by Wendy Owens
When I put aside all the neurotic thoughts rushing through my head, the real question is, what do I do next? I’m having the baby, that isn’t even a thought.
Do I tell Jack? How can I not? Is it my right not to share this information? If I grow the life inside of me, isn’t it then an extension of myself? I should be able to choose if I want Jack in the baby’s life or not, shouldn’t I? But isn’t it selfish to rob the child of its father? In all honesty, though, what kind of father would Jack make? He supposedly loved me, yet couldn’t remain faithful. Could he be any better to a child? His parents stay together, despite the fact they hate each other. The entire world around Jack is full of lies, and if I’m to be a good mother, how can I subject this child to that life, surrounded by those people?
More immediately than Jack, though, is what do I do with my life now? I can’t keep living at the inn, pretending I’m completely normal. I can’t possibly pursue a relationship with Holden. It’s not fair of me to ask him to entangle himself in so much drama. My heart sinks at the idea of a life without Holden.
Swallowing, I start the truck and flip on the wipers. I’m no closer to figuring out what I’m going to do with the mess my life has become, but I know I have to get as far away from Holden as soon as possible. I know enough of him to know he would never reject me because I’m caring someone else’s child. He is far too noble. I’m determined not to let him sacrifice his life and happiness. I can’t. I won’t.
On the drive back to The Three Horseshoes, the rain stops and the sun comes out. I catch sight of a rainbow over one of the hill sides. Cracking the window, I breathe in the smell of wet grass. I tell myself it’s going to be all right. You can do this. You’ve always taken what life throws at you. My pep talks don’t seem to be giving me much solace.
I pull up the long drive to the inn. My heart stops when I see him. The first instinct I have is to slam on the brakes, throw the truck in reverse, and get the heck out of there. I hesitate, my hand hovering over the gearshift, trying to decide my next course of action.
He sees me and begins waving, a huge smile split across his face. There is nothing I can do now but drive up the path. I wish the gravel drive were miles long, but in a matter of seconds I’m pulling in front and putting the vehicle in park.
Holden sets down the large keg he’s carrying in the back of the truck and walks around to open my door. I don’t realize this and push the door open, slamming into his side. He coughs out a huge gust of air and then laughs.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” I squeal, jumping out and trying to steady him. “Are you all right?”
He’s still laughing, so that’s a good sign. “I’m fine,” he says at last.
I turn to walk around him, and he grabs my arm. I peer at him, and he smiles back. He doesn’t say anything—just looks at me. I wonder if he can tell by my expression what has transpired. Does my face hold the truth—the truth that a life is growing inside me? Does he see the sadness? I can’t seem to push away the thoughts. He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead, then releases my arm.
A knit appears across my brow, and I ask, “What was that?”
“I believe it’s called affection.” He laughs again. I note what a great mood he’s in. I know that will soon change. “I missed you.”
“I just went to a doctor appointment,” I say.
“Oh, that’s right. So is it the plague? Oh, it’s not some disgusting parasite thing, is it?”
“Something like that.”
He now looks concerned. “Wait, you’re going to be all right, aren’t you?”
This is it, I tell myself. Just blurt it out and tell him or you never will. I open my mouth, and instead I say, “I’m going to be fine. I just need to get some rest.” Yeah, everything should be fine after the nine months are up, I hear myself screaming in my head. But I’m determined to keep it muted for now.
“Well, that’s good. I hate to run out on you right when you get home, but Abner and I have to go on a keg delivery.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, a half-smile on my face. I think I’ve managed to fool him into believing everything is normal.
“Yes, everyone loved my latest home brew on tap. Word spread, and some local bars want to carry it.” His voice is ringing with excitement. I love seeing him like this. The wonder in him is inspiring.
“That’s exciting.”
“You should go up and rest, Doctor’s orders. Bea is in the kitchen doing tonight’s food prep; let her know if you need anything,” he informs me before giving me one last peck on the cheek and sending me on my way.
“Bye,” I whisper as I turn to walk away.
I climb the stairs and flop down on my bed, staring at the Macbook on the desk. I know I should have told him immediately. The more time that passes the harder this is going to be on everyone. Even though, in my heart, I know this is more than any man should have to deal with, I can’t seem to say the words. And if I can’t be strong enough to set him free face-to-face, then there is only one thing left to do.
The plan begins to unfold in my mind, and while it’s one I’m not comfortable with, it’s one that will result in Holden hating me forever. When considering the choices, I’d rather he hate me for thinking I’m a lousy person, than hating me later in life because I trapped him.
I pull out my paper journal from the nightstand, the one I haven’t used since I received Holden’s gift. I stare at the blank page. How can I possibly choose the words I know will break his heart? Do I tell him the truth? No—if he knows the truth, he will only try to find me. I must be careful in how I say this.
I press the lead tip so firmly against the paper it splinters. There are tears behind my eyes, but I refuse to allow them to flow. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life now, but I do know this feels like the right and good thing to do. I know that releasing Holden from my future will give him a freedom he should thank me for. Shifting the pencil in my hand, I begin again.
