The fact was that she had missed her period. Now, this was not entirely unusual; she had never been really regular, something to do with her being so thin a doctor had said, but now, because she and Justin had been having sex for the past two months, this missed period was a huge and very frightening thing.
So that morning she had asked Justin to drive her to a drugstore a few towns away. He had not asked her why she wanted to go to that particular store. Justin wasn’t a very curious person, and for once, Sarah was grateful for that.
She had been in an agony of embarrassment and shame as she got out of his car. She wasn’t even sure she would be allowed to buy a home pregnancy test. Did she need to be eighteen? Did she need to have a parent with her? How, she wondered, could she not know these things? She was sure the health teacher at school must have talked about what rights a teen did and did not have, but for the life of her, she couldn’t recall a single word on the subject.
Once in the store she stood before the selection of home pregnancy kits. How did you choose? Every brand claimed an accuracy of close to one hundred percent. Were they lying? Finally, Sarah chose the brand that cost the least. The girl behind the counter made no comment on her purchase, whether through ignorance or politeness Sarah didn’t know and didn’t care.
“Got what you wanted?” Justin had asked when she slid into the passenger seat beside him.
Sarah had managed a smile. “Yes,” she said. “Thanks.”
When he asked if she wanted to get something to eat, she had claimed a chore her mother had asked her to get done sooner rather than later. Justin had just shrugged and driven her home. There was, she knew, a football game on television that afternoon. Little else mattered to Justin when there was a football game on television.
She returned to an empty house. Her mother had left a note saying she had gone over to the Kanes and that Stevie was at a friend’s and wouldn’t be home until dinner.
Slowly, Sarah had walked upstairs to the bathroom. She felt like how she thought a prisoner might feel going to her execution, hoping for but not expecting a reprieve.
Minutes later, she learned that she was pregnant.
She knew without a doubt that it was true. Even though the sensible thing to do would be to confirm the news with another test, the kit hadn’t been cheap and why bother when she knew as well as she knew her own name that this test result, however unwelcome, was fact.
She wrapped the evidence in toilet paper and buried it in the trash can in her room. Of course, her parents would have to know, but the last thing she wanted was for them to find out by accident.
This wasn’t how her life was supposed to be at all. She was not supposed to be having a baby with someone now, especially someone who was not John Adams to her Abigail. She did not love Justin. She had liked him. She still liked him. He was goofy and funny, by accident or by design Sarah couldn’t always tell, but she found that she really enjoyed that about him.
And she had been so intensely, insanely attracted to him. She still was.
Until she met Justin, she had never thought she was the type to be shaken so thoroughly by passion. It wasn’t the sort of person people in Yorktide knew her to be. She was reliable, responsible Sarah Bauer. She was not the sort to lose her head over a boy. Cordelia Kane, unkind people might say, was just the sort, a bit shallow minded, a bit ditzy. And very unkind people might say that she looked the part, blond and voluptuous.
But no, plain, skinny, serious Sarah Bauer had been the one to fall madly in lust with a nineteen-year-old goof-off. She had managed to hold Justin off for almost four months before his increasingly ardent advances and her own strong emotions had finally led her to agree to have sex. Not the kind they had had a few times already. The kind that could make you pregnant. The kind that had made her pregnant.
And now, she would have to tell him. She didn’t know exactly what he would say, but she knew that he would not be happy.
Sarah put her hands over her face. A pregnancy was beyond her worst nightmare. Honestly, her worst nightmare had only involved disappointing her parents by not getting into a good enough college. And with great bitterness Sarah realized that like all sixteen-year-olds—like all children—she had believed herself to be invincible; she had believed, against all reason and proof, that she might very well live forever, certainly not die in a fiery car crash because she was texting, nor fall through the ice on a pond where it was illegal to skate and drown along with her friends, and certainly not get pregnant because she hadn’t been extra, extra careful. Or because she hadn’t said no.
“Stupid,” Sarah muttered behind her hands. “You are a stupid, stupid girl.”
Chapter 7
Adelaide, her hands on her hips, surveyed the empty shop. The Busy Bee would reopen soon, with limited hours of course, but there was still much to be done in preparation for the opening. It was amazing how much dust could gather even in a closed space, and the shop needed to be aired out, too.
She began to unpack the bag of cleaning supplies she had brought with her from home, her mind wandering back to an article she had read recently on The Huffington Post. The writer had gone on at some length about the American culture of easy, irresponsible sexuality. In the writer’s opinion, sex had been systematically devalued to the point where it was a nasty and not very funny joke.
Look at all the celebrities and politicians acting badly, she had pointed out, taking pictures of themselves half naked in suggestive poses and sending them out to the masses via social media. Even the ones who were married and parents, or worse, underage, indulged in what the writer called “irresponsible and downright cheap” behavior.
The article had made Adelaide wonder. Did people really still believe that a woman’s power was solely associated with her ability to seduce men, not with intellectual and financial success, not with the accumulation of wisdom? A brief look at the magazines being sold at the grocery store would seem to confirm that a lot of people still did believe this. It was a sickening, not to say embarrassing, state of affairs.
