Shades of Blue

by Karen Kingsbury

  Emma hung up the phone and looked around her house. She wanted to go back to bed and wake up a different person, someone without her wretched past. Instead she fed Riley, showered, and dressed in Capri pants and a loose-fitting sleeveless blouse. Sunday mornings she often stopped at Ace Hardware for paint or hinges, whatever her latest home improvement project required. But today she didn’t feel like working on the house. Her worries for Kristin combined with the defeat and guilt of her memories made it impossible to feel anything but deeply discouraged.

  Sunshine streamed through the front window, and for half an hour she tried to read the latest Grisham novel. But she couldn’t get into it, not with the past breathing down her neck. She stood and stretched, noting the time on the old clock that hung on the wall by the window. Just after eight thirty. Coffee, that’s what she needed. She made sure Riley had enough water, then she grabbed her purse and climbed into her old red convertible. She drove down Dolphin to Ocean, off the island onto the mainland to her favorite coffee shop. Cappuccino by the Sea was only a few minutes from her house. Maybe the short trip would jump-start her day and help put the memories behind her once again.

  She pulled into the gravel lot and found the last open parking space. The place was tucked against a grove of towering trees, and outside sat a few white plastic tables and colorful umbrellas. Emma didn’t see Gavin Greeley until she was nearly to the front door. He sat alone, stretched back in one of the plastic chairs, reading the paper. His khaki slacks and tan knit T-shirt were too nice for a casual Sunday morning coffee.

  He must’ve sensed someone watching him, because he looked up, looked right at her. His eyes shifted quickly from surprised to serious. “Emma.” He set the paper down and stood.

  She wondered if there was some kind of celestial conspiracy against her. After all, this was the third straight day she’d seen him. She composed herself and walked closer. “Hi.”

  He looked like he might try to hug her, but then he seemed to change his mind. “How’s Kristin?” His concern was deeply genuine. “Have you heard?”

  “No changes.” Emma wanted to get her coffee and leave. Standing here, looking into his kind eyes only added to her attraction to him — an attraction she would never give in to. “Her mom asked for more prayers.”

  “Definitely.” He looked at the coffee shop door and then back at her. His tone softened. “Hey … get your drink and let’s take a walk. Talk for a few minutes.”

  Emma started to tell him no, she couldn’t walk with him or get closer to him. But suddenly the idea seemed better than going home alone, just her and her incessant memories. “Okay.” She took another step toward the door and tried to smile. Her determination to stay clear of him wasn’t his fault, after all. “Just for a few minutes.”

  She bought a tall soy latte and returned to his table. “You’re dressed nice.”

  “I have church in a couple hours. I like coming here first.” He had folded the newspaper, and now he stood, unhurried. He pointed down a path that led from the parking lot through a grove of trees. “You ever walk back that way?”

  “No.” Emma narrowed her eyes, trying to see down the gravel path. “Where does it go?”

  “There’s a catfish pond back there. The path goes about half a mile in and then around the pond. It’s a nice walk.”

  Again she was doubtful. She hadn’t come here to take a walk with Gavin Greeley. But she couldn’t think of a single reason to say no. “Hold on.” She put her purse in her car and locked it. Then with her coffee cupped in both hands, she fell in beside him and they walked toward the path.

  Gavin waited until they were under the cover of the trees before he glanced at her. “Can I ask you a question?” He walked slowly, clearly more concerned with the conversation than the catfish.

  “You just did.” She kept on, but she gave him a sheepish look and then turned her attention to her drink. “I’m not big on questions.”

  “See, that’s what I mean.” His smile was easy, but confusion shadowed his eyes. “You’re always difficult like that.”

  “Difficult?” She never thought about how her actions might’ve made her seem. “Because I don’t want to talk?”

  “No.” A breeze ruffled the higher tree branches above and sunlight streaked in along the path. “Because you won’t let me be your friend.”

  “You wouldn’t want to be my friend.” She looked straight at him. “Not if you really knew me.”

