Still the One

by Robin Wells

  “We were just sharing our names with each other,” the woman said. “I’m Marianne Caville. Let’s go around the room and bring our new arrival up to speed.”

  “I’m Misty,” said a pretty blonde in the front row. She turned to the handsome man beside her. “And this is my husband, Steve.”

  “I’m Carla, and this is Jack,” said the long-haired brunette sitting next to her.

  “I’m Sara, and this is my husband, Pete.” A fireplug of a woman who had to be close to forty put her hand on the leg of a balding, beefy man in the second row.

  “I’m Tamika,” said the woman in the red sundress two chairs down. “And this is Richard.” The man in the Hawaiian shirt beside her lifted his hand.

  Everyone turned and looked expectantly at her. “I’m Gracie.” She put her hand on her stomach. “And this is my baby, as yet unnamed.”

  “Hi, Gracie,” everyone called in unison, as if it were some sort of cult.

  Marianne smiled out at them. “We have a lot to cover, so let’s get started. As you know, the purpose of this class is to assist you in labor. We’ll teach you pain-management techniques like breathing sequences, massage, and hydrotherapy.

  “Now, each of you will need a birth partner. The baby’s father is the ideal partner, because the birthing process will help him bond with his child.” She paused and looked at Gracie.

  Gracie’s stomach went tight. Oh, God. She wished she could just crawl under the tile.

  “If the father is unavailable, your mother or grandmother or a friend can serve as your partner.”

  Gracie was relieved when the blonde at the front of the room raised her hand. “My husband travels a lot. He’s probably not going to be here for every session.”

  “That’s fine.” Marianne smiled at the blonde’s husband. Jeez, couldn’t the guy talk for himself? “Just try to attend as much as possible.” The man nodded.

  Marianne turned her gaze to Gracie. “Gracie, do you have a partner in mind?”

  “I, uh—” She ought to say she didn’t need a partner, that she was going to raise the child alone, so she might as well get started doing things alone from the outset. Instead, she found herself saying, “Sure.”

  “Good. Try to bring him next time.”

  Him. Oh, God. Was the rest of her life going to be one long, massively uncomfortable moment? Gracie’s stomach clenched again.

  “All right, then,” Marianne said. “I thought we’d start with a movie of an actual birth.”

  The lights dimmed.

  By the time they came back on, Gracie’s belly was a hard knot of nausea. She sat perfectly still, gripping her hands together, trying to process what she’d just seen.

  No way. No way! There was no way in hell she was going to go through that. And yet—Gracie’s stomach heaved. She rose to her feet.

  “Gracie—are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” she managed to choke out. “I just need to go to the restroom.”

  She fled the room and stumbled to the ladies’ room, where she turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face. The thought of going through all that gross stuff made her feel as if one of those medieval spiked balls was rolling around her insides.

  She shouldn’t have come here tonight. She could have watched a birth on YouTube at any time, but she’d deliberately avoided doing so, figuring, why freak out before she had to?

  She splashed water on her eyes, wishing she could erase the images burned on her corneas. No way. Absolutely no way! And yet, the baby was inside her—she’d seen it on the ultrasound. It was definitely in there, and it had to come out somehow.

  The restroom door squeaked open. In the mirror over the sink, her water- and tear-soaked eyes made out the blurred image of a slender woman in black capris and a blue-and-black print top. “Gracie—are you okay?”

  Oh, great. It was Katie. She’d driven Gracie to the hospital and said she was going to visit a friend recovering from surgery while Gracie took her class. “Yeah. I’m just dandy.”

  Katie stepped closer, her eyebrows pulled together in concern. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  “Nothing.” Everything. “I, uh, had something in my eye.”

  The door opened again. The short, stubby woman from her class stepped into the restroom, and grinned when she spotted Katie. “Katie!” She gave her a hug. “What are you doing here?”

  “I dropped my daughter off for a birthing class, then went to see a friend who just had an appendectomy.”

