by Terese Ramin
“Or she let her parents decide she was going to keep it.”
Trying to appear as if she wasn’t, Kate moved quietly about the kitchen, ears hard pricked, listening.
“You don’t think she should?” Li asked.
“I told her I thought she was a fool for screwin’ around with Barry at all, let alone without protection. She said they were in love—” Megan exaggerated the word “—and Barry doesn’t like condoms cuz they ‘don’t feel natural,’ and it didn’t matter if she got pregnant, anyway, because creating a baby would show their love to the world. I tried to tell her to open her eyes, that Barry’s puttin’ it to Kiki Sorensen and Ellie Dane and God only knows who else, too, and everybody knows they’re not exactly discreet about where they spread their legs, so she better get down to the clinic and find out if she’s got anything ugly and she tells me to stuff it in my bra and pretend I’ve got boobs. But she goes to the clinic anyway, and everything but her pregnancy test comes back negative, so they give her a bunch of literature on her options.
“So then she goes and tells Barry and he smacks her in the eye and calls her a liar and a bunch of other things—like slut—and dumps her and goes off and knocks up Marcia Glass and does the whole routine again because ‘they’re wrong,’ and Lynn figures she’s been an idiot and decides it’d be better for her and the baby if she gives it up and finishes school so much the wiser. But now she’s not because her parents think that ‘doing the right thing’ means she should keep a baby she’s not ready for because ‘she made her bed and now she’s got to lie in it,’ an’ it just cheeses me that when there are so many people out there who can’t have kids the natural way and are dying to adopt babies that her parents can’t see that ‘doing the right thing’ could mean so much more than keeping a baby nobody wants because it’s your flesh and blood. So no.” Megan shook her head, all self-righteous I-told-her-so. “I’m not goin’ to her baby shower and look like I approve of what she’s doin’, when I think she’s just a damned weak-bellied idiot.”
The stamped foot and so there were absent, but loudly implied.
“Megan!” Shocked, Kate—who wasn’t supposed to be eavesdropping, even though the girls were sitting not ten feet from her and hadn’t lowered their voices so she couldn’t—swung about to say something suitably appalled and hopefully wise, but Li waved her mother aside and beat her to it.
“She’s your friend,” Kate’s daughter said tightly.
“Friendship has limits,” Megan observed, unperturbed, rising to stack the mail in piles at the end of the table.
Li stiffened, then worked her neck and made herself relax. “Does it,” she said mildly. It was hardly a question. Her eyes sparked, but instead of clenching, her hands spread open before her, almost in offering. “And what limits do you put on our friendship?”
Megan viewed her, surprised. “None, of course.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t.”
Li’s jaw jutted. “Wrong answer,” she said softly.
For the first time since Kate had known her, she saw Megan squirm uncomfortably. “Li...”
“Why not?” Li repeated. A thread of strong emotion ran like tensioned wire between the two words.
“Because...” Unease settled in Megan’s features. “Because...I can count on you no matter what.”
“And you’ve never been able to count on Lynn?”
“Lynn’s always in my face about stuff,” she said defiantly. “You’re not.”
“I get in your face all the time.” Li pointed out. “Especially when you’re hangin’ out with Zevo and that bunch of scags.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve known you forever,” Megan said with asperity, “and you don’t screw around or date guys like Barry.”
“And I always let you in, no matter what you’ve done lately, and Lynn’s mother won’t let her.”
“Yeah, well...”
“So what do I get out of this relationship? I mean, do I have to worry about you deciding you don’t like who I’m seeing or something and dumping me because it’s too hard to cart the friendship around anymore, even though I lend you my mother anytime you need one?”
Megan’s lips pinched and her eyes clouded, vulnerable. “Li, I know how it seems sometimes, but you know that’s not the only reason I come here. You’re like my sister. We fight, but it doesn’t change anything.”
“Yet,” Li supplied.
“Ever,” Megan shouted.
