Tango In The Night Part 2: When I See You Again

Bel Age Hotel
West Hollywood, California
Tuesday, August 18, 1987

"You look great. Stop fussing."

John McVie was walking down the mirrored corridor past the restrooms of the Bel Age Hotel conference room when he caught Stevie checking her look in the mirrored wall.

"Thanks, John, but you can't be too sure," she said quickly, not sharing with him why she was so focused on her appearance today. She watched him smile and shrug on his way into the conference room through the open double doors.

Stevie tugged uncomfortably at her form-fitting black jacket. Her doctor had confirmed yesterday morning that she was, in fact, twelve weeks pregnant, and the one silver lining to come out of this situation, she'd been thinking all weekend since she'd taken the test in her bathroom at home, was that at least she had a reason as to why she'd put on about ten pounds since her birthday when she'd been too nauseous all summer to eat much of anything at all.

And here I was blaming klonopin, she thought. Stevie had been full of questions at the doctor's office yesterday, squeezing in her appointment before she flew out of Phoenix and back to L.A. for the Fleetwood Mac press conference. She had asked her gynecologist, Dr. Diana Ciesla, if she had unknowingly harmed her baby with her prescription tranquilizers, or the moderate alcoholic beverages and marijuana she had ingested since May 24, the day she and Lindsey had conceived.

"Alcohol, when not used to excess, is not harmful at this stage of development," Diana had told her. "Of course, no one knows they're pregnant instantaneously, you know, so a woman will ingest certain things before she knows about her pregnancy and the babies turn out just fine. I mean...think of how WE were all born in the forties!"

The two women shared a laugh. Diana, with whom Stevie had been on a first-name basis for years, had assured her that her alcohol and marijuana intake had been fine, but that she would have to wean off of klonopin. Stevie had gradually decreased her dose all weekend, not even wanting to take a single pill but knowing she ran the risk of a seizure if she stopped abruptly, and Wednesday night at bedtime would be her final tiny dose.

There had been no doubt in Stevie's mind that she was keeping this baby. When she'd held the blue test tube in her trembling hand on Saturday morning, that had been a given. Lindsey's baby. She had cried herself back to sleep on her just-made bed that morning, clutching the paper instructions from the at-home pregnancy test kit, but her tears were not tears of uncertainty - Stevie Nicks was thirty-nine years old and had never had a child. She was having this one, even if Lindsey would not be there to share it with her. He had left her with something special when he'd run away from the tour, from Fleetwood Mac, from her life, just over a week ago, she thought. He had left her this innocent, precious little baby, a baby that had no idea that its parents were rock stars who'd just engaged in the ultimate battle of wills, had no idea of their history, and had no idea that he or she had already saved Stevie's life. Never before had Stevie wanted so much to be strong, to be healthy, to be drug-free, to be a powerful woman, an artist first and foremost who would still dance across the stages of the world and use music to tell her stories to anyone and everyone who would listen...even if becoming a mother would slow her storytelling down just a little bit for awhile.

It was on Saturday morning at ten o'clock when Stevie had heard her baby's heartbeat for the first time.

Her little baby had a heartbeat that was loud, fast, powerful - kind of like Mick playing the drums. From the moment Diana had hooked up the machine and Stevie had heard the rhythm of the heart that she and Lindsey had created from nothing but pure love upstairs in her bedroom two days before she'd turned thirty-nine, she'd known this was it. This was her baby. The baby she'd conceived with Lindsey in 1974, sadly, had not been meant to be. Neither had the others, whose fathers were not Lindsey, the ones Stevie had decided for many important reasons not to carry to term. Anyone who knew the whole story, she thought, anyone who knew that the baby had been conceived while Lindsey had a girlfriend waiting at home, who'd been growing inside of her the very afternoon when all hell had broken loose and they'd descended into madness and even assault while fighting about what was not so much his refusal to tour as it had been about almost twenty years of the love-hate rollercoaster that was their relationship...anyone who knew would have told her this baby was not meant to be either.

Those people would have been wrong.

I may not have Lindsey anymore, she thought, but I have a part of him, and that part of him will be our child. I will forever have a living, breathing memory of how much he loved me, how much I loved him, how much I still do. Lindsey Buckingham - well, part of him - is growing inside of me as I stand here and get ready for this press conference, ironically about how the band has replaced him with two other guitarists for the tour. Billy and Rick may have replaced Lindsey as the lead guitarist of Fleetwood Mac, but he has been one of the three great loves of my life and he's now the father of my child...and that is irreplaceable.

"Are you ready, love? They're starting up in about two minutes."

Stevie looked away from the mirror and saw Mick, looking almost like an Amish man in the black suit he wore without a tie but with a wide-brimmed black hat. He's dressed up as Mick Fleetwood today and I'm dressed up as Stevie Nicks, she thought with an amused smile. This is what we do - we press on no matter what.

"Yeah, I'm coming," she said, walking down the corridor to where he stood at the double doors. She was suddenly reminded of that old Nat King Cole song her father used to play all the time when she was a little girl..."Smiling though your heart is aching...Smile even though it's breaking...When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by...If you smile through your tears and sorrow...smile, and maybe tomorrow...you'll see the sun come shining through for you..."

"You look great, my love," Mick said, grinning unapologetically at her beauty. Stevie couldn't help but smile back; when Mick told her she looked good she knew he was telling the truth. Because he loves me, she thought. He always has.

"Thanks, Mick," she said as she approached him. "Hey listen...when we get in there...if they start asking tough questions...you know, like about Lindsey...will you stick by me? Hold my hand or something if it looks like I'm going to lose it?"

"Of course I will, my dear." Mick reached out and gave her a big hug, and for a moment...just a moment...she allowed herself to relax, to get lost in the comfort of his arms. She took a few deep breaths, knowing she'd never get through this press conference - or the press junket after this, or the tour which they were calling Shake The Cage now, or her pregnancy or childbirth or anything else - if she didn't remember to breathe, and to ask for support if she needed it. She knew Mick was there for her...But wait till he hears what's going on! she thought, almost laughing over the absurdity of relaxing in her ex-lover's arms to comfort her because her other ex-boyfriend had run out on their band and she was now carrying his child. When Mick released her slowly, he smiled and said, "Ready?"

"Ready." She put on her best Stevie Nicks smile and took his arm to walk inside, the Nat King Cole song all she could hear in her mind...

"Light up your face with gladness...hide every trace of sadness...although a tear may be ever so near...That's the time you must keep on trying...Smile; what's the use of crying?...You'll find that life is still worthwhile...if you just smile..."

She tried as hard as she could to follow the song's advice, but it was already proving to be tougher than she thought.

She missed Lindsey so much she could hardly breathe.