And Adelaide was worried about her daughter coming of age in such a trashy culture. She and Jack had always tried to arm Cordelia with information so that when she was out there alone in the world and faced with decisions regarding her well-being, she would know enough to make the right choices.
But sometimes, well, more than just sometimes, Cordelia just didn’t think. Adelaide looked at the bottle of bleach in her hand and remembered the time Cordelia had decided to do a load of laundry and had mistakenly used bleach rather than detergent. Everything in the load had been ruined. And just about a month ago, she had seen the mail truck coming down the road and, eager for a package from Zappos, she had run out to meet it, locking herself out of the house in the process. Frankly, Adelaide dreaded the day Cordelia would get her driver’s license. It wasn’t that she would be purposefully reckless. It was just that she might not be as cautious as she should be.
Cordelia was a wonderful person with a very big heart, but Adelaide worried that very heart might lead her into trouble. Cordelia might rush into a situation where someone with a bit more common sense—someone like Sarah—might spend a moment studying her options before deciding to act.
Still, Adelaide was reassured by the fact that Cordelia wasn’t boy crazy. She liked boys, but she didn’t seem to want to date them yet. Whatever the reason—a slow-to-develop libido or a high sense of self-esteem—Adelaide was grateful for it. Unless, of course, Cordelia was afraid of sex. A certain degree of fear, mixed with a certain degree of curiosity, was normal. After all, sex was an unknown, and the unknown should be approached with a degree of caution. But an inordinate, paralyzing fear might prove disastrous for her future. Adelaide wanted her daughter to have a healthy, normal sex life, one unencumbered by superstitions or shame.
And then Adelaide laughed out loud. Superstitions? Shame? Cordelia was as normal a kid as you could get! And she wasn’t a rebellious type, either. Even when she was a toddler
, she had been remarkably easygoing, and her passage into the teenage years had been outstandingly free of trauma.
But here was an interesting question, one also posed by the irate author of the article. Was sex still considered rebellious, or was it so ubiquitous that to not engage in sexual activity at sixteen was seen as odd? Adelaide didn’t really know the answer to that question. People lied all the time about their private behavior, and for all sorts of reasons. Some might claim they were having sex when they were not. The opposite might be true for others. It seemed a wonder that scientists could ever learn anything useful from their human subjects.
Enough speculation. Adelaide picked up the feather duster, attached its long handle, and got to work on the upper shelves and light fixtures. Housework of any sort could be mind-numbingly boring, but it did have the advantage of also being mind-soothingly easy.
Chapter 8
“Can I have the milk, please?”
“May I,” Cindy corrected.
Stevie rolled her eyes but smiled as she did it. “May I have the milk, please?”
The Bauers made it a point to have dinner together. It was something that Cindy’s family had done, as well as Joe’s, and it seemed like a good tradition to maintain. At the very least, it was an easy way to keep tabs on their children. Like this evening, Sarah seemed subdued, not that she was the most high-spirited of girls normally. Still, Cindy thought she had something on her mind.
“Are you feeling all right, Sarah?” she asked.
“Oh, fine,” Sarah said promptly. “Yes.”
“Everything okay at school?”
Sarah nodded. “Everything’s great.”
Cindy let it drop. She hoped that all was well between Sarah and her boyfriend, Justin. He seemed like a nice enough young man, respectful of Sarah as far as she could tell, and polite to her and to Joe the few times they had met him, but Cindy had never really been able to understand what Sarah saw in him. She was clearly more mature than he was and much, much smarter. By his own laughing admission, Justin had barely made it out of high school. Still, he had a decent job with a small commercial fishing concern; it required some skill and a lot of brawn, and he had that in good measure. Cindy knew nothing bad about his family, nor did Joe. In fact, she really didn’t know much of anything about the Morrows. No news was good news, it was said.
Frankly, Cindy and Joe both felt pretty confident that once Sarah finished high school and set off for college, she would break up with Justin. The idea of an early marriage had never once occurred to either of them. The idea of their responsible older daughter getting pregnant had also never once entered their heads. Cindy had talked to Sarah about abstinence and birth control, and the schools had provided information and even free condoms. (Joe had mixed feelings about that.) A smart, educated girl like Sarah just wasn’t at risk.
Still, Cindy would have preferred that Sarah hadn’t gotten involved with Justin Morrow in the first place. A smarter boy would have been better, and no boy at all would have been ideal. (Look at Cordelia Kane, for example. She was just fine without a boyfriend.) But children had minds of their own, and no matter how disconcerting that fact was, it was best to accept it sooner rather than later.
“Pass the butter, please?” Joe asked. “And don’t let Miss Clarissa get at it on the way.”
Clarissa, as was her habit, sat on a stool next to Stevie’s chair. Joe’s warning was a joke; Clarissa’s table manners were impeccable. She liked to drink her water from a glass, not a bowl. She was a terribly sophisticated feline.
“Oh, I’m going to need new cleats for soccer this spring,” Stevie said, after giving Clarissa a bit of her halibut. “I can’t squeeze my feet into the ones I have now.”
“Why is sports equipment so expensive?” Cindy asked rhetorically. “Well, if you need them, we’ll get them. You can’t be running up and down a field with blistered feet.”
