The Dance (7 page)

I didn’t know if the ugliness of this cafeteria was the norm for a healthcare facility. I’d been very fortunate in my life, never having to spend any time in a hospital since the day I was born. The lighting was horrible, the walls and floor were slightly yellowed with age, and the tables and chairs looked to be on their last leg. But ever since I could remember, people raved about how incredible the food here tasted. I remember in their later years, my mama and papa would come each Friday to enjoy the cafeteria’s fried shrimp platter. By all the happy faces enjoying the food, the praise seemed well deserved.

My gaze scanned the large area as I tried not to appear too bored. Considering the time of day, I was surprised the place was this packed. The patrons were a mix of doctors, nurses, and other badge-wearing hospital staff. There were a few scattered patients who’d ventured out of their rooms. The rest of the crowd looked to be people who were here just wanting the great food.

“Bryson, what are your thoughts on having a water feature over in that corner?” The soft southern accent of Will’s mother drifted into my ears as she tried to include me in the project.

“Which corner?”

Pointing her finger, she said, “Over on the far right wall.”

I followed her scrawny finger across the room. When my gaze hit the target a weird buzzing sensation took over my stomach. It had nothing to do with water features or spending too much time with my mother in-law and everything to do with the site of Hart Mitchell. Or some guy who looked exactly like Hart Mitchell. Oh, hell, it was Hart Mitchell. I’d know those color-changing eyes and deep dimples anywhere at any distance. I had spent my entire senior year seeking them out and one unbelievable moment staring into them. The noisy atmosphere disappeared and I got lost in Hart.

“Bryson.”

He was sitting at one of the smaller tables with his back to the wall. His golden blond hair was slicked back off his face and shorter than it had been in school, hitting just below his ear. His scruff was now perfectly groomed. I could tell he took time with his appearance but not an overly obnoxious amount.

The way his dark silvery gray dress shirt molded to his upper body, it had to have been tailor made for him. I couldn’t see his pants under the table but they were probably black. Black pants would look great with that shirt and tie. With the matching gray tie and large silver watch poking out from under his sleeve, Hart Mitchell could have been a GQ cover model.

“Bryson, any thoughts?”

His white teeth and deep dimples kept making appearances as he talked and smiled at the head of blond curls sitting across from him. They didn’t appear to be touching. At least I couldn’t detect touching. For some reason I didn’t want them to be touching.

“Bryson!”

The sharp tone of Will’s mom pierced my ears, ripping my eyes away from Hart.

“I’m sorry. What?”

She exchanged an annoyed look with hipster guy.

Rolling his hipster eyes, the guy huffed. “Uh . . . the water feature?”

My gaze swung between the two as they stared at me, awaiting my answer. “I think you’re spot on with that.”

Hipster guy breathed a sigh of relief as he escorted Will’s mom away, rattling on about his vision.

Hoping to get a glimpse of the swagger, I turned back toward Hart’s table but he was gone. My gaze quickly searched the crowd with no sign of him. I’d looked away only for a brief moment. Where could he have disappeared to so fast? I was about to fan out and go looking for him. I thought it would be fun to catch up on our lives. I stopped myself. There was no point in chasing after Hart. He never made an effort for me during our senior year, even after the moment we shared.

Building the house took four months longer than expected. Will was meticulous with every single detail, from the earth-tone stones used for the exterior to the nails. Extra special attention was paid to the entrance. My mother-in-law schooled me on the importance of having a proper southern porch. Not everyone will make it past your front door but everyone will see your front porch. It was crucial in her eyes that our porch properly showcased her son’s status in the community.

Three deep stone steps led guests up to the large wraparound porch with the intricately carved dark wood door. An Original Charleston bed swing hung at one end while two black lacquered high back rockers were positioned at the other. The furniture popped well against the natural browns, creams, and rusts of the stone exterior. The big front yard was filled with rows of azalea bushes and several moss-covered old oaks. It was a picture right out of a southern fairy tale.

Will had definite ideas and input for the inside but for the most part he left the interior decorating to me. I chose to go with a neutral gray palate for the walls with pops of color coming from the furniture and accent pieces. Dark cherry wood floors covered the downstairs while the upstairs was covered in soft plush heather-gray carpet. Will made good on his promise of giving me the ultimate kitchen. The mixture of browns, blacks, and beiges in the granite countertops and back-splash offset the stainless steel appliances, giving the room a warm cozy feel.

Turned out Will was right about me not having a lot of time once the build on the house got started. The idea of culinary school lingered in the background for the time being as I zeroed in on making us a home and a family.

“How much longer?” Will shifted from one foot to the other with excitement.

“One minute.” I flashed a quick smile up at him.

