Things had changed dramatically in the Langford house after the day Amelia died. SIDS is what she kept hearing family members whisper. It wasn’t until she was in high school she figured out what the acronym meant: sudden infant death syndrome. The loud and extravagant parties her mother meticulously planned, the guest list—a veritable who’s who of the society circles Dr. Jerome and Annette Langford traveled in—stopped. Angie’s mother, once a vibrant woman with enough energy to rival a teenager, sank into a deep depression that no amount of affection or cuddles from Angie could bring her out of. Even her mother’s sister, Aunt Miriam, couldn’t reach her. Angie’s father became a distant recluse. When he was home, which wasn’t often, he spent most of his time in his study.

Angie stopped inviting friends over after school and on weekends. She didn’t want others to see how her family had changed, or the perpetual mess inside the house. Angie tried to keep up the housework, but she was too young. Cleaning nearly a 5,000-squaree-foot house by herself was next to impossible.

For the first seven years after Amelia’s death, Angie watched her mother shuffle through the days in a haze, rarely venturing out of the house. Angie spent a lot of time at her aunt’s house, and grew extremely close to her cousin, Kevin. Instead of taking the yearly excursions to distant locales with her parents, Angie went on vacations with her aunt, uncle and cousin.

During her medical training in college, when they covered psychological disorders, Angie discovered her mother was bipolar. Not only did her mother display all the symptoms, but when Angie looked up the numerous medications she was prescribed, it was a dead giveaway. On one level, it made complete sense, and Angie’s childhood anger at her mother disappeared. Guilt for all the years she’d resented her mom for not being there for her other child made Angie’s head swim. Worry about her own mental state crept in. The fear of the possibility she would turn out just the same wedged under Angie’s skin like a leech.

The death of Amelia caused a huge rift in the family. Though her mother remained close to Aunt Miriam, her husband, Dr. Clifford Stephens, became distant. Wouldn’t attend family get-togethers, or even come for a visit. Angie never knew why, and was too scared to ever ask when she was little. By the time she was mentally ready to broach the subject with him, Uncle Cliff had passed away from kidney disease.

When little, Angie had no idea what changed her mother’s demeanor, since she never actually witnessed her mom pop a pill or swallow a drink, but the effects were enough. Twice, when her father tried to clean out Amelia’s room, her mother’s response had been violent and extremely aggressive. Angie wasn’t sure exactly what happened. Since both times frightened her so much, she ran and hid in the closet. While she cowered inside the dark space, Angie heard glass breaking and her mother shrieking, followed by ugly words hurled between her parents. Then, the next day, her mom was gone. Her father’s only explanation given in a quiet, distant voice at the breakfast table: “Your mom is at the hospital getting better. She’ll be home soon.”

Angie’s father dealt with the loss in his own way. He went from a social, smiling man—one who loved to have Angie sit on his lap as he read her bedtime stories—to a silent figure wandering through the house. A typical man, he dove head-first into work, sometimes staying at the hospital for days on end. With her parents grieving in their own ways it left Angie alone to try to come to grips with what had happened. Her friends gave up on trying to cajole her into playing or attend sleepovers. Though she grew very close to Kevin, he was a child as well—two years younger than Angie—so talking to him about how she felt was impossible.

She was fortunate a counselor at school was kind enough to take her under her wing. Hours were spent inside the office of Rosalind Pritchard. Though the counselor tried, Angie refused to dump all her thoughts and feelings regarding the death of her sister. Ms. Pritchard tried a different tactic, focusing her probing questions on Angie’s sudden change in the friend department. Wanted to know why Angie stopped attending gymnastics. Did she need a ride to practice? Had someone said something ugly to her about her sister? The sentence Angie remembered hearing the most was “What may I do to help you overcome this, Angie?”

Angie’s answer was always the same: a shrug of her thin shoulders.

Even though Angie had the outlet, if she were to be completely honest, she hadn’t really dealt with the life-altering event, either. Amelia came along when Angie was seven. Angie thought the little bundle of wiggly arms and legs—one who smelled like baby powder and diaper cream—was a living version of one of her dolls.

As she aged and Angie understood just what exactly had happened to her family, she was petrified of having children. The fear of dealing with such intense emotions also drove her away from making strong connections with others. Oh, she had friends, just not close friends. Keeping people at arm’s length, never allowing the friendship to move past the acquaintance stage, was much easier. Less painful.

She shoved the memories, the pain of that horrible day, deep inside her soul. So far, in fact, by the time Angie was in her twenties, only gray undertones remained. Like looking at old, grainy photographs from the past, unsure if the image was even real or not. It was someone else’s tragedy, not hers. The thought of suffering so much grief overshadowed Angie’s desires to be a mom, so she concentrated on high school, college and then working at the hospital.

Her father had been beyond irritated that Angie didn’t continue on in school to become a doctor, but she had no interest. To her, doctors weren’t the real caregivers. They just came in—poked and prodded on the patient, ordered tests if necessary, cut out diseased body parts—and then left the real work to the nurses. Angie realized during high school where her skill-set rested: caring for those who couldn’t care for themselves.

