by Beth K. Vogt
The board game was forgotten. No one was making moves—except Mom and Dad, who were making decisions about my childhood home and no longer wanted my opinion.
But then again, I hadn’t asked them for their opinion about their grandchild.
I stood. Backed away from the table. “Excuse me. I’m going to check on dinner.”
“Now? We haven’t finished the game.” Jillian waved her hand across the board.
“Dad, take over for me.”
“Johanna, your father and I are playing as a team.”
“He can cover for me, Mom, and still be your partner.”
On those words, I escaped to the kitchen. I gave a quick glance at the enchiladas in the oven, as well as the black bean soup in the Crock-Pot—Payton’s contribution, to fit her vegan diet. Zach had carried the addition in, plugging the pot in so it would stay warm until we were ready to eat.
The mingled aromas of cheese and beans and spices turned my stomach. At least Mom hadn’t started any coffee yet. Should I force myself to eat? Or just announce I wasn’t feeling well while continuing to avoid Payton’s stare, as I had been doing all day?
“Are you okay?”
Payton’s voice caused me to spin around, my hands gripping the counter behind me. “What are you doing, practicing to be some sort of secret agent or ninja or something?”
“Really?”
“What am I supposed to think when you sneak up on me like that?”
“That I’m a ninja? That’s a little far-fetched. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
She held up my glass of water. “You left this downstairs.”
I wrapped both hands around the glass. “Oh. Thanks.”
“So have you made your appointment?”
Payton was channeling me, getting straight to the point. “No.”
“Why not?”
There was no easy way to explain that a small pile of black-and-white photos was tripping me up. That the echo of a heartbeat haunted me day and night, an uninvited internal serenade.
“Because I’m thinking . . . I’m thinking I might want to . . .”
“To what?”
“I might want to keep the baby.”
Saying the words out loud should have eased the ever-present pressure in my chest. But it didn’t. The heaviness shifted a little but still remained. Having an abortion was no longer an easy option, but keeping the baby made no sense. Considering being a single mother was irrational.
I pressed a fist against my sternum, my heart beating beneath it.
But there were two hearts beating inside me.
I wanted my life back, but there was no returning to who I was before I’d gotten pregnant.
And to go forward, I had to choose.
I faced away from Payton, not surprised when she came to stand beside me. “What changed your mind?”
“For weeks, this was just an inconvenience to deal with. To get past. Then you said something about this baby being Mom and Dad’s grandchild. Being your niece or nephew. And the physician, who refused to do an abortion for me, did an ultrasound. I left the appointment with photos. I find myself wondering, Grandson or granddaughter? Nephew or niece?”
“Have you thought about adoption?”
“No. If I’m going through with this pregnancy, I’m keeping the baby.”
“You’re . . . pregnant?” Jillian’s voice invaded the conversation between Payton and me.
I pressed my eyes closed. Refused to turn toward my other sister. To answer her question.
Payton had more courage than I did. She turned, taking a step away from me. “Jill—”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Payton.” Jillian spit the words out. “Are you pregnant, Jo?”
I faced Jillian, who stood several feet away. “Yes.”
“When were you going to tell me? Payton already knows.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you. I . . . I haven’t decided what I’m going to do . . .”
Jillian’s eyebrows furrowed, her eyes narrowing. “You’re going to make your decision about having a baby—and tell me later. Or maybe not tell me at all?”
“I don’t know.”
I tried to be honest, but it came off sounding so wrong. This was my life. My decision. And now I was facing both of my sisters, being forced to take part in a conversation I never wanted to have. To answer their questions. Would Mom walk in next? What little energy I had seeped out of my body, even as I forced myself to respond to Jillian. I hadn’t started this discussion, but I would finish it.
“I wasn’t planning on talking about my pregnancy today—especially not with Mom and Dad sitting right outside the door.”
That was a slight exaggeration.
“The only reason Payton knows and you don’t is because she thought something was wrong with me—that I was sick—”
“Surely you noticed how Jo has lost weight. How she hasn’t been drinking coffee.” Payton’s laugh was sharp. Out of place. “I was scared. I thought . . . I thought maybe she had cancer like you did.”
The color drained from Jillian’s face.
“She showed up at my house asking me what was wrong.” It wasn’t Payton’s responsibility to explain things. “Made a joke about thinking I was pregnant . . . and I told her I was. That’s the only reason she knows and you don’t.”
Jillian’s attention never wavered from me. “But you’re keeping the baby. You had to tell us all sometime, Jo.”
“I said I might want to keep the baby, Jill. Maybe.”
“And if you don’t keep the baby, then what? Adoption?”
“No.”
Jillian’s eyes widened. “Jo . . .”
I held up one hand, shaking my head. “Don’t judge me, Jillian. This is my decision. Not yours.”
“But you can’t . . . you can’t . . .”
“I can make whatever choice I want. When you get pregnant, you can make your own choice.”
“That’s enough, Johanna.” Payton stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Jillian, who shrank back against her.