I was sitting at the vanity in our bathroom while Will hovered close by. The past few weeks I hadn’t been feeling well. At first I thought it was due to the stress of finishing up the house. But we’d been settled in for more than a month and I still wasn’t feeling like myself. The plan had always been to move into our house and then start a family. In my mind that meant live in the house for six months to a year and then start
trying
. Apparently, the powers that be had other plans.

Two months after Will and I started dating, I knew in my heart and mind that he was the one, so I got on the pill. Will continued to wear condoms until three years ago. He hated them. Since I was on the pill and we were going to be married anyway, I was fine with him not wearing them anymore. Besides, I liked the way he felt not all covered up. I was religious when it came to taking my pill and my period was like clockwork. With all the stress and activity of moving, I may have lost track of a few things.

The alarm on Will’s phone beeped indicating the minute was up.

Taking in a deep breath, I reached for the pregnancy test.

I stood in front of Will, trying to keep my expression neutral. “Daddy . . .”

“Are you telling me we’re having a baby or are you trying to turn me on?”

“We’re gonna have a baby!”

Leaping into Will’s outstretched arms, I squealed as he spun me around.

I slid down his body until my feet hit the floor. Cupping my face, Will brought our foreheads together. “Thank you.”

“Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Will stared down and ran his hand over my stomach. My heart skipped a beat at his gentle touch and the look of wonderment covering his face. It was rare for him to be speechless and even rarer for him to show much emotion. To anyone else, he looked calm and unaffected. But I could feel the excitement and gratitude radiate off his body.

“It’s all coming together. Work, the house, and now the baby.” He placed a soft kiss on my lips.

“Are you happy?”

“I’m beyond happy. I wouldn’t have this life without you. I love you, Bryson.”

“I love you . . . for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

We stood there in the bathroom, in silence, holding each other for a long time. Neither of us made an attempt to pull away. Finding out that we were pregnant with our first child was a moment we’d never experience again. We wanted to hold on to it for as long as possible. Once we walked out of this room, we both realized life as we knew it would be forever changed.

Over the next few weeks, I spent a lot of time getting used to the changes in my body. During my second trimester the fatigue and nausea were the most difficult. But each time I looked in the mirror at my barely there baby bump, I felt like a complete woman and wife, and it made it all worth it. Will was enjoying that my boobs were growing by leaps and bounds. He swore they got bigger from the time he went to work to the time he got home in the evening.

Although I had no idea whether we’d be welcoming a boy or a girl into our lives, I couldn’t help shopping for things all babies needed. The bedroom right next to our room was designated as the nursery. I promised myself I wouldn’t decorate until we knew the sex but that didn’t stop me from plastering inspiration pictures all over the walls of the room. Will went with me to as many doctor appointments as he could and understood when I was too tired to cook or do anything else. He teased me a lot about buying toys for the baby but I caught him several times sneaking in a stuffed animal or two. With my head in the clouds, I was gliding along living the perfect life. If I’d only looked down maybe I could have avoided the first misstep.

My eyes shot open as a sharp pain stabbed me in the middle of my back. Before the sleepy fog lifted, another piercing sensation took over, causing a loud groan to escape.

Struggling, I rolled over and reached across the bed for Will and found cold empty sheets. The clock on the nightstand read 3:30 a.m.

Another jolt of pain hit me. “Will!”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, gripped the edge of the mattress, and pushed up on trembling legs. With my palms flat against the wall, I made my way out into the hallway. Taking a firm hold of the banister, I headed downstairs. Halfway down I noticed light coming from underneath Will’s office door. Lately, he had been experiencing bouts of sleepless nights. He tried to hide it but I knew he was feeling pressure with more responsibilities at work and the baby coming.

Cradling my stomach, I got to the bottom of the stairs and yelled, “Will!”

The sharp pains had morphed into a dull constant ache. Each time I breathed in it felt as if my throat was closing up. I squeezed my eyes shut as tears filled them.

Where was Will?

My trembling hand let go of the banister and I shuffled across the entryway toward Will’s office. Halfway there I noticed my panties felt wet. Looking down, I saw a trail of blood drops.

As I crumbled to the floor, all the air left my body along with a blood-curdling scream. “Will!”

A couple of loud thuds and several footsteps later Will bolted out of the room.

“God, Bryson!” He rushed over, gathering me in his arms.

“I have to get to the hospital.” I hiccupped the words as my body convulsed with sobs.

“Okay, baby. Don’t move. I’m going to grab my keys and get you in the car.”

I clutched his arm. “Will, I’m scared . . . the baby.”

Looking straight into my eyes, he said, “Don’t panic. I’m here. We’re going to the hospital and get you and the baby checked out. Everything’s going to be alright. Trust me?”

I nodded and watched through blurry eyes as he ran away.

Eight hours later, Will and I walked through the front door of a place we once called our dream home. In less than a day this house had transformed from a home to the place where I lost my baby. With one arm around my waist, Will guided me past the dried blood on the floor, up the stairs, and into our bedroom.