Choices (A Woman's Life)

by Marie Ferrarella

  Haggerty’s natural skepticism turned into concern that she would wear herself out. Everyone who worked for him was his responsibility. Shanna, though the boss’s daughter, was no exception.

  “Damn it, Shanna,” he muttered, his bushy red mustache quivering as he took a huge pile of books she was struggling with out of her arms and followed her to her desk. “Damn it, Shanna,” he repeated, “you’re pregnant.” He set the books down with a thud that echoed his annoyance.

  Easing herself into her seat slowly, Shanna kicked off her shoes as she stared down at the mound before her. She had grown bigger than she had expected in the last few months, but had refrained from getting clumsy and awkward. She had made a conscious effort not to and that seemed to help.

  Choices, just like her grandmother had said. It was always a matter of conscious choices. She just never realized that she had them.

  She laughed now at Haggerty’s disgruntled concern. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  He gave himself a moment and straddled the seat next to her. “I mean, shouldn’t you be taking it easy now, maybe slacking off?”

  “Sitting around with my feet up, knitting booties?” she suggested with a twinkle. “Uh-uh. Not my style, Aaron.” She took a deep breath and reached for the first of the books. There was another report to get out by the end of the week. “Now that I’ve gotten into the work mode, I don’t want to stop.” Without thinking, she propped the book up on her stomach. It made for a handy shelf. “When I think of all the time I wasted, it makes me shudder.”

  “They wouldn’t have let you come to work at ten,” he pointed out with a paternal smile. “Child-labor laws.” He was married with four daughters of his own, all older than Shanna. Only Angela had turned out to be a workaholic, just like he was. After he’d made this admission, recognizing the signs in others had become easy.

  Shanna looked up at Haggerty as he rose again. “You’re not supposed to make fun of the boss’s daughter, you know.”

  Haggerty folded his arms before him. One of his sleeves came undone. He pushed it back up on his forearm, tiny red hairs marking the path. “I thought that wasn’t supposed to matter at the office.” The corners of his mouth rose.

  “Only when I want it to.” Her stomach rumbled insistently. Shanna looked at the pile of books and was torn for a moment. But it had been over a week since she had had anything but an uninspiring sandwich sent in for lunch. Using her toes, she felt under her desk for her shoes, then slipped them on. “C’mon, a lowly aide will buy you lunch, Mr. Haggerty.”

  He pulled back her chair as she got to her feet. “There’s never been anything lowly about you, Shanna.”

  No, she thought, only my own self-esteem. But it’s getting better all the time.

  Haggerty glanced down at her feet as they walked out of the office. She was wearing three-inch high heels. Even if she wasn’t pregnant, he couldn’t think of anything more torturous to do to her feet. “How can you walk in those things?”

  “Easy.” She walked through the door ahead of him. “Besides, it’s by choice. I look like a duck in flats.”

  Shanna made a deliberate effort to avoid running into Jordan. In square miles, Washington, D.C., was a small town, crowded to overflowing with politicians. Paths tended to cross on a regular basis. She made sure that theirs didn’t.

  She wasn’t running, she told herself. She was just making certain that she wasn’t taking any unnecessary risks, that’s all. Shanna wanted to be absolutely sure that she was completely over Jordan before she met him again. Though the face that looked back at her in her mirror each morning appeared radiant, with a healthier bloom than she ever recalled seeing before, she knew in her heart that she would feel like a clumsy ugly little duckling if she was in the same room with Jordan. It would be a case of beauty and the beast, with her playing the part of the latter. It was something he had done to her without saying a word, a way he made her feel. Huge with child, she didn’t need that now. Or ever.

  She had heard that though her father and Senator Whitney had completely withdrawn their backing from Jordan’s campaign, Jordan had found other people to be his mentors, other people to finance his campaign. Other people who knew people who owed them favors.

  He always knew how to take advantage. In a very short time, Jordan had become an accomplished student of networking and had found his place in the system. No matter what, he always knew what to say and what to do.

  And he always came up smelling like a rose, she thought as she entered the suite her father had reserved for his people to watch the telecasts of the primary results.

  But it took fertilizer to grow roses and fertilizer was just a polite term for the manure Jordan was standing hip-deep in. Someday she knew that Jordan would get what was coming to him. At least she fervently hoped so.

  But someday apparently wasn’t tonight.

  A wall of almost deafening noise surrounded her as Shanna entered the crowded suite. All the people she worked with seemed to be here, along with their families or friends. It made moving around very difficult, especially in her present shape. Scanning the large room, she saw her father on the far end. He was talking to Haggerty and Whitney. He waved to her. Her mother, she knew, would put in an appearance later on in the evening, just before they all went out to eat. This sort of political assembly always irritated her. Rheena preferred less noisy, less frenzied gatherings.

  Shanna liked the noise, the enthusiasm she felt crackling here like raw, unchanneled electricity. She stood for a moment, just absorbing it. It was dress rehearsal. The real showdown, for them, came in November. Her father was the unchallenged incumbent and wasn’t involved in a primary. But a lot of the people he was backing were.

