by Ashlee Price
"He's the daddy, Callie. He's got a right to know - and a say in things."
I knew what Dad was getting at. He'd chosen a life of his heart, rather than his wallet, and raising a child wouldn't be cheap. Michael's family had money, lots of it, and Michael had a responsibility, along with me, to take care of the child.
"Dad, you know as well as I do that his family will take over the baby. It would be their first grandchild, Michael's heir. God, there's no way they'd let it go. And they'd make Michael marry me."
Dad turned around to look at me. "Well, and maybe they should." Dad was old-school, and there was a certain way these things were handled.
"We're not like them, Dad. You know that. Sure, they'd offer to pay for an abortion, probably, but I'm not going to let that happen. Everyone in the county would know the daddy, and what would that do for me? Or for the baby? You know what that would be like. They'd force a marriage to save face, whether they wanted me in the family or not. Like as not, in a couple years they'd talk Michael into divorcing me and keeping the child. I won't have it, Dad, I just won't have it."
"You could go stay with your Aunt Margaret," he answered, referring to his sister who lived in Tennessee. "She'd look after you until the baby was born, and that would give you time to decide whether you want to keep it."
"But, Dad, that would mean leaving you. I told you, I'll never leave you."
"It ain't the same, Callie. You ain't leavin' forever, just buyin' yourself a little time to figure out what's right for you, and for the baby."
I was so confused. I hadn't thought this far ahead; I'd been on my way to that pasture hoping for some answers from the angel who was my mom, and maybe this had been the answer God intended. Maybe He'd turned me around to look to my dad for support; someone flesh and blood who could help me.
"Okay, Dad, we'll do it your way. You call Aunt Margaret, but not just yet, okay? It'll be a while before I start showing, and I can hide it. I want to enroll in community college and start classes. No one there will know me. Then, when the time is closer, I'll go down to Aunt Margaret's. But Dad, I want this baby. You won't be mad if I keep it, will you?"
There were long moments as I held my breath for his answer. "No, Callie... I won't be mad. Just want what's best, is all." I heard the resignation in his tone. I was responsible for that. I'd just added to his load, and I swore to myself that I'd not let him carry it for me. It was my responsibility. It was time I grew up.
Chapter 4
Michael
The starting quarterback had torn his rotator cuff, and that meant he was out for the rest of the season. Well, for good, actually, because he was a senior. That brought me up to bat for the next three-and-a-half seasons. I was ecstatic and Dad was hosting tailgating parties under a huge tent with catering and a full bar. It was insane. Mom was in her glory; she literally couldn't brag enough.
Academically, the pressure was on. Even though most of the professors looked at my assignments with only half an eye, a courtesy given to star athletes, I was still struggling to keep up. Dad even hired a tutor, and I won't lie; the girl did half my homework so I could get some shut-eye. In fact, there were a couple of times she did the homework naked and beneath me. Dad always had a good eye for horseflesh.
I thought of Callie often, and the guilt hit me. I knew that even though I'd left without any real promises on my end, she'd hoped for one on her side. I told myself that I'd put her on hold. If I brought her to Louisville and included her in the partying, she wouldn't fit in, and we'd have a fight, and there'd be practically no way we could make up afterwards. It would mean the end of us, so I was protecting her. At least, that's how I justified it.
Dad had invited some of my buddies for that weekend's game. They couldn't come into the locker room, so they got into town the night before and we went out partying at a few bars. I stuck to cola, but the others downed fifths like they were drinking soda. My best friend, Clayton Pierce, was especially drunk, and he started trouble, just like he always did when he'd had too much to drink. My dad said Clayton's people had some Cherokee blood in them and they couldn't handle whiskey. People said it made them mean, and Clayton sure was. I don't think it had anything to do with his heritage, though; I think it was just his nature.
We had just arrived at the third bar, where we weren't supposed to stay more than fifteen minutes, when I heard his voice behind me.
"What the fuck you lookin' at, asshole?"
I swung around and saw him nose to nose with the bar bouncer. Oh, shit. I had to get back to campus; there was a curfew.
"Clayton, c'mon, let's get out of here, huh?" I put my hand on his shoulder.
"Back off, Shannon," he warned me, and I knew there was a fight in the offing. I couldn't afford to get involved - I had a team depending on me as quarterback come morning.
"Clayton, buddy, I can't do this. I'm outta here. If you don't come, you're on your own. Don't even call me for bail, you hear? You're on your own."
I headed toward the door and looked back just before it closed to see Clayton gut-punch the bouncer. Shaking my head, I got into my car and headed back to campus, and bed. It was still before curfew and I hadn't had any liquor, so as far as the coach was concerned, I was still golden.
We shut them out in the game, and I threw for over three hundred yards. Not a bad day, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. I came out of the locker room and there was Clayton, sitting on the hood of my car.
"Hey, man, you look pretty rough," I said, noting his marble-bruised eye and stringy hair.
"I spent the night in the can, you asshole, Johnny Star Quarterback. If you'd had my back, that fucker would have backed off, man. You're, like, golden, don't you know that? No one will touch me if I'm with you."