  “Gracie’s your daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  Gracie thought about mounting her not-my-mother protest, but decided to let it go.

  “I came in to check on her.” The woman smiled at Gracie. “Honey, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Gracie wiped her face with a paper towel. It felt like sandpaper on her skin.

  “What happened?” Katie asked the woman.

  “They showed a movie of a birth.”

  “Oh, sweetie—no wonder you’re upset.” Stepping closer, Katie opened her purse, pulled out a Kleenex, and held it out. Gracie took it and inelegantly blew her nose. “I watched a movie like that when I was pregnant with you,” Katie said, “and it totally freaked me out.”

  “This one was really bad. It freaked me out,” the woman said, “and I’ve already had two children.”

  “If you’ve had two kids, why did you sign up for the classes?” Gracie asked.

  “Because the breathing techniques really help. It’s been years since I had my last child, and I’ve forgotten everything I learned.” She touched Gracie’s arm. “I’m going back to class, since your mom is here. Just remember—it’s all going to be all right. I’ve been through it twice, and here I am, about to do it again.”

  “I don’t know why.”

  “Once you hold that baby in your arms, you’ll forget all about the delivery. Right, Katie?”

  Tears formed in Katie’s eyes. “Right.”

  Gracie swallowed. Katie had said that giving her up was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Seemed like the giving-birth part would have been the hardest.

  The door swung closed behind the woman, leaving Katie and Gracie in awkward silence. Katie pulled another tissue out of her purse and dabbed at her own eyes.

  “That movie was so gross,” Gracie said, hoping to defuse the emotional tension. “I can’t imagine having my va-jay-jay hanging out there for everyone to see.”

  “When you’re giving birth, you don’t think about that.” Katie gave her a wobbly smile.

  “Did you have a birth coach?”

  Katie nodded “A lady with the adoption program served as my coach. She was awesome.”

  “Did you stay in touch with her?”

  “I wanted to, but she refused. She said I needed to put the experience behind me.” Katie gave arwful smile. As if you could ever put a life-changing event like that behind you.”

  Gracie twisted her Kleenex.

  “I could be your coach, if you like,” Katie offered.

  Part of her wanted to say yes. Another part—the stubborn part, the part that needed to cling to the way she’d always been, because who would she be if she wasn’t that person?—wanted to keep Katie at arm’s length. She couldn’t betray her real mom by getting too tight with Katie.

  She shook her head. “I don’t need a birthing partner.”

  “Everyone needs someone, Gracie.”

  Gracie hugged her macraméd purse, the one her mother had made her, to her chest. “Let’s just get out of here.”

  “What about the class?”

  “Forget it.”

  She thought Katie was going to argue with her. She was relieved when she nodded. “Okay.”

  The parking lot was hot, and so was Katie’s car when they climbed into it. Emotion simmered in Gracie’s chest.

  “Every one of those women was married,” she found herself saying. “I felt like a freak.”

  Katie didn’t say anything. She shot her a sy
mpathetic glance and pulled out of the parking place.

  “The teacher wanted me to bring the baby’s father to the class. She said it would help him bond with the baby.” Gracie stared at the blur of trees out the window.

  “She didn’t know that he lives in Pittsburgh,” Katie said.

  The truth built up in her chest like steam in a pressure cooker. “He doesn’t. I don’t even know where he lives.”

  Katie glanced at her.

  “I don’t even know his name!” Gracie blurted. There. She’d said it. She closed her eyes, hot tears coursing down her face. “But it’s not like Zack thinks. There weren’t a lot of guys. There was just one, and…” Her chin shook, making the word wobble.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Katie pulled the car to the side of the parking lot and stopped. Gracie ventured a look at her face. Instead of the horror she feared seeing in her eyes, she saw concern and sympathy. “It’s okay, sweetie,” Katie said softly. “Whatever happened, it’s okay.”

