Peanut Butter Fingerprints

Chapter Seventeen

Dedicated to Beth Greene. Your love, joy, and tireless fight for what's right inspired us all. The world needs more people like you. Rest in peace, songbird.

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"OH, AMERICA. YOU'RE A GEM!" Marlee squeaked as Mary finished pinning pearls into my hair.

"You think so?" I whispered to Marlee as the last pin was pushed into a lock of heavily hair-sprayed hair. I stared at the girl with warm blue eyes and fiery red hair in the gilded mirror. I searched for myself in the mirror as Paige searched for a pearl necklace buried beneath a mess of bracelets in my jewelry box.

My heart stopped beating when I realized that I wasn't going to find myself in the mirror. I just wasn't there. I wasn't anywhere to be found. And that seemed like Marlee, Mary, Anne, and Paige's plan. To weave me a mask of silk and chiffon, of big, poofy little-girl dresses, of heavy makeup and plastered on smiles. They made it evident that I wasn't going to see the real me for a long, long time. Or at least until Maxon was recovered.

"Definitely!"

"But... Isn't it... A little too... I don't know, girly?" I asked hesitantly.

Marlee laughed. "Ames, it has to be girly. Remember the plan?"

"Of course. But... I don't think I can pull it off, Mar. I just don't think I can do it."

She placed her hand on my shoulder, and flashed me a bright, white smile. I looked at us in the gold-rimmed mirror leaning against the closet door. Her fit and flare cream satin dress with a red silk belt adorned with pearls was far more beautiful than mine. Her white-blond hair was swept up in the classic old movie star look, while mine was piled on top of my head in a bundle of curls. Marlee looked like a strong, confident woman while I felt like a little girl ready for church on Christmas morning.

"Of course, you can, America. And you will, if you want Maxon back."

My lips scrunched to the side as I did a little turn, observing the dress. It really was gorgeous. One side of the dress was wrapped in jade green silk that was embroidered with clusters of diamonds and pearls; the other side was a waterfall of cascading cream chiffon ruffles. The top was a classic sweetheart top with a stretchy kind of material over my stomach. For the first time in a long time, I looked like the happy queen about to be mother in a few short weeks.

Even after I repeated it to myself many times in the bathroom mirror while getting ready in the morning, I couldn't imagine myself as a mom, or a queen.

You are as much as a queen as you believe you are.

Maxon's words on the night before our wedding and coronation reeled through my mind. If I just believed I was a queen, I could pull this off. And maybe, just maybe, I could convince others I was a queen too.

I exhaled a deep breath and ran my sweaty palms down the sides of my dress, my hands briefly sticking to the silk.

"Okay, I can do this," I muttered shakily.

That voice wasn't going to convince anyone downstairs I was a queen. Firmer, I declared. "I can do this."

I raised my chin up, smiled, and rested my manicured hands on my pregnant belly. The baby squirmed inside of me, almost as restless as I was. I let out a little laugh.

"I can do this."

"You can do this, America," Marlee cheerfully echoed. She looked down at my stretched belly and smiled. "Oh, America. I just know you're going to be a good mother."

"For this baby's sake, I sure hope so," I said uneasily.

Mary rested her hand on my shoulder and smiled. "This baby is lucky to have someone as brave and as kind as you as their mother."