  Tonight Jordan’s fate would be decided, too.

  It was an election year and there almost seemed to be more candidates than voters. Different faces were periodically flashed on the various television monitors her father had arranged to have brought into the suite. Everywhere she turned, there was another commentator making predictions that would affect so many people’s lives based on one percent of the tally.

  She turned, trying to find a way to reach her father, when the monitor on her right caught her attention. Jordan’s face, innocent, beguiling, was on the screen. Sitting before it, a blond, sophisticated woman commentator read from her teleprompter and told the audience that Jordan Calhoun appeared to be a shoo-in in his first primary. She was smiling broadly as she said it.

  Another woman who fell under his spell, Shanna thought, feeling a twinge of pity for all the women that he would carelessly use during his political career. She felt a sense of relief that she had gotten out in time.

  Shanna felt strong hands bracket her shoulders. “He’s leading,” her father said needlessly, standing behind her. There was a note of apology in his voice.

  Shanna continued looking at the screen as Jordan’s image stared back at her. She hadn’t looked at a single photograph of him in the last six months. All the albums from Georgetown and the Virginia residence were locked up in storage. All traces of Jordan, save the one growing within her, had been erased. As she looked at his face now she waited for the pain to come, and found, to her relief, that it was less than a whisper now.

  “I never expected anything else,” she told her father. She had to raise her voice in order to be heard above the din.

  Brady leaned forward and said just next to her ear, “He won’t get far, Shanna.”

  Shanna turned around. “Why not? He has the perfect qualities to be a successful politician. It’s you who have always been the dark horse. It’s harder to win being fair and honest.”

  Brady laughed and kissed the top of her head. “That’s what I love, unbiased support.” He looked at her in concern. All around them, people were jostling one another for space. This was no place for her. “You should get some rest. Want me to have someone take you home?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I will leave.” She had only meant to
stop by for a moment, because she had promised and he would have worried if she hadn’t. “I’ve still got a few loose ends to tie up at the office tonight.”

  Her answer didn’t please him. The sea of people parted as he ushered her to the door. “They’ll keep until morning. I don’t want you taking any unnecessary chances with your health. I don’t want you taking any chances at all.”

  She shook her head as they gained the doorway. “Never happen. Besides,” she reminded him, “I’m still a month away from my due date.”

  He never had much faith in those kinds of projections. The senator had lived with the unexpected for too long. “You never know.”

  “I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever now.” She patted her belly, then winced as the baby kicked. “It can’t happen soon enough for me.”

  Shanna became quiet as she remembered that Jordan had once used the exact same words when talking about getting into office. Shaking off her mood, she brushed a quick kiss on her father’s cheek.

  “I’ll see you later, Dad, have a nice dinner. Look.” She pointed at the screen closest to them as a new image appeared. “Walters is the projected winner in his district.” The man was one of her father’s protégés and had once worked as an aide in his office.

  Brady rubbed his hands together as someone else in the room, seeing the projection, began to lead a cheer. “One down, twelve more primaries to go. Still,” he almost shouted to her, “you never know.” He never counted his victories until after they happened.

  “No,” she agreed as she left, thinking of all the turns her life had taken recently, “you don’t.”

  Chapter 15

  Oh no, it couldn’t be!

  Clutching both arms of her chair, Shanna haltingly attempted to stand. A sharp pain shot through her. The intensity surprised her and she fell back in her chair. Braced for the worst, lungs filled with air, all muscles tensed, she tried again. This time there was no pain. She pushed herself away and turned around to look at the seat.

  Please, please, let it just he my imagination.

  It wasn’t.

  The muted beige-and-brown cushion on the chair had a large, fresh round stain in the middle. Feeling behind her, she located the wet spot on the back of her navy-blue dress. Shanna closed her eyes. She sank down in the chair again, disregarding the dampness. Her legs felt as if they could no longer support her weight.

  She wasn’t just having discomfort. She wasn’t having premature contractions. Her water had just broken and she was sitting in the middle of her father’s deserted office at 7:30 at night in labor.

  “Calm, I’ve got to stay calm,” she said out loud, trying to talk herself out of the acute anxiety that was hovering over her. “Billions of women have all gone through this before.”

  Yes, she thought as the panic refused to disappear, but none of them had ever been her.

  This was too soon, it wasn’t right. “You’re not supposed to be here for another month,” she told the child in her womb accusingly.

  The pain returned, causing beads of perspiration to pop out along her forehead.

  Thoughts raced through her head, colliding with one another. She should be timing this. God, she wished someone else was in the office with her. Why had she been so stubborn and insisted on working? Everyone else was back at the hotel suite, partying.

  Shanna waited until the contraction subsided, then looked up at the large office clock on the wall opposite her desk. She watched the minute hand spasmodically move from number to number. She held her breath in dreaded anticipation. She knew the day, the time to have her baby would come eventually, but not now. Not tonight. She wasn’t ready.

