Free Play With You (Loneliness) by Alison Cole Page B

When we leave, Marcus is loaded down with several bags. In our room, I immediately change to a new maternity outfit. Oh, so much more comfortable! After I show the formal to Tim, he approves of it for our performance that evening.
    "If you find a few more, you may as well stock up on more formal gowns, because I'm hoping you'll be able to stay with us through as much of your pregnancy as possible," he tells me.
    "Well, I'd love to go back and check on other formal dresses they have in stock. What time do we have to be at the airport tomorrow?" I ask Tim.
    "Not until noon for a one p.m. flight," he tells me.
    "Then it's settled. I'll stop at the shop tomorrow morning, first thing. If I find anything, I'll buy it. And, yes, I'd love to continue with the group for as long as my pregnancy allows me - and after the baby is born," I tell him.
    In return, I get a big hug. That night, I wear my new, much more comfortable maternity formal dress. While it gives my growing belly more room, it doesn't look like a maternity dress. I simply look like I chose to wear a loose dress. It makes singing so much easier. Now, I can expand my diaphragm much more easily and I don't get dizzy during the longer notes. This performance is one of my best since we arrived stateside. After we perform, we stop at a late-night diner and order snacks. I am starving, so I order an omelet, toast and some iced tea. The guys all order these huge sandwiches. Once we've eaten, we go back to our hotel, where we all go to bed.
    The next morning, I return to the maternity shop, The Little Oregon Boutique, and buy two more formal dresses. I pack them and we leave for the airport. We have two more cities in which to perform, then we fly back home! I still haven't told my mum, dad and sister that we're expecting a baby. I want to tell them in person. Dad will want me to marry Marcus right away - but we haven't talked about this. In truth, that part makes me worry. I know Marcus loves me and our little one, but does he want to get married? I know I do. Twelve years separates us, but that's not much. What's more is my worry that I'll be a single mum on the dole in England. I don't want that.
    The worry I'm feeling makes my nausea come back. When we land in Seattle, Washington, I head straight for the loo and lose my lunch. Marcus is worried, so I tell him that something about lunch didn't agree with me. He's not fooled - he saw how quiet I was on our flight north. Once we get to our room, he corners me and won't stop until he's wormed everything out of me.
    I begin to cry. "Marcus, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to trap you with the baby! I...I love you, but I don't want you to feel obligated to hang arou..."
    "What the bloody hell are you on about, girl? Of course, I'm sticking around! I'm in love with you and I love our baby, sight unseen. You are stuck with me, whether you like it or not." Here, he strides to his suitcase and opens the outer pocket. He pulls out a small, velvet-covered box.
    "I had intended to wait until the last concert, but I think you need to know this now. I bought this in Santa Monica while you and the band were practicing before the concert that night." Marcus goes down on one bent knee.
    I gasp and begin crying anew, one hand covering my mouth.
    "Johanna Williams, will you do me the distinct honor of marrying me? Make me an honest man. I love you, girl, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Please say you'll become Johanna Hadley...put me out of my misery, girl!"
    I nod, tears streaming down my face. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes, I'll marry you, Marcus Hadley!" I hold my hand out to Marcus, trying to still the trembling.
    He's trembling nearly as badly as I am! He takes my hand and shakily slides the beautiful engagement ring on my third finger. It fits beautifully! Wrapping his arms around me, he cries, joining his tears to mine.
    "I've been in love with you since before we got together, Johanna. I love the way you think, the way love. I love how