“Yeah, well, that’s the way Lynn thought you were with her, too. She’s as much there for you as she can be, when some guy isn’t messin’ with her head. You’ve known her since diapers. That’s longer’n you’ve known me. Now she needs you to buy her some.”
Megan’s mouth opened, then closed for lack of retort. Her shoulders slumped; she looked at Li. “Sometimes I hate you.”
“Yeah, well, get over it,” Li responded dryly. Then, prodding Megan with her elbow, “You want to go shopping?”
Megan rolled her eyes and grimaced. “Do I have a choice?” she asked.
Grinning, Li shook her head. “No.”
“Oh, fine, then,” Megan agreed—ungraciously. “But I’m not buying diapers.”
Li bent to drag her purse out of the pot cupboard. “You don’t find the symbolism appropriate?”
“What?”
Li eyed her, all innocence. “You don’t think she should have stuck rubber pants on Barry before—”
Laughter hiccuped out of Megan, cutting Li off. “Geez, Li. And we all thought you were the nice one.”
“I am,” Li said firmly and turned to Kate. “Okay if we take the van and run into town?”
“How does the sky look?” Kate countered.
Li shrugged. “Not worse. Don’t worry, we’ll keep the radio on and hit a ditch if we have to—and we won’t be gone long.”
Kate looked from her daughter to Megan and back. “Okay.” She nodded, then added, “Take the grocery list?”
Li eyed Megan who shrugged. “Sure,” they agreed.
Kate went into the office and came back with an envelope containing the grocery list and money, handed them to her daughter with a couple extra bills and a quick hug. “Get Lynnie a baby bathtub from me, okay?”
“I will, Mum.” Li returned the hug with a swift peck on Kate’s cheek. “Thanks.”
They left.
Lips pressed tight together against the foreboding she’d hidden in front of the girls, Kate collapsed on one of the long benches and rested her elbows on the table. She gnawed her thumbnail and swallowed hard. Rubber pants. Oh, crumb.
She hadn’t even thought about condoms the night before. Or anything much else, for that matter, except having Hank as deeply inside her as possible, as often as possible. And she couldn’t even claim being a teenager for an excuse since she hadn’t been one for close to twenty years. And it wasn’t as if she’d never considered birth control. She had been on the pill during her years in refugee camps set up at the edge of border or civil wars. Her decision had come in the wake of the rape and murder of mission nuns in Central America and Africa. It was, she felt, better under the circumstances to prevent the possibility of pregnancy by rape than to bear a child condemned by the violence of its conception.
But she wasn’t on the pill anymore, and the rest was neither here nor there at the moment.
Worrying the inside of her cheek between her teeth, she rose and went to pull the appointment calendar out of the kitchen’s telephone drawer. Counted backward to the date of her last period. Bit her lip at the number: fifteen days today. Mid-cycle.
Possible.
Hand clutching her stomach, she shut the drawer and breathed. Stared thoughtfully into the middle distance trying to think. Possible. Having had an irregular monthly before she went on the pill and an extremely regular one ever since, Kate knew too much about the rhythms of her own body, had participated in too much emergency midwifery and family counseling to deny likelihood when it stared her in the face
.
She sucked air, blew it out. Pregnant. Maybe. And Bele’s adoption wouldn’t be final for another two months. If she was, and family services found out, would it mess things up? But maybe she wasn’t Better not to obsess over it then, and maybe appear guilty and nervous, in case the adoption rep picked up on something that wasn’t even there to worry about. And what about Megan...and Hank?
She felt herself pale. Oh, Lord. What had she done? She didn’t really know Hank all that well. She’d let emotion get away from her because, well, he just...
Felt right.
Bad excuse, she knew, but there it was. Wars and marriages had both been started over less. And if it was just himself, he’d probably be all right with...whatever. But Megan... Oh, Lord, Megan. She barely accepted her father as he was, let alone...
Oh, gosh. Oh, blast. Oh, stupid, bloody hell.
But maybe she wasn’t. Maybe...
