He turned off the water and rubbed himself roughly with a towel. Maybe Maryanne feared him now. He stared at his reflection. He wasn’t mean looking, was he? God had forgiven him. Could she look past it?
His cell phone rang on the counter with 50 Cent’s “Just a Lil’ Bit.” The same ringtone he shared with Maryanne.
“Hey, it’s me,” she said.
“I was just thinking about you. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, fine. Have you finished your workout?” She sounded chirpy.
“All done. Can I come over?”
“Yes, that’ll be great. See you in a bit.” She hung up before he could answer.
Lucas dressed quickly and rushed out the door. Minutes later, he was in front of Maryanne’s apartment. She opened the door on the first tap and flew into his arms. He held her in silence—her petite form, like a bird with a broken wing, shuddered in his embrace. Finally, she pulled back and stepped into the apartment.
“Would you like anything to eat? Drink?” She led the way to the kitchen. Her laptop was open on the table alongside a pile of large textbooks. One of them was titled Medical Embryology.
“Sure, I’ll have some juice. What are you studying?”
“I’m trying to get into graduate school for nursing. There are a few exams I have to take, so I’m boning up.” She poured him a glass of cranberry juice. “How was your workout?”
He took the glass. “Workout was good. Are you feeling better since last night?”
She led the way to the couch and flicked on the TV. “Taking a study break.”
They stared at the TV for several minutes. Lucas shifted uncomfortably, his palms sweaty. Her body leaning against him felt like a dead weight, and his lungs sought to expel the stale air. Inane laughter and talk jabbered from the television. Maryanne’s gaze remained locked to the tube, but she didn’t react to anything that flashed across the screen.
Lucas grabbed the remote and switched off the TV.
“What did you do that for?” Her voice cracked with irritation.
“You didn’t ask me to come over and stare at a screen.”
“You’re right. I better get back to studying. I’m thinking of doing either clinical research or nurse practitioner in gerontology or pediatrics, maybe the neonatal intensive care unit. Shall I call for pizza?” She picked up his empty glass and walked toward the kitchen.
Lucas spun her around at the sink. “Why are you pretending everything’s all right? What’s going on?”
“Nothing that concerns you.” Her voice was strained, and a tear rolled down her face.
Lucas held her tightly. “Sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t.”
“Is it what I did?” His voice caught. “Th-that I killed a man?”
“No, you did it in self-defense.” She shuddered and tried to push away.
He didn’t let go. “What’s bothering you? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because you’re acting strange.”
She rested against him, her breathing rapid and shallow.
He stroked her hair and kissed her temple. “I’m here for you. You can tell me.”
“I’m scared.” A wail vibrated through her body. “I’m so scared.”
“Of what?”
“I can’t tell you. My life’s a mess. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk that night. I feel so dirty, so awful.”
His muscles tensed, and his fist balled up. He held his breath and released it slowly. “Whatever happened wasn’t your fault. It doesn’t matter if you were drunk or passed out. They’re to blame. Not you.”
“But I’m the one suffering the consequences.”
He rocked her in his arms. “You’re hurt, but we’ll get through this together.”
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll tell them to go away,” Lucas said.
It rang again, and a male voice yelled, “Mar, you there?”
“Oh, it’s my dad.” Maryanne wiped her eyes and jumped from the sofa. She opened the door, and a middle-aged man entered. She hugged him.
He gave her a peck on the cheek before turning to glare at Lucas. “Who are you?”
A plume of anger erupted in Lucas’ chest. This man had called her a whore. What the hell was he doing here? Lucas stood stiffly and shook his hand. “I’m Lucas Knight, your daughter’s friend.”
“Gil, Gil Torres.” Maryanne’s father tightened his grip, but Lucas squeezed harder. The smaller man’s eyes shone with animosity, and he puffed like a gamecock. “You’re the black guy who found her.”
“Like I said, my name is Lucas Knight, and yes, I found Maryanne the next morning.”
Gil withdrew his hand and rubbed it. “The church lawyer says you staged the entire scene, dumped her there and called the police.”
“That’s insane.”
Maryanne’s father jutted his chin. “If you didn’t do it, tell me who did, because I’m going to bust some heads.”
“I’ll go with you,” Lucas replied. “I think it’s Ryan, the pastor’s son. He was her date.”
“Wait!” Maryanne said. “Can you two stop it? Ryan says he was drugged, too.”
“Then why was the video uploaded from his IP address?” her father yelled.
A nest of hornets exploded in Lucas’ head. “What the fuck? I’m going to kill that bastard. I should have beat the shit out of him when he came by. Why isn’t he in jail?”
“Lucas, stop.” Maryanne pushed his chest. “Please. I don’t want to think about it. Can’t you two leave it alone?”
“No.” Her father persisted. “We can’t let the fuckers get away with this. I’m calling the D.A. to prosecute. We’ll also get the church in civil court for big money. Is there evidence you were raped, other than the video?”
Maryanne’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Mr. Torres, she’s upset.” Lucas wrapped his arms around Maryanne and glared at her father. He sounded more interested in collecting money than how Maryanne felt.
Gil walked past them. “Mar, can I use your laptop? Let me show you what Ryan posted on his Facebook page.”
Maryanne buried her face into Lucas’ chest. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “Is it okay if I ask him to leave?”
A loud crash resounded from the kitchen. Gil had overturned the table, scattering the textbooks, papers and the laptop onto the floor, cracking its screen.
His face an angry purple, Gil clenched his fists. “Pregnancy calendar? What the hell?”
“Pregnant? You’re pregnant?” Lucas’ blood shot to his head, and his pulse spiked.
Maryanne pushed away from him and locked herself in the bathroom.
“Did you knock her up?” Gil pointed a shaking finger at Lucas.
“No, I never touched her.” Lucas’ fist went through the drywall. “Dammit!”
Her father picked up his cell. “I want to file a police report. A rape—No, it’s not happening right now. Send an officer right now—What do you mean it’s not an emergency?—Goddammit. My daughter was raped—Yes I have evidence—My lawyer will call—What kind of police are you?”
He ended the call and shook his phone at Lucas. “They’re going to pay for what they did to my little girl.”
Lucas sank onto the couch and palmed his eyes. Pregnant? By an effing rapist? He gulped air and blew it out. No wonder she shied away from him last