Surely once he found out about the life growing inside her, he’d want to be part of that. What decent man wouldn’t? She knew he was responsible and honorable, trustworthy and sincere. So many times he’d demonstrated those qualities, and even the fact he didn’t want to jeopardize his job showed how seriously he took his career. Those were all good things, things that would persuade her parents that having a baby wasn’t the end of the world and that she wasn’t just a cheap and easy sinner, even though that’s what she felt like most days.
She bit her lip. Marissa had said that babies were always a good thing. Right now, she desperately wanted to believe it. But as the sun sank below the distant mountains with no sign of Colin, she knew that having a baby right now was anything but good.
CHAPTER 11
Marissa
The cinnamon-scented candles burned down to the nub on top of the fireplace mantel. The candles proved a good substitute for a romantic fire at the start of summer when the air was already stiff and warm. For the umpteenth time I checked the clock, and my hopes dwindled faster than the candles.
Where was Colin?
Practice had most likely ended at least an hour ago, and the field was less than fifteen minutes away. Calling would only irritate him, and I wanted him to come home in a good mood. I needed him in a good mood—not only so we could have a nice evening but because my ovulation kit said all systems were go.
Only I couldn’t let him know that. If he found out, it would almost guarantee rejection.
Back in the days when we were both optimistic, we looked forward to these supposedly fertile days. After years of disappointment, we still tried, but the act itself was reduced to going through the motions. Void of passion.
Clinical.
Eventually we began to avoid one another, “forgetting” what time of the month it was. After all, if we weren’t trying to conceive, then there was no one to blame for a lack of a plus sign in the window. Avoidance became the go-to way to fight through. Finally it became routine.
But it had to end. I wanted my husband. I wanted our life the way it was before we suspected it would always and forever be just the two of us. Before we fell asleep crying, tears on our pillows.
Lights swung into the driveway.
My heart picked up speed. I checked my hair and face in the hallway mirror. Tonight I left my hair down—didn’t want to make my motives too obvious—and kept to my casual house clothes, velour sweatpants and a T-shirt we bought on our last trip to the beach. Not pretty but packed with memories.
The front door opened and closed with a soft click. Colin fumbled with both his gym bag and shoulder bag before stashing the latter on the table near the door, his back to me.
“Hi.” I tried—and failed—to keep too much enthusiasm from my voice. “How was practice?”
Colin turned, his dark green eyes piercing me, causing my breath to hitch. The five o’clock shadow dusting his strong jaw and the firm set of his mouth still had the power to weaken me. He looked away and offered a shrug. “Good.”
“You have a game this weekend?”
“Yeah. I think we’re ready to win.” His faint smile gave me a bit of relief.
“Come sit. Dinner is almost ready.” I motioned him toward the living room, hesitant to touch him and bring him closer. These days it didn’t take much to scare him off.
He adjusted the duffel bag on his shoulder, where I knew his work clothes lay crumpled. He always changed before heading to the baseball field. Handing me a bag of office-wear when he came home had become standard procedure. The first few times I’d been annoyed because of the extra laundry, but now, each time he came home to me I was so thankful, I didn’t care how much laundry he produced.
He headed for the staircase. “No, thanks. I’m wiped out. Maybe I’ll go take a shower.”
I tamped down my disappointment. “Sounds … great. I’ll serve dinner while you’re in the shower.”
“I’m really not hungry.” Sadness tinged his eyes.
“Did something happen at work?” I moved closer, still without touching.
He shook his head and studied his shoes. “The usual.”
Stress—that’s what was in his expression, not sadness. I moved closer to my husband and drew him into a soft hug. “You must be exhausted. I know how much you want this promotion. You deserve it.”
His rigid body finally formed to mine, and for the first time in over a month, he hugged me back. “I’m sorry,” he said, his face buried in my neck.
“Don’t apologize. You have a lot on your mind.”
“I haven’t been here for you.” His words, so gentle, were muffled by my hair. The feel of his breath against my neck sent tingles down my back.
“You’re not the only one. I haven’t really been here for you either.” A sole tear slid down my cheek. I was thankful he couldn’t see it because my emotions were too raw.
“I promise to try harder.” He paused, and I could feel him swallow. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I pulled him tighter against me, both scared to hang on and scared to let go. “Don’t put it all on yourself. Part of the problem is me. I know that, but we’ll get back on track.”
His embrace grew stronger, reminding me of the husband I used to know. Gradually his arms swept over my waist and my back as though relearning my body. He nuzzled my neck and his lips found mine.
The strength of his kisses left me weak and pliable, molded to his form. Moments later we were in our room, the way we used to be before lovemaking became baby-making. Before disappointment crowded out every other emotion.
Finally my husband was really home.
While I waited for Colin to come downstairs, I finished dinner and set the table, humming like a schoolgirl in love.
A ringtone sounded in the front hallway where Colin’s phone lay on the table next to his shoulder bag and keys. I scurried across the living room and grabbed it before the tone ended. A text from Adam lit the screen.
Why didn’t you show up? I’m really disappointed. Was counting on you to be there for me.
That did not sound like Adam, who tended to use the words bro and dude way too much for a man his age.