Dear Holden,
I know it isn’t fair of me to do this in a letter. If I were able to say these words to your face, please believe that I would. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’ve come to the conclusion that what almost happened the other night between us would have been a mistake.
I’m not ready for a relationship, even one without strings attached. I thought I was ready to move on, but there are still things haunting me from my relationship with Jack. I hope you can respect that for me to work these things out I need to be alone. I think you’re amazing, and you’re going to find an incredible girl who would do anything to be yours. I’m just not her.
Annabelle
I carefully think out every detail of the letter. I don’t use the word ‘love’ in my signature line. I avoid the nickname he created for me. I need to convince him that I don’t have feelings for him. I need to make him believe my lies.
I place the letter on top of the laptop. The gift was the most thoughtful and amazingly beautiful thing anyone had ever gotten me, but it isn’t mine to keep. Only if I were able to return his affection could I keep such an item.
I phone for a cab and begin packing. I’m not sure how much time I have, but I know I need to be gone before he returns. I should be able to sneak past Bea undetected. And then it will be like I was never here.
My phone buzzed most of the train ride. Even though it was Kenzie, and I wanted to talk to her more than anyone else in the world right now, I didn’t dare answer it in a crowded public place. I’m pretty sure sharing my current set of tragic circumstances with her is going to set me into a sobbing frenzy.
I’ve spent the past two days on buses and trains, dealing with layovers and sharing cabins with complete strangers. The entire time I’m consumed with the knowledge that my life will never be the same. Once in the hotel, the exhaustion consumes me, and no matter how many times Kenzie tries to call, there is no way I’m waking up for anything.
All night I’m plagued by dreams that cause me to never fully r
each that deep state of rest. There is the particularly lovely dream where I’m married to Jack, and when the baby is born, he has Holden’s face. Literally, he has Holden’s man face. I don’t even want to know what my subconscious is trying to sort out with that one.
There is a knock at the door, and my growling stomach is relieved to know within minutes I will be stuffing my face with pastries, eggs, and bacon. I pull my robe tight and open the door. A young man, no more than eighteen or nineteen, greets me, and his accent makes me smile. He’s extremely polite, and though I wish he would simply leave the tray and go, he insists on setting up an entire area at a side table for me to eat. I sign the receipt, making sure I leave the young man a more-than-generous tip.
I sit down, lifting each lid and taking in the smells of all the foods. When I get to the eggs I feel my stomach flip, and I think I might be sick, but then remember I have nothing inside me to throw up. Apparently pregnant me hates eggs. I quickly cover them, and my stomach settles. I down a huge gulp of orange juice and begin devouring the food in front of me, moaning with the first few bites.
Once my ravenous appetite seems to be satisfied, I pull my phone off the nightstand and settle into a side chair. I glance down to see that I have eleven missed calls and four missed texts. Kenzie must really be worried; she always texts me more than she calls me.
I slide my finger across the glass face of the phone, dial her number, and wait for her panicked answer.
“Well, it’s about flipping time!” Her voice makes me grin. I miss her so much, a brief thought enters my mind that I should hop on a plane and head home to see her.
“Sorry, sweetie, it’s a long story.”
“Can’t pull your lips away from your golden-haired hottie long enough to even call your best friend?”
I hesitate, unsure how to even respond. “Not exactly,” I say at last.
“All right, there’s something in your voice, so what’s going on? Did he hurt you? Because I swear to God, if he laid one—”
“No, no Kenzie, it’s nothing like that,” I reassure her.
“So it is something, though?”
“I’m not at the inn anymore.”
“What?” she asks. “What happened?”
I can feel the tears building up in my eyes already, and when I speak, my voice immediately begins to break. “Oh God, Kenzie, I don’t know what in the hell I’m going to do.”
“Okay, calm down, everything’s going to be okay.”
And there they are, the tears, already flowing. “No, I swear, everything is not going to be okay.”
“You need to tell me what happened. Was it Holden? Did he get all stalker creepy on your ass or something?” Kenzie questions, but I can’t answer, trying to catch my breath through the crying. “You’re freaking me out here, honey. Do I need to kick some English tail?
“No, it’s not Holden, he’s perfect. Well, except for the fact that he probably hates me now,” I explain.
“Girl, I have known you for a really long time, and I can’t think of a single person who has ever hated you. Hell, even Jack won’t leave me alone.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Jesus, he’s obsessed or something, calling me all the time, asking me where you are.”
I moan, sobbing even more violently. “Oh, Kenz, please don’t talk about him.”
“Seriously, what is going on?” she demands.
I pause. If there were anyone I was going to tell about my current situation, Kenzie would be it. “Okay, but you have to keep this between us.”
“Are you freaking kidding me? Who in the hell am I going to tell?”
Swallowing hard, I attempt to catch my breath and steady myself. I close my eyes and say the words, “I’m pregnant.”
The line is silent. I wonder if I actually said them out loud or only in my head. I repeat myself, “Kenz? Did you hear me? I’m pregnant.”
“Uh, yeah—I heard you,” she answers, stumbling over her words.
I twist uncomfortably in my seat as the silence begins to linger between us again. “Well, say something.”
