As always, we don't own Twilight. We do own, well, have in our possession, two tickets to TFMU! If you're going to be in Nashville, make sure you find us...we'll have booze and chocolate.
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-Jiff and Jenny Kate
Chapter 2
"Crazy Good Bakery, how can I help ya?" I shift the phone to my ear as I slide a fresh batch of cranberry orange macadamia nut cookies into the hot oven. The lady on the other end of the line puts in an order for two dozen cupcakes for her daughter's first birthday next weekend. As I'm scribbling down the order on the notepad by the register, the bell above the door rings. Looking up, I see Alice walking in. Just in time.
As much as I didn't want to hire someone, she's been a Godsend. I would never confess that out loud, but I don't know what I would've done without her these past few weeks. Like today, I have my first of many doctor visits, and there's no way I would've been able to close the bakery down for two hours in the middle of the day.
"Hey, Alice. I just threw in a batch of cookies and they need to come out in ten. I've gotta run! Call me if you need me."
"OK, don't worry about me. I've got this covered!" Alice replies in her usual chipper voice. One thing's for sure. The customers love her. The old men that come in here every morning for their coffee and biscuits ask about her any time she's not here. I told Frank, one of my regulars, that he was going to give me a complex if he didn't quit asking for her. He just laughed, slapped his leg, and told me I'd always be his favorite. I smiled and told him he probably says that to all the girls. His cronies at the table chimed in on that note, because it's widely known that ol' Frank is a rounder.
"Hey, Bella!" Mrs. Pratt hollers from across the street when she sees me getting into my truck. "Is the bakery closed? Are you sick?" she asks, running across when she gets a chance.
Nosey old lady.
"No, ma'am. Alice is in there ready to take yer order." I reply with as much sweetness in my voice as I can muster. My patience these days for all these busybodies is the size of a pissant.
I hop into my truck and leave her standing on the curb, trying to figure out where I'm off to in such a hurry. Looking back in my rear view mirror, I finally see her walk into the bakery just before I turn the corner to head out to the main road.
There was no way I could go to a doctor in town. We only have two physicians here, and one of them has been my doctor since the day I came into this world. He's a sweet man, but I can't trust anyone in this town to not talk. The last thing I want is people knowing about this pregnancy before I'm good and ready.
When I make it to the doctor's office, I walk in, smiling inside, because once you've seen one small town doctor's office, you've seen them all—white paint, a floral wallpaper border that circles the room, and Home Interiors pictures from 1995 hanging on the walls. The blue chairs that are placed in a neat row make me cringe. Any time I'm in a doctor's office, I can't help but think about all the sick people who were here before me. I know they probably sanitize, but it still grosses me out.
The lady behind the glass window slides it open when she sees me walk up. "Hello, dear," she says, greeting me in a cheerful, motherly voice. Her gray hair reminds me of my Grandma Swan, so I return her friendly smile and say hello.
"I'm Bella Swan; I have an appointment with Dr. Abernathy at 11:00," I tell her, glancing at the clock on the wall and seeing I have a few minutes to wait.
"You'll need to fill this out since you're a new patient," she says, handing me a clipboard through the window. "And I'll need a copy of your driver's license and insurance card."
Sitting down, I begin to fill out the form, but when I come to the part where it asks about marital status and spouse, I feel the emotions bubble back up to the surface. I've managed to keep the tears at bay on most days, but I've also been trying not to think about it too much.
Who is my emergency contact?
I guess it should be my mama? It doesn't seem right to put Edward there, but if he's not my emergency contact and he's not my spouse, who is he? Shouldn't he have some sort of representation on this sheet since he's half of the reason I'm here?
My hand hovers over the empty space as it glares back at me—almost taunting me. If I would woman the hell up and tell him, then I wouldn't be having this dilemma. It's been two weeks since I found out I'm pregnant and I've managed to not tell a soul.
Although, I think Rose might be suspicious, mother's intuition and all, but she hasn't said anything. She happened to stop by the bakery on one of my worst mornings. I had just put some cinnamon rolls in to bake, and between the sugar, yeast, and flour, my stomach was rolling. I was celebrating making it through by having some saltine crackers and a bottle of ginger ale when she walked in, her basketball-stomach sticking out so far she had to be careful not to knock things off the counter. When she eyed my delicious combination, she quirked an eyebrow at me, almost asking silently what was going on. Thankfully, we were interrupted by a customer, and she let it go. Later, when she called to check on me, I convinced her I had a bad headache and my stomach wasn't feeling so great. At least the second part wasn't a lie, not that it matters. I already feel like I'm going to hell on most days.
