The Choice

by Robert Whitlow

  “How old is he?”

  “Five and a half.”

  “Is he in school? I know some of the kindergarten teachers in Tryon.”

  “He goes to a private kindergarten that’s run by the church they attend.”

  “Which church is that?”

  “Grace Fellowship. It’s on the west side of town not far from the lumberyard. I go there too. You ought to visit one Sunday.”

  “I might do that,” Sandy said, choosing her words carefully. “If I decide to go, could I call and let you know I’m coming?”

  “Sure.”

  Deb took a card from a little rack on the edge of her desk, wrote a phone number on it, and handed it to Sandy.

  “That’s my cell number on the back. Call me, and I’ll meet you out front.”

  Sandy slipped the card into her purse.

  “Thanks.”

  “How long have you lived in Rutland?” Deb asked.

  “Except for college and a short stint teaching in Floyd County, I’ve been there my entire life. My father started Lincoln Insurance Services many years ago.”

  “That’s right.” Deb nodded. “Your brother Ben has been in to see Jeremy several times. There’s a family resemblance.”

  “You think so?” Sandy swallowed. “My younger brother and I look a lot alike. Ben favors my father.”

  At that moment Jeremy walked out. If Deb really had an eye for common family traits, a glance at Jeremy and Sandy in the same room would be a dead giveaway.

  “Hey,” Jeremy said in a harried voice, then turned to his assistant. “Deb, if I get a call from Jerome Ennsworth on the Norton matter, interrupt me.”

  “Will do.”

  Sandy and Maria followed Jeremy into his office. Sandy’s eyes immediately went to the credenza. The same photos were in the same places. She stole another glance at them before she sat down.

  “Thanks so much for seeing us again on short notice,” she began.

  “Deb filled me in on the reason you wanted the appointment. Do you have the parental notification form?”

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure that’s what it was. The counselor didn’t give Maria or her father a copy, and her father wouldn’t have been able to understand what he was signing without a translator. The only people in the trailer at the time were Maria, Ms. Ramsey, and Maria’s father.”

  “Did you hear what the counselor said to your father about the form?” Jeremy asked Maria.

  “No. She told me to leave the room, and she talked to him.”

  “Leave the room?”

  “Yes, so I went to the back bedroom and closed the door.”

  “Does your father understand English?”

  “Enough to get by on his job. When we go shopping, he tells me to do the talking.”

  “What did he say about the paper after the counselor left?”

  “Nothing. He got mad at me.”

  “Why did he get mad at you?”

  “He is mad that I am pregnant.”

  Jeremy turned to Sandy. “Did you ask the counselor for a copy of the form?”

  “No, the school principal called me into his office yesterday and made it clear I’m not supposed to give Maria any advice. He and Ms. Ramsey found out that I’d brought her to see you. I have to be careful.”

  “Okay,” Jeremy said. “And I understand Maria has an appointment scheduled with an abortion clinic in Atlanta.”

  “I think so,” Sandy replied.

  “You don’t know?”

  Sandy felt her face flush.

  “No, but why else would she take Maria to a doctor in Atlanta after getting her father to sign a form?”

  “It makes sense, but it would be better if we knew for sure.”

  Jeremy pulled the lobe of his right ear with his right hand for a moment. Sandy opened her eyes in surprise. It was a gesture she and her brothers made when faced with a tough dilemma.

  “This doesn’t change anything I told you last week,” he said to Maria. “The decision to keep, abort, or allow your baby to be adopted is up to you. Do you understand?”

  Maria looked at Sandy, who translated for her.

  “Yes.” Maria nodded.

  “What do you want to do?”

  Maria looked at Sandy before she answered. Sandy held her breath.

  “I do not want to kill the baby,” Maria said simply. “Ms. Lincoln said to me that a baby has the right to be born and find out what kind of person it is going to be. I think this is true.”

  “Do you feel that way even though you did not want to get pregnant and were forced to be with the man who is the father?”

  “I think so.”

  Jeremy typed something on his computer and sat back in his chair.