  “You’ve said that.” Gavin hesitated, his attention on her. “The other day at the hospital, that whole thing about your prayers somehow hurting Kristin, and how God wouldn’t want to hear from you.” He searched her eyes all the way to her soul. “Something must’ve happened to you, Emma. Whatever it is, it’s stealing the life from you, and you won’t deal with it.” A tenderness filled his face and he hesitated a long moment. “Nothing you could tell me would make me run.”

  “You think that.” She was trembling now, desperate to turn around and sprint back to the parking lot, drive away before the conversation went any further. “But you’d be surprised.” She gave a quick look over her shoulder, but they were far enough away that she couldn’t see anything but trees.

  Gavin’s gaze remained unwavering. “Try me, Emma. Give me a chance to be your friend.”

  Emma’s mind raced, and she felt dizzy. What if she took him up on his offer? What if she told him what she’d done? Maybe then he’d leave her alone and they could avoid another scene like this one. She took a long sip of her latte, her hands colder than they should’ve been. “Okay.” She started walking again, more slowly than before. “You want to know, I’ll tell you.”

  He raised his brow a little and he stayed at her pace. “I’m listening.”

  She stared at her feet. Could she do this? Her stomach hurt and she still wanted to run. But she had to at least try to make him understand. She wasn’t sure where to begin, so she decided to get to the point. That way maybe this talk wouldn’t last longer than it had to. She forced herself to look at him. “It happened ten years ago. November 20, 1999.” Her lungs felt tight, like she couldn’t breathe right. Still she forced herself to continue. “I dated the same guy through high school, and … the summer after my junior year I got pregnant.”

  Gavin didn’t blink, didn’t change his expression whatsoever. They walked for a while without saying anything. The path wound into a small clearing, and wildflowers dotted a grassy field to their left.

  The sun felt warm on her shoulders and it gave her confidence to continue. “I wasn’t ready to have a baby, so …” She stopped and stared at the blue sky for a long time. When she looked at him, she knew she had to tell him. There was no turning back. “I had an abortion.” She felt like she might throw up. She hung her head and the ground beneath her feet felt suddenly liquid. The silence from Gavin was unbearable. She looked up at him again, at his complete lack of reaction. “That’s it. See?” A sad sound came from her. “You need to meet someone at church, Gavin. Not someone like me.”

  Gavin’s face held none of the shock or disgust she’d imagined, none of the condemnation. He took awhile, like always. Then he breathed in sharply through his nose. “I’ll bet there was more to it than that.”

  “More to it?”

  “Yes.” He angled his head, sympathy in his voice. “Must’ve been the hardest thing you ever did.”

  His comment caught her completely off guard. She’d expected something along the lines of a mini-lecture, a talk about the value of life. That sort of thing. She felt her shaking ease some. “Hardest ever.”

  “Okay,” he looked like he had all the time in the world. A couple of oak trees stood adjacent to the path and he leaned against one of them. “Tell me about it, Emma. I meant what I said. I want to be your friend.”

  A friend? A real friend? Emma hadn’t considered such a thing since her mother died. There hadn’t been anyone she could trust with the whole truth. She leaned against the other tree, facing him. The thing was, s
he had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and the memories would be there waiting for her at home if she didn’t work through them somehow. “You want me to tell you about what happened that day?”

  “Yes.” Shade protected them from the glare of the sun. Again he looked deep into her heart. “If you’ll trust me.”

  This was the last thing she’d ever imagined herself doing, telling Gavin Greeley the details of her abortion. But he was here and he was listening. Like earlier, she had the sudden urge to go ahead and talk, just tell the story and get through it this one time. Maybe if she did, she could figure out why she had never recovered.

  “You really want to know?”

  “I do.”

  The real way to tell him what happened was to start at the beginning. So she did. She told Gavin about Brad, about how they’d met and how they’d fallen in love. She told him about the trips to Holden Beach where they’d made the worst choice of all, and how she’d wound up pregnant. But she didn’t stop there.

  “Brad picked me up that Saturday morning and took me to the clinic.” She stared off toward the trees, looking at nothing and seeing only the past. “We barely talked to each other on the drive there.”

