by Dana Taylor
A lump rose in Maddie's throat. "Do you regret the divorce?"
Phil sighed deeply. "I regret my mistakes. I suppose I regret the marriage. Pam and I were too young, too damned stupid to be married. We looked good together, liked to party. A lot of my marriage is lost in a boozy haze. When I'd come home from practice, Pam would have a shaker of drinks ready and sometimes we'd have ridiculous arguments. We spent all the money that came in. I was making big bucks and we thought it would last forever. Bought fancy cars, but never let the Skylark go. Good thing as it turned out."
"And then you got injured."
"Yeah. 'Hitting bottom' they call it. I hit real hard. I went totally crazy one night on painkillers and alcohol. Smashed up a lot of Pam's beautiful things. She called the cops. I spent the weekend in jail. When I got out, she and Melissa were gone."
Maddie placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Is that when you joined AA?"
"No, I wasn't that smart. I wallowed for a while. Pam filed for divorce and lived with a linebacker from Florida. I've got to admit her leaving made it easier to sober up. I think I drank as much to drown out her voice as deal with the pain. Anyway, I realized what a lousy father I'd been. I've been trying to make up for lost time, but until recently, I was sure I'd totally blown it."
Maddie gently rubbed down Phil's arm. "I've met Melissa, you know. I think she's delightful and she's very interested in you and the team."
He nodded. "Yeah, this move has been a good thing." He put a hand over hers. "In more ways than one."
They stared into each other's eyes, each stripped bare of pretension.
Phil cupped a hand into her hair. "What are you doing here with a broken down football player? You should be married to a doctor or maybe a senator heading up charities and getting your picture in the society page of the paper."
"I have a genetic flaw."
"What's that?"
"The women in my family seem to have a weakness for country boys from Arkansas."
"Sounds serious."
"There isn't any cure."
"Glad to hear it." Phil yawned. "Damn, babe, I'm getting so sleepy."
Maddie arranged a pillow at the end of the sofa and pushed him into a reclining position, then covered him with a blanket. The sound of his steady snoring soon filled the room.
She stood before the sofa studying her sleeping giant. A warm glow and a cold terror engulfed her at the same time. She could fall in love with this man, become totally, utterly vulnerable to ecstasy and pain. But love no longer meant the stuff of fairy tales to her, living happily ever after and all that rot. Love meant handing your heart over to another person to be squashed under his boot.
Phil already held some kind of power over her. She was here, wasn't she? Probably risking her job, certainly her reputation. And yet she wanted to be here. Wanted to run her fingers through his auburn hair. Wanted him to tease her and call her "cupcake." If she went with her feelings, would she regret it? Or was this another episode of going over the edge, giving into hormonal mania? Perhaps a good tumble in the sheets would get him out of her system.
No, she didn't work that way. She didn't separate sex and love. When she gave her body, her heart and soul went with it. Perhaps his tumble in the poison ivy was a warning. Turn back before it's too late. Heart danger zone.
Then he snuffled, wiggled his nose and looked so damned appealing despite the rash, she wanted to throw herself on top of him.
"Madeleine Harris, get a hold of yourself," she muttered and decided to get to work on that beef stew. The radio played country western softly as she chopped vegetables and put the meat in the pot to cook. She anticipated the sensual pleasure of breathing in the homey scents of browning beef and onions. Tipping her nose over the steaming concoction, she inhaled deeply and immediately felt a wave of nausea punch her stomach.
Gasping, she pressed a hand over her mouth and stumbled back from the stove. Taking deep breaths, she retreated to the dining table and grabbed the back of a chair for support. What in the world…?
How could she suddenly feel so sick? Then she remembered back to the early morning heaves in her bathroom. And how about the incredible sleepiness she'd been experiencing? A time bomb had been quietly counting down to detonation.
Tick, tick, tick. Kaboom! Her mind exploded with certain knowledge.
She was pregnant.
The comfortable veil of denial she'd been living under for the past few weeks was blown to smithereens. The signs had been there, much as she'd chosen to ignore them—no period, increased fatigue, strange cravings.