  A fire hose of words gushed out. “I—I was mad at my aunt. I wanted to go to a concert and she wouldn’t let me. She wouldn’t let me do anything! She was a complete hard-ass. She wanted me to be just like her perfect grown daughter had been, and that’s not me. I couldn’t let her define me, you know? I wasn’t like her. I would never be like her. I hated her. I was just so… so alone.”

  “You were grieving your parents,” Katie said.

  “Yeah. And she wasn’t anything like them. And I hadn’t made many friends at the school…”

  The words tumbled out, fast and furious, falling all over each other, like water over a waterfall.

  “Anyway—it was an outdoor thing, not even really a concert, just a thing happening in the park near their house. I met these older kids. They all introduced themselves at once, and it was hard to hear over the music, and…” And she hadn’t wanted to seem uncool, having to ask again, so she pretended she’d heard them. “I think his name was Kurt or Kirk or Dirk or Burt, but I’m not even sure about that.” She drew a ragged breath. She’d thought about it over and over and tried and tried to figure it out, and the more she thought about it, the more she thought maybe she was just making it all up. “He said he was from California. He was on spring break and either headed to or from New York.”

  “Did he say what part of California?”

  Gracie shook her head. “They were passing around a bottle of vodka,” she continued, “and I drank some. Then they passed around a joint, and I smoked a little.” A lot, actual “One of the guys was really cute, and… well, he put his arm around me.” She wiped a tear off her chin. “I don’t think anyone had put their arm around me since I moved to my aunt’s house. My aunt was kind of cold, you know? Not that I wanted her to touch me, but my mother—well, she used to hug me all the time, and I think… I think I missed being held. And so when he put his arm around me…”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Katie drew her into her arms.

  Gracie let her. She leaned against her shoulder and sobbed while Katie murmured words of reassurance and stroked her head. At length, Gracie pulled back and wiped her nose with the tissue. “He—he asked if I wanted to go make out, and… and I said, sure. I never had, and he was really, really cute, so we moved away from the crowd and went to his pickup and…” Words wouldn’t follow.

  Katie softly stroked her hair. “Did he rape you?”

  Had he? Memories of that night swirled through Gracie’s head. “No. I mean, I don’t think so.”

  “Did you tell him no?”

  “I—I tried. But I was drunk and stoned, and I don’t think I ever got the words out.”

  Making out had been fun, at first. Romantic. Exciting. He’d had a sleeping bag in the back of his pickup, and they’d stretched out on it and kissed and touched. She’d felt all kinds of thrilling sensations she’d never experienced. And then she’d realized that this guy had moved from stroking her thighs to pulling down her underpants, and he’d already unfastened his jeans.

  “Wait…,” she’d said—or maybe she’d just meant to say it. The vodka and pot had made everything seem fuzzy, like she was seeing things through a pane of painted glass. She remembered that a sign had flashed out the back window—hotcakes. She’d felt like she was in a thick gray fog, or having a dream, but just starting to wake up. “Slow down,” she’d told him.

  “I can’t, babe. You feel too good.” Her panties were moving down her thighs. He pulled off her shoe and edged one leg out.

  Through her fog-enshrouded brain, she felt a skitter of alarm. “Wait. I don’t want…”

  His fingers had been back at her crotch.

  “Please. I’m not… I’ve never…”

  “Okay.” He moved his hand. She thought he was completely backing off. He’d cradled her face and kissed her. “It’s okay. Put your arms around my neck.”

  She thought they were going back to just kissing. Relieved, she wound her arms around his neck.

  And then he’d rammed into her, hard and fast. It felt like a red-hot butcher knife, splitting her in two.

  “I—I screamed,” she told Katie.

  “Did he stop?”

  “Yeah, but not right away.”

  He’d thrust into her again, then again. His eyes had been closed, his mouth all twisted. She’d screamed again, and he’d driven into her even harder. His face had been right above hers, contorted in a scary kind of way.

  “Get off!”

