The Pregnancy Test

by Susan Gable

  And that could only lead to heartache for both of them. All of them. Because she’d never stuck with anything in her whole life.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MID-JANUARY BROUGHT a blast of frigid temperatures. Snow pounded Erie every day, and every day Jenna wondered how to deal with her relationship with Sloan. For the most part, pretending nothing had changed the day he’d comforted her about Gram’s death seemed to be working.

  Or not.

  But the misery she felt now had nothing to do with the confused state of her emotions. She huddled on the couch, a small empty garbage can on the floor beside her. An almost-full sleeve of crackers and a half can of flat ginger ale sat on the coffee table. An untouched cup of herbal tea courtesy of Margo, who’d stopped in before her Saturday-morning appointments, rounded out the “illness buffet.”

  Princess eyed her warily from the overstuffed chair, having learned early on that the stomach flu Jenna was battling for the second day meant the dog should stay away or risk getting dumped to the floor when Jenna grabbed the plastic can and raced for the bathroom.

  Beneath the distress of feeling like crap, a niggling thought tapped at Jenna. Maybe…nah. Stomach flu. Had to be.

  Still, this was her week off the birth control patch, and she hadn’t really had a period to speak of. Could she…?

  It’s stomach flu, she insisted to herself. Everyone’s got it. Someone probably came into the shop and passed it on.

  The intercom buzzed. Princess shot from the chair, yapping at the visitor.

  “Ugh.” Flipping the purple-and-blue afghan onto the back of the couch, Jenna levered herself upright, taking the time to cram her feet into her fuzzy dragon slippers. Hopefully she looked as bad as she felt and whoever it was would go away. Quickly. Please, don’t let it be Sloan. The last thing she needed at the moment was him seeing her looking like the undead. Wearing flannel pajamas to boot.

  Jenna nudged Princess back with her toe, then groaned as the dog grabbed the dragon’s crown. “No, Princess. Get away from the door.” Having to chase the dog down the stairs was high on Jenna’s Top Ten List of Things I Don’t Need Right Now.

  Princess growled, wrestling with the green slipper, thrashing her head from side to side.

  “Oh, fine, just take it.” Jenna pulled her foot free, letting the dog run away with her prey. “Why is it you leave them alone until I’m wearing them?” She glanced at the image from the security camera. The person wore a bulky coat and a white scarf around her head, but she felt confident it was Brook. What was she doing over here when Jenna had opted to close the shop for the weekend to recover from her stomach bug? She buzzed the lock on the metal door, then went into the foyer at the top of the stairs, waiting for the teen.

  Brook trudged up, then unwrapped her face and pushed back the hood of the coat.

  “I think I might be pregnant.”

  Jenna clamped a hand over her mouth, momentarily unsure which of them had spoken the damning words—the ones she hadn’t even let fully form in her head, let alone on her lips. But then Brook’s blue eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over onto her cold-reddened cheeks. Jenna reached out and pulled Brook up the last stair, into the foyer and into her arms.

  “Don’t cry, sweetheart.” After a brief hug, she guided the girl into the apartment. Shock prevented her from saying anything just yet. She helped Brook remove her coat, slung it over one of the stools at the kitchen island. They moved to the living area, where Brook threw herself into the soft cushions of the sofa.

  Jenna eased down next to her. “Okay, so tell me what’s going on. What makes you think that? Have you missed a period?”

  Brook nodded. “T-two.”

  “Two?” The note of shock echoed off the ceiling.

  “I— I just thought…”

  “It’s okay.” Jenna took the girl’s hands in her own, knowing full well what she’d thought. That it couldn’t possibly be happening to her, that she was imagining it. There was some other explanation for it. Like stomach flu. “Anything else?”

  “I don’t feel sick or anything. But I’m real tired. I looked up pregnancy on the Internet and it said that’s one symptom.” The kid’s voice faded to a whisper. “I’m so scared. My dad’s going to kill me.”

  That makes two of us. The thought didn’t help. Maybe both of them were worrying over nothing. “When did you miss your first period?”