She huffed another breath and straightened. Maybe she ought to go find Hank right now and apprise him of the possibility so he’d—no, they’d—have plenty of time to figure out how to handle all the potential situations if a consequence of thoughtless loving came to call.
The sky was black with clouds when Kate crossed the drive in search of Hank.
In the southwest thunder growled; heavy wind from the same direction spit dirt and light gravel at her, pushed her hair into her mouth and eyes. In the llama yards, the shade awnings alternately snapped taut in the wind and sagged toward collapse on keeling poles. Around the yard and fields, trees swayed and bent, branches swung like wild arms tangling and parting.
Kate gathered her hair together, and with a quick glance to gauge the storm’s nearness and a worried one down the track to see if Tai, Risto and the tractor were on their way in, changed course for the pens to drop the awnings before the wind took them down atop the milling llamas.
On the other side of the drive, Hank emerged from the woodshop with the five younger kids and their constant canine companion. When he saw Kate struggling with the canvas, he jerked a thumb, sending the boys toward the house, then ducked his head and ran to help her.
“Where’re the kids?” she yelled over the wind when she saw him.
“House, basement,” he shouted back. “Girls?”
“Shopping. Hopefully they’ll stay put till this blows past.”
Dragging canvas into a quick, transportable bundle, Hank nodded. It was ten miles to the department store-strip mall complex, far enough in Michigan for a completely different set of weather to exist. “What about Tai and Risto?”
Kate collapsed the last of the awning poles and cast a worried look toward the tree fields. Overhead the wind grew wilder and the sky roiled black with clouds. The first fat drops of rain splatted her face and hair. “Still out. I hate it when Tai does this.”
“You want me to run out and drag ’em in?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Either he’s on his way in or—”
The sudden crack of lightning and a prolonged crash of thunder cut her off. The wind gathered breath and roared, severing a branch from one of the trees above the picnic tables and pelting them with hail. Hank grabbed Kate’s arm.
“Come on!” he shouted.
Together they ran for the nearest shelter. the barn.
“Where’s Mum, isn’t she coming in?” Bele asked, frightened.
Standing on a chair so he could see out one of the tiny basement windows, Jamal shook his head. “She’s okay. She ‘n’ Hank got to the barn. They’ll go down in the pit.”
“Is there a tornado here yet?” Mike asked, interested. “The radio says one’s coming.”
“I can’t see anything,” Grisha announced from his post at the west side window. “Too much rain an’ stuff. But I hear a train.”
Ilya shoved his brother off the wooden box he was standing on. “We don’t have a train here.”
They looked at each other, then at the rest of the boys.
“Tornado!” they all shouted at once—or perhaps crowed would be a more accurate description, and Adventure! a more accurate shout. Grinning at each other in half-delighted terror, they dashed to a corner farthest from the windows, huddled around the radio and held onto the dog’s collar, clutched their flashlights and waited.
Whatever the new blight that was decimating Gus Krahn’s Fraser firs, it hadn’t come near Stone House’s Douglas firs.
With a sigh of relief, Tai allowed the wind to tear the last branch he’d chosen to examine out of his hand and let the hand magnifier he wore on a strap around his neck swing free against his chest. It swayed lazily with the ripple of his T-shirt; he faced southwest, gauging the sky, letting the strengthening wind whip his hair out of his face. Thunder sounded close overhead, greenblack clouds raced toward him, leaving a muted gray swath peppered by lightning gashes at the horizon. Behind him he heard a fizzle and crack, turned in time to see the storm fold and break one of the birch trees clumped at the north edge of the field.
He ran for the tractor, tagging Risto on his way. It was way past time to head in. Instead of following, the Finn grabbed Tai’s arm and gestured wildly at the dark funnel forming in the western sky. Without a word the two turned and dashed to throw themselves facedown with their arms covering their heads in the shallow gully on the opposite edge of the field.
Loitering under the shopping-center overhang, smoking and waiting out the weather so he could continue skateboarding illegally with his buds, Zevo spotted Megan and Li when they parked outside of the mall.