Finally, I quit pussy-footing around and finish filling out the necessary information.
Single.
Pregnant.
That pretty much sums it up. I put my mom down as my emergency contact and turn the form back in to the nice lady behind the window.
When I finally get called back to a room, the nurse weighs me, asks when my last period was, and then passes me a cup to pee in. I don't know what it is about peeing in a cup, maybe performance anxiety, but it always takes me longer than usual.
As I'm sitting on the exam table in my paper gown, the thought comes to me that this could all be in my head or that maybe I was pregnant, but I'm not anymore . . . that sort of thing happens all the time. Rose and Emmett had two miscarriages before this pregnancy. I remember how sad Rose had been. Emmett too, for that matter. I sat and watched a lot of Hallmark movies and finished off several tubs of Ben & Jerry's while she went through those trying times.
I can't decide how I would feel if the doctor comes in and tells me that I'm not pregnant. I guess I should feel relieved, because then life could go on like normal, but that's not the first emotion that comes to mind. Sadness—sadness and disappointment are what come to mind.
Grasping my head in my hands, I try to clear my mind. The overabundance of emotions is making me feel crazy. I just need to know one way or the other, and then I need to come clean with Edward and face the music. It's not like I got into this situation by myself.
It takes two to tango.
There's a knock at the door before a round bald man makes his way into the room. "Hello, Miss Black," he says, greeting me.
"Bella, please. Just Bella," I tell him.
"OK, Bella. So, you're pregnant," he says, matter-of-factly.
Deep down I knew that. I think I knew it before I even peed on a stick, but hearing a professional confirm it makes it really real.
"How about we check you over and see how far along you are, hmmm?" he asks, helping me lie back on the table. After some poking and prodding, he pulls over a machine and explains that we're going to listen for the baby's heartbeat.
There are a lot of muffled noises that come out of the machine until finally a rhythmic gushing sound emerges. The doctor's bright eyes peek over the top of the round glasses resting on his equally round cheeks, and he smiles. "That's what we're looking for," he says, like it's a new discovery or something he's never heard before. I feel hot tears falling down the sides of my face as I turn my head toward the sound of my baby's beating heart. When I see the little bean shape on the monitor, it feels real for the first time.
"I'm gonna have a baby," I sob.
Gently, he helps me up and hands me a few tissues from the counter behind him.
"Yes, you are. I'd say you're about seven weeks along, and everything looks good. I'd like to see you back in four weeks. Do you have any questions?"
The gushing sound that we heard when he was using the machine is still reverberating in my ears. I can't get it out of my head.
I'm gonna have a baby.
My sobs turn into a maniacal laugh as I sit on the side of the exam table, feeling like I'm completely losing my mind.
Holy shit! I'm gonna have a baby!
"Ms. Black?" Dr. Abernathy asks, patting my leg.
"It's Bella! Please don't call me Ms. Black!" I plead, the need to cry coming back in full force. Before I know it, I'm telling him my life story and why he can't, under any circumstance, call me Ms. Black.
I've gotta get my name legally changed. STAT.
I look up to see him making a note in my chart, and I've seen doctors do that before. It's their way of talking about you behind your back.
"I'm not crazy!" I blurt out.
"Of course you're not, Bella," he assures me, patting me on my leg again. "You're pregnant."
"But I feel crazy!" I yell, sobbing into the rumpled up tissues.
"That's normal." His voice is reassuring and holds no judgement.
I look up at him, and I'm sure the expression on my face is one of love and admiration, because he's the first doctor who's ever justified my crazy. I might be in love with him, too.
After I'm dressed and looking somewhat presentable, except for the puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks, I head back out into the waiting room to make my next appointment. Before I leave, the nurse hands me a little black and white picture of my baby. I can't help but stare at it as I walk out to my truck, almost tripping over the curb on my way there. Instinctively, I put one hand across my belly, while the other flies out to help me keep from falling. I know, in that moment, that I'll do whatever it takes to protect this life growing inside me.
Sitting in my truck, I glance down at my flat stomach, and then back at the picture of the peanut that's living in there. "I've wanted you for as long as I can remember," I whisper. "I already love you like crazy."
AWWWWWEEEEE! She's gonna have a baby! Anybody have any crazy pregnancy stories they'd like to share? If you've been pregnant before, I'm sure you can identify with at least a little of what Bella's going through.
We'd like to thank our awesome beta, Geekchic12! We appreciate her taking the time to fix our words and make them better. All mistakes are our own.
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