  “What was Brad feeling?” Gavin’s comments were few, but he was true to his word. He was interested and he wanted her to continue.

  “I’m not sure what he was feeling. He told me I’d be okay. He kept saying that.” Emma remembered Brad’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. His breathing was jagged and nervous. “He told me not to be scared.”

  In a rush, the memories took hold of her, each vivid detail. She didn’t spare any part of the story as she told Gavin everything about that day. In the process, she didn’t feel like she was talking so much as she was reliving that terrible morning.

  When Brad told her not to be scared, Emma said nothing in response, because of course she was scared. Plus, she didn’t want to talk. She kept her hand over her middle, over the place where the life was growing inside her. Did her baby know what was happening, that the tiny heart would only beat for another hour?

  I’m sorry, little baby. I wish I were braver … I wish I could walk away from Brad and have you on my own, but … but I can’t. My mom’s sick and … there wouldn’t be anyone to help me. It’s not your fault. Please forgive me. The tape played in her mind constantly as they reached the clinic and went inside. What sort of mother was she, caring more about keeping Brad than keeping her own child? She had worried that someone would see them, recognize them, but the parking lot was behind the building, surrounded by shrubs and trees. At that early Saturday hour it was empty but for two cars.

  Before they walked in, Brad turned to her. “Tomorrow at this time, we can put this whole nightmare behind us.”

  Tomorrow at this time? She felt sick at the thought. She would never put this behind her. He moved in close to kiss her, but she turned her head. “Not now.”

  “Are you mad?” He took hold of her hand, his face riddled with shock. “Don’t be mad at me, Em. Please.”

  He didn’t understand at all. She pulled away. “I’m not mad.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “I want it to be over, that’s all.” As soon as she said the words, she felt awful. What if her baby could hear her? She didn’t want to do this, but she had no choice — no way out.

  Still, even as she crossed the threshold into the clinic, she knew she was wrong. She could certainly have the chance to love her baby. All she had to do was turn around and demand that Brad take her home. He could walk out of her life today, and at least she’d have their child. The truth of that put her in a vice grip of guilt and shame, but still she entered the building, walked up to the desk, and gave the woman behind the counter her name.

  “Emma Landon.”

  The woman smiled pleasantly, as if Emma were merely coming to get her nails done. “Emma … yes, here it is. You’re scheduled for a D and C procedure, is that right?” At the mention of the abortion, the woman’s smile faded appropriately.

  “Yes, ma’am.” She barely spoke the words. She looked for Brad, but he was already sitting in the waiting area, his hands covering his face.

  “You seem a little nervous.” The woman put her hand over Emma’s. “Don’t be afraid, honey. This procedure is more common than you think. It’s not something people talk about, but it’s a fact of life.”

  Emma thought her choice of words was strange. This was abortion … and abortion wasn’t a fact of life, it was a fact of death. Emma closed her eyes for a long moment and then nodded at the woman. She didn’t want a lecture or reassurance or anything, but to sit alone in these, the last minutes of her baby’s life.

  The woman gave her a clipboard with paperwork to fill out, and then another brochure, explaining the procedure and its aftereffects. “You haven’t eaten this morning, right?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Okay, let’s take a look.” She studied the paperwork. “You’re eleven weeks along, is that right?”

  “Something like that.” Emma could barely make out her own voice.

  “Okay, then. How would you like to make payment?”

  The nausea was a regular part of her mornings by then, and suddenly the woman behind the counter reminded her of Judas, taking money in exchange for innocence. “I’m not sure …” She gripped the counter and bent over, trying to keep from throwing up.

  Brad must’ve heard the question, because he was at her side. “I’m paying.” He pulled out his wallet. “I brought cash.”

  Emma straightened and reached for Brad’s hand. “I don’t feel good,” she whispered.

  “I know.” He kissed the side of her head. “I’m here.”

  The woman behind the counter seemed slightly irritated by the delay. She waited until she had Brad’s attention. “The cost for a D and C is three-fifty.”

