No Matter What

by Janice Kay Johnson

  He nodded. “This might have gone smoother, but maybe not. I can’t say I’m proud of Trevor right now.” His mouth twisted. “Not that I’ve been proud much these past couple months.”

  She looked down at her hands, disturbed by how the dark emotions in his eyes affected her. “I don’t think Trevor’s recent behavior has much of anything to do with Caitlyn being pregnant. Nice boys get their girlfriends pregnant, too.”

  He made a sound she couldn’t identify. She lifted her head to see a bleak expression on his face. “This is one of the last things in the world I wanted for him.” Then his eyes met hers. “Dumb thing to say. You feel the same. Probably worse.”

  “No matter what, Caitlyn will be more profoundly impacted.”

  “I guess so.” He hesitated. “How long have you known?”

  “Almost a week. Since Halloween.” She huffed a laugh. “Trick or treat. She wanted to tell Trevor her own way. It was only today that she gave up.”

  “It’s good she came to you.”

  Her laugh was sharp. “She didn’t. I’d like to think she would have eventually, but I don’t know. It was a total mischance that tripped her up.” That made her laugh again, but no more happily. “Believe it or not, I tripped over the kitchen trash and knocked it over. Guess what spilled out?”

  “Confirmation from a clinic? No.” He rubbed a hand over his chin. “It’d have to be a home pregnancy kit.”

  “Yep. Friday morning was garbage pickup. Neither of us had put anything in the can by Sunday and she was afraid I’d be curious if I saw a teeny tiny bag at the bottom when I took something out. So she stuck the two test sticks and the packaging in the bottom of the kitchen garbage bag, figuring I’d never have reason to dig through it.”

  “I searched Trevor’s room the other day.” Richard’s voice was hoarse.

  She stared at him.

  “Sorry. That’s not exactly relevant, is it? But… It’s the kind of thing I’d have sworn I’d never do. And then there I was, trying to find out whether he’s gotten into drugs.”

  “Has he?” Molly sighed. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

  “We’ve got to quit apologizing to each other.” A lopsided smile gave her butterflies. “And the answer is no. I didn’t find a thing. Not even cigarettes or a lighter. It was…a relief.”

  “You really don’t know why he’s…”

  “Not a clue. His mother claims she doesn’t, either.”

  Molly nodded, not sure why she was. She wasn’t agreeing with him; he hadn’t said anything that begged for agreement. She couldn’t think of anything to say. They sat together for a rather long, silent period that he finally broke.

  “You got mad when I mentioned abortion.”

  “I think I was mad in general,” she said ruefully.

  “So you’re not discounting the possibility?”

  She studied him narrowly. Was that his preference? She wanted anger to rise, but couldn’t make it. Of course that’s what he’d be hoping Caitlyn chose to do. He was Trevor’s father; his first interest had to be his son, and there was no question abortion provided an out for Trevor. No fuss, no muss, problem gone. He was unlikely to have any later qualms, the way Cait might.

  And that, naturally, was part of why Molly tightened every time she thought about Cait going that route. Trevor didn’t deserve a Pass-Go-Collect-Two-Hundred-Dollars card.

  But Molly knew that the possibility of down-the-line regret wasn’t the whole reason she hated desperately to think of Cait undergoing an abortion.

  “This is your grandchild, too, that we’re talking about,” she pointed out.

  He closed those so dark eyes. “Grandfather. God.”

  She couldn’t tell him the other reason the whole concept bothered her. It was personal, and had nothing to do with what was right for Cait.

  “Ultimately it has to be her decision,” Molly said.

  He looked at her again. “You don’t think Trevor should have a voice?”

  “Was he even admitting to any responsibility?”

  He heard the barb in her question, but didn’t rise to it. “Be fair. You and Caitlyn had some time to process. What happened tonight was pretty much a knockout punch for him. Give him a chance to stagger to his feet.”

  He was right, which made Molly feel ashamed again. “We’ll…keep you informed,” she said stiffly.