“How ’bout I go to Hallmark and get the wrapping paper and cards for Lynn and you get the groceries,” Megan suggested.
Eyeing the sky, Li nodded. “Good idea, save time.” She checked the number of items on Kate’s shopping list. “Meet you at the car in, um, half an hour?”
“You got it.”
They parted. Mood as black as his jacket, Zevo waited until Li was inside the grocery store before taking a last long drag then pitching the stub of his cigarette into a puddle near the curb. Hands tucked into the pockets of his sagging baggies, he sauntered forward and barred Megan’s path.
“Hey, babe,” he said. There was nothing friendly in the greeting.
Megan attempted to step around him. “I don’t have time right now, Zevo. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“No.” Zevo shook his head. Faster than Megan would have thought possible a hand came out of a pocket and fisted around her wrist, pulled her roughly forward. “Now.”
“Zevo, stop it,” Megan said sharply, twisting her arm, trying to free it. Without success. She looked up at him, saw the something in his eyes that told her this was not “business as usual” between them, that he’d unwrapped himself from around her little finger and figuratively taken the ring she’d always led him around by out of his nose.
That he and only he, not she, would be in charge of this conversation’s beginning, middle and end.
For the first time in their relationship, she tasted fear. “You’re hurting me,” she told him in the cool, scathing tone that had so easily kept him in his place in the past.
He smiled. “How ’bout that?” Once again Megan tried to wrest her arm from him. His grip tightened, he wrenched her back. “You know how tight handcuffs get, Meg?” he asked softly, shaking her wrist. “Just like this.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I have to go, Zevo,” she said. Alarm showed. She swallowed it. “Really.”
“Your cop pop put me in handcuffs last night, Meg.” He spun her around and caught her other wrist, fit it into his hand with the first. She struggled to no avail; he shoved her face first into the wide expanse of brick between store windows and held her there with his free hand between her shoulders. “Like this. Then he dragged me out to a car and locked me to the seat and made me sit like that. It wasn’t comfortable.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Zevo.” The brick beneath her cheek was damp and rough, scraping whenever Zevo pulled up on her wri
sts to make sure he retained her attention. Beyond the overhang, rain poured down in sheets. Zevo’s smoking buddies grouped around him, hiding him and Megan from chance gazes. “I wasn’t there. I told you I came in last night to find Risto. I had to take him home.”
“Who tipped the cops to the club?”
Puzzled, she tried to look at him. Yeah, so Hank was the law, big deal. It had never made a difference before, what of it now? “What?”
“Your pop, Meg. There’s a raid and he’s the first cop in, but you’re gone. Him and me, we meet once, but first guy he picks up is me. Who told him about the party, Meg?”
“Not me—ow! Damn it, Zevo. I didn’t know he’d come lookin’ for me. Ease off.”
“Not till you tell me—Geez—” He broke off swearing when a van skidded up to the curb behind him and sent a wave of rain splashing up his back. “What the—” He turned and the splash of rain flung by fast-moving windshield wipers hit him in the face. His friends scattered.
Li slid half out of the van and yelled over the downpour. “Hey. Meg, quit screwin’ around, would ya? We gotta go.”
Zevo stabbed an angry finger at her. “Back off, Anden. Meg an’ me got business to finish.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Li nodded. “I see you got business, but I don’t think Meg does, and if you don’t let her go before the sheriff gets here—” A dull wail rose over the thunder. Li cocked her head. “Oh, great, listen, there they are. I think I hear sirens.”
Zevo’s head snapped around, his grip loosened. Megan yanked free and scooted into the van at the same time Li ducked back inside, put it in gear and backed up. Then she shifted into drive, roared forward and splashed Zevo once again.
Megan viewed her rescuer with astonishment. The deliberateness with which the even-tempered-to-a-fault-Li had gone about drenching Zevo was a side of her friend she’d never seen. Usually Li simply scorned him. “Li?” she asked, not sure if it was.
Li ran a hand down her wet hair and snapped the cool water into Megan’s face like a wake-up message. “Yeah?”