His words began to sink in and I felt a dawning. Why hadn't I noticed? Now that I thought about it, I'd been getting preferential treatment everywhere I went. He was right. No one talked shit to me. Back in Woodford County I'd always been treated that way, mostly due to my dad being who he was. But that didn't carry the same clout here in the city.
Clayton was right, though, and that's when I got mad. "So, you've got the guts to ride my coattails and start shit and then come back and accuse me to my face of fucking you over?" I felt a rage coming over me, and I knew I'd better back off and get out of there. Clayton wasn't worth a fight, and everything pointed to him trying to start one.
He slid off my car, his fists up, but I was quicker - and not hung over. It didn't take anything to outmaneuver his clumsy swing and slide into my car. A key turn later I was out of the parking lot and headed back to my dorm for a change of clothes and then dinner with the folks.
I told Dad what happened when I got to the Galt House where they were staying.
"That boy has always been bad news, son. Better cut ties before he drags you into somethin' you can't get out of." Dad was always tactical; friendships and honor be damned. I didn't always agree with him, but in this case, I thought he was right.
I nodded and drank my cola. "I know, I know. It's just that Clayton and me - we go way back, you know? He makes me feel like I'm acting too good for him, for the old crowd."
"Well, son, no matter how you want to look at it, you are too good for them. What have they done with their lives? Tell me that. Huh? Nothin'. Not a single one of them you hung with are in college or doin' anything but livin' off their daddies. Why, look at that girl you were seein'. What was her name? Sallie?"
I was instantly alert. "Callie? You mean the little blonde whose dad is a trainer at the Smithfield farm?"
"Yeah, that's her."
"What about her? What did Callie do?"
"Nothin', and that's just my point. She's not got much of a future to look forward to."
I put down my cola and shook my head. "No, you've got her all wrong. She was going to community college in Lexington, Dad. She's not a nobody. She's going to make something of herself. I know her."
"Well, we'll see. Don't know a
nd don't care, son. Like I told you. You are better than the ones you hung with. But your mom and I figured it was good for you to be around common folk - gave you a sense of balance, and when you open your law office, they'll be comin' to you to represent them."
I listened with only half an ear. I was thinking about Callie.
Later, after my folks left, I thought about calling her. She didn't have a cell phone, so I called her dad's number.
"Hello?" His voice sounded normal over the phone.
"Mr. Tucker, this is Michael. Michael Shannon?"
There was a hesitation and then he said, "Yes, I know who you are."
"Sir, is Callie there?"
"Nope."
"I see. Is she due back soon?"
"Don't know."
I could tell he wasn't going to be handing out information. "Well, next time you talk to her, would you tell her I asked after her, sir? Tell her she can call me if she'd like."
"Good-bye now, Michael. You keep on winnin' them games." The line clicked, telling me he'd hung up. Why had I said that line about her calling me? I knew I'd promised myself not to interfere in her life. I couldn't offer her anything, not at this point. My dad would disinherit me and my career plans would go in the mud. I needed to leave Callie be for the time being, at least until I had the power to protect her.
Chapter 5
Callie
Dad and I went about our business for the next week without talking about my situation. I liked it better that way. He knew that when I was ready, I'd tell him to put in the call to Aunt Margaret.
The invitation came in a square, gold-edged envelope and was addressed to me. It seemed that Karen Tillman was marrying Doug Clary and I was invited. They had been another couple at the graduation bonfire. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, the wedding was only a week away and the invitation required no R.S.V.P. It was to be a casual affair held outdoors at a state park with an outdoor buffet to follow. I called Karen and told her I'd be there. I was actually dreading it, since it would be the first event I'd gone to without Michael towering over me. I knew Michael was deep into football season and had a game that day. There was no way he'd be showing up. It would be a treat to see my friends, though, and most likely the last time I'd show up in public for a while. I was looking forward to going.
The afternoon was hot and the humidity made everything outdoors sticky to the touch. I chose to wear a short, spaghetti strap dress in pale yellow and a pair of white sandals. I braided my hair, pinned it into a coronet-style bun on top of my head, and added a few yellow rosebuds made from silk. If there was ever a time that I really looked like the fairy people told me I resembled, that was the moment.
I drove to the park in the old truck we generally used for farm errands. It had no air conditioning other than its two windows with hand cranks to lower the glass. I felt a little nauseated, but it was probably too soon to be from the pregnancy and I blamed it on the heat. I was glad I had tucked a handkerchief into my clutch. I would find a glass of ice water to dip it in.
The parking lot was half full when I arrived. I knew it wouldn't be a large wedding, especially if it was being held under the circumstances I suspected. But then, who was I to judge? I took a seat in the back row at the end so I could leave at a moment's notice if I began to feel more ill. I wished I had air-conditioning in the truck; at least it would've provided refuge from the heat. As it was, the park had little shade; it focused on a small, man-made lake with ducks and a few geese that provided background music. There weren't many trees.