She sat down in the hard chair and stared out the window, gulping air. The view of the fall colors and the shimmering lake dimly registered in her brain. You're pregnant. A breezy gust in the yard brought up a tiny twister, skittering leaves and twigs into a whirlwind across the uncut grass. Flying particles of debris matched the swirling emotions in her mind.
Pregnant—how wonderful! Every girl dreams about having a baby, the secret longing of every feminine heart. Pure joy rose like a bubble in her brain, only to burst against a wall of fear and embarrassment. Pregnant–how terrible! How stupid, how exciting, how overwhelming…how nauseating. She ran to the bathroom.
A few minutes later Maddie hovered at the sink in the small bathroom, rinsed out her mouth, splashed cool water on her face and gently dabbed it dry with a fluffy white washcloth. Madeleine Harris stared at her reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror, a single harsh light bulb exposing every pore and approaching wrinkle.
Did it show yet? Was there another telltale crease of truth etched in her skin? On top of earlier insecurities and indiscretions did SINGLE PREGNANT WOMAN blink on her forehead like a neon sign? She searched for signs of puffiness, but that probably came later, after she quit barfing several times a day.
All of a sudden her all-too-familiar schizophrenia overcame her.
"Stop! Wait! This can't be happening."
"I'm having a baby! Isn't it great!"
"It's a disaster."
"It's a miracle."
Colliding emotions of panic and exhilaration sent her into a state of hyperventilation. Stumbling into the kitchen, she grabbed a paper bag from her shopping expedition and thrust it over her mouth. In with the good air, out with the bad air. It took several minutes to vanquish the tingling in her extremities.
She threw down the paper bag. I can't stand being cooped up here one more minute.
She pulled on Phil's windbreaker and stormed out into the autumn afternoon. Dry leaves crunched with each step as she made tracks toward the water, her mind working as quickly as her feet.
At that point her thinking processes short-circuited and became more like a kaleidoscope of images. Her mother's face would tighten and pinch when she learned of her daughter's unplanned pregnancy. Her down-home father might accuse her of "swallowing a watermelon like common trailer trash." She imagined herself slinking out of town to avoid knowing eyes, the Camry loaded with her computer, clothes and other personal belongings. She might give birth in the backseat, or out in the woods like the Indians in the movies.
Stopping at the water's edge, she forced herself to calm down. The wind-whipped lake resembled the sloshing of her disjointed thoughts. Looking to the horizon, she focused on a dim orb in the sky. Good God, it was only three o'clock in the afternoon, but there it hung above her—a three-quarter moon, deceptively innocent, an oversized rock floating across the heavens. But, she knew its power all too well.
Memory flashed back–white light against an inky backdrop. Hot, humid air; her skin dripping wet. Seduced by the stunning beauty of the cosmos and the shining summer moon, she'd answered a whispered call on a lonely night, taking for granted an illusion of privacy and seclusion. But by morning, sparkling dreams had turned to harsh reality. What felt like magical ethereal lovemaking had been nothing more than an anonymous sexual encounter. She'd been tricked by some weird, cosmic prank.
Her trickster was disguised now, resting in a sunl
it sky, completely innocuous. But she recognized her tormentor just the same.
Maddie yelled as she lifted her arms high. "Damn you! Damn you, you damned Devil Moon!"
Chapter Nine
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing
And he vows his passion is infinite, undying
Lady, make note of this:
One of you is lying
Dorothy Parker
Returning to the cabin, temporarily spent of emotion, Maddie went back to the mindless task of cooking, carefully munching a saltine cracker to soothe her stomach. The chop and plunk of carrots and potatoes brought a sense of order to the chaotic workings of her mind. She really needed to start thinking in straight lines, form logical patterns.
Phil snorted loudly and turned over on the sofa, drawing Maddie's attention. Oh, good heavens, she couldn't face him at this moment. How could she explain it to him? She didn't understand it herself.