“I didn’t know you and Holden were even doing it yet.”
“We’re not. I mean we weren’t, I—it’s Jack’s,” I explain.
“What!” Her tone says everything. In that one word she manages to express the pure and overwhelming panic I am feeling. I wasn’t insane for freaking out. This is clearly as big a bomb as I’d feared.
“I know … what am I going to do?”
“Wait, slow down, how is this possible? Have you seen Jack at all?”
“No! The doctor says I’m about eleven weeks, which means I was a week or two along when he was screwing Brunhilda—or whatever the hell her name is.”
“How did you not know you were pregnant? Were you still having your rag or something?”
“No—I guess I didn’t think about it. I started puking and feeling shitty. Bea made the comment about being pregnant, and that was when I realized it had been three months since my last period.”
“What? Are you telling me you never put it together that you hadn’t been bleeding since you broke up with Jack?”
“Um yeah, not really helping right now, Kenzie. My life has been pretty messed up over the past few months, so I wasn’t exactly marking that kind of crap down on a calendar.”
“Sorry, you’re right. I’m just trying to process this.”
“I’m screwed,” I mutter.
“Wait, so Holden was pretty pissed about it? Is that why you left? I mean, wow, what a dick.”
“No, well, I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, ’you don’t know?’”
“I sort of left without telling him.”
“You what?” Kenzie gasps.
“What was I supposed to do? Walk up and say, ’Hey Holden, I think you’re a great kisser, and it’s swell you think you’re falling for me, but would you mind raising my douche-bag ex-fiancé’s baby?’ Yeah, no thanks. Better he hates me for running out on him without an explanation than know the truth.”
“You should come home,” she suggests.
“I can’t; I’m not ready.”
“How can you not be ready? You’ve been gone forever!”
“I’m just not.”
“That realtor is hosting an open house on your condo this weekend. There’s going to be a lot going on here you can distract yourself with, and then I’ll be here to take care of you.”
“Ugh, and risk seeing Jack, no way.”
“Wait, what? You’re going to tell him, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I reply honestly.
“He’s a dick, but he is the father.”
“Yeah, you think I don’t know that? I just need to sort this out in my head first,” I say, but I know any attempt to explain where I’m at in my head is pointless since I’m not even making sense to myself.
“So what are you going to do?”
“For now? Stick to the plan. I’m in Edinburgh, and I’m going to go enjoy the sights and check out the places Arthur Conan Doyle talked about in his stories.
“So a bunch of boring stuff?”
“Whatever,” I huff.
“You can’t keep running from your problems, you know that, right?”
“Excuse me? Who am I talking to? It can’t be Kenzie, my nearest and dearest friend who has never actually made a mature decision in her life.”
“Hey chickie, that hurts.”
“Sorry, but I don’t think you should be preaching to me.”
“No preaching, just a polite prompting.”
“Please, just trust me; I’m going to figure this out.”
She sighs. “I do … I know you will. I’m just worried about you.”
“Well, don’t. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, promise you’re going to check in with me every few days,” Kenzie instructs me.
“I will,” I assure her. “I love you.”
�
��Love you, too,” Kenzie chirps, trying to disguise her concern.
No matter how much I try to convince her that things are going to be okay, I’m failing at convincing myself of this fact.
My stay in Edinburgh was much briefer than I’d originally anticipated. Everywhere I turned there were reminders of Holden. Something as simple as passing by a pub and catching a glimpse of a man sipping his beer made me think of him.
It’s quite infuriating, though I can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking of me as well. In my mind, I want him to forget about me, but in my heart I like to think I’m lingering in his thoughts. Our kisses, the way our bodies touched, or more than the physical, the way we connected.
My original itinerary for the entire trip has changed. The idea of visiting the stomping grounds of famous authors has lost its appeal. Perhaps because that, too, somehow led my thoughts back to Holden. Now I’m only trying to survive. I’m thirteen weeks pregnant, alone, and I have no plan. Rather than thinking about my next step, I can’t get Holden out of my mind.
In choosing my next adventure, I decided to go to a place I always wanted to visit. Greece. It’s the birthplace of democracy and the Olympics, but for me, there is something else drawing me to this place.
When I was eleven, I found a magazine in my mom’s nightstand. It was one all about travel, and inside the pages were amazing pictures of the coastlines in Greece. There were beautiful women staring out at the water, couples walking hand in hand, and even pictures of children smiling. I can remember the incident like it was yesterday. My mother walked in, saw what I was doing, and simply said the words, heaven on Earth, and then walked out. A rare insight into her thoughts that I wasn’t used to getting. She preferred to remain guarded.
Here I am, a place where one of the unhappiest women on the planet thought looked like bliss. If I can’t figure out my messed up life in a paradise like Greece, then I am clearly going about things all wrong.
It’s only been a day, and I’ve already found a quaint waterfront room to rent. It’s a bedroom inside of a home. The owner is an artist from New York who seems content with sharing her space and not her life. This is more than fine with me. Usually when people start sharing details of their lives, they will eventually want to know about yours. Right now my life is the last thing I want to talk about.