The Prodigal's Return

by Anna DeStefano

  He held out a business card.

  “Will you call me?” he asked casually, as if she hadn’t ached to do just that for years after he’d left. “Let me know if Nathan needs anything? If there’s any…any change in his condition that I should know about?”

  Looking from him to the cart full of healthy food she was buying for a man who wasn’t going to get better no matter what he ate, she chastised the weak place inside her that wanted to jump at the excuse to hear Neal’s voice again.

  It would be better for her if he left, if he went back to where he’d come from and away from her need for more and more of him, until she destroyed herself wanting him again. Neal being anywhere near her life now was a mistake—a life he hadn’t wanted to know anything about since they were kids.

  But Nathan Cain needed his son back.

  “I’m sorry.” She made herself turn away. “I can’t do that. Not if it’s going to make it easier for you to leave.”

  I’M AT THE GAS STATION around the corner from my house, Traci had said over the phone during Monday night’s dinner. I need to talk.

  Five minutes later, Jenn was on the road to meet her.

  The girl’s appointment at the clinic had been that morning. Her teeth had been chattering, and not just from the night’s cold. Obviously the news from the doctor, and the day Traci had had to deal with the ramifications, had finally convinced her she didn’t want to go through this alone.

  At least Jenn hoped so.

  Her dad had agreed to finish helping Mandy with her homework. Things had shifted more than a little between them. He still hadn’t offered to help outright, still hadn’t visited Nathan himself, but he’d stopped discouraging her from going back to the Cain place. So she’d spent yesterday disinfecting the rest of the man’s kitchen and trying not to be discouraged that Neal hadn’t shown up. Today, while Mandy was in school, had been another whirlwind of endless projects around Nathan’s place. And still no Neal.

  Her dad had been hard at work himself, pumping the rumor mill. Neal was still paying for a room at the town’s only hotel, the story was, but he and his vintage car had been seen speeding out of town yesterday afternoon. News she’d rather not have known, but the fact that her father had gone out of his way to find out for her had meant the world.

  He was working harder at seeing her as an adult. Seemed committed to keeping her in Rivermist this time. If he only knew what she was keeping from him as she rushed to see Traci Carpenter, he might just change his mind.

  She reached the Stop and Pump in record time. Like most businesses in Rivermist, the station closed at seven on weeknights. But security lights lent the parking lot plenty of artificial light. She braked her ten-year-old car beside Traci’s spanking new one.

  The teenager stared at Jenn from behind the wheel. Finally, she stepped out, dread slowing her approach. Her black jeans and a sparkly, low-cut red top said “Night on the Town,” but her artfully applied makeup was smudged and tracked with tears. Hair that was usually styled to perfection had been roughly shoved into a ponytail. The teenager that sat beside Jenn and slammed the door looked like a little girl doing a lousy job of playing dress-up.

  Jenn took her hand. “You’re freezing.”

  “I’ve been driving around for hours.” The teen’s dazed voice was as unfocused as her eyes.

  Jenn flipped her heater to high. “Is this about your appointment this morning?”

  Traci flinched. “I…I couldn’t go home after school. I…I went to see…” She pulled away and hugged herself protectively.

  “You went to see your guy, didn’t you? Does he—”

  “I’m not telling you where he lives. Don’t even try to get me to.”

  Teenagers could look so tough when they were terrified.

  “I don’t care about anything but you right now. What did the clinic’s tests say?”

  Those tough eyes watered. Traci bit her lip, as if not saying the words would make the truth go away.

  “So you are pregnant,” Jenn said, keeping the conversation flowing, years of training and practical application kicking in.

  “Yeah.” Traci dropped her head.

  “And your guy?” The next few steps were so important. The rest of the teen’s life would be shaped by the choices she made over the next weeks and months. “You told him, right?”

  Traci’s laugh wasn’t the answer Jenn had hoped for.

  “You were right.” The girl’s hand muffled her watery words. “I mean, I’m not stupid. I knew he wasn’t going to be thrilled with the idea of having a baby. But I thought he loved me. I thought he’d at least take care of me, that he’d try and make things better.”

  “What did he say?” Jenn sucked down the urge to pay this loser boyfriend a visit and make sure he was suffering as much as the young woman sitting beside her.

  “He didn’t have to say anything.” Traci turned her face completely toward Jenn for the first time.

  Okay. Suffering wasn’t good enough for the jackass.

  “Oh, honey.” Traci’s swollen right eye was already turning a nasty shade of magenta.

  “He threw me out of his apartment. He’s done with me. S-said never t-to call him again.”

  Jenn tipped the girl’s face to get a better look and winced. “We need to get this checked out at the hospital.”

  “And broadcast it to everyone in town?”

  “Everyone’s going to know in the morning. You can’t hide this.”

  “I’ll tell everyone at school I fell.”

  “What about your parents? They need to know what happened. They’ll want a doctor to see you, even if you don’t tell them about the baby. And a doctor will—”

  “I can’t!”

  “Can’t see your parents?” Treading carefully, Jenn curled her hands around the steering wheel. “Or can’t tell them about the baby?”