  “You’ll do more than that.” His voice was hard. “This is Trevor’s baby, too. If it’s given up for adoption, he’d need to sign to relinquish his parental rights, just like your daughter will. If there are financial consequences, he’ll bear them. He has to have a part in this decision. He and Caitlyn are in it together.”

  “When he won’t even return her phone calls?”

  “That was then. This is now.”

  “What if he’s not interested?”

  “Let me be more accurate. We’re all in this together.”

  “So one of the Wards is taking responsibility?” Oh, that was low. Even before she saw his expression, she wished she could pull the words back.

  “Responsibility—” he rose to his feet “—is my middle name. I was barely nineteen when Trevor was born. As big an idiot as he is, except I thought my girlfriend was on the pill. But you know what? I married her without one accusation. Was it the right thing to do? I still don’t know. But, by God, I took responsibility.” He sounded unutterably weary. “Even as big a jackass as he’s been lately, I don’t wish Alexa had had an abortion. So don’t tell me I’m pushing your daughter that way. I was asking you to talk to me, that’s all.”

  Throat thick, she stood, too. Oh, heavens, how many times tonight had they popped up and down? “Can I say I’m sorry again?”

  “I meant it when I said let’s ditch the apologies. Maybe neither of us is at our best. We need to talk again, but obviously this isn’t the time. I’ll give you a call, or you can call me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He nodded and left before she could pull herself together.

  She couldn’t seem to do anything but stand where she was, staring after him even though she’d heard the front door open and close. Quietly, unlike when his son tore out of her house.

  Had tonight’s meeting—confrontation—helped in any way? Or had she only ramped up the hostility? Molly hated this overwhelming feeling of inadequacy. It made her realize how arrogant she’d been, even though now it was easy to see that life hadn’t been as perfect as she’d wanted to believe it was.

  She only wished that if she had to be brought crashing down, Cait hadn’t had to go with her.

  * * *

  TREVOR RAN UNTIL HIS breath was whistling in and out and his lungs were on fire. He ran harder than he had even when he’d been determined to win every sprint, to be the best. He ended up in Terrace Park. With dusk having descended, it was dark under the trees. He walked up to one, wrapped his arms around it and laid his cheek against the bark. Ground his cheek against it. With shock he heard the sob and realized it had come from him.

  He swore. Softly, louder, finally screaming out rage that he knew was really fear. He swiped his forearm across his wet face and sank to the ground with his back to that same huge, ancient Douglas fir.

  Oh God oh God oh God things like this aren’t supposed to happen to me. Maybe this was his payback for being so shitty to Dad when really it was Mom— Trevor stopped that thought dead. No. Dad had lied, too. More with what he didn’t say than what he did, but he’d lied all the same. If he really loved Trev and Bree, how could he let them live with Mom, when he knew…? His claiming he loved them, that was a lie, too.

  Trev knew only a couple of other guys who’d gotten a girl pregnant, and they were idiots. Plus, the girls had gotten abortions—one of them without her parents even finding out—so everything was all right.

  The tormented look on Cait’s face when her mom said that, about her getting an abortion, made Trevor afraid that’s not what she’d do.

  He’d talk to her
, he thought desperately. Talk her into it. Not getting one was stupid. If she had that baby, nothing would ever be the same for either of them again. She was fifteen. He remembered the things he’d said, about her still playing with Barbie dolls and holding tea parties for her toys, and winced. But he bet she’d been doing both those things not that long ago. He knew Bree secretly played by herself in her bedroom long after she was pretending to her friends to be cool and into boys. And Bree…he cringed again. Bree was fourteen. Oh, man. He’d kill the guy who got his sister pregnant.

  The guy? You mean, the one like me?

  He used the hem of his shirt to wipe his nose and then to furiously blow it. Did anyone else at school know about this? If Cait had told all her friends, everyone would know in no time. Maybe a bunch of them already did. He didn’t like thinking there’d be some jerks who’d be bowing to him because he’d cashed in her v-card and was so virile, he couldn’t help getting her pregnant. Those same guys would be looking at her like she was some kind of slut, and trailer trash because, man, she’d have a squalling brat by the time she was sixteen. Would the admin even let her stay at the high school, or did they exile pregnant teenagers to the alternative school? Wow, did West Fork have an alternative school? Yeah, they must. Every place had losers.