  She’d wanted to push him away, but her arms were locked by his body weight, and all she could do was flap her wrists. His breath blew hard into her face. He’d grunted and thrust, and then it was all over.

  “It happened so fast,” Gracie told Katie. “I didn’t know he was even going to, and then he did, and then… he was done.”

  “Wow. That was awesome,” he’d said when he rolled off her, as if everything was just fine.

  Shaking, Gracie had climbed out of the pickup bed, then promptly vomited on the parking lot.

  “I—I just wanted to get away. My aunt’s place wasn’t far, so I—I ran.”

  She’d only had one shoe, and her panties had been clumped around one ankle. She’d nearly tripped over them. She’d stopped, pulled off the shoe and her underwear, then run as fast as she could.

  “Do you know what kind of truck it was?” Katie asked.

  Gracie shook her head. “Just a pickup. It was black. Or maybe dark blue.”

  “Did you see the license plate?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you know anything about the other kids with him? Their names, or where they were from?”

  She shook her head. A fresh sob rose in her throat. “What am I going to tell my baby when he’s old enough to ask?”

  “It’ll be okay, honey.” Katie rocked her. “It’ll be okay.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Zack’s fingers knotted in his palm. He wanted to smack something—specifically, the face of the prick who’d done this to his daughter. “That’s all she knows?”

  “Yeah.” Katie nodded. “I’m pretty sure she told me everything.”

  “That’s not much to go on.”

  “I know.”

  Katie had waited to tell him until she’d taken Gracie to work at the retirement home the next morning. Zack had been sitting at his office desk as she delivered the news, but now he needed to move, needed to dispell the energy blazing inside him like an oil field fire.

  He paced the room. “Damn it. The odds of finding this guy are worse than nil. We don’t even know where to begin looking.” He stopped as a new concern hit him. “Was she tested for STDs?”

  Katie nodded. “I called her ob-gyn. It was an automatic part of her pregnancy workup. She’s okay.”

  “Well, thank God for that.” Zack strode back across the room. “The asshole didn’t even wear a condom!” He froze and looked at Katie. Guilt oozed to the top of the toxic sludge in his chest. He ran a hand down his face. “Hell. That’s the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?”r />
  “It’s not the same.”

  “It was no more okay for me not to wear one than it was for this guy.”

  “We were different, you and I. Entirely different. We knew each other. We were friends. I was… willing.” She looked down at the desk, then back up, her mouth curved in a wry smile. “More than willing.”

  She abruptly rose from her chair and carried her coffee cup to the kitchen. He followed her.

  “She should file a police report,” Zack said.

  “I asked her if she wanted to.” The cup clattered as Katie set it in the stainless-steel sink. “She said she doesn’t want the baby to be burdened with that kind of baggage. Besides, she isn’t sure she really told the boy no.”

  “Damn it, any hesitation on the woman’s part is a no.”

  Katie looked at him, her eyes soft. “Too bad all men aren’t like you, Zack.”

  Something jumped between them, something beyond chemistry, something deeper and more tender. She turned away from him again. “Gracie’s agreed to talk to a counselor. I’m taking her for her first session tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That’s good.” Zack rubbed his jaw, rage and outrage and a raw, nameless pain bubbling through his veins. Everything Katie was saying made sense, but damn, it was all passive. He needed to take some action. He strode the length of the kitchen, biting the inside of his mouth.

  “Are you okay?” Katie asked.

  Okay? He had homicide brewing in his heart. “I’m so damn mad I can’t stand it.” For the first time in his life, he could understand how someone could be angry enough to kill. He paced back into the kitchen, balling his hands into fists. “I’ve got to do something.”

  “You said it yourself, Zack. It’s impossible to find this guy. And any attempt to do so is just going to upset Gracie further. The best thing you can do is nothing.”

  “I’ve never done well with nothing as a goal.”

  “Well, then, here’s a positive goal. Go take a long, hard run, and get your feelings under control. Gracie knows I’m telling you this, and she’s really worried about what you’ll think of her.”