  “Both.”

  “Traci—”

  “No, I don’t want anyone else to know.”

  “You’ll need to see a doctor eventually. And you’ll want your mom there, trust me.”

  Jenn would have given anything to have had her mother’s shoulder to lean on during each lonely, terrifying prenatal visit.

  Traci’s mouth gaped. “You’re kidding, right? My mother, the world’s best Girl Scout leader, best PTA president, best bake sale coordinator, holding my hand while I have an abortion?”

  “Abortion!” Jenn’s ears buzzed.

  At every shelter she’d worked in since college, she’d asked to work with runaways, teen mothers, battered women. She’d never trusted herself to remain objective and impartial during abortion counseling. She’d come too close to that decision herself. And every day with Mandy was a reminder of the blessing she’d almost thrown away. The precious life that almost wasn’t. But there was no way she would force her convictions on another young woman’s right to make her own choice.

  “You…you’re not ready to make that kind of decision yet,” she hedged.

  “I can’t have this baby! My parents would kill me if they found out.”

  Jenn recalled the sight of Bob Carpenter slipping his arm around his wife’s shoulders the last time the couple had visited her dad. Betty punching him affectionately. They’d been teasing each other about their never-ending redecorating plans.

  There was a lot of love there. Too much love to give up on without even trying.

  “They’ll be upset, Traci. But in the end, I think they’ll support whatever you decide to do.”

  “Yeah?” The teenager’s sneer had fangs. “Just like your parents supported you, right?”

  Touché.

  “It’s too soon to be making any decisions,” she repeated. “You’re upset, and you need to give this some time. Hear all the facts at least before you act.”

  “I don’t need facts.” Traci’s voice thinned to a whine. “I just want this to be over.”

  “The doctor won’t give you a choice, Traci. Counseling is required before a pregna
ncy is terminated, and there’s usually at least a twenty-four-hour waiting period before they’ll perform the procedure. Young girls in your situation are advised to wait a few weeks.”

  “Why? So you and my parents can talk me into changing my mind!”

  “You can bet I’m not going to let you do anything on impulse.” Jenn laid a hand on Traci’s shoulder. “I care about you, and I don’t want you to make a hasty decision you might regret for the rest of your life.”

  “My only regret would be keeping this baby.” Traci shrugged Jenn’s hand off. “Its father doesn’t care about me, and there’s no way I can raise it by myself. And don’t tell me how understanding my parents will be. Look at what yours did. Look at what keeping your baby did to your life.”

  Jenn had always talked frankly with her kids about the mistakes she’d made. About their consequences. The decision to keep this pregnancy or not was one of the most important decisions Traci would ever make. And thankfully, she was allowing Jenn to be a part of it. Which meant Jenn would calmly absorb whatever verbal crap the girl threw at her, then she’d return each argument with a promise that there was still hope. That she’d be there, waiting, until the girl was ready to hear something besides her own fear and panic.

  “What happened to my life,” she said quietly, “happened because of me and the choices I made. My life fell apart because I was doing everything I could to destroy it. Not because I had Mandy. And not because of my parents.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t trying to destroy anything.” Traci wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I was in love. And now I’m alone. I want this to be over with. Are you going to help me or not?”

  Jenn leaned her head back. Stared out into the night. Situations with no win-win solutions were nothing new for her. Neither was doing damage control when a crisis blew out of nowhere and dumped her on her ass. But she’d been dumped a little too much the past few days, even for her. And maybe she was finally over being everyone’s go-to girl. Over saying, Yes, I’ll take care of that, when any other sane person would say no.

  So what was she going to do, give up? Leave Traci to give up on the future she might have with her baby, because the girl seemed hell-bent on not listening even though she’d called Jenn for help?

  I need to talk.

  “Jenn?” Traci’s timid voice filled the tiny car. The same scared little-girl voice as when she’d called. “Are you going to help me? I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “Of course I’ll help you.”

  Jenn curbed the impulse to turn the girl over to her parents. Made herself see past the problems her decision would cause not just for her, but her father, too. The little piece of now here in Rivermist that she’d wanted so badly for her and Mandy was imploding. The fragile bond of healing growing between her and her father, the joy she’d found working with the kids in the church group, it was all teetering on the brink. But she couldn’t leave Traci to face what was ahead alone.

  She knew what that kind of loneliness felt like. Had felt it again this weekend, both times she’d walked away from Neal and the crazy need still deep inside to grab back a speck of what she’d had only with him.

  That kind of loneliness was devastating. Destructive. Life-destroying.

  Tonight, and any other night Traci needed her until she figured out how to face her decisions on her own, Jenn would be exactly where she was now. Between this child and the future Jenn refused to let Traci give up on so easily.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “WHAT ARE YOU STILL doing up, Dad?” Jenn asked. The hall clock had chimed two-fifteen when she walked past, but the light had still been on in her father’s bedroom and his door was open. There was no point putting this off till morning.

  “Waiting for you.” He was sitting in the recliner beside his bed, reading by lamplight. “You were so upset by that phone call. Do you want to talk about it?”