I checked the sender again to make sure it was Adam. Though the contact name said Adam, all the previous messages had been erased so it was hard to tell.
And what did he mean by that anyway? Had Colin not made it to practice? He’d talked about it when he got home. If Colin hadn’t been at practice, where had he been? Texting Adam back might be the only way to figure out what was going on, but that might throw a kink into their friendship. Even though Adam was a friend to both of us, I didn’t want to admit to him that I had suspicions.
Evidently the moments I’d just spent with Colin hadn’t erased them.
My pulse hiccupped as I considered what to do. I could text Adam and ask, or I could try to pin down Colin, though the odds of getting a straight answer if he was trying to hide something were practically nil. Besides, I didn’t really want to tick him off.
Text Adam. Ask Colin. I wavered between two bad options, beating myself up for not being able to make a decision.
So in the end I made the only decision I could. I set the phone back where it was and did nothing.
Happy or stressed? An emotional cocktail I wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with.
I sat at my desk and mindlessly scrolled through my emails. Colin hadn’t said much the rest of the night. He’d acted neither like a man in love, nor like a man who wanted to keep a safe distance from his wife. It seemed we were both conflicted.
Christina tapped lightly on my door. “Your next appointment should be here any minute.”
“I have an appointment?” I looked at my nonexistent desk calendar and tried to decipher my schedule from a smattering of Post-its, a note on the back of a napkin, and an empty coffee cup.
“Her name is—” She peered at the appointment book in her hands. “Kaitlyn.”
“Kaitlyn?” I perke
d up. Was it my favorite barista? She hadn’t mentioned anything about an appointment this morning when I shuffled through her line. Then again, there were about six or seven people after me, and it wasn’t likely she wanted to advertise it.
“She called just a few minutes ago and you had an empty slot.” Christina’s forehead wrinkled. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Absolutely. I’ll go ahead and take care of the paperwork on this one.” I attempted to tidy my desk and thought about Kaitlyn and the shadows under her eyes that weren’t there yesterday. She needed someone to talk to and give her a little hope.
The electronic door chime sounded from the reception area, and Christina hurried out to say hello. I gathered my random notes and papers and slid them into the top desk drawer to sort later. Unfortunately, I’d done that yesterday too, and the pile was growing. I grabbed a client questionnaire and attached it to a clipboard with a dangling pen just as Kaitlyn tapped on the doorframe.
“Hi, Marissa.” She paused and waited for me to motion her inside.
“Come on in. Close the door behind you.”
She nudged the door shut and sat on the opposite side of my desk. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy. I offered her a box of tissue, which she refused. “I’m fine.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said tentatively. “I’m really happy you came in.”
Her shoulders tightened and she shook her head so slightly I almost missed it. “I’m not sure why I did. Pregnant is pregnant, right?”
I smiled, hoping to put her at ease. “Once you get over the shock and start to make plans, you’ll feel the excitement.”
“I wish I could believe you.” She looked skyward and blinked.
Again, I pushed the tissue box toward her, and this time she accepted. It seemed she wasn’t entirely opposed to help, if one were persistent enough.
Judging by her jittery hands, she wasn’t ready to fill out the client information sheet. In this moment it was too clinical for the young woman in front of me. Someone whom I’d almost come to think of as a friend.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she quickly brushed them away, as though embarrassed to be so completely and utterly human.
Was this what it had been like for my own mother? Always calm and in control, until she found out she was pregnant and the father—my father—suddenly decided to exit stage left.
Compassion for Kaitlyn stirred inside me. I rounded the desk and tipped up her chin, forcing her to look me in the eye. “Kaitlyn, I know things look bleak right now, but they’ll get better. You’ll get through this, and I’m going to do everything in my power to help you for as long as it takes.”
She looked at me with hope. “You will?”
I squeezed her hand and willed her to believe me. “I promise.”
CHAPTER 12
Kaitlyn
The indignity of peeing in a cup—something Kaitlyn never anticipated when she started her day. The cup was labeled with her name, though clearly there wasn’t another client in the house. Or were they called unwed mothers? Crisis pregnancy dropout failures? In her case, all the monikers fit, or soon would.
Kaitlyn bit her lip and placed the cup inside the cupboard that opened up into Marissa’s office. The door on the other side of the box squeaked, and she didn’t even want to imagine what Marissa was doing with the warm cup. Kaitlyn waited in the restroom for a few minutes so she didn’t have to watch what happened. She was already feeling sick without adding to it.
She checked her face in the mirror. No makeup, swollen eyes, and generally looking terrible. No wonder everyone at The Bean had tiptoed around her. What she really needed was to get her act together, whether or not Colin was going to be part of her future. Showing up to work late and slogging through the day was no way to handle her mess.
Sensing enough time had passed, she took a deep breath, switched off the light, and opened the door. Squared her shoulders before heading into the hallway. Maybe her home pregnancy test was wrong. After all, wouldn’t that be why she’d have to take another test here? On the off chance that the store-bought stick was somehow tainted?
Never mind that she’d missed her cycle and hadn’t been able to eat much more than a few saltines in the last few weeks. She steadied her shaky hands and went back inside Marissa’s office.
