29. Tilly

Chapter twenty-nine

Tilly

I t's been three weeks since I found out about the pregnancy. The news was a shock at first, but now, talking to little Tommy after work has become my favorite way to unwind. It feels like a small hint of peace in the midst of everything. My little peanut is a great listener, even if he does like to still make me sick occasionally.

Living in the motel isn't ideal, but that's about to change. I've been picking up every shift possible at the motel and started bartending at the town's only bar, luckily within walking distance of the motel. Every penny is being saved, and in two months, I should have enough for a deposit on a modest apartment.

After finishing my last room cleaning for the day, I'm hurrying back to my room to change into some jeans. The little Tommy bump is starting to make its presence known, making buttoning my jeans a bit of a struggle. It seems quick. When Sam found out she was pregnant, it felt like forever before I could see any change in her body.

But at least I'm not as sick. At what I figure to be eight weeks along, the nausea and exhaustion are starting to lessen. According to the books Jemma brought me, I should feel more or less normal until the last trimester. That's why I'm pushing myself to work as much as I can now, while I still have the energy.

After pulling on a clean shirt, I grab a coconut milk and a power bar from the minifridge – not exactly the dinner I'm craving, but it'll have to do for now.

"Dinner of champs, little man," I say aloud. For some reason, I picture the baby rolling his eyes at me. The thought makes me smile. My first ‘dad joke.' Outside, the spring air is warming up, hinting that summer might finally be arriving in Burlington. And thank God. I can't stand the cold.

Crossing the street to the bar, I find it bustling. Thursdays are bowling night and the leagues usually come in for a drink or two. It means loud debates over bowling technique but also great tips. I've dressed strategically in a low-cut top, taking Jemma's advice to "flaunt it if you've got it."

Tying on my apron, I head behind the bar and first approach Kevin and his son. Leaning over, I give Kevin a peck on the cheek. "Hey Kev, Marcus. How was bowling?" I ask, already pouring Kevin's favorite beer and a sprite for his son.

"Oh, good. I actually broke 100," he replies.

Marcus climbs onto the counter, holding up all ten fingers. "I hit this many."

"Really?" I beam at him. "That's a lot." Marcus nods, his eyes wide with pride. After serving them, Kevin gives a quick wave; they usually hang out near the jukebox for an hour or so before heading home.

I've grown fond of Kevin and Marcus over the past few weeks, looking forward to our brief interactions. It's moments like these that make the long days a bit brighter. Jemma was right, he is a nice guy and an excellent father. Marcus is a lucky kid even if his mom is a complete fool for leaving them.

Another man flags me down, and soon I'm pouring beer as if we're in the last days of prohibition. Bowlers sure can drink. Nicki's working the other end, her spiky blue hair and piercings stand out in the small town, but she's an absolute genius with mixing drinks. On bowling nights, it's mostly beer though, so she does have a sort of bored expression on her face. I ignore her, even though I really want to throw a mug at her head. I'm drowning in requests for pitchers and pints while she sneaks looks at her phone.

Instead of lashing out, I find my rhythm, letting my mind wander as I do. Little man doesn't seem to like my dinner and I mentally remind him of our after work cheeseburger that's only a few hours away. Suddenly, Nikki comes over and pinches my bottom.

"Don't look now, but some sexy tourist is checking you out."

I roll my eyes but remind myself to think about the tips. "What's he drinking?" I ask, scraping the foam off a tap brew.

"Seven and seven. Go get 'em," Nicki urges, taking over my spot at the tap.

I move to the liquor, grab the Seagram's bottle, and a glass, setting it down near Nicki's station.

When it's done, I hold it aloft. "Seven and seven?" I call out, searching the sea of faces for anyone that doesn't have a drink.

It's then that I hear him. "Tilly?" My heart stops. That voice—I know it too well. My eyes lift to meet his, but my body starts shaking uncontrollably.

Tommy is here at the bar, looking as if he's seen a ghost, his familiar hair flopped over his forehead.

"How?" is all I can manage, my breaths coming too fast. The room starts to buzz with whispers, and one patron rushes off.

He returns with Kevin. "Tilly, who is that?" Kevin asks.

"My ex," I blurt out, immediately regretting my words. Tommy is not my ex, not even close. Hell, we were barely together. But labeling him an ex is wrong. I never even considered any other man while we were apart. Seeing him here, I know he feels the same way. Kevin and a few others are already moving toward Tommy. I suspect Jemma might have shared some version of what she thinks is my story with Kevin. None of the men seem pleased, assuming the man I'm fleeing from is now here.

"Okay, buddy, time to go," one of them says to Tommy.

He stands, batting away their hands. "Your ex? Tilly, what is going on?" Tommy looks confused. Hurt even. I don't blame him in the least. Everything is all mixed up in my head. I want to run to him, to beg forgiveness, blurt out that I'm having his baby.

But my mouth isn't working right; seeing Tommy so unexpectedly has scrambled my brain. When Kevin grabs Tommy's arm, and others join in, they're dragging him out before I can process what's happening.

Suddenly, the room spins, and where the walls should be, I'm seeing the ceiling. Its then I realize I'm falling.