She crossed the small room and stood over him, so glad he still slept. She'd never be able to hide her jumbled emotions from him. He charged through her defenses like the ace quarterback he was. If he woke up now and read her expression, she'd confess to an unplanned pregnancy brought on by a one-night stand. Mortification chilled her soul.
And what did this new development mean to their budding relationship? Probably the end. In truth, the thought of dealing with the complications of an affair and impending motherhood made her dizzy. Of course, she might opt out of parenthood. She could get a quiet abortion and deal with Phil later, if he still showed interest. Or just let it go. Life might just be a lot easier if she stayed solitary and maintained her quiet life. Oh, so many conflicting emotions.
Ready to jump out of her skin, she considered hopping in her car and driving away into the sunset. But leaving Phil itchy and stranded was a horrible thing to do. She looked about the room, grabbed the cell phone out of her purse and closed herself in the bedroom.
She heaved a sigh of relief when Randy picked up on the second ring. "Randy, it's me. Could you do me a big favor?"
"Sure, darlin', whatever your little heart desires." Randy's sweet voice helped calm her down.
After making arrangements for Randy to pick her up, she found a pen and wrote Phil a note on the back of a brown paper grocery sack. She slipped back into her Miss Harris assistant principal persona.
"Dear Mr. Wilcox,
Thank you for the very enjoyable fishing expedition. I've had a personal emergency and must get back home. I have arranged for transportation. Please enjoy a bowl of stew and the rest of the cake. You may leave my car parked with the keys under the mat in the lot at your apartment complex. I have a spare key and will come by tomorrow afternoon to pick it up.
I hope your rash improves quickly.
Very truly yours,
Madeleine Harris"
Phil awakened in the early morning hours. He sat up and stretched, figured Maddie was asleep in the bedroom. A light over the stove and the last embers of the fire cast a small glow in the room. The food smelled good and he dished himself up a bowl, drowsily taking it over to the table. He fought to keep from scratching his itchy chest. After a couple of spoonfuls, he glanced down at the paper sack lying at his elbow. He noticed some writing and flipped on the overhead light.
"Dear Mr. Wilcox,
Blah, blah, blah
Madeleine Harris"
He shook his head in disbelief. Son of a bitch, he was back to "Mr. Wilcox." What the fuck had happened while he was asleep?
And so ended their romantic weekend.
* * *
On Sunday afternoon, while an itchy Phil erected a basketball goal in Pam's driveway, Randy drove Maddie to get her car in Phil's apartment parking lot. Like a coward, she'd avoided Phil's calls by taking the phone off the hook. After leaving her some memorable messages, he'd called Randy.
Randy pulled in next to the Camry. "I told him to give you some space, that you had some issues to work out. He didn't like it, but I think I bought you some time."
Maddie sat in uncharacteristic silence, merely nodding her head. He hated the ghostly pallor of her skin. He generally avoided playing serious scenes, but at the moment Maddie needed a counselor, not a clown.
Randy touched his hand on her arm. "You know whatever you decide to do, I'll be there 100% for you. Remember how you got me through that awful summer I got dumped by Fabulous-but-Faithless?"
Maddie managed a wan smile. "He wasn't nearly good enough for you."
"Spoken like a true friend." Randy let his flighty front slip. "Listen, dear heart, I haven't forgotten how you forced me out of my pity party during my darkest days. Let's go to the café and talk this out. Father Randy is always available to the lost and forlorn."
She shook her head, a distant look in her eye. "I'm going to take a drive and think things through. Don't worry about me. I'll find you later. Thanks for everything." Maddie leaned over, kissed him on the cheek and exited the car.
He sighed. His Maddie, pregnant. An unexpected plot switch in the story of their lives. He'd ponder the possible scenarios over a nice cup of cappuccino at his favorite coffee house.
***
A beautiful fall day surrounded Maddie as she sped down the road. Fluffy clouds skittered in the indigo blue sky, not that she really noticed. Internal wrestling had kept her up through the wee hours, until exhaustion brought a troubled sleep. The battle for objective thinking over incoherent hysteria still raged behind her eyes. As the oaks, pines, and cottonwoods flashed by in her peripheral vision, she forced intellectual consideration of her options.
