Dr. Katz places the ultrasound wand over my stomach, the jelly on my abdomen cold and slimy.

I’ve made it to thirteen weeks, and out of the first trimester, where the chances of miscarriage decrease dramatically. It’s the longest I’ve ever carried a baby. But I’m still cautious, still treating my body and my heart as if they might break at any moment.

“Ah, there’s baby.” Dr. Katz smiles.

Normally, she wouldn’t be the one to do this, the ultrasound tech would. But … for me, she made an exception. Probably because I’m a Weston, and even with doctors around these parts that carries weight. But probably even more so because she has been on this journey with us, too.

Us. A pang of guilt always hits me in the same place, right between the breastbone, when I think of this baby and its father.

Theo’s outburst the other night has guilt tingling down my spine. I’d accused him of blaming me for our infertility. All the while, I’d been standing there, essentially lying to him about the baby I was currently carrying. I know that to an outsider, I probably look like a manipulative liar, but … it still didn’t feel right. Telling him would open up another can of worms for us, and I couldn’t do it.

If that night was any indication, there was too much baggage stacked between us to make room for one more suitcase. It would send the pile toppling down, crushing us.

“There is the right arm.” Dr. Katz moves the wand over my belly, interrupting my thoughts.

I watch the black-and-white picture on the screen, how the image moves as she rolls over my abdomen. “Is the … the baby moving?”

“Like a little jumping bean,” she confirms.

I laugh, because my lord, this baby is squirming. “It’s crazy that I can’t feel it doing that.”

Dr. Katz chuckles. “Oh, don’t worry, soon enough he or she will be kicking you in the ribs like a skilled ninja.”

I couldn’t wait for that. “Everything looks good?”

She hums under her breath, and rolls over my minuscule bump for another minute or so.

“Everything looks wonderful. Both arms, both legs, the neck measurements are right on developmental target, although we’ll be doing your AFP blood test in a few weeks to rule out any other abnormalities. But, please, Imogen, don’t get yourself in a worry about anything. All of your blood work and exams thus far look great. Enjoy this. You’re past the scary part … let yourself celebrate. You’ll worry enough as a mother when the baby is earthside.”

Nodding, I try to breathe in and digest what she’s telling me to do. The doctor prints the pictures and then leaves the room, allowing me to dress.

I stare at the ultrasound pictures of our child and remember the hospital visit so long ago. The only other time I’d made it through the first trimester. The moment that began the shredding of our marriage … death by a hundred paper cuts.

His words ring in my memory, and I want to break down right there.

But I don’t. Instead, I pick myself up off the table. I wrap my arms around the baby growing inside of me, sending a whispered I love you to him or her, and then decide on my plan of action for today.

Even though it’s a Tuesday, I’m not going back into the office. My father will notice, but right now, I wouldn’t be able to focus even if I did go in. Calling Michaela, my secretary, I tell her to clear my calendar for the rest of the day.

I don’t allow myself to think or second-guess … or else I’ll chicken out. I need to go back, back to the place we fell in love. To get some clarity, to remember who my true self was when I met Theo.

It’s not until I step off the ferry and into the wonderland that is Nantucket, even in November, that a calmness washes over me. For months, I’ve been wandering around with the elephant of anxiety on my back, and with one foot set on this island … it all vanishes.

There is something about this place that melts away all of the worry in my bones. With its cobblestone streets, picturesque harbors, coffee shops tucked behind greenery and long winding beach roads … it’s a place to get lost. It’s a place where no one keeps track of you if you don’t want them to.

I walk the streets for a while, passing boutiques and art galleries, the bookstore and liquor shop. I pass the restaurant where Theo took me on our first date … well, the first one after we had sex in a coat closet less than an hour after meeting.

After about an hour of this, I track down a cab to take me out to Theo’s cottage. The drive brings back so many memories, the ghosts thick in the air. They’re assaulting my lungs until the ball of emotion in my throat is almost too big to swallow past.

Climbing out of the car, my hand goes idly to my belly, the tiny bump there the source of my strength. It’s surreal that I am here, on the property where Theo and I fell in love, with our baby inside of me. We dreamt about this so many times … and even talked about moving out here for the first few months of the baby’s life to get away from it all.

A calmness washes over me as I completely skirt the house and head for the beach out back instead.

My shoes sink into the sand, and the chill from the ocean is frigid this time of year, but I welcome it.

This is the strip of beach where Theo asked me to be his wife. Out here, you feel as if no one else exists but you and this beach and this mystical house hidden in the trees.

I thought we would walk this beach as our grandchildren frolicked around us. But now, as I place my hand over my stomach, over where our baby swims around, I don’t know that anything will ever be right again.