Everything turns blurry as I hear Nicki calling for an ambulance, mentioning my pregnancy. Sounds fade, and darkness envelops me, the world fading away entirely.

***

Waking up in the hospital, I find myself on a bed with tubes in my arm. The sight makes me sit up abruptly, wondering if the encounter with Tommy had been just a dream. I press the nurse call button, and a large woman in scrubs tucks the curtain aside as she strides in.

"Hey sweetheart. How you feeling?"

"Better," I admit, though a headache is pounding through my skull.

"You bumped your head, but the doctor will be in soon to talk about that," the nurse informs me, checking my vitals before starting to leave.

"You want some juice or something?" I shake my head, and she adds, "Okay. Call if you do."

"Wait! Is anyone here for me?" I ask, hoping against hope.

The nurse frowns thoughtfully. "I'm not sure, but I'll check the waiting room."

Disappointment washes over me as I convince myself I've just overworked and underfed myself into passing out at the bar. But then the doctor walks in.

"Hello, Matilda," he greets me, glancing at my chart. My heart skips—nobody in Burlington knows that's my real name.

"Uh, hi, doctor."

"Feeling okay?" he asks, checking my bag of fluids before sitting down. I nod. "Great! But you my dear, are anemic. That's why you passed out. Babies are fine and you're fine. But I want you to take some iron supplements in addition to your prenatals." He grabs a pen light from his pocket and shines it in each eye. "You did hit your head when you fell and have a nasty bump, but no cut and no signs of a concussion." He tucks the pen light back into his lab coat. "Okay! So you can head home, but I'd like you to finish off this bag of fluids since you were a little dehydrated. Follow up with your OB in a few days. Okay?"

"Sure," I say. I don't have an OB. I have an appointment to go into the clinic next week. The provider there assured me it was completely normal to wait so long for the first appointment. Still, something about the doctors words have my brain spinning. In my current state of overwhelmed confusion, I can't put my finger on it at all.

"Alright then, Matilda. Have a good night. Drink more water," he says, removing the gloves.

As he leaves, the nurse re-enters. "Matilda? There's someone here to see you."

My heart races, bracing to face Tommy again. But instead, Henrietta walks in.

"Hi, baby," she greets me, and any resolve I have melts away as she wraps me in an embrace, prompting tears to flood my eyes. We hug like we're both afraid the other is a mirage. Her hands are clutched onto me with such affection that I never want to let go. How long has it been since I've gotten such a genuine hug? Maybe never. I knew Henrietta for exactly one night. Yet, she's here and it's obvious she was worried about me. When I finally find my voice, I pull away, swiping at my eyes. "I'm so sorry, Henrietta."

"Oh nonsense, baby, there's nothing to be sorry about. You did what you thought you had to. It's actually admirable, " she says. I don't want to agree or disagree. What I did wasn't admirable. Maybe at the time I thought it was, but seeing how it affected her, and knowing how it did the same thing to Tommy and Sam, it feels entirely selfish. After a moment, she asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, they said I can go home," I tell her, the word "home" sparking a longing inside me.

"Tilly, baby, you know that's with us. This is all just temporary. Come back, baby."

"I can't, Henrietta. You know that." I'm wiping at my eyes. If I thought I was unprepared for Tommy, seeing Henrietta is a million times worse. But her appearance makes sense. Turning her down is much harder than turning Tommy down. Henrietta has a way of making me feel so comfortable and safe. In my own head, I refer to it as the ‘super mom effect.' Something Henrietta has nailed down to a T. "Tommy sent you, didn't he?"

Henrietta gives a knowing smile. "He's a smart man, and he's hurting."

The thought of how much they might know frightens me. Did anyone tell them about the baby? I don't have the courage to ask.

"We'll keep you safe," Henrietta assures, understanding my fear. "Miranda and Tommy have a plan, Tilly. She's ready to help, really help. Just come home."

Home. No place on Earth had ever felt as much a home as the days I spent in Henrietta's house in the mountains. Though Jemma has been a true friend, I've still felt alone in Burlington. Really, I've just been pushing through for the sake of my baby. It's so tempting that I find my body shaking.

"We'll help you, Tilly. Everyone is—"

I yell out "No!" in panic. "I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about you! They set your house on fire, Henrietta!" Henrietta tries to reassure me, but the thought of them getting hurt because of me is unbearable.

"I don't need to be fussed over—"

"You do! What if next time they bring a gun or you don't get out of the house in time? They'll hurt you eventually. They always do."

Henrietta is on her feet, looking down at me with disappointment shining in her eyes. "I've heard it all before. You're worth it, Tilly. To my son, and especially to me. I'm a mother, it's my job to protect the ones I love. You might not be used to it, and sure as heck seems like you don't like it, but it's still my job." She sighs as she adjusts her purse on her shoulder then lifts her chin high. "But at some point, we're going to stop asking. Every time you say no, a little bigger chunk of him gets broken off." She's already walking out, leaving me feeling even more torn. After she's gone, I lay back, closing my eyes against the flood of emotions overwhelming me.