  Brad’s hands were shaking. “I brought three hundred.”

  “Oh.” The woman’s face fell. “I’m afraid that’s not enough. This type of Service is always more than three hundred.”

  Service? Emma grabbed onto Brad’s elbow. Was that how they looked at an abortion? Just another service for women? Like getting her hair done or stopping in for a massage? She should turn around and leave. Brad didn’t have enough money, right? So that was a sign from God to get out of there before anyone could harm her baby. She tugged on his arm. “Come on … let’s go.”

  The woman realized their dilemma, because she handed Brad the phone. “Maybe there’s someone you can call. We take credit cards over the phone.”

  “I … I don’t want anyone to … to know we were here.” Brad could barely get the sentence out.

  “We know.” The woman’s smile seemed condescending. “The notation on the credit card statement will only say Wilmington Services.”

  Everything about Emma’s life from that point on hinged on what happened next. Brad looked at her, a desperate look. But instead of acknowledging her request and taking her back home where they could figure out what to do next, he turned to the woman. “I’ll call my father … if that’s okay.”

  She smiled. “Go right ahead.”

  Brad swallowed hard, but despite his trembling fingers, he pushed the buttons in a hurry. His mom must’ve answered, because he asked to speak to his dad. Emma couldn’t believe what was happening. She could never look Brad’s father in the face if he knew what they were about to do. But as Carl Cutler came on the line, Brad didn’t launch into a lengthy explanation.

  “I’m in trouble, Dad. I need fifty bucks.” There was a pause, and Brad muttered. “I know. I’ll tell you later.” A longer pause. “Okay, thanks. Here … I’ll hand you over to the lady.”

  Emma didn’t find out till later that Brad’s father thought he was getting his car worked on. His billing statement would never prove otherwise. Carl Cutler hadn’t for a moment thought the person he was giving his credit card information to was a clerk at an abortion clinic. Either way, the information was passed along, a
nd a minute later the call was over and the woman was satisfied. “Have a seat. You’ll be called back in a few minutes.”

  A cool breeze brushed against Emma’s face, and she jolted free of the memory. Gavin was still watching her, his eyes marked with sadness. Had she really just told him all that? He must think she was terrible, but that was okay. At least now he knew the truth about her. She raised her shoulders a little. “That’s as far back as I go. The rest … I can’t …”

  “I don’t need to hear the rest.” Gavin’s attention was entirely on her, compassion filling his eyes. Again he was thoughtful with his words, taking his time before making any response. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

  “I’ve never told anyone.” The slightest sense of freedom came over her. “I think … maybe I needed to.”

  “What happened … with Brad?” He wasn’t pushing. His eyes were as kind as ever. “After, I mean?”

  “We tried to make it work.” She took a slow sip of her coffee, but it had grown cold. She lowered her cup and clenched her other fist. “Two days later he picked me up and took me to Wrightsville Beach.” She could see them again, the distance between them that day. “We sat on a towel near the Sunspree and just … just stared at the water.” She looked right at Gavin. “We had nothing to say.”

  “Hmmm.” For whatever reason Gavin truly seemed to care.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about the baby.”

  Gavin sighed and the sound was heavy in the morning air. He spanned the short distance between them, reaching out and touching her shoulder. “I’m sorry. For what you went through.”

  The feel of his fingers sent a shock through her, and again she felt like running. But she stayed. Against everything inside her, she stayed. She’d come this far and she wanted to finish the story. The part she was willing to tell, anyway. That, and she liked this — feeling like she had a friend in Gavin Greeley — even for an hour in the woods a world away from the coffee shop. “As for Brad … I think he felt guilty, but he didn’t say.” A sad sound more cry than laugh sounded lightly on her lips. “After that it was impossible to laugh or play on the beach or think about a movie.” She felt suddenly awkward about Gavin’s hand still on her shoulder. He must have sensed her discomfort because he eased his hand to his side again. She rested her head back against the rough bark of the tree. “I don’t know … we were different.”