Just a Positive Pregnancy Test - London Casey Page 0,93
there for my son.
My son.
He was my world now.
When I wasn’t with Mila, I was at the house.
I knew I was in Tyler’s way, but I didn’t care.
The house had to get done.
It was right on schedule. There were no issues at all.
Tyler told me that alone was a miracle.
As far as I was concerned, I’d trade all the problems in the world with the house to have baby Hank home from the hospital.
All I did was go from the house to the hospital to the inn. With the occasional stop at the restaurant in between. It was just hard seeing everyone. Crosby tried to lighten the mood with dumb jokes. He seemed uncomfortable with the entire situation. Edith wanted to feed Mila and I until we were happy. Zeke was a grump. Theresa tried to play it tough, but I caught her crying out back behind the restaurant three days ago. I hugged her and she swore they were hopeful tears.
Hopeful tears…
I had no idea what that even meant.
The only person I could talk to was Anna.
She gave it to me honest.
When I needed to hear the worst-case scenarios, she told me.
As reluctant as she was to do so, I promised her that telling me the bad stuff wasn’t going to hurt me at all. I just needed to know. I needed to prepare.
I closed the notebook and saw it was three in the morning.
I went into the bedroom and got back into bed with Mila.
I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her close.
She groaned in her sleep.
My hand casually touched her stomach.
I shut my eyes and wanted to sleep.
Instead, I cried alone.
I sat in my truck, taking a minute to myself before going into the hospital to see baby Hank. A few deep breaths and all the negative shit in my head was gone. It had to be gone. In front of baby Hank, he needed me as his father and nothing else. I understood the power of being a father. And how hard it could be at times. All that did was make me realize just how weak my own father - and stepfather - were.
That was okay though.
I had my life.
My family.
I had my son.
I climbed out of my truck and heard someone say my name.
When I turned, I saw Buddy hurrying toward me, carrying his guitar.
“Buddy?”
“We need to talk, Silas,” he said.
“A guitar lesson? Now? You know I can’t help you right now. I’m sorry we haven’t jammed in a little while, but things have been busy.”
“This guitar isn’t for me,” Buddy said. “It’s for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah,” Buddy said. “I want you to play it.”
“Your guitar? Why?”
“What other guitar would you play?”
“I have one in my truck,” I said. “I always have a guitar with me.”
“Oh. Okay. Good.”
“Buddy, no offense, but I’m not in the mood for whatever this is. You should be home with Dot. I need to be in the hospital with my son.”
“I agree,” Buddy said. “That’s why I’m here. Go sing to him.”
“What?”
“Go sing to your son,” Buddy said. “Right now. Grab a guitar and play for him. Show him who his father is. Just like you told me to do for Dot. Remember that? You believed in me and pushed me to sing to her. Imagine if I kept waiting. I would have wasted time I could have been with her. Now it’s your turn. Go sing to your son.”
“Why do you think I have my guitar with me?” I asked. “I’ve been bringing it for days now. Debating with myself over it.”
“Sing to him,” Buddy said. “I have a feeling. Don’t waste any time. Ever. Not a second.”
“Okay, Buddy,” I said. “Thank you. Now go home to Dot.”
He nodded and smiled. “She’s going to hold your son. Just so you know. Dot is going to hold your son. I know it. She’s got time. A lot of time.”
“Good. I can’t wait.”
I opened my truck door again and reached for my guitar.
Play for my son… play a song… sing a song…
I swallowed hard.
It was going to be the hardest gig of my life.
I strummed the guitar with just my fingers.
That kept it a little more quiet.
I had a small crowd looking at me.
Doctors. Nurses. Parents.
That didn’t bother me one bit.
I looked at my son and I strummed my guitar.
I really didn’t have anything written for him. It wasn’t like I had gone through this kind of thing before. And I was pretty sure singing a song about drinking and