“It will be okay,” Bryn insisted. “We’ll figure it out.”
“How?” Corrie demanded. “I can’t tell Mark I’m pregnant if the baby isn’t his. I can’t do that to him. God, Bryn, he’d be so hurt.”
“All right, let’s look at the options.”
Bryn counted on her fingers. “First, you have the baby and don’t ever say a word about Daniel. Everybody’s happy. Second, you have the baby and tell Mark it might not be his. And you lose your husband and hurt him and hurt the baby, too. Because God, Corrie, Mark was meant to be a dad! He’ll be such a great dad.”
“I know,” Corrie said softly. “He’d be a wonderful dad. But—”
“But nothing,” Bryn continued. “You have two choices. Plan A, everybody’s happy. Plan B, nobody’s happy.”
“There’s another choice.” Corrie’s voice broke.
Bryn sat in silence for a long minute, watching her friend pace.
“Yes,” she finally said, very softly. “You could terminate the pregnancy.”
Corrie stopped pacing and stared into Bryn’s face, then collapsed on the couch again in tears.
“I can’t,” she cried. “I can’t do that again.”
Bryn patted her hand, making small hushing noises. Then she paused.
“What do you mean, ‘again’?”
Corrie leaned back on the couch and hugged a throw pillow. She was silent for a while, then took a deep breath.
“When Daniel left all those years ago, I was pregnant.” Her voice was so low, Bryn had to strain to hear her.
“I couldn’t do it,” Corrie continued. “I couldn’t have the baby on my own. I just couldn’t. So I . . .”
“Oh, honey.” Bryn’s voice was soothing, soft. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped. You know I would have done anything for you.”
“I know.” Corrie covered her face with her hands. “But you were going through your own stuff then. That was the first time you and Paul broke up. And I just . . . I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone.”
“Oh Corrie, I’m so sorry.”
Corrie cried again, her hands over her face.
“Was it really awful?” Bryn asked, thinking back a few weeks to when she had considered terminating her pregnancy. She shivered.
Corrie only nodded and cried.
“And I know that’s why I couldn’t get pregnant,” she whispered finally. “God was punishing me. And now . . .”
“Okay, honey, that’s just crazy. You know that, right? That is not how the universe works. If everyone who’d done something stupid or wrong couldn’t have children, the human race would have ended eons ago.”
Corrie shook her head.
“And now it’s like God’s testing me,” she said. “Like he’s just waiting to see if I’ll kill this baby, too.”
Bryn wrapped her arms around Corrie’s shaking shoulders. “Hush now,” she crooned. “It’s going to be fine.”
They sat for a while in silence, Corrie crying and Bryn patting her back.
“All right,” Bryn said finally. “So you can’t terminate the pregnancy. That’s good. Because, honey, you were meant to be a mother. You’re going to be a great mother.
“So, we’re back to Plan A or Plan B. I vote for Plan A. Have the baby. Assume it’s Mark’s. Let it be Mark’s. And forget about Daniel. You and I both know he’s not father material. He’s got no more dad potential than Paul, for Christ’s sake. Mark wants a baby. You want a baby. Have a baby.”
Corrie rose and began pacing the floor again.
“How can I do that?” she asked. “How can I just pretend what happened with Daniel didn’t happen? What if the baby looks just like him?”
“First, even if the baby looks like him, who’s going to know? You will. I will. Nobody else would ever even think about it. Mark’s never met Daniel, right? So how would he know if the kid looks like him?”
Corrie drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I would know,” she whispered.
“But it won’t matter by then,” Bryn said. “The baby will be here. And you will love it, and Mark will love it, and it will be your baby. It will be all right.”
“But what if . . .”
“Honey, you worry too much.”
Corrie stiffened at the expression she’d heard from her mother her entire life.