  The sincerity of his offer should have been comforting. It made her squirm instead.

  “I can’t.”

  “But something’s wrong?”

  “Yes.” If you could call talking a desperate teen out of having a hasty abortion something wrong.

  He nodded in silence. It must have taken Herculean restraint not to press for more details, but, bless him, he didn’t.

  “I wish I could tell you more….” Or ask for advice. The need to not be in this alone was almost her undoing.

  “Someone’s in trouble, aren’t they?” her father finally asked. “Someone besides Nathan?”

  “Yes.”

  “One of your kids?”

  She didn’t even blink in response. She didn’t dare.

  “Someone in my congregation?” His voice tightened. “Someone I’m responsible for, and you’re not going to tell me, is that it?”

  “I can’t, Dad. Not yet. I gave my word.”

  “I can only assume if it’s important enough to keep you out this late, that you’re making sure the child’s parents are involved.”

  “I can’t talk about that, either.” She hated what she was doing at that moment, and how his expression shifted into disappointment.

  Nothing Jenn said had changed Traci’s mind. The teenager was determined to keep her pregnancy a secret. To deal with her parents by not dealing with them. Going to school tomorrow as if nothing had happened. But she’d agreed to meet up with Jenn again in the afternoon. That was something at least. Maybe a night of tossing and turning would convince the kid to involve her parents in her decision. Maybe this didn’t have to end ugly for all of them.

  “This person trusts me,” Jenn said, holding tight to her promise. “I can’t betray that.”

  “You have an obligation to the parents to let them know the child’s in trouble. And you have a responsibility to the church leadership as well. To me. You made that commitment when you asked to work with the youth.”

  “My responsibility is to do what I think is right, regardless of where I work.” And there it was, in big, bold letters.

  The fundamental difference in their views of right and wrong. Her father’s faith was in the institution of the church, hers was in her relationships with the kids in her care. Neither one of them was wrong, but that didn’t mean they could work together to help someone like Traci.

  “Someone who feels there’s nowhere else to turn has turned to me,” she said. “I can’t betray that. If you can’t respect my judgment in anything else, please trust that I’m doing everything I can for this child.”

  “I do respect your judgment, Jenn, whether you can find a way to believe me now or not.” He shut his book and sat higher against the recliner’s worn cushions. “Your mother and I made some terrible mistakes with you, and I can’t begin to imagine what you went through. But you survived, and I couldn’t be prouder. And somehow, through everything, you’ve learned how to be there for other people. To understand what they need and then make sure they get it. You’ve done an amazing job raising Mandy, even if I don’t always agree with your methods. She’s wonderful. Both of you are. You’ve even gotten Nathan Cain to let you help him, and that’s…that’s nothing short of a miracle. But…”

  He was proud of her. He was sorry. How long had she dreamed of him saying just that?

  “But…” Jenn went in and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting, all too aware she was about to blow this place of understanding they’d finally achieved straight to hell.

  Please, Dad. Don’t let me hurt you again.

  “But it occurs to me that you’ve also gotten really good at taking other people’s problems on your shoulders, as if they were your own. It’s like you can’t walk away when someone asks for help, regardless of the cost.”

  You think?

  Her manager at the clinic in Raleigh had noted her issues with overidentification on her last performance review. Inappropriate boundaries. The line of professional caregiver becoming blurred. Her clients’ issues and setbacks becoming too personal.

  All because, she’d realized, it
was safer to deal with other people’s needs than it was her own. But knowing the reason didn’t make the impulse any easier to curb. Or the gratification of seeing the lives she worked with changed for the better any less addictive. The problem had been getting worse for years, instead of better. The indefinite leave she’d taken to move down here to be with her father had been considered best for all concerned.

  “I can’t not help when I know I can make a difference,” she argued now, same as she had with her supervisor.

  “Sacrificing your own well-being to help someone else?” her father asked. “Keeping a secret that shouldn’t be kept? I don’t see how that’s helping anyone. The church’s guidelines for working with the youth are clear—”

  “I know.”

  “If you put me in a position where I can’t be a pastor and support you as a father at the same time, I—”

  “You’ll be a pastor first, I know. And you should.” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I know where your priorities have to be, Dad.”

  He put a hand on her knee. “Your emotions have led you into some destructive choices in the past, Jenn. Whatever’s going on with this child, I’m sure you think you’re doing the right thing. But—”

  “I’ll involve you as soon as I can.” She couldn’t hear another but. “And I guess we’ll have to take it from there. You’re right about my role at the church, though. I need to step away from working with the youth group before this situation gets out of hand.”

  “I, for one, would be sorry to see that happen.” Her shock must have shown on her face. “Your approach has been an unqualified success. The size of your Saturday gatherings has doubled in just a couple of months. It’s like the kids know they can trust you. Don’s excited about how many have signed up for the ski trip you suggested. I was looking forward to working with you when I return full-time next month.”

  Don Holloway, the associate pastor and part-time youth minister who’d been holding down the fort while her father worked sporadic part-time hours during his recovery, had been Jenn’s only genuine support at the church. Her resignation would only add to his burden.