Free Fudge Brownies & Murder by Janel Gradowski

hen-style assistance, she finally made it into the waiting room to take her place next to all of the other baby-filled bellies in various stages of bulging.
    In the chair beside her, Amy looked around as though she had landed on another planet. Bruce had been able to take her to all of the other appointments, but now he was busy with the new murder investigation, and she was banned from driving herself. So this was her friend's first visit to Prego Land. Carla tapped the back of Amy's hand, which had a death grip on the arm rest between them. "It's okay. If anybody goes into labor, this is the perfect place for it. Promise, you won't have to help."
    Amy shook her head. "I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to do this," she whispered. "I'm afraid I'll be just like my mom. No child deserves to grow up like I did."
    Both of her parents had made drinking their number one priority in life. Amy was their only child, who despite the alcohol-induced neglect, turned out to be one of the kindest, most caring people Carla had ever met. The silver lining in the horrible upbringing was that Amy had learned how to cook, to feed herself, at an early age. Now, the self-taught survival skill had turned into her dream job as she competed in contests, worked at a café, and now had a recipe blog. While she enjoyed a cocktail now and then, Amy was far from an alcoholic. The twang of fear in her voice startled Carla. " You know you're nothing like your mom. I know you've worked hard all of your life to be the kind of person that is as far opposite as possible from her. Having a baby wouldn't change you. It's not like some kind of biological switch that flips on and turns you into your mother. You would be an excellent mom."
    "That's what Alex says, but I'm not so sure." She turned to face Carla. A sunny smile replaced the frown on her face. "This isn't about me, though. You're first up in the mommy batter box. I can't wait for you to hit it out of the park."
    "Okay. Just don't make me run for the metaphorical ball. Nobody wants to see that."
    Inside the exam room, the nurse's assistant went through the routine that had become familiar to Carla—blood pressure, baby's heartbeat, measuring the baby bump. It had always been difficult for Carla to be a patient. She self-diagnosed most illnesses, only resorting to visiting a doctor if she needed a prescription, and played a tiring game of devil's advocate for any diagnosis. However, in Dr. Herman's offices, she felt at ease with both the doctor and his staff. Another minor miracle in her life brought about by the unexpected left turn into marriage and motherhood.
    Roz, one of the practice's midwives, entered the room soon after the assistant left. "How are you doing?" she asked as she examined Carla's new measurements on her tablet computer.
    "Good. A few more Braxton Hicks contractions, but I guess that can be expected at this point." Carla stared at her bare feet topped with puffy ankles as her legs dangled from the end of the exam table. There she went again. Diagnosing herself in a medical area she had no experience in.
    "Yes, those can be expected," Roz confirmed as she bent to look closer at the marshmallow-like ankles. "It means you're getting closer to having this baby. Let's do a quick ultrasound to see how big the little person is now. You haven't changed your mind about not knowing the sex?"
    Carla shook her head as she lay back onto the paper-covered table. "Nope. Still don't want to know. I love surprises. So I have a big one to look forward to as a reward for going through labor and delivery."
    That evening, Carla doubted Amy. Several times during the long, slow drive home, her friend had pronounced that everything would be fine. But Carla didn't feel like she would be fine. Not any time soon. Maybe never. At the appointment, Dr. Herman said that the baby was big enough. It could come at any time and would be perfectly healthy. The tendrils of fear over becoming a momma tightened