The bride and groom looked... content, that would be a kind way to put it. In truth, they were both flushed from the heat and perhaps an awkward embarrassment. I had never gotten the impression that the two of them were particularly in love. It seemed there were many relationships like that, including mine with Michael, as I now realized. They were relationships based on high school, but not on life in the long term. The guests stood as the bride's brother played the wedding song on his guitar and she walked down the grassy aisle between the rented folding chairs. The ceremony was brief and I was glad. I wanted to get out of the heat in the worst way. One advantage to being at the back of the group was that I was among the first at the refreshment table.
"Could I have the biggest glass of ice water you can give me, please?" I recognized the girl who was helping to serve, but I couldn't remember her name. She hadn't been in my particular group of friends, but I'd seen her in the hallway often enough. I gave her an extra smile and nodded. "How are you?"
"Ready to melt, aren't you?" she gushed, showing me an almost deferential attitude. This puzzled me, but I was too hot and feeling too ill to worry about it. I found probably the only seat at the picnic table that was out of the sun. I quickly took it and slowly drank the water, being careful not to gulp so it wouldn't make me ill.
"Well, look who's here," said a voice at my elbow. I turned to find Clayton Pierce, who just happened to be Michael's best friend. It hurt me to see him, as it was a reminder that Michael himself wasn't there.
"Hello, Clayton. I haven't seen you since graduation night. What have you been doing with yourself all summer?"
"Not too much, yet. I'm letting myself have a little vacation before I start working in September."
"Oh? Do you already have something lined up?"
"Yeah, I'm one of the lucky ones, I suppose. My uncle owns a small manufacturing company in Louisville and is bringing me on board. He doesn't have any children, so I'm thinking he intends to make me his successor."
"Well, that's handy," I said. "Is it something you think you would like to do?"
"I really don't have much choice, do I? After all, I'm not a great big football star with an athletic scholarship and a law office in my future, am I?"
"I imagine you're referring to Michael?"
Again, it hurt me, just to say his very name. Michael had influenced the rest of my life; the evidence of that was making me nauseous at that very moment. But I was a big girl. I knew I could have said no, but I didn't. So I deserved my fate.
"Funny you should mention him. I was just down to see him last weekend, you know."
There was no breeze for a moment, and I felt my head whirl as though I would pass out. It must've been obvious, as Clayton noticed.
"Hey, are you okay? You look a little green."
"It's just the heat, I'm sure. I was hoping the weather reports were wrong." Just then we heard a rumble of thunder in the distance. "Oh, thank God, a little relief."
"Sorry, but it's just one cloud. No relief there. Here, why don't I get you a drink?"
"No, that's okay, I have some ice water."
"At least let me have it refreshed for you. I won't take no for an answer," he said as he climbed away from the picnic table and headed toward the bar. I appreciated his company. It made me feel a little less lonely. I looked around the crowd and saw a few others I'd gone to school with. I waved and smiled, but didn't budge from my spot to go visit with anyone. I didn't want to get into long conversations, because I knew they would ask where Michael was or how he was doing or whether I planned to see him soon or some other equally hurtful question. It was better just to keep my distance.
"Here you go," Clayton said as he dropped back into his chair, setting a tall glass with plenty of ice in front of me. I took several long gulps and then frowned as I tasted something odd.
"What is this?"
"It's just water," he answered. "I had them put a little lemon and lime in it. That helps to settle the stomach and it's more refreshing than just the water alone."
I nodded and drank the glass down, then held it out to him. "Would you mind? It really was awfully good."
"My pleasure," he said, leaving the picnic table once again and this time returning with two identical glasses. "I brought you an extra," he said. I nodded my thanks and took a few more deep sips.
"So, what were you saying about seeing Michael?" I knew I was torturing myself, but I wanted to hear the worst of it.<
br />
"I went down and saw his football game, spent a little time with him."
"How was he doing?"
"Better than fine, if I'm any judge. He had a marvelous game, was surrounded by fans afterwards and then treated like a prince at his father's after-game party at the Galt House."
"I'm really happy for him." It was the best I could do without bursting into tears. I finished the rest of the second glass of water and began on the third.
"Do you mean to tell me he doesn't keep in touch with you?"
I shook my head. "No, I haven't seen him since he left."
"Oh, well, that explains it."
"Explains what?" I took another deep gulp to get ready for what I knew was about to be said.
"Well, I don't really feel comfortable just dumping it on you like this. Did the two of you have an agreement when he left?"
"No, not really. He's going to be in school for a very long time, and me, well, let's just say that our lives don't run in tandem."
"No, I see your point. Well, then it probably will come as no surprise to you to hear that he's quite the man around campus."
I felt the stab as his words sank in. I had to take a few deep breaths, because I felt like I was going to puke on the spot. I took another drink and the lemons did seem to help a little. "Meaning...?"
"Well, let's just say he has no shortage of companionship."
There. Clayton had said it. I'd known it was coming, I'd known it all along. There wasn't any way to whitewash the truth, and if I'd been under any illusion that Michael was going to remain celibate for the next seven or more years, I'd been out of my mind.
As for the ring, that hadn't been much more than an awkward goodbye gift. There was no symbolism behind it. I knew Michael was moving on, and I guess in a way he was telling me to do the same. If I thought about it too hard, it almost seemed like a thank-you gift for sleeping with him. Damn! That hurt. Why am I doing this to myself?