“This girl on my team had a really bad blister, and it got infected. She had to go to the emergency room to have it lanced or something. She said it was unbelievably painful.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about lancing blisters at the dinner table,” Cindy suggested. “Sarah?”
Sarah looked up from her plate. Her peas were now all in a straight line. “I’m sorry?”
“Are you sure you’re feeling well? You’re awfully quiet this evening.”
“I’m sure.” As if to prove that she was indeed feeling well, she scooped up the line of peas with the aid of her fork and knife and put them into her mouth.
Well, there was no point in pressing Sarah when she didn’t want to share her feelings. The girl could be beyond stubbornly quiet. She was in that way like her father, but to the nth degree.
“Dessert anyone?” Cindy asked brightly. Unlike the answers to lots of questions in life, Cindy thought, the answer to that question was always simple and straightforward.
Chapter 9
“Grrr,” Cordelia said to her bedroom.
She was sitting at her desk, supposed to be doing her homework, but her mind kept wandering. This was not unusual—her mind enjoyed wandering; in fact, it was one of her greatest skills!—but at this particular moment, Cordelia found it annoying. And it was all Sarah’s fault.
Really, she had been so distant lately. Not exactly moody but less like she was actually paying attention to what you were saying. Cordelia wouldn’t be surprised if it had something to do with Justin the Idiot. Sarah had been seeing him for over five months now. Five months too long! Okay, it wasn’t as if Sarah spent all of her time with Justin. She and Cordelia still hung out a lot. But the fact that Justin existed as Sarah’s boyfriend was like—like an itch you just couldn’t reach no matter how hard you tried. Cordelia frowned. Well, something like that. She had never been good with metaphors or similes.
Frankly, Cordelia didn’t know why Sarah had ever bothered with him. Okay, he was cute in that hunky sort of all-American way (like Channing Tatum), but he had absolutely no sense of style! Well, neither did Sarah. They both pretty much lived in construction boots and no-brand jeans. No matter how often Cordelia had tried to tempt her friend into buying a T-shirt that actually fit or a pair of sandals with heels, she had failed.
Now, Stevie, on the other hand, looked awesome pretty much all the time. Not that Cordelia always liked what Stevie was wearing (those black bracelets with all the spikes were, in Cordelia’s opinion, kind of harsh for life in an idyllic small town in Maine), but at least Stevie cared about her appearance. At least she used her appearance to make a statement about herself. Well, to be fair, Cordelia thought, maybe that was what Sarah was doing, too. And Sarah’s statement was: My appearance doesn’t matter to my sense of who I am. Cordelia thought that was a bit boring, but she would never voice her opinion to her friend. It would sound as if she was criticizing, and Cordelia really believed that people should live and let live.
Except when they went out with the Idiot.
Well, Cordelia certainly couldn’t predict the future, but she had a pretty strong feeling that Justin Morrow wouldn’t be around for that much longer. Sarah was going to go on to college next year, and she would be so busy with her course work and new activities she just wouldn’t have time for a boyfriend who, Cordelia thought, probably couldn’t even spell his name correctly. Okay, maybe that was a bit unfair, but her point was well taken. In Cordelia’s opinion, her best friend had it in her to do pretty much anything she wanted in life. She could probably even become president of the United States except for the fact that she was kind of a loner and didn’t like crowds. Someone like that just didn’t stick around with a guy whose greatest ambition was to meet one of the players from the Red Sox or the Bruins.
Not that Cordelia wouldn’t mind meeting, say, Robert Pattinson in his vampire makeup, or Johnny Depp in his pirate makeup. She most definitely would, but it was not her highest or her only ambition.
At the moment her only (if not highest) ambition should be to finish the homework stil
l not done, but now, for some reason, all she could think about was the half of a homemade chocolate cake sitting in the fridge. Even a small slice would do. Maybe a medium slice.
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” she said aloud, and went down to the kitchen to put the beast to rest. One large slice ought to do it.
Chapter 10
The stars seemed very high and very bright, like brittle shards of glass, like a sprinkling of crystals. Sarah looked up at them through the window of Justin’s car and was amazed that given the dread secret she was keeping she could still respond to the beauty of the night sky.
Justin had picked her up after dinner. He had wanted to go to his apartment, but Sarah suggested they go to the diner in the next town of Taylor’s Well. While she wanted privacy for what she had to tell him, she also feared being alone with him. She simply couldn’t trust herself. He might talk her into another act of foolishness—sex—and that would only drag her further down into an already terrifying emotional hole.
Justin had obliged (he was easygoing; you could say that about him), and now they were sitting in a small booth at the back of the diner. There was an old farmer at the counter nursing a cup of coffee. A couple about twenty-five years old or so sat at a table near the door eating pancakes. Otherwise the diner was empty.
Only one waitress was on duty, a stout, older woman named Jackie with a ready smile and an air of reassurance about her. She immediately reminded Sarah of the Aunt Bee character on those really old Andy Griffith shows. For one insane moment, Sarah wondered what Jackie would say if she spilled her secret to her, if she begged her for help, for a secret place she could hide until the baby was born and then . . .
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