Page 2 of Forever My Soldier

The words my gynecologist said to me played on repeat. “You’re pregnant, Ms. McAllister.”

To say I was surprised was an understatement. I mean, I could’ve suspected, but I’d been under a lot of stress lately, so I blamed it on that. Turned out I was wrong.

It was big news, huge even, and I had a lot to think about. But there was one thing that I knew with certainty—I was keeping this baby. I could be a single mother, plenty of women did it. Right?

I bent my head down, looking at my tummy, knowing our little embryo was right there, developing and growing every second. “I’ve decided I’m going to tell your daddy, little one.”

My getting pregnant was never part of the plan, but then again neither was Deacon and I sleeping together when he was home to see Damon. It was one night, a small blimp in time really. But it was enough to create a life.

Since that night, we hadn’t connected, no letters or calls. It was exactly what we promised each other—one night. That was about all my heart could handle. But now, with this, I wasn’t so sure one night was all it’d ever be. He’d always be part of my life, part of our baby’s life. Knowing I was carrying his baby made me feel closer to him, which scared me beyond belief because it gave me a false sense of hope that we could pick up where we left off and start the life I always thought we’d have together.

It was bad enough I still spent time with his mother, even after all these years. Now, it was less so, but when she called, I never told her no. I couldn’t. She was always like a second mother to me. Maybe I liked it that way. I really didn’t know anymore. I was more confused now than ever. Frankly, it was a little sick to think I tortured myself this way, staying close to his mother, but I just couldn’t cut her out of my life just because her son left me.

The holler coming from Deacon’s mother, Mary, broke me from my thoughts. “Did you find a shirt to change into?”

“Yes,” I shouted back. I pulled the shirt over my stomach and covered myself, remembering why I was upstairs in Deacon’s room to begin with. I made a mess of mine while Mary and I were baking cookies, mixing the damn batter right out of the bowl. I was always a mess in the kitchen.

I pulled my arms in and clutched his shirt, breathing it in. It smelled like Deacon. Before closing the door to his room, I looked back and sighed. “We’re going to have a baby,” I whispered. I knew full well I was talking to myself, but until I could tell Deacon the good news, this would have to do.

By the time I got downstairs and walked back into the kitchen, my eyes caught sight of a bowl of hard-boiled eggs on the counter. I quirked a brow and made my way over to the other side of the counter where Mary was. “Are you making egg salad?” I asked.

She looked up at me and smiled at the sight of me in her son’s shirt, but it wasn’t just a smile. There was a look of sadness that flashed in her eyes, albeit brief, gone almost as fast as it came, it was still there. I assumed it was that sadness that drove her to stay as busy as she always was, avoiding it.

Mary cooked when we were in high school and did love to bake occasionally, but it was taken to a whole new level once her boys left. I supposed if I had any skills in the kitchen, I would’ve leaned into the same, making it therapeutic. But I didn’t. That was why I stuck to the law. I was much better at being a lawyer than I was a chef or baker.

“Deviled eggs,” she said in her matter-of-fact way. “Why don’t you help me prep the eggs? Toss the yolks in this bowl and I’ll mash and mix in the ingredients. Then I have a piping bag somewhere around here to fill them.”

I did as she asked and began tossing the yolks in the bowl. It was odd to think, but I wasn’t the least bit domestic. For heaven’s sake, I burnt rice. And my last attempt at macaroni and cheese was too milky. I liked to try new restaurants and order in. Even if I could cook, I worked a lot, so I rarely had time to have a home-cooked meal. I lived alone, so I brought my work home most nights. I supposed all of that was going to change once my baby arrived.

Perhaps I could ask Mary to teach me how to cook.

I could always hire a live-in chef. My mother had been urging me to do that for a while now. After all, I could afford it, and that way I wouldn’t have to worry about learning how to cook a decent meal. Especially now, I knew I needed to make some changes to stay healthy for my baby. It was all so much to think about.

Deciding those things could wait for now, I gushed, “You make the best deviled eggs.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, but I’m no better than anyone else.”

“You’re better than my mother. If she didn’t have a personal chef cooking for her and my dad, she wouldn’t know what to do. I’m telling you, Mary, you’re pretty awesome.”

“Thank you, dear,” she said. “Now get to peeling those shells.”

As I did that, we fell into an easy conversation. She began talking about Deacon when he was younger and how much he loved cooking with her.

I chuckled, listening to Mary’s story. “Yeah, Deke always told me you taught him everything he knows in the kitchen,” I said.

“I knew that the woman he cooked for would appreciate it one day. It’s important all my boys know how to fend for themselves and cooking is an important thing to know. I started them all at a young age.”

I supposed I never thought about it that way, but Mary was right.

I only wished I could be half the mother to my child as Mary was to her children. In a lot of ways, I looked up to her.

She looked up from what she was doing and asked, “How are you holding up these days?”

I shrugged, trying to make light of the fact that I was having a hard time. Not sure how much she knew, I replied, “I’m okay.” It was hard enough as it was when Deacon and I broke up and hadn’t seen each other. But, now, knowing that this baby tied him to me, and that he’d always be in my life, suddenly made things a lot harder, but she didn’t need me dumping all that on her.

“One day things will work out. I know he still loves you,” she said, but immediately looked apologetic for letting it come out.

I shook my head and closed my eyes. “It’s okay.” I reopened them and grinned. “I’m a big girl and I can handle a little heartbreak.”What a load of shit that was.

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