  “Do you want to go to a women’s health clinic in Atlanta where you may be pressured to terminate the pregnancy?”

  “I don’t understand,” Maria said.

  Sandy translated the question.

  “I don’t want to go to that place,” Maria said after Sandy finished.

  “Then the easiest way to put a stop to it would be for me to write a letter as your lawyer notifying the school system that you have made a choice not to terminate your pregnancy and warning the school officials not to seek to influence your decision.” Jeremy turned to Sandy. “Translate that for her, please.”

  Sandy took a minute to explain Jeremy’s suggestion.

  “Yes, write the letter,” Maria said.

  Jeremy checked his watch. “I’ll have Deb prepare an abbreviated attorney-client agreement while I compose a letter to the school. I’ll need the full names of the counselor and principal and the address of the school.”

  Sandy gave him the information.

  “You can wait in the reception area,” Jeremy said.

  This time there was no small talk. Deb’s fingers flew across the keyboard. Once she stopped and spoke to Jeremy on the phone, but Sandy couldn’t hear what was said.

  “He’s ready for you,” she said.

  Jeremy had two sheets of paper on the front of his desk.

  “This is the attorney-client agreement,” he said, pointing to one. “No fees are going to be charged, but it states that Maria wants me to act on her behalf in communicating with the school about her pregnancy.”

  “Can she sign this even though she’s a minor?”

  “Yes.”

  Sandy read the document out loud to Maria in English and translated it into Spanish.

  “Do you want me to do this for you?” Jeremy asked Maria when Sandy finished.

  “Yes,” Maria said.

  “Then sign here,” he said. “Ms. Lincoln, you can be a witness to both our signatures.”

  When they finished, Jeremy handed Sandy the letter. It was addressed to both Dr. Vale and Carol Ramsey.

  “What is Bellotti v. Baird 443 U.S. 622 (1979)?” Sandy asked after she read a sentence in the middle paragraph.

  “A case that affirms a woman’s right to obtain an abortion, even if she’s a minor.”

  “Why mention that case?”

  “Because the Court made it clear that the decision of whether or not to have an abortion is the prerogative of the mother, even if she’s a minor. That means no one—including parents, counselors, doctors, et cetera—can pressure a young woman to have an abortion.”

  “Or not have one?”

  “Correct. It applies both ways. The Court’s purpose in the case was to protect the rights of the mother.”

  “But not the baby.”

  “That’s an ongoing battle that’s being fought in state legislatures and the courts all the time. None of that will affect Maria. Her situation is fairly straightforward. Once Dr. Vale gets this letter, he’ll contact the school board’s attorney for an opinion, and I suspect the lawyer will tell him to back off.”

  Brian Winston represented the school board. Winston was part politician, part lawyer. Sandy occasionally saw him in the stands at football games eating a hot dog. She couldn’t
see him eager to start a legal war.

  “Do you think you should prepare separate letters for Dr. Vale and Carol Ramsey?”

  “It’s not necessary,” Jeremy said. “Both letters would say the same thing and end up in the principal’s office. I’ve included a sentence that Maria is fully competent to exercise her reproductive rights.”

  “Okay.”

  “There’s one other thing,” Jeremy said. “How am I going to deliver the letter to the school before the counselor takes Maria to the clinic in Atlanta in the morning? I can’t mail it, and it’s too late in the day to have it sent via courier. We could fax it, but that won’t guarantee personal notice.”

  Sandy swallowed. “You want me to take it?”

  “Do you have another suggestion?”

  “What if I lose my job?”

  “You’ll have a lawsuit for wrongful termination.”

  “I don’t want a lawsuit. I want to teach my students.”

  “I understand, but there’s nothing I can do to protect you in advance.” Jeremy paused. “I could try to locate an off-duty sheriff’s deputy who could go to Rutland in the morning to deliver the letter.”

  “Yes,” Sandy replied immediately. “I’ll be glad to pay. And it would make it more official.”

  Jeremy nodded. “Okay, I think that’s the best way to go.”