When Angie announced the pregnancy, her parents insisted she undergo an amniocentesis to ensure the child was healthy. Angie and Drake refused. The procedure was risky and could potentially cause more harm than good. Drake agreed with her and they stood firm on their stance. It was the first time in Angie’s life she’d ever defied a direct order from her parents. The truth of the matter was, at least for her, she didn’t want to know. If something, Heaven forbid, was wrong with their child, they’d deal with it once he or she was born. Besides, Angie’s love wouldn’t change or be stipulated on anything. A baby was a baby, and she already loved her little bun in the oven. Nothing would change that.

Her pink-and-blue fluffy slippers didn’t make a sound as Angie crossed the hardwood floors. They were another thing she knew Drake hated, but she couldn’t help herself. They were adorable. A gift from her mother from one of the numerous baby showers she’d thrown during the past two months. Since Angie and Drake both wanted to be surprised in the delivery room as to their child’s sex, the slippers were a gag gift. Her mother told her, “I’m covering both bases here! So long as the little bundle is healthy, that’s what counts.”

Once in the kitchen, Angie set about fixing breakfast. She stared at her choices in the fridge, waiting to see if her tastes were the same. Nope, it would be yogurt, oat bran and blueberries. Anything else would come right back up. She rummaged around in the fridge, but the yogurt container was empty and there were only two blueberries left.

“Great, just great,” Angie muttered. “Fantastic! Barely enough milk for a bowl of oats.” She snatched the milk container and poured the remaining dribbles over her cereal. “Hey, babe? We need some groceries before the storm hits.”

Angie waited for a response, but heard nothing. Drake was either still on the phone or in the shower. She was so glad he owned his practice and had the flexibility to work from home. If the weather reports were correct, it was needed. Supposedly, a wicked storm was on its way, and the forecast was calling for at least a foot of snow. While watching the news earlier, Drake smiled when the screen displayed all Pulaski County offices, including the courts, were closed.

Before grabbing her bowl, Angie moved over to the side cabinet to get the prenatal vitamins. She grimaced while picking up the bottle. It was empty, which was odd.

Didn’t I just have them refilled last week?

Angie let out a huff of air, irritated at the frequent lapses in memory. With a snowstorm on the way, it was not a good time to have memory breakdowns. Angie scooped up her breakfast and headed to the dining room table, watching through the kitchen window as the ugly storm clouds twisted and churned. She nearly jumped out of the chair when Drake’s lips tickled the back of her neck.

“Were you yelling something earlier, or was I hearing things while in the shower?”

“Jesus, Drake! You scared the shit out of me!”

Drake planted another kiss on Angie’s neck, then walked into the kitchen. “Sorry. Want me to start wearing bells or something? You’re too jumpy. Must be another side effect of pregnancy brain.”

Angie let Drake’s dig pass without commenting. “Yes, I did say something. We’re out of several things, including yogurt and my vitamins. I swear I just went shopping earlier this week!”

Drake returned to the table with two steaming cups of coffee and sat down. He patted Angie’s back reassuringly and handed her a cup. “Honey, that was two weeks ago, remember? Right before you started bleeding. You haven’t been anywhere since you came back from the hospital.”

Frustrated with her lapses of time, Angie scowled. “Decaf?”

Drake nodded.

Angie smiled and took a sip. “Thanks, babe. See? I even forgot to fix myself a cup of coffee! Can’t wait for our little one to arrive so my mind will reset. Between the vivid dreams at night and the loss of time, I’m a wreck. What if I’m like this when…?”

“Babe, stop it. You and your brain are fine. This is only temporary. You’re a nurse, you know that.” Drake stood and kissed the top of Angie’s head. “I’ve got some motions I need to complete before it starts snowing. Shouldn’t take too long, so why don’t you make a list of what we need at the grocery store, and I’ll go when I’m finished. Okay?”

Angie sighed and looked up into the beautiful green eyes of her husband. God how she loved Drake… He was a good man, extremely intelligent, an amazing attorney who represented his clients with fierce intensity. Drake knew how to make Angie laugh, ease her fears and was a fantastic lover. He was the only person she’d ever met who made her mental shields—ones erected when Amelia died—crumple to the ground. Drake was the first real connection she had with another person since Kevin.

Angie pushed aside the guilt inside her chest for the lack of intimate contact between them for the last two weeks. She would change that later. While Drake was at the store, she’d start a fire, then fix a nice dinner, something other than her standard fare. They’d eat in the living room, watch the snow fall. Make love on the couch, or maybe have Drake set out pillows and blankets from the spare bedroom on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“Okay, babe. Good idea. Now, hopefully, I’ll remember what we’re out of!”

“What’s the number two rule of pregnancy brain?” Drake teased.

Angie rolled her eyes. “Take notes.”

“Exactly! Now, let me go work on the pleadings. Shouldn’t take too long. Love you, sugar.”

Angie blew an air kiss. “Love you.” She watched Drake saunter down the hallway toward his study, enjoying the view. His physique was still a sight to behold, his butt firm and tight, nestled inside a pair of jeans that fit just right. She couldn’t wait to grab it later.

Looking down at the bowl, Angie’s stomach rolled and her appetite disappeared. Sipping the rest of the coffee, she hoped it would settle her stomach, but it didn’t. She cleared the dishes, rummaged around in the drawer until she found pen and paper, and went from cabinet to cabinet, writing down things they needed. Angie scowled. It seemed like everything. Poor Drake would have a full cart when he finished shopping.