“Sorry!” Bryn immediately saw the look on her face. “I’m not trying to be like your mom. I’m just saying that right now you are overthinking this. I know it seems like a big deal . . . like a huge deal. But it’s not. I mean, it is, but it doesn’t have to be. Men have been raising other men’s babies for thousands of years. It happens.”
“It is a big deal!” Corrie’s voice rose. “God, Bryn, I know you’re trying to help, but think about this. We’re not living in the Stone Age! What about DNA testing? What if someday the child develops something hereditary, something neither Mark nor I carry? How do I explain that?”
Bryn was quiet for a minute.
“Didn’t you and Daniel donate blood when you were in school?”
Corrie paused and nodded. “We went every two months.”
“Do you remember his blood type?”
“He’s an O, the most valuable type.”
“What’s yours?”
“I’m A.”
“Mark’s?”
“He’s an A, too.”
“Well, then you’ll be okay.” Bryn smiled now.
Corrie simply stared at her.
“Look, what I remember from school is that two As or two Bs can have a baby with type O, because O is a recessive gene. So even if the baby is an O, there’s no reason for Mark to believe he’s not the father.”
Corrie shook her head. “Bryn, it doesn’t matter. I can’t tell Mark this baby is his if it’s not. I just can’t do that. It’s . . . it’s wrong!”
Bryn sat quietly, watching Corrie pace, letting her process her emotions. At last, she said softly, “Well, we know for sure that you are not going to end this pregnancy. Right?”
Corrie paused and nodded, her hand resting on her flat belly, as if protecting the child in her womb from the very thought of termination.
“So, you have to make a choice and you have to make it soon. Either you let Mark believe the baby is his—which it probably is, anyway—or you tell him there’s a chance it’s Daniel’s. Right?”
Corrie nodded again, tears filling her eyes.
“So, let’s look at the possibilities. Say the baby is Mark’s, and you never mention Daniel to him, then everything is fine, right?”
Corrie nodded again.
“Now say the baby is Mark’s, and you tell him about Daniel. What do you think will happen?”
Corrie shook her head. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “He’d probably leave me.”
“And if he leaves you, either you will be left alone to raise this baby or . . . or, God, Corrie, what if he sued for custody? Then you’d lose both Mark and the baby. Could you handle that?”
Corrie sank to the couch and cried, shaking her head.
“Okay,” Bryn continued, holding her hand, “now say the baby is Daniel’s. And say you don’t ever mention it to Mark. Then you two finally have the child you always wanted. Mark will be the baby’s father, and you will both be happy. Right?”
Corrie didn’t reply.
“Now,” Bryn said, “say the baby is Daniel’s and you do tell Mark. Do you think he’ll stay with you and raise another man’s kid?”
“I don’t know,” Corrie said. “Probably not.”
“So either way, if you tell Mark about Daniel, you will end up losing your marriage, your home, and a father for your baby. Does that seem fair?”
“But what if Daniel comes back?” Corrie said, shaking her head. “He’s not stupid, Bryn. He knows how to count on a calendar. And he’ll know the baby could be his.”
“We’ll just have to keep him from knowing you’re pregnant,” Bryn said. “At least until after the baby is born.
Then we’ll just wait a couple months and tell him, and he’ll think it has to be Mark’s.”
“Oh God,” Corrie cried. “This is not my life! It’s like I’m living in a soap opera. I can’t believe we are even talking about this.”
“I know.” Bryn hugged her friend tightly. “I know just how you feel. I felt like that a few weeks ago. But you know what? It will be okay. I promise, Corrie. I promise it will all work out.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Maybe not,” Bryn agreed. “Maybe I can’t promise that it will be easy. But I will be right here with you. And I think it will be okay.”
“Bob would have to lie to Daniel,” Corrie said softly. “They’re still friends. They talk. How the hell am I supposed to ask him to lie about the baby’s birthday? This won’t work, Bryn. It can’t work.”
Bryn drew a deep breath and took Corrie’s chin in her hand, looking straight into her eyes.