  He picked up the phone and asked Deb to get in touch with the sheriff’s office to find out if a deputy about to finish his shift was interested in making some easy money the following morning.

  “We’ll wait in here until we find out if someone is available,” Jeremy said to her.

  Sandy relaxed. There was no place she’d rather be than hanging out in Jeremy Lane’s office.

  “I saw your wife and son when they were leaving your office today,” she said. “He had his arm in a sling.”

  “Yeah, he broke his collarbone in a fall at a playground this past weekend. Fear isn’t in his vocabulary.”

  “Were you the same when you were a boy?”

  “No, I’ve always been one to think things through. I’ll take a risk, but not until I’ve considered the consequences.”

  “That’s the way my brothers are,” Sandy answered.

  “Tell me about your family,” Jeremy said.

  Sandy felt herself blush. “Uh, you know my brother Ben. He’s married with two grown sons. We have a younger brother, Jack, who lives near Chicago with his family. My father is deceased and my mother lives in Sarasota.”

  “No children of your own?” Jeremy asked.

  Sandy bit her lower lip.

  “My students are my kids,” she said evasively.

  “I had a teacher in the tenth grade like that.” Jeremy didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve kept up with her over the years. Do a lot of your students stay in touch?”

  Sandy thought about the hundreds of Christmas cards, wedding announcements, and birth notices she received each year.

  “Yes. The mailbox in front of my house doesn’t have room for junk mail.”

  “That must be satisfying.”

  The phone on Jeremy’s desk buzzed, and he picked it up.

  “Excellent,” he said after a few seconds, then hung up. “An off-duty deputy is going to deliver the letter first thing in the morning. He’s on his way here now to pick it up.”

  “How much will he charge?” Sandy asked.

  “He’ll let me know.”

  Sandy reached into her purse and handed Jeremy one of her personal cards.

  “Send me the bill.”

  Jeremy took the card and placed it beside his computer keyboard.

  “Promise me you’ll send the bill,” Sandy repeated.

  “You sound like my mother,” Jeremy said with a smile. “I’m old enough to make decisions like that on my own.”

  Jeremy’s use of the word mother, even though directed at her in jest, hit Sandy like a punch in the stomach. She hoped her face didn’t reveal what she felt inside.

  “Okay,” she said weakly.

  Jeremy stood. “Let me know how things go tomorrow. I have a hearing at ten-thirty, but I should be back before lunch, and I’m in the office all afternoon.”

  Jeremy extended his hand to Maria, who lightly shook it. He then reached out to Sandy. She stared at his right hand for a split second before taking it. It felt strong and smooth. She held it slightly longer than politeness dictated.

  “Thanks again for seeing us on such short notice,” she said, backing toward the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and if you’re not here, I’ll leave a message with Deb.”

  Sandy and Maria went into the reception area.

  “Any chance I’ll see you Sunday?” Deb asked as Sandy passed by her desk.

  “I’m not sure,” Sandy replied. “But I’ll definitely call tomorrow about Maria.”

  In the car, Sandy glanced over at Maria and felt guilty that she was thinking more about Jeremy and his family than the girl with the immediate crisis.

  “Is there anything you want to ask me that you didn’t say in front of the lawyer?” she said.

  “No, but it is hard not to worry.” Maria sighed. “This is like a long trip. I think about one thing, another thing, and back again to the beginning.”

  Sandy remembered her own pregnancy. If her mind had been a map of the United States, she would have driven to California and back several times over.

  “I understand,” she said. “When I was pregnant my mother told me to take it a day at a time.”

  Sandy drove Maria to Rosalita’s trailer. A dark-haired girl who looked to be about eight years old opened the door. Rosalita came outside and walked down the steps. Maria disappeared into the trailer. Rosalita lingered. Sandy lowered the car window.

  “Thanks for helping Maria,” Rosalita said to Sandy in Spanish. “She looks up to you.”

  “I want to be there for her.”

  Rosalita looked back over her shoulder at the door, which remained closed.