Abortion. Certainly a practical, expedient avenue to returning to the normal course of her life. She'd had friends in Boston who'd done it. They went to a clinic, come home tired and sore, no worse off than a bad day at the dentist. Their physical recovery had been swift and complete. If they'd suffered some kind of remorse, they'd hidden it well. She was a strong, modern woman. Surely, she could look upon an abortion as a necessary medical procedure and easily put it behind her.
Her other options meant changing her entire life, giving up her job and probably her new home, for a very uncertain future. If she allowed the pregnancy to go full term, she could give it up for adoption; see that it went to a good stable home. Or she could join the legions of single moms and devote herself to the nurturing of the child.
She supposed she could find new employment over the course of time, perhaps swallow her pride and stay in her parents' home while she sorted things out. Lord, moving back home at her age was unappealing. Her mother would drive her crazy, and her father would be looking to force some man into a shotgun wedding. Then she would have to spill the truth of the unknown paternity. For shame, Maddie, for shame.
All in all, abortion seemed the most practical decision, under the circumstances. While her mind rattled out all the good reasons to simply rid herself of an unwanted pregnancy, her spirit remained unsettled. She needed a sense of peace before embarking on such a course of action.
She'd driven unknown miles up and down the rural hills, not really knowing or caring where she headed. Coming up on her left, she spotted a sign for the Thorn Chapel. Without conscious thought, she turned in the direction of the arrow and followed the short road into the parking lot. It had been years since she'd come with Grammy for an outing to the famous glass chapel nestled in the rocky Arkansas hillside. She parked her car and stared at the path that led up the hill to the chapel.
The angular top of the glass building glinted in the sun. An architectural marvel of glass and beams, the chapel created an enclosed space where the outside ferns, trees and bushes of the habitat visually surrounded the worshipper. A center aisle separated a dozen rows of padded pews allowing visitors to sit in prayer or meditation and drink in the unique spiritual power of the wooded site.
Maddie left her car and followed a compulsion toward the chapel. Her feet moved forward, drawn by an irresistible force. She tugged the tall wooden door
open and entered hallowed ground. A few visitors sat scattered in the pews, quietly whispering prayers. Maddie wandered to an empty area, and sank onto the velvet-padded pew. Strains of hymns wafted in the air from large speakers.
Sitting quietly, she allowed the atmosphere of the chapel to permeate her being. The air seemed charged with a kind of supernatural power, palpable to even the most spiritually insensitive individuals. Angels resided in this place and whispered eternal truths in the ears of the pilgrims who entered the sanctuary. The puny minds of men shrank in proportion to the mighty mind of God; the arrogance of human ego humbled and transformed.
Maddie began to tremble; her intellectual control slipped as turbulent uncertainty swirled in her solar plexus. She had taken a cold, cerebral survey of her situation, but now her emotions surged to the surface, making her mind spin and split. Oh, God, what should I do? She wasn't having a love child, formed from an established, caring relationship. Why, she'd almost been raped, a total stranger coming upon her and taking advantage of her compromised state of mind, not to mention state of dress.
"Hold, on sister." Lord, Grammy appeared again, dimly occupying the seat next to her. "You were pretty much the one who jumped his bones, as I recall. And as for rape, much as you would like to deny it, that was the greatest sexual experience of your entire pathetic love life." Grammy took on solid proportions. "And here's another thing. The child in your womb is not an 'it.' That child is a boy or girl you're fixin' to flush out of existence. You better think long and hard before you wipe away my great-grand child."
Tears streamed down Maddie's face. She'd been holding the image of an actual baby at bay, but now it came into her mind full blown. A baby in her arms. Next, she envisioned a toddler, pudgy, and soft struggling to take a first step. Then an elementary age child transformed into a handsome young man, a real person who was blood of her blood, connected to her soul. She knew she carried a boy. All of a sudden the wells of maternal hormones gushed through her blood stream, causing her breasts to tingle and she longed to hold the swaddled baby in her arms.