“Listen,” she said firmly, “Bob already knows you slept with Daniel.”
“Oh God!” Corrie’s eyes widened, her cheeks reddened. “You told him?”
“No,” Bryn said. “He figured it out from the way Daniel was talking. But, honey, Bob loves you. He knows you’re supposed to be with Mark. And he is really pissed off at Daniel. He won’t tell him the truth.”
Corrie simply shook her head, which ached now.
“He might be mad at Daniel,” she said. “But I don’t think he would ever lie about something like this. I mean, this is Bob we’re talking about. He insisted that you tell Paul about the baby, right? He’s a freaking counselor, Bryn. His job is to help people. He won’t just be all, ‘Oh, sure, we won’t tell Daniel that he has a child in the world.’ He won’t just say, ‘Sure, Corrie, lie to your husband about your baby’s paternity.’ You should know that as well as I do.”
“Well,” Bryn said firmly, “then we won’t tell Bob you’re pregnant for a couple more weeks, not until it’s past time that Daniel could be the father. If your baby comes a couple weeks early, that’s not unusual at all. My doctor told me babies hardly ever come on their due dates.”
Corrie leaned her head against the back of the couch and rubbed her eyes.
“You don’t have to decide anything right this minute,” Bryn said. “Mark won’t be home until Tuesday, right? Just give yourself a couple days to think about it. Don’t make a decision today. Promise me?”
Corrie nodded slowly. She felt incapable of deciding anything at all just now.
“When will Bob get home?” she asked.
Bryn glanced at the clock. “Soon,” she said. “Why don’t you splash some cold water on your face?”
Corrie rose. “No,” she said. “I’m going home. I don’t want him to see me like this. He’ll know for sure that something’s wrong.”
Bryn nodded and hugged Corrie.
“Call me when you get home, okay? You’re upset and probably not in the best shape to drive. So call me.”
Corrie promised to call and left.
Bryn sat back down on the couch, her hands on her belly.
“Well, baby,” she said softly. “I thought you and I were in a mess. But, man, our situation is a breeze compared to Corrie’s.”
Then she went to the kitchen to make spaghetti for Bob and the boys.
30
On Tuesday, Corrie took the day off from work. After early Mass, she drove home, dusted furniture, mopped the floors, and started dinner in the Crock-Pot. And she cried.
Mark would be home in the afternoon. One way or the other, she would have to tell him she was pregnant. She couldn’t put it off. She was already having morning sickness. He’d know something was wrong.
Mark knew her so well.
At least he thinks he does.
She shook her head and swiped her hand across her eyes.
Please, God, give me the strength to do what’s right. Please help me.
She had talked to Bryn every day, argued and cried and listened and argued some more. But in the end, she knew what she would do. She’d known from the start. She would tell Mark the truth. She had to.
She was in the kitchen, wiping down the counter for the third time, when she heard the garage door opening.
Please, God . . .
“Hey!” Mark paused in the doorway, grinning at her. “What are you doing home?”
“I took the day off.”
He pulled her into a hug. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and tried to smile. “How was your flight?”
“Long, late, and bumpy.”
“There’s wine in the fridge,” she said. “Do you want a glass?”
“Sure,” he said. “Let me just dump this stuff in the laundry.”
She poured a glass of wine while he emptied his suitcase.
“How’s the project coming?” she asked, handing him the wine.
He took a sip before answering.
“It’s good,” he said. “I think we’re going to come in ahead of schedule and maybe even under budget.”
“That’s great.”
They sat at the breakfast bar.
“Don’t you want a glass?” Mark asked, raising his glass in her direction.
She shook her head.
“Are you okay?” he asked again. “You look kind of . . . I don’t know, pale or something. Are you feeling all right?”
She started to nod, tried to smile again. Then she shook her head.
“I have something to tell you,” she said softly.
“Okay, shoot.”
She sat quietly for a long minute, tearing a paper napkin on the counter.