  Oh, damn. He dropped his head back against the tree and stared at the lights he could see outside the boundary of the park.

  If either of them was the loser, it was him. He felt familiar fury rise in him as he imagined some jerk making filthy comments about Cait as she passed in the hall. Someone like Aaron Latter, a real loser. Filled with so much anger and turmoil he didn’t know where to put it—high tide, oh, yeah—Trevor would want to smash any guy’s face who said something about Cait. He didn’t know if he could stop himself. If he should. Wasn’t that the right thing to do? Defend his girl?

  Get kicked out of school?

  If they made her go to the alternative school, he’d go, too, he resolved. All for one and one for all. It was only fair.

  He had known she didn’t want to have sex, and he hadn’t cared because it would make him feel good. And now he felt like such an asshole, and he didn’t only hate Mom and Dad, he hated himself, too. And the thing was, he still really liked Cait but he knew she must hate him. And why wouldn’t she, when he’d jumped up and said How do I know it’s mine? when he didn’t even mean it.

  This time, when he felt hot tears on his face, he didn’t try to stop them from falling.

  * * *

  NO POINT IN EVEN PRETENDING to go to bed until Trevor came home. If he came home. Where else would he go? Richard asked himself, and didn’t know. He’d have gone out looking for his son, but had no idea where to start, either, which was a sad thing as a parent to realize.

  He kept thinking about Molly and wondering whether she felt as useless as he did tonight. Did she have anyone she could talk to? Would he and she get to a point where they could? How much more awkward would it be if she knew he was lusting for her?

  At 11:36, he heard the front door open. He stepped out of the kitchen, catching Trev heading for the stairs. A vise closed over his chest. Trevor looked like hell. Gaunt, as if he’d somehow managed to lose a whole lot of weight in less than four hours. His eyes were swollen, his mouth compressed, his hair spiked.

  “I was worried about you,” Richard said quietly.

  His son shrugged. “Yeah, sure.” He hadn’t managed to inject the usual vitriol in his voice, though.

  “Take it how you want. I’m here to talk when you’re ready.”

  Another shrug. Trev gazed at his feet.

  Richard nodded and went back into the kitchen, where he poured the coffee he hadn’t wanted anyway down the sink. If Trevor went upstairs, it was soundlessly. The picture of him still standing there, not moving, was disturbing. I have to let him come to me. Yeah, what are the odds of that? his more cynical side asked.

  Richard went about setting up the coffeemaker for morning. When he turned off the lights, he found the downstairs deserted. Trevor’s bedroom door was shut, as it always was, but a light showed in the crack beneath it. Richard stopped, wanting to knock, wanting to say only, “Are you okay?” but knowing there was no point.

  He has to come to me.

  True but unlikely.

  * * *

  HE WENT OUT ON SOME SMALL jobs the next day, the kind he wouldn’t usually do but that didn’t require his full attention. He wired a new garage, replaced some outlets in a house dating from the early sixties and finally went out and checked up on a bigger job, one he had two of the guys working on. They were both standing outside smoking when he arrived and ground out their cigarettes the minute they saw him, expressions wary. He didn’t say anything about it, though. If the work was moving slower than he thought it should be, then he’d say something. Otherwise, they were entitled to breaks. Unless he watched them all day through binoculars, he couldn’t know if they were taking too many. He could only judge on the quality of the work.

  “Hey, boss,” one of them said, and it struck Richard that the guy couldn’t be more than twenty. Yeah, he’d come to work for him right out of high school. Was this what he wanted to be doing? The pay was pretty damn good, but maybe he’d had other dreams. Probably not. I’m tarring him with my brush. Jeez, he’s probably making twice as much an hour as his high school buddies.