  “Somewhere in the middle of December. Like the week before Christmas, I think. I dunno exactly. I’m not always regular, and I don’t keep good track.” Brook pulled her hand free and ran the back of it across her cheeks to dislodge the tears tracking there.

  Jenna offered her the tissues from the table. “Okay, since we’re now in the middle of January, you should have had another period last week?”

  The girl nodded. “Like Thursday.”

  “Okay. We need to know if you really are pregnant, or if something else is going on. I don’t suppose you’ve done a home test?”

  “No,” she whispered. “I was scared to death Dad would find it in the house. And I didn’t know who else to tell.”

  “All right. First things first. I’ll run down the road to Quality—” the very idea of running anywhere made her stomach queasy, but she’d go “—and get a test, and we’ll take it from there. Okay?”

  Brook’s eyes widened. “Not Quality! It’s too close to the house! What if Dad decides he needs some milk or something?”

  Jenna swallowed a groan, but she knew the girl was right. She added “Sloan catching me buying a home pregnancy test”—the two pack, one for his kid, and one for her—to the List of Things I Don’t Need.

  Her stomach pitched and she clamped her teeth, willing the queasiness to subside. Oh, God. If it were true, what would she do? How would Sloan react? She shoved aside her growing panic. Absolutely no point in either of them borrowing trouble. Yet. “Okay. I’ll go to a drugstore farther away.”

  Princess jumped onto the couch, and Brook ruffled the dog’s ears. Jenna slogged to the door, kicking off the remaining slipper and pulling on her boots. The long woolen coat concealed her pajamas. She wouldn’t be the first one to go into a store like that. In fact, pajamas had become all the rage with teens. The one on her sofa stared into space, petting the dog, not acknowledging Jenna’s leave-taking.

  At the store, she faced an overwhelming selection. Who knew pregnancy tests came in so many variations? Blue lines, pink lines, two lines, plus signs. Dr. Seuss could have a field day writing a book about that. Heck, they even had a digital readout test that declared “pregnant” or “not pregnant.” Given how she felt, that one looked the best. Pregnancy Tests for Dummies and People Too Sick to See Straight. Although on the other hand, anything computerized had too many things that could go wrong. Given how well she and computers got along…the stupid thing would probably accuse her of illegal operations. Maybe it would be better to go with the “two line” product. And it even came with a bonus test in the box—three instead of two.

  She grabbed the box, holding it close so no one could read the package. Her face warmed at the cash register, and she chided herself for acting like a teenager buying her first box of tampons.

  All the way home, bursts of fear warred with fits of optimism. No way either of them was pregnant. Okay, well, certainly not both of them. God couldn’t have that warped a sense of humor.

  Could he?

  By the time she reached the loft, all she wanted to do was curl back up on her couch. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  She found Brook slumped in the same place she’d left her. The teen looked up as Jenna hung her coat on the oak coat tree near the door. “Did you get it?”

  Jenna held out the plastic bag in response, kicking off her boots. She took out the box and tossed the shopping bag to the island as she passed. “You want to read the directions or should I?”

  “You.”

  The insert paper unfolded like a tiny map. “Not too complicated. You take off
the cap, pee on the stick for three seconds, put the cap back on, then set it on the counter and wait.”

  “Pee on the stick?”

  “You can use a plastic cup if you’d rather.”

  “How long do we have to wait?”

  “Three minutes.”

  Brook knew they would be the longest three minutes of her life. She shoved herself to her feet, then extended her hand. “Thanks.”

  In Jenna’s bathroom, she completed the necessary stuff, then put the test stick flat on the counter and tried to ignore it. She washed her hands with Jenna’s tangerine soap, dried them with one of the fuzzy blue towels, then sat on the edge of the whirlpool tub. She glanced at her watch.

  Great, she’d killed one minute.

  “Please be negative, please be negative,” she whispered. Her father would have a fit. And how would Dylan react? He planned on college next year. He said he loved her, but… A positive result would change everything. How could they take care of a baby?