“Corrie?” Mark leaned toward her. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered.
“What?” He stared at her, open-mouthed. Then he jumped from the bar stool, swept her into his arms, and whirled her around the kitchen.
“Honey, that’s great! Oh my God, I can’t believe it. We’re going to have a baby!”
“Mark,” she said, “wait. There’s more.”
“When are you due? Have you seen the doctor yet? Oh my God, Dr. Ping is going to be so thrilled for us.”
He held her tightly to his chest. “I’m so glad, Corrie. God, I’m just so . . . happy!”
She leaned against his chest, felt tears stinging her eyes. “Have you told anyone else yet?”
He tilted her head to look her in the eyes.
“Just Bryn,” she said.
“Bryn . . . how cool is that! You guys are both going to have babies at the same time. Wow.” He kissed her forehead. “Just . . . wow. I love you!”
“Mark,” she whispered. “There’s something you have to know.”
He took a step back, still holding her hands.
“What?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with the baby?”
“No,” she said. “I mean, I assume there’s nothing wrong. I’m only a few weeks pregnant.”
“So, what’s wrong, honey?”
She released his hands and turned, so she wouldn’t have to see his face when she told him, wouldn’t see the hurt.
“When I was in Los Angeles, I slept with Daniel.”
The words hung in the air like acrid smoke.
“What?” His voice was soft, disbelieving.
“I slept with Daniel,” she repeated.
He said nothing. Finally, she turned to look at him. His cheeks were red, his eyes wide.
“It was a mistake,” she said. “Stupid and selfish and . . . awful. I don’t even know how it happened. It just did. I’m so sorry, Mark. I’m just so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. And I hate that it did.”
“You slept with Daniel?”
She nodded, dropping her eyes to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated.
He sat down on the bar stool, leaned his head into his hands, and sat in silence. She touched his shoulder, and he pulled away.
Finally, after what felt like an hour, he raised his head and stare
d at her.
“So this baby is Daniel’s?”
“I don’t know,” Corrie said. Tears streamed unchecked down her face. “I don’t know if it’s his or if it’s yours.”
She could see he was shaking, could feel the anger in his voice.
“You don’t know if the baby is mine? Or if it’s Daniel’s?” He spat out the name.
She only shook her head, her eyes trained on the floor. She didn’t see him raise his arm, didn’t see the blow coming. He slapped her hard across the face and she stumbled backward against the breakfast bar.
She stared at him in disbelief, waiting for another blow. But he only turned away abruptly, grabbed his keys from the counter, and left, slamming the door behind him. After a minute, she heard the garage door open. She watched through the window as he drove away, tires screeching on the pavement.
She leaned her forehead against the glass pane and wept. Her life, the life she’d so carefully crafted, was over. Mark was gone.
31
“I can’t believe he hit you!”
Bryn touched the bruise on Corrie’s cheekbone softly.
“I deserved it,” Corrie said.
“Don’t talk like a crazy person, Corrie. No one deserves to get hit!”
Corrie only shook her head.
They sat in Corrie’s kitchen. She had taken another day off work. She couldn’t go to the office with a bruise on her face. She couldn’t face the questions.
“I just wish I knew where he is,” she said. “I just want to know he’s okay.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Bryn said. “He’s probably at Sarah’s.”
“Oh God,” Corrie said. “I hope he doesn’t tell her. I can’t stand for Sarah to know I cheated on her brother.”
“Well, it’s going to come out,” Bryn said. “He’s going to have to talk to someone about it, right?”
Corrie sighed, swirling the cold coffee in her mug.
“Did you try texting him?” Bryn asked.
Corrie nodded.
“I’ve texted, I’ve called. He won’t answer. It just goes directly to voice mail.”
“He needs some time to cool off,” Bryn said, patting Corrie’s hand. “It’s a lot for him to take in. But he’ll come home and you guys can talk about it and . . . and figure out what to do.”
The Weight of Small Things Page 18