  Richard had actually thought of asking whether Trevor wanted to work for him this past summer, but the Boys & Girls Club job had kept his own offer unspoken. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, anyway. The last thing he wanted was for his son to come to work for him. Ward & Son Electrical? He hadn’t seen any choice in his day. He’d known he was lucky to have such a good paying fallback. Thanks to his dad, he and Alexa had done okay. After the divorce, he’d been able to pay decent child support.

  He wanted better for Trevor. Then, irritated at himself, he thought, no, not better. Damn it, Richard was proud of what he’d done with Ward Electrical, which had been his old man alone until Richard joined him. Now, with Dad retired in Arizona, Richard employed nine men and one woman as electricians as well as a receptionist and a half-time bookkeeper. The most respected and one of the largest in the tricounty area, his electrical contracting business did grocery stores, malls, schools as well as housing developments. He still did some hands-on work himself, but not much. Mostly he was in the office now.

  What he’d wanted was to be an engineer. He’d dreamed of giant dams and bridges, not light switches. To satisfy himself, in the empty years after Lexa left with the children, he had gone back to school and worked his butt off on top of the job to get a degree in civil engineering with a specialty in structural engineering, but he knew he’d never use it. What sense did it make to walk away from a successful business to start all over working for someone else? None, of course. Mostly, he was satisfied because he had the degree and now he knew that what he did for a living was his choice.

  To his surprise, Trevor was home before him. Richard had gone wearily to the kitchen to think about what they’d have for dinner when Trevor spoke up behind him.

  “We could order a pizza or something.”

  Wonder of wonders. Richard schooled his expression before he turned. “Why don’t we go out?”

  Trevor shuffled from foot to foot. “Uh, yeah, okay.”

  Richard had a favorite pizza parlor that on a Tuesday night was likely to be quiet. During the short drive, he glanced at Trev. “You get a chance to talk to Caitlyn today?”

  “Yeah, well, I tried, but when I appeared, she disappeared.”

  Richard only nodded.

  “I guess that’s justice, huh?”

  What? Is the real Trevor Ward alive and well after all?

  “That’s probably how she sees it,” Richard said neutrally.

  Trevor scowled out the window.

  In the restaurant, they ordered, then carried their pitcher of cola back to the table. “How come you never drink?” Trevor asked, surprising him.<
br />
  Richard slid in on one side of the booth. “I have a beer once in a while, a glass of wine if friends serve it at dinner.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t usually.”

  Funny the subject had never come up before. “Your grandfather was a heavy drinker. Probably still is. Walked in the door and went straight to the fridge for his beer. He had at least a six-pack every night. Yelled at your grandmother if she’d forgotten to buy some and then he’d go right out to the store. I didn’t like it.”

  “I never noticed,” Trevor admitted.

  “That’s because he doesn’t get falling-down drunk. Doesn’t look that drunk at all, which is actually a bad sign. He’s a functioning alcoholic, but an alcoholic all the same. Wouldn’t admit it. Your grandmother scoffs at the idea, too.”

  “So…you think you might’ve been an alcoholic, too?”

  “You mean, I inherited the tendency?” He frowned. “I didn’t think about it that way. All I knew was, I might have to—” I might have to give up going to college and work side by side with my father, but I didn’t want to be any more like him than I could help. That wasn’t even fair, he knew. His father had been faithful to his wife, he hadn’t abused her or their kids, he’d been a good provider. He wasn’t that bad. “I wanted different for you and Bree,” was the best Richard could sum it up.

  “Like, me not getting a girl pregnant my senior year of high school?” Bitterness dark in his eyes, Trevor looked at his father.

  “That, too,” Richard admitted honestly.

  He let Trevor go for the pizza. Waiting, he felt sad and exhilarated both, a crazy mismatch of emotions. This was the first time they’d really talked since… Hell, he thought it was a phone conversation they’d had back in July. Somehow they hadn’t connected in August before Alexa contacted him. He’d figured that Trevor was busy with his job and friends, but in retrospect he realized that was the beginning.

  Do I dare ask him outright?

  No, he decided. One problem at a time.

  Trevor set the pizza in the middle of the table and they each dished up a slice.