  It felt as if it took an eternity before the next contraction came. But when it did, it swallowed her up and held her prisoner in its iron jaws, sapping away her breath. She kept her eyes trained on the clock, curling her fingers into her palms.

  Ten minutes. Ten minutes in between contractions. She brushed back the hair from her face. Perspiration had plastered down her bangs, curling the tips upward.

  This was serious, wasn’t it? Why now? Why tonight? Tonight was the night of Jordan’s first political victory.

  Maybe she was being childish, but she didn’t want her baby being born now.

  She splayed her hand over the huge mound that somehow, inconceivably, contained a small human being. “I guess vou’re not in any mood to listen, huh?”

  Sweat formed between her breasts and trickled down, coming to rest in a tiny pool on her expanded abdomen. Shanna hurried to call her doctor’s number before another contraction began rolling in. Instead of her doctor, she got his answering service. The irritatingly calm woman on the other end of the line took down all the pertinent details from her, then told Shanna that she would try her best to reach the doctor. When she did, he would return her call.

  Here comes another one, Shanna thought in alarm, grasping the edge of her desk. “No offense, but I don’t think your best is going to be fast enough. Tell Dr. Miller I’ll meet him at the hospital. Soon.”

  She dropped the phone on the desk. She breathed slowly and deeply. Initial panic was subsiding. Reality had set in. She knew she had to act quickly and calmly.

  Staying very still, she waited for the contraction to hit and run its course. When it did, it was relatively mild. It gave her a measure of hope. Maybe she was overreacting. There was time. There had to be.

  Grabbing her purse, Shanna was halfway to the door before she remembered her shoes. “Maybe I’ll just glue them to my feet from now on,” she muttered, jamming the pumps on. More than anything, she wanted someone to be with her. She didn’t deny that she was afraid. But everyone she knew was probably on their way to dinner now. She had no time to go and check.

  All she wanted, she thought, jabbing the elevator button impatiently, was a healthy baby. And a taxi.

  It had been a long shift. It felt twice as long tonight, what with the primary night traffic on the street and his anticipating what was waiting for him right after he got off. Well, it would all be over by tomorrow, Reid Kincannon thought. He leaned over in the front seat and was about to flip on his off-duty sign when he saw the pregnant woman standing in front of the Senate building. She was waving frantically at him.

  “Oh, no.”

  His better instincts warred with the fact that he had a class to get to and a final to take. If he stopped to pick up this fare, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be late for his exam. Unless, of course, she was heading for the university.

  Seeing her condition, he rather doubted that.

  To stop or not to stop, that is the question. And he knew his answer.

  “Damn it, Ma,” he muttered under his breath, “why’d you raise me to have a conscience?” If he didn’t stop, the woman would haunt him all night. With a sigh, he left his sign on and pulled up to the curb next to the woman.

  Shanna could have cried with relief. She yanked open the door and awkwardly tumbled into the backseat. She had begun to feel wobbly and it felt wonderful to be off her feet again. “Thank God.”

  He turned to look at her. Well, he had made the right choice for one of them, he thought sarcastically. “Always glad to ride to the rescue. Where to?”

  Shanna gripped her purse so hard, her knuckles felt as if they were going to break through her skin. Another contraction had just slammed into her. “The hospital.”

  He glanced at her abdomen. The lady was ripe. “Which one?”

  “Any one.” Shanna was panting. This was absolutely awful. She felt as if a pair of huge unseen hands were trying to rip her apart. She realized that the taxi wasn’t moving and that the driver was still looking at her, waiting for a real destination. “No, I mean Georgetown University Hospital.”

  It was all he wanted to hear. “You got it.”

  Reid turned the car sharply to the right. Tires screeched in protest as he took the corner. Before him, the traffic light had gone yellow. He stepped on the gas, but the signal turned red a
full two seconds before he managed to get to the corner. As he waited impatiently for it to turn green again, he turned around to get a better look at his fare. There was something vaguely familiar about her and it nagged at him. It was rare that he forgot a face. “Do I know you?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut as the end of the contraction finally came. She couldn’t go on like this. “I don’t think so.” She slowly took in a lungful of air. “I don’t know any taxi drivers.”

  “A snob, eh?” It was a teasing remark meant to lighten the tension that was beginning to fill the interior of the cab.

  “A hermit,” she bit off. At least that’s what she should have been nine, no eight months ago.

  There was something about her voice, the slight bit of distance in her tone, that kept gnawing at his memory. He turned again to look. The lighting wasn’t very good at this corner and the interior was dim. “Are you sure we don’t know each other?”

  “Positive.”

  What was he trying to do, pick up a pregnant woman? What kind of a degenerate had she hailed?

  “It’s green. The light, it’s green.” She jerked a hand toward the signal, then sucked in her breath. Another contraction was coming. How could that be? How could ten minutes go by so fast? “Drive,” she ordered in a voice she scarcely recognized as her own.