  “Maria told you about Emilio, didn’t she?” she asked.

  “Yes, when we were with the lawyer the first time.”

  “He left with another man this morning,” Rosalita said. “A friend told me they were going to Texas.”

  “To stay?”

  “Who knows?” Rosalita shrugged. “But at least he’s gone.”

  “Good.”

  “Yes. They say Emilio killed a man in Mexico.”

  Sandy involuntarily shivered.

  “My husband drives a truck,” Rosalita continued. “He’s gone all week and comes home on the weekends. He bought a gun that I keep on top of the refrigerator. If Emilio tried to hurt Maria, I would shoot him.”

  “You should call the police and let them handle it,” Sandy said. “You have little children in the house.”

  “Do you think the police will come here fast enough if I call them?”

  “I hope so.”

  Rosalita smiled wryly. “It’s not the same for us when we call for help. I told Maria to come stay with me if she’s ever afraid.”

  “Have you talked to Maria about her baby?”

  “Yes, I’d like to help her if she decides to keep the baby, but I have my hands full. I have three children of my own.”

  “You’re doing a lot for her already. Taking her to school when she can’t ride the bus, letting her stay here if things aren’t good at her house.”

  “I do what I can.” Rosalita rested her hand on the car door for a moment. “A lot of people do not like us being here and wish we would leave. You’re different.”

  “I believe in doing what’s right no matter what other people think. And I just want the best for Maria and her baby.”

  Rosalita nodded and stepped away from the car.

  TWENTY-SIX

  The following morning Sandy put on a business outfit. If she was called into Dr. Vale’s office or to an emergency meeting of the school board, she wanted to look as professional as possible. She’d selected a pale-blue suit with a cream-c
olored blouse. When she inspected herself in the full-length mirror on her bathroom door, she pulled on her right earlobe and thought about Jeremy. Genetic tendencies surfaced in some of the most unexpected ways.

  When she arrived at the school, a sheriff’s car from Tryon was parked in front of the building. Sandy didn’t know whether to sit in her car until the deputy left or go inside and face what awaited her. Deciding not to delay the inevitable, she slung her tote bag over her shoulder and marched toward the building.

  “Good morning, Sandy. You look nice,” a male voice to her left said.

  It was John Bestwick, who jogged a couple of steps until he was beside her.

  “Does the outfit have anything to do with the meeting you had in Dr. Vale’s office the other day?”

  “It might. I want to be prepared for anything.”

  The basketball coach held the door open for her.

  “Don’t forget what I wrote the other day about your heart,” he said. “Stay sweet even if the people around you turn sour.”

  “Thanks,” Sandy said gratefully.

  She glanced toward the school office. There was no sign of a deputy, Dr. Vale, or Carol Ramsey. The principal was probably on the campus, but it was still early for Carol to be at school.

  Not having homeroom responsibilities gave Sandy a few extra minutes each morning. Usually she stopped by the faculty lounge for a fresh cup of coffee. Sandy opened the door to a room full of silence. There was the usual collection of educators with coffee cups in their hands, and the sheriff’s deputy. The deputy’s back was to Sandy, who could see the principal reading a sheet of paper. She started to back out of the room, but the principal looked up and saw her. She froze like a student caught roaming the halls without a pass.

  “Ms. Lincoln, go to my office,” the principal ordered. “I’ll see you there.”

  Everyone in the faculty lounge stared at Sandy as she turned around. She could only imagine the hubbub that would erupt as soon as Dr. Vale left the room. She walked slowly down the hall. In a few seconds, she heard a door close behind her and glanced over her shoulder. It was the deputy sheriff. He casually took out his cell phone and started tapping the screen. To him this was nothing more than an easy moonlighting opportunity.

  Sandy reached the administrative offices and went inside. The school secretary wasn’t in yet. Sandy was too nervous to sit so she paced back and forth. In a few moments, Dr. Vale appeared. He walked past her into his office without speaking. She followed. The principal tossed the letter onto his desk.