“Have a seat. Your results will be up in a minute.” Marissa ushered her inside and closed the door before settling behind the cluttered desk. She folded her hands and smiled. “How are you feeling?”
“Honestly? A little nauseous. Sorry about what happened outside The Bean yesterday—it seems to be happening a lot lately.”
“No, no—that’s all right. I don’t mean it that way. How are you doing?” She patted her chest as if referencing deep-seated emotions. Kaitlyn liked that about Marissa—always expressive, if a little corny. Trying to pretend like she hadn’t just watched her having a breakdown.
“I’m still in shock.” She studied her lap, and the way the skin flaked off around her fingernails. Since she’d gone back to school, she’d had to give up manis and pedis. “True confession: I was almost hoping that I’d come in here and the test would show that I’m not pregnant. That my results at home were wrong.”
Marissa’s face revealed no judgment. “That’s a pretty common feeling. Do you think there might be a mistake?”
“No.” The word solidified in her chest.
“I take it you have all the obvious signs?”
Kaitlyn nodded.
“Let’s have a look at some dates here.” She swiveled to face her computer screen. “When was the first day of your last cycle?”
“March twentieth. The only reason I know that is because I’m on the pill—” Kaitlyn bit her lip. “To control my acne,” she quickly added. She didn’t want Marissa to think she was easy, though the results spoke for themselves.
“You conceived on the pill?” A flicker of sadness tinged Marissa’s expression.
“Yes, and I’m really good about taking it. Like I said, it’s for my acne.” She shrugged, realizing how dumb it sounded that she had acne at her age. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Life.” Marissa held up her hands. “You know, sometimes taking certain meds like antibiotics can reduce the effectiveness of the pill, or if you’d just started taking the pill, it might not have been effective yet.”
That would explain it. She hadn’t really listened to the warnings about using backup contraceptives when the pharmacist dispensed the pills, because at that time she was only taking them to clear up her skin. But recently she’d had a bout of strep throat and had to take antibiotics. She buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I let this happen.”
“You are way too hard on yourself, young lady,” Marissa said softly.
Kaitlyn pulled her hands away and tried to figure out why Marissa was going so easy on her. “What do you mean?”
“If you’re worried about what I think or don’t think—or anyone here, for that matter—you can just let it go.”
“I suppose you see a lot.”
“It’s not about that. We’re here to help people get ready for the biggest joy of their lives. Whatever circumstances bring them in can’t compare to the joy of the future.” Marissa dipped her head to catch Kaitlyn’s eye. “There is a future, and it’s going to be good.”
Kaitlyn managed a slight nod. “I almost didn’t come here.”
“Why not?” Marissa’s head tilted.
“Because I figured this was a place for younger girls. I thought I’d feel out of place.”
“We have all kinds of clients. Over time, you might even get to know some of them.” She leaned back in her chair. “In addition to confidential pregnancy testing and counseling, we offer ongoing services too. In fact, our boutique—as I like to call it—is expanding daily. There are all kinds of maternity clothes, baby clothes, diapers—basically everything a new mom needs. We’re really excited about it.”
Kaitlyn took a deep breath—p
artly to settle her stomach and partly to steel her nerves. She glanced at the cup on the counter and willed it to come out negative. Though the services New Heights offered sounded great, more than anything she wished she could unwind the last few months and not even have need of them. Anxiety swirled in her chest and her heart started to race.
Marissa rose and crossed the office to an armoire that doubled as a counter. “Before we go any further, let’s see what the test says.”
Kaitlyn knew she was too old to cross her fingers and too far removed from God to pray, so all she could do was hold her breath and hope for the best. It was like sitting on a roller coaster and hoping all the nuts and bolts had been tightened because what you were about to experience was completely out of your control.
Marissa kept her back to Kaitlyn for a few moments until she was finished. Then she washed her hands and returned to the desk, a smile affixed to her face.
Kaitlyn’s heart turned to dust. “Positive?”
“Congratulations—you’re going to have a baby.”
Tears formed in her eyes and fell fast and freely. It didn’t matter that Kaitlyn already knew. Hearing it from a professional launched her situation into a whole new level of bad. She gripped the armrests of the chair and forced herself to calm down. Forced her heart to slow. Forced common sense to prevail.
She was a grown woman. She could handle this.
Marissa ripped tissues from the box, walked around the desk, and kneeled next to her. She placed a comforting arm around her, so unlike the reaction that came from Sydney—the only other person who knew. Kaitlyn squirmed but took the tissues. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to overreact.”
“There’s no such thing. Your body is going through so many changes right now, and you have a lot on your mind. What’s happening is perfectly normal. It’s okay to feel this way. It’s okay to cry.”
Kaitlyn pressed the tissues to her face and wept. Wept until her face tingled and her nose ran. Marissa waited patiently, hugging and murmuring reassurances that Kaitlyn found strangely comforting. Her breath hitched when she inhaled, reminding her of when she was a child and cried so hard over—what?—she couldn’t even remember. Her mom had comforted her and held her tightly until the drama was over … and now she’d have a child of her own to do the same.
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