I almost apologized—almost. But I couldn’t. I hated hurting Jillian, but an apology would only prolong this conversation. Our relationships were shifting as if the floor were balanced on a beam that was weighted with our words. It wasn’t my duty to keep everybody happy. I’d never worried about that.
At the end of the day, no one was there for me. No one hugged me. No one protected me.
“You two will have to excuse me. I don’t think I’ll stay for dinner—”
“Johanna, don’t be this way.” Payton still held on to Jillian.
“Be what way? Myself?” I shook my head. “I’m sorry if you don’t like how I act, Payton. This is who I am. Don’t expect me to change at my age.”
I didn’t owe my sisters—or anyone else—an explanation of my behavior or my choices. We were all adults. Our choices were our own.
4
JILLIAN SHOULD HAVE BEEN used to this by now.
And she’d keep saying that to herself until it was true.
She was awake in the middle of the night. By herself. Not even Winston was willing to wake up and keep her company.
Shouldn’t she be clinging to the assurance that God was with her? That God would help her? That He would never leave her or forsake her? It might help if she could remember the specific verses the pastor had rattled off yesterday at church. Or remember where she’d put her notes.
All of it was the truth, but the realness of it, the security of it, escaped her grasp.
She was alone. Again. And what was the use of faith if it didn’t hold up when you needed it?
“Do you want to talk?”
Geoff’s words broke the stillness, but Jillian remained facing forward on the couch, staring at the mantel in the living room, decorated with a tall metal letter H and a trio of frosted glass bottles.
There was nothing she could say that would change anything. Nothing.
“Jillian?�
�� Soft footsteps sounded. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
He eased next to her on the couch, leaving space between them that seemed to throb with silence.
“What happened when you were in the kitchen with your sisters?”
Smart man, her husband. There was no saying, “Nothing happened,” not after she’d insisted they go home right in the middle of a game of Labyrinth. After Johanna had exited the house without saying good-bye to anyone.
She’d given Geoff no explanation then. None when they got home.
No words.
She’d just retreated to their bedroom to curl up beneath the blankets and pray for sleep to stop the thoughts swirling in her head.
It was better to retreat. Better to withdraw than to even consider fighting battles she could never win. She couldn’t stand up to both Johanna and Geoff. Couldn’t ask for something she wanted and then hear no from the two people she loved the most.
Jillian wrapped her arms around her waist. She didn’t move away, but if she held herself, then maybe Geoff wouldn’t hold her. Wouldn’t expect her to lean on him.
“It’s not like you to go silent on me like this.”
Jillian stiffened. Geoff wanted an explanation? Fine.
“Johanna’s pregnant.”
The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she pressed the palm of her hand against her lips.
“Johanna . . . Johanna’s pregnant?”
“That’s what happened when I was in the kitchen with my sisters.” Jillian still faced forward. “I found out that Johanna is pregnant. Only my sisters didn’t tell me. Weren’t going to tell me. I only found out because I overheard Johanna talking to Payton.”
“Payton knew?”
“Yes.”
“How—?”
“Don’t ask me questions like how far along Johanna is or if Beckett knows. All I know is Johanna is pregnant.” Jillian squeezed her eyes shut as if doing so would block out the scene from the kitchen. “Oh, and that she might have the baby. Or she might not.”
“She said that?”
“Yes. Johanna said that. Do you think I’m making this up?” Her words were a brittle echo of the pain encasing her heart.
“I can understand why you’re upset—”
“Really? You understand what it’s like to find out that your sister—the sister you’re supposed to be closest to—is keeping a secret from you? Not an ‘Oh, I found something you’re going to love for your birthday’ kind of secret. No. My sister is pregnant. And she wasn’t going to tell me.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t. Don’t say it. Payton had a secret about how our sister Pepper died. We survived that. But then you—the person I thought I could trust more than anyone else—you had secrets about your brothers, too. And now Johanna.” She tried to swallow the acidic taste coating her throat. “I’m sick of family secrets. I hate them.”
At least she was being honest. Geoff might not want to hear it, but she was going to say it. No longer choke back her emotions.
She was done with holding her peace—because the unspoken words burned like when she had mouth ulcers for a short time during her chemotherapy.
“Jill, you have to admit getting things out in the open is better.”
“Now you say this? Do you even believe it?” She rushed past his reply. “And better for whom? You—because you feel better? Payton—because she told the truth? Johanna—because she can once again remind us that she’s going to do what she wants? Everyone else is happy with this. But I’m not.”
“I understand.”
“No! No, you don’t.” Jillian rocked back and forth. “How can you know what it’s like to find out my sister is pregnant—my sister!—and all I want is to have a baby?”
“You said Johanna may not keep the baby.”
“That doesn’t matter, Geoff.” Explaining all of this was making it harder. “At least she had a choice, which is something I don’t have. You let me choose my engagement ring. What I wanted mattered then. But now . . . when it comes to whether we have children or not . . . what I want doesn’t matter.”
Geoff’s jaw clenched, a sure sign he was shutting down.
God, help me say something—the right thing—so Geoff hears me.
“We could adopt the baby.”
“What?”
“We could adopt Johanna’s baby.”
Geoff jumped to his feet, putting space between them. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. This is the perfect solution. Johanna doesn’t want to be pregnant. She’s not sure she wants to keep the baby. And we want the baby—”
“Not we, Jill. You. You want the baby.” Geoff paced in a circle, coming to a stop in front of her. “Johanna being pregnant doesn’t change anything we’ve talked about.”
“Why can’t it change things? Didn’t you hear what I just said? Why won’t you consider what I’m asking you? Let me talk to Johanna.”
“No. We’re not adopting your sister’s baby. Do you realize how complicated that would be?”
“We’d figure it out, Geoff.” Jillian remained seated on the couch, slowing her words, softening her tone. Maybe if she was calm, they could talk this out to a different outcome.
“No. This is a ridiculous idea. Just because Johanna is pregnant doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to agree with you about having children.”
His words hit her as if she were standing along the shore and got taken down by an unexpected wave. Doused. Tried to scramble back to her feet against the pull of the tide, only to fall again.
No matter what she did, what she said . . . no matter how many times they discussed this, their family would remain the two of them—and Winston, of course. She’d be a dog mama. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Winston. She did. But loving her pup wasn’t enough.
Maybe loving Geoff wasn’t enough.
Jillian twisted her engagement ring and wedding band around on her finger.
Her life wasn’t enough.
“It’s the middle of the night. Not the time to be talking about this.” Geoff’s words signaled an end to their conversation.
“It’s never the time.” Jillian shook her head. “You never want to talk about it. You’re never going to change your mind.”
“Be reasonable. I’ve got to go to work in a few hours.” Geoff stood in front of her. “Can we table this until the conference weekend?”
“Because you’ll have spare time then?” Jillian’s gaze centered on Geoff’s bare feet planted wide apart. “You told me you’re going to be busy. Or did you forget that?”
“I’ll take an extra day off after the conference.”
“Just go to bed.” Jillian slumped back against the couch.
“Are you coming upstairs with me?”
“No. I’m not tired.”
And that statement was a lie. She was exhausted—worn-out from going around and around with Geoff about this issue and never finding a resolution.
“You sure?” Geoff sounded concerned, almost willing to keep talking. Almost.
“I’m sure. Go on.”
Geoff’s footsteps fading into silence only served to remind her that she was alone.
This was her life now. This was the future. Her. Geoff. A dog.
And nothing else.
Her Bible lay unopened. That was fine, too. God wasn’t listening to her prayers, so what good were they doing her? What Geoff wanted wasn’t going to change. What she wanted wasn’t going to change. How did they fix that?
The future seemed as dark and empty as the house in the middle of the night. They could fill it with things like a puppy and a renovated kitchen. She could throw in a feeble attempt at faith. But none of it dulled the ache for more inside of her.
5
PAYTON NEEDED to get out of the car. There were people waiting for her. For Zach. Well, sort of. They’d most likely start the meeting if she and Zach didn’t show up tonight. But people were expecting them. After all, Z
ach had said they’d be there.
Of course, her husband hadn’t bothered to tell her that he’d asked Paul and Sara Wagner about coming tonight until after he’d already told the older couple to expect them. That oversight had led to an interesting discussion several days ago. About how his wanting to go to a couples’ Bible study didn’t mean she wanted to go.
And now Zach sat next to her, the engine still running, drumming his thumbs against the steering wheel. Waiting.
Her husband and a lot of people she didn’t know were waiting on her.
“Are you ready to go in?” Zach sounded as if he half expected her to say no.
“I’m not sure why I agreed to this.” Payton gripped her seat belt that remained clipped against her body, even though Zach had parked the car outside the Wagners’ house five minutes ago.
“It’s just a couples’ Bible study, Payton.”
“I’ve never done any sort of Bible study before—on my own or as a couple.”
“We’re going to study the book of Galatians, not go skydiving.”
“I didn’t even know where the book of Galatians was.”
“It’s in the New Testament—”
“Thanks for that.” She tucked the envelope she’d used as a bookmark more securely into her Bible. “I know that—now—but only because I looked at the table of contents on the drive over here.”
“Relax, okay?” Zach twisted to face her. “Tonight’s just about getting to know each other, getting our books, that sort of thing.”
“Our books? I have my Bible. Why do I need another book?”
“There’ll be some sort of study guide—some prep work for us to do each week before we come back.”
“Zach!” Payton’s attempt to face her husband was stopped by the shoulder strap of the seat belt.
“What?”
“You do remember I’m still taking college classes, right? I don’t need any more homework.”
“It’s not homework. No one’s grading us. And whatever it is, it won’t be much—just enough questions to help us prep for the discussion each week. We can do it together. It’ll be fun.”
“Your idea of fun and my idea of fun aren’t the same.” Payton tried to lighten her tone. “Fun is going on a hike with Laz. Or watching an Avengers movie together.”
