Free The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet by Susan Ward Page A

release for the tracks we
recorded on Long and Hard ,” I accuse.
    Black eyes meet my blue unwaveringly. “I told you
to read it.”
    I let out a ragged breath. “It can’t be legal. I
was in high school.”
    “You were eighteen. It’s a legal contract. I
don’t have to ask to record your music.”
    My brain and emotions are not working cooperatively.
“So why did you ask?”
    “Because I won’t record ‘Parts’ unless you say it
is OK with you. I would prefer that you wanted me to record it. It’s important
to me that it is OK with you. I want you to let me do this for you, Chrissie.”
    His quiet, raspy plea makes all the junk inside
me stir up again. The phrasing was so deliberate. “If I say no, you can’t
record it, then what?”
    “Then I won’t,” Alan whispers. “But please let me
do this for you.”
    The husky intensity of his voice brings me to the
verge of tears again because I know what he’s trying to do here. Please let
me do this for you. It’s Alan’s way of coping with whatever it is he’s
blaming himself for because of me. There is something about what passed between
us that he is blaming himself for and is very emotionally ravaged over. I felt
it when he held me.
    Recording my song is like the cello Alan bought
me, an Alan ritual of remorse and regret. I shouldn’t say yes. Neil is going to
be furious. But that place in my heart that understands Alan aches for him.
    Those black eyes burn into me. “I’d like to do
this for you, Chrissie.”
    I tell myself no, but I am nodding anyway.
    Without a word, he disappears downstairs. When he
returns I can see he’s taken the tapes and my lyric sheets.
    “I should go, Chrissie. You look exhausted.”
    I smile and follow him to the door. It occurs to
me, belatedly, that he never answered my question about why he came to Jack’s
party. It’s funny that I should remember that now. We’ve both been through
enough today. This one I should let go and just let Alan leave.
    I open the door and then stop him with a hand on
his arm. I tilt my face toward his. “Alan, why did you go to Jack’s party? What
were you really there to tell me?”
    Alan stares at me. Beautiful. Enigmatic. He says
nothing. He leaves.

 
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    I
squeeze my fingers around Linda’s hand as I bear down, fighting through this
unbearable pain that no one warned me would be this way.
    “Push, baby girl. Push. That’s it, sweetheart.”
    The voice is not the one I want, but I’m too
overwhelmed to try to figure out how I ended up with Linda Rowan as my birth
coach.
    She wipes my face, shifting her gaze to the
doctor before she smiles into my eyes.
    Her arm tightens around my shoulders. She kisses
me on the side of my head. “You are doing so good, Chrissie. Just a little
while longer.”
    I stare up at her. “Neil—” I can’t finish the
words. It’s starting again.
    In between panting with me and keeping watch on
the doctor, she says, “Not here yet. Last call Jack got, two hours away.” She
laughs in an unsteady, anxious and overly happy way. “I don’t think he’s going
to make it and I don’t think there is anything you can do about that.”
    “Hold on, Chrissie. Don’t push. Not until I tell
you,” the doctor says.
    How the fuck am I not supposed to push? I
struggle and pant, listening to the medical staff and Linda’s quiet, loving
ramblings.
    Linda turns my face. “Look at me, sweetheart.
We’ll just breathe together.” She sucks in and pushes the air out loudly.
“That’s good, Chrissie. Focus on me. Kaley is almost here.”
    “Push, Chrissie,” the doctor says. “Give me a
good push.”
    There is unbelievable pressure, burning pain
ripping through me.
    “Oh, Chrissie, look at the mirror,” Linda gushes,
excited. “Open your eyes. See your baby girl being born.”
    But I can’t open my eyes. It hurts too much, but
then there’s finally relief to my body. I collapse back against the bed,
panting, and there are wails in the