  Damn it, they should have been more careful, used a condom every single time. Still, it had only been that once that they hadn’t…

  Two minutes ticked by.

  Brook jumped as a knock sounded on the door.

  “Brook? You okay? What’s the scoop?”

  “I don’t know yet.” She glanced at her watch. The second hand swept past the seven. Almost. She stood and walked over to the counter. Her pale reflection stared back at her from the mirror. All she had to do was look down, and she’d know. “How accurate are these things? Are they ever wrong?” she called to Jenna.

  “I suppose they are sometimes. What does it say?”

  “I haven’t looked yet.”

  “Well, for crying out loud, look! Find out what’s going on.”

  Brook stared at herself in the mirror for a moment longer. “Please be negative,” she mouthed. Then she tipped her head.

  Two lines.

  Shit.

  She swallowed hard and braced her hand on the counter as her knees quivered.

  Her father was going to kill her.

  A watery haze blocked her vision, and hot tears spilled over, trickling down her face. She turned away from the mirror, sliding to the floor. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she pressed her forehead to her knees.

  “Brook?” The door rattled, then Jenna banged on it. “Honey? Open the door.” The handle jangled again. “Okay, I’m coming in there.”

  A few seconds later, Brook heard the door that led to Jenna’s walk-in closet open. Bare feet swished across the linoleum, stopping next to her.

  Jenna stared down at the test on the countertop. Two lines. Damn. That meant Brook’s fears were real. She was pregnant. “Oh, honey.” She dropped to the floor, pulled the child-woman now on the fast track to adulthood into her arms. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  A sob wrenched loose from deep inside the teen, and tears spilled onto Jenna’s plaid flannel top. “He’s—he’s going to kill me!”

  “He’s not going to kill you. I’m sure he’s going to be disappointed and upset, but he’s not going to kill you. I promise.” Jenna rocked back and forth.

  “You—you don’t know. The night—the night my mom died, they had a big fight because she was pr-pregnant. I didn’t hear all of it, but Dad was yelling. He…he never yells. Well, hardly ever.”

  “Shh. It’s going to be all right.” Jenna wasn’t sure how it was going to be all right, but she also knew Sloan. He’d be upset, yes, but she didn’t believe he’d turn his back on his daughter when she needed him most. “I don’t know what happened that night, but I do know your father. He loves you. You can count on him.”

  And, hopefully, so could she, if it turned out she was pregnant, too. How would Sloan react to that? Hell, how would she?

  Jenna held Brook for a while longer, letting the teen cry until she had no more tears. Then she helped her up, offered tissues for her nose and a warm washcloth for her face.

  Back in the living room, they settled on the sofa once more. “I assume Dylan is the father?”

  Brook nodded. “He’s the only boy I ever…”

  “Okay. You need to tell him. And you need to tell your dad.”

  Brook’s eyes widened, and moisture welled up again. “I know. But… I’m not ready yet.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re already two months pregnant. You don’t have much time to waste.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jenna sighed. Her father should be the one having this conversation. “Hon, you’ve got three options here. You can have this baby and become a teenage mother. You can give the baby up for adoption. Or you can have an abortion. If you want to have an abortion, you’re running out of time. You’re down to one month left in the first trimester.”

  “Oh.” Brook grabbed one of the throw pillows and clutched it to her chest. “I really hadn’t thought about it,” she whispered. “This is a baby. My baby.” More tears spilled down her cheeks. “Dad is going to hate me. He already thinks I’m a screwup, and this is just going to prove it.”

  “You’re not a screwup, Brook.”

  Brook sniffled. “Maybe not, but I sure got screwed in more ways than one, huh?” She offered Jenna a wavery smile. “Only once. We only had sex without protection once.”

  “Sometimes once is all it takes, hon. And no protection is foolproof.” Jenna mentally crossed her fingers that her protection hadn’t failed them. “It may not have been that time that you got pregnant. Who knows?”

  “Not me, that’s for sure.” Brook rose to her feet. “Look, I want to talk to Dylan before I talk to my dad. Promise me you won’t say anything to him?”

  “How long?”

  “I dunno. A couple days?”

  “I’ll give you until the end of the week. You can’t put it off. I know you’re scared, but you’ve got a huge decision to make.”

  “I know.” Brook placed her hand in the middle of her very flat stomach. “Part of me still can’t believe it. I don’t feel sick.”

  That made one of them.

  After Brook left, Jenna headed back into the bathroom. The extra tests and instructions were strewn about the countertop. Jenna shoved Brook’s test to the side, letting it mingle with the bottles of makeup, the hairbrush and curling iron, and other assorted junk. She smoothed the papers flat, rereading them. Following directions had never been her strongest suit, but she didn’t want anything to go wrong. Believing that two were better than one, she used the remainders of the trio at the same time. Once they were recapped, she carried them to the kitchen, laying them on the island next to the smoothie machine. Then she set the timer on the microwave and headed for the couch. Curled on her side, she contemplated the crackers and flat pop.

  Her stomach rumbled.

  No way she was pregnant. She’d been faithful with her birth-control patches. The fact that this was her week off them and she’d only spotted—barely—and that she felt like barfing at the mere thought of food meant nothing. She’d gotten the stomach bug. That had to be it.

  Because Brook was pregnant. No way both of them would turn up pregnant at the same time. What were the odds?

  And why the hell hadn’t the timer beeped yet?

  She raised her head but couldn’t make out the numbers remaining on the microwave. Beep, beep, beep.

  Time’s up. But she didn’t move. Couldn’t. Maybe she’d just take a nap and look at the results after that.

  But weren’t you supposed to read those things at the right time? Forcing herself to her feet, Jenna slogged past the table, pulled out one of the island stools and slumped onto it. She covered the results window of the tests with her palm and dragged the plastic sticks closer.

  With a deep breath, she lifted her hand just a bit and peeked under.

  Then quickly slammed her palm back down.

  Two lines.

  Maybe the other one was different? Something wrong? She pulled her hand away completely this time. Eyes scrunched, she lowered her head. “Come on, stop
being a coward. One, two, three.” She opened her eyes.

  Two sets of two lines.

  Two pregnant women in Sloan’s life.

  Her stomach sloshed and heaved, and Jenna jumped from the stool to race for the bathroom.

  God’s sense of humor wasn’t funny at all.

  LATER THAT NIGHT, Sloan shifted from foot to foot, trying to stay warm. He glanced up into the security camera and leaned on the bell again. “Come on, Jenna, let me in before I freeze to death out here!”

  The girls were both gone for the evening— Brook to Kelly’s house, and Ashley for a movie and sleepover with Grandpa. He could have a sleepover of his own with Jenna.

  The speaker box clicked on. “I’m sick, Sloan. Go away.”

  “Then let me come in and take care of you.”

  “No. I look like hell and feel even worse.” Her voice softened. “But thanks for the offer.”

  “I’ve got a lot of experience with taking care of sick females. You’re passing up a real opportunity ’cause you can have constant care all night. The girls are out.”

  “When I’m sick, I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I just want to be left alone. Besides, I’m probably contagious.”

  “Stomach virus? It’s been going around the station for a couple weeks. So far some people have had it twice, but not me. I think I’m immune to northern germs.”

  A weak chuckle came through the box. “So even the germs are bigger and badder in Texas, huh?”

  “Yes. But this transplanted Texan is freezing out here! Take pity and let me in!”

  Jenna groaned. “You’re not going to leave me in peace until I do, are you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Fine. But not for long.” The buzzer rang, and the lock clicked open. Sloan darted into the shelter of the stairwell. He knocked most of the snow off his feet, then climbed the stairs two at a time. Poor Jenna. Well, he’d help her out, offer some comfort and care. Not the evening he’d been hoping for, but still…

  The upstairs door was unlocked, so he walked in, shedding his coat and scarf as he went. He toed off his boots and left them on the welcome rug. Princess scampered over and jumped up against him, standing on her hind legs. She swiped her tongue over the back of his hand while he tried to rub her head. “Hey, pup. Where’s Jenna hiding?”