Sarah's Choice

by Rebecca St. James

  When Agnes had tucked the Kleenex back into her pocket, Sarah said, “Denise told you—”

  “Yes. She said you didn’t lose the baby. Nothing could make me happier.”

  “I don’t know about that. I think this will.”

  Her mother’s brow puckered.

  “I came to tell you that I’ve come back to God.”

  For someone who had been so vocal about wanting to hear that news, Agnes’s response was underwhelming. Sarah watched as every possible reaction passed through her mother’s eyes and creases and nervous lips—everything from pure disbelief to childlike joy. She seemed to land on cautious hope.

  “Does that mean . . . what does that mean, Sarah?” she said.

  “It means I won’t be making any more decisions without God.” Sarah spread her hands across her belly. “Going to God is how I made this one.”

  Agnes clutched the stair rail and lowered herself to a step. Sarah crouched in front of her.

  “Mom, what? What’s going on?”

  “Then you’re keeping the baby?”

  Sarah felt her eyes widen. “Yes, I’m keeping the baby. Denise didn’t tell you?”

  “No. She just said you had a scare and the baby was fine and you would tell me everything yourself.” Her mother’s voice was fragile, chipped at the edges like a china teacup. “Oh, Sarah . . . this is a good choice.”

  “I know.” Sarah covered both her hands. “I can see you with her, Mom. I totally can.”

  “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

  Sarah rocked back on her heels and watched Agnes give in to that childlike joy she hadn’t dared to moments before. Something struck her, and she almost spoke it.

  Would you still have loved me if I’d had the abortion?

  It would have shattered the moment and everything in it. Because even before she shoved the question away, she knew the answer. Mother’s love lasted through everything.

  “Maybe I will be a wonderful mother, Mom,” she said. “If I get a lot of help.”

  “You know you will! And most of that is going to come from God, you know that.”

  “I do.”

  Agnes kissed her cheek and stood up, shooing Sarah toward the kitchen.

  “Now, I know there’s a Bible study group for young mothers at the church,” she said as she headed for the stove. “Denise can tell you about that.”

  The rest was covered by the rush of water going into the teakettle. Sarah felt herself stiffen. Oh, Agnes, why do you always have to push?

  When her mother turned to set the kettle on the burner, Sarah put a hand on her arm. “Mom, the way you practice your faith and the way I’ll practice mine are going to look a whole lot different. That’s something we’ll have to talk about if we want to still be speaking to each other a week from now.”

  “I won’t pressure you—”

  “Mom. Really? Let’s just start with church tonight. Matt and I want to go with all of you. We have a lot of thanking God to do.”

  “Matt?”

  “Didn’t I mention that?”

  Sarah pulled off her left glove way more slowly than she should have, but she couldn’t help herself. When her mother saw the ring, her squeal deadened any trace of the sadness Sarah had had to push through to get in the door.

  “Have you set a date? We have so many plans to make—”

  “Mom. Let’s do Christmas first, okay?”

  “I know. This is just so exciting. All right, I’m making tea, so why don’t you sit down and I’ll cut you a piece of—”

  “I can’t, Mom. I have another stop to make, and then Matt and I are going Christmas shopping. It kind of sneaked up behind me this year.”

  “I can understand that. Now, don’t worry about a gift for me. This is enough. This is more than enough.”

  Agnes was still delivering instructions when Sarah kissed her now very warm cheek and made her way to the front door. And then she stopped.

  “There’s one more thing I want to say to you, Mom.”

  Her mother looked immediately on guard.

  “This is a good thing,” Sarah said. “You know how you told me the night Dad died that God was healing him?”

  “I don’t know what that was about—”

  “I do. And you heard right. Before Dad died, God did heal him.” Sarah pressed her hand to her chest. “Right here.”

  Slowly, Agnes folded her hands under her chin.

  “You get that, don’t you?” Sarah said.

  “Yes,” Agnes said. “I do.”

  “And, Mom, that’s why I believe. That’s how I decided.”

  She left her mother to softly weep.

  Sarah had been to Megan’s apartment only once, but it wasn’t hard to spot. Hers was the only one on the hall without so much as a sprig of holly on the door.

  Just after she rang the bell, Sarah glanced at her watch. It was only 10:30. Megan wasn’t going to be happy if she woke her up. Of course, Megan probably wasn’t going to be happy anyway.

  But the door opened and Megan stood there looking as if she hadn’t been to bed at all. Not judging from the dark half-moons under her eyes.

  “I guess I should have called first,” Sarah said. “I’m sorry—”

  Megan shrugged. “I probably wouldn’t have picked up. Come on in.”

  This wasn’t getting off to a good start.

  “You’re that mad at me?” Sarah said when the door clicked shut behind her.

  “I’m not mad at you at all. I’m just in a foul mood and I didn’t want to talk to anybody. But as long as you can handle that, sit down.”

  Megan gestured toward the sleek black leather couch that didn’t look much different from her office furniture. Sarah didn’t remember the place seeming this stark when she was here before. Of course, at that point she’d been imaging herself living in such digs. Again, in another lifetime.

  Megan picked up a mug from the glass coffee table. “Do you want coffee?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Still puking?”

  “It’s not so bad now. I think finally making a decision helped.”

  “Did you make the decision, or did Matt?”

  Sarah realized Megan’s blue eyes were riveted to her ring. Her disapproval was obvious.

  “I decided to keep the baby. Then Matt proposed. And I said yes.”

  It was hard not to sound defensive with Megan shaking her head as if Sarah was wearing an outfit that was clearly all wrong.

  “You’re actually going to marry a guy whose idea of financial security is still having checks in his checkbook.”

  Sarah didn’t answer. She and Matt had stayed up late the night before talking about what he really wanted to do with his life. It was the first time she’d ever seen him show any real passion for anything besides her, or heard a plan come out of his mouth that showed not only good sense but integrity. But she wasn’t telling Megan any of that. She would start in on how becoming a mechanic and saving for his own shop sounded about as much like financial security as betting on the horses. When she heard that Matt wanted to use at-risk kids as apprentices, she’d probably spit coffee all over that glass-topped table.

  “He’s not perfect,” Sarah said. “But we’re good together, and we’re going to work at it. I love him.”

  “Love. Now that’ll pay the . . .” Megan put her hand up. “You know what, forget it. I’m not going to change your mind at this point, right?”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Since you’re marrying him, does this mean you’re quitting work?”

  “No. We’ll need two salaries for a while.”

  “Until the baby’s born.”

  “We haven’t worked out all the timing. I’m not going to give up my career entirely—”

  “They didn’t announce who got the promotion yesterday. Jennifer said they’re waiting until Tuesday.”

  She lifted her eyebrows at Sarah. When Sarah didn’t say anything, she set her mug on the glass and
got up, arms folded. As she turned her back, Sarah realized she really was still wearing the clothes she’d had on yesterday.

  “I’ll tell you what’s happening here,” Megan said, still turned away. “Seeing you so happy is just making me more aware of my own misery. And like I told you, this time of year is the worst, so you should probably just leave me to it.”

  Sarah leaned forward. “I didn’t just come to tell you about my decision. And I sure didn’t come to throw it in your face.”

  “Oh, I know that.” Megan looked over her shoulder. “You’re better than that. Always have been.”

  “I wanted to invite you to spend Christmas Eve with me and my family.”

  Megan turned to face her.

  “And I’m not doing it because I feel sorry for you. I don’t.”

  “You should. I’m pathetic.” Megan sank into the chair across from Sarah’s. “I just think I’d put a damper on the Christmas mood.”

  “Then just come to church with us. You don’t have to be anything for anybody there.”

  “Church. Yeah, I haven’t faced God since I was sixteen.”

  Sarah didn’t see that one coming. Megan actually had faced God at one time? Although, how would she know that? They had never talked about anything besides work and clothes and how clothes would help you at work. Her pregnancy had taken them into deeper waters than Sarah even knew existed.

  “So while we’re on the subject of God . . .”

  “Okay,” Sarah said.

  “I have a confession to make.”

  “Okay,” Sarah said again.

  “I lied to you when I said I told Jennifer you were pregnant because I was afraid they’d fire me. They wouldn’t fire me for that.”

  Sarah nodded.

  “And she didn’t come to me. I went to her and I told her because I knew she’d tell you to have the abortion if you wanted the promotion, and then if you did it, it would be on her, not me.”

  “It would have been on me—no one else.”

  Megan’s eyes turned to the skylight. “See, that wasn’t my experience. I didn’t have a choice. And now, seeing you make your own decision just makes me even more bitter.”

  Sarah wasn’t seeing bitter in the eyes that fought so hard against tears. She was seeing grief.

  “I haven’t stopped thinking about it ever since we found out you were pregnant,” Megan said. “We would have been all right, my kid and me. I know myself. I wouldn’t have let anything stop me from having a career and raising him. I was too young, but Jeremy’s parents would have helped us. They were great.”

  So the father had a name and a family. And Megan had regrets she was even now clinging to with the fists knotted in her lap.

  “You can still make good decisions about that,” Sarah said.

  Megan gave her a look that should have frozen her from the room. It didn’t.

  “There’s at least one you can make. If you decide you want to, call me.” Sarah stood up. “The invitation for tonight still stands.”

  Megan nodded without looking at her.

  “But if you decide to stay here . . . you might want to order a pizza.”

  When she closed the door behind her, Sarah could hear Megan crying against it.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It was squeezing room only at the church that night, and even that was debatable at times. Sarah was wedged so tightly between Matt and her mother, she was practically breathless.

  Although maybe it was due to more than lack of space. When she made eye contact with Reverend Al during “O, Come, All Ye Faithful,” his face became a wreath of smile-lines. He tapped the corner of his eye and pointed to her. She nodded. Yes, it’s back. The joy is back.

  Sean and Tim were both angels in the reenactment of the Nativity, roles Justin whispered were cast against type. Tim mostly stood with his finger in his nose, but Sean flapped the oversized wings Denise said she’d spent most of the night gluing cotton balls to and jumped from the chancel steps with his arms spread out. When the Sunday school teacher finally whispered what was obviously, “Enough,” in his ear, he said, loud enough for the Presbyterians across the street to hear: “I’m flying. Angels are supposed to fly.”

  Matt stuck most of his fist in his mouth, but his laughter practically snorted out of his ears. Sarah looped her arm through his and let it bubble through her too. Agnes smiled as if her grandsons weren’t stealing the entire show from Mary and Joseph. Her father would have been yukking it up right along with Matt.

  Maybe he was. She was definitely feeling his presence, so palpably that she whispered, “I went to God, Daddy.”

  When the bath-robed shepherds had finally returned to their fields and the angels were relieved of their wings (with audible protests voiced by Sean all the way back to the choir room), Reverend Al came halfway down the aisle to make announcements. Sarah couldn’t resist exchanging eye rolls with Denise as he delivered the spiel he’d done as far back as they could remember—the whole thing about welcoming the Christmas and Easter people and letting them know that the church was open the rest of the year too. Fortunately she’d focused back on him before he said: “And congratulations are in order for one of our members.” Dramatic beaming pause. “Our Sarah Collins is going to be married. Blessings on you and Matt, Sarah.”

  Sarah felt her smile spread beyond the sides of her face, but it was Matt the reverend was grinning at. The way you grin at an old fraternity buddy. Sarah looked up at Matt in time to see him give Reverend Al a thumbs-up, which the reverend returned.

  “What was that about?” Sarah whispered as “Joy to the World” rose from the trumpets.

  Matt kissed the top of her head. “Reverend Smith and I go way back.”

  “How far back?”

  “To yesterday.”

  Sarah stared at him, but Matt just grinned. Yeah, nobody grinned like him.

  Christmas morning was, of course, chaotic. Sean was still playing the role of super-angel, jumping off the arm of the chair, the back of the couch, and the banister in the front hallway. Justin put a stop to it when he climbed onto the dining room table.

  “See what you have to look forward to?” he said as he carried Sean upside down past Sarah and Matt.

  “Can’t wait,” Matt said.

  “Not gonna happen,” Sarah whispered to him. “Daisy will never behave like that.”

  “Bummer,” Matt said.

  It was the first happy Christmas Sarah had spent since her father died, but she was ready for the quiet of the apartment when she and Matt begged off and returned there in the late afternoon. Her mother only let them go when Matt told her Sarah and the baby needed a nap.

  “You needed a nap,” Sarah said when he flopped down on the bed.

  “Y’know, come to think of it, I haven’t slept for two straight nights. Okay, maybe three.”

  He treated her to a cavernous yawn, complete with the roar of an about-to-hibernate bear. But Sarah was somber as she curled up beside him.

  “I’m sorry, Matt,” she said.

  “For what, Sar?”

  “For shutting you out when I was trying to decide what to do. I think it bordered on cruel. Didn’t it?”

  “Nah. It’s cool, Sar. Baby needs a nap . . .”

  His breathing evened out, and Sarah came up on one elbow. He was already snoozing.

  She kissed his nose and got up.

  Now that he was out, there was something she needed to do, that she could only do when nobody was around to tell her she was nuts.

  And maybe she was, because the wise men card was missing. At least so far. She hadn’t seen it since late Thursday night. In an apartment the size of Jennifer Nolte’s walk-in closet, how hard could it be to locate?

  She tried the desk. Matt had tidied that up Christmas Eve morning, but she knew he wouldn’t throw anything of hers away. Matter of fact, any Christmas cards he’d found in the mail pile he’d tacked around the doorframe to the kitchenette. Adorable—but no wise men looking st
raight into her eyes as if to say, “You’re getting this, right?”

  Sarah scoped out the closet, under the bed, and behind the refrigerator. She even looked in the oven. After combing through the trash can, she gave up and sat on the floor, leaning against the bed where Matt was snoring like a peaceful puppy.

  She could hear Audrey telling her to ask the right questions.

  So had the card just disappeared—like the old lady who gave it to her?

  Or had it been a figment of her confused imagination all along?

  Sarah shook her head at no one. If she’d imagined the card, she’d imagined the visions. Did that really matter, as long as she’d come to where she now was? Still scared but finally real.

  As real as the hunger pang that surprised its way into her stomach. Some hot chocolate would go good right now. Or some Audrey soup.

  Huh. Imagine that. Something edible actually sounded good.

  As she headed for the kitchen, Sarah heard her phone buzz in her bag. Who was texting her on Christmas afternoon?

  Megan, actually.

  Call me tomorrow?

  “No, I will not call you tomorrow,” Sarah said to the phone. “I’m calling you right now.”

  The day after Christmas dawned cold and so bright Sarah had to put on her sunglasses when she went down to the parking lot to meet Megan. Even the Chicago smog seemed to be celebrating the season by going into hiding so the blue of the city’s skies could shine, just this once. It was like the day she and Daisy went sledding.

  Sarah shrugged that off as she climbed into Megan’s BMW. No more questions about the visions. It just didn’t matter. “It’s a perfect day for this,” she said to Megan.

  “Yeah,” Megan said. “Why am I so nervous?”

  “Because this is a big deal, maybe?”

  “I got the stuff you told me to get. I didn’t write the note yet, though. I’m not sure what to say.”

  “It’ll come to you,” Sarah said.

  They rode in silence for a while. The streets were all but deserted this early, and most offices were closed until tomorrow. A slight breeze swayed the wreaths attached to the streetlight poles. Sarah realized she hadn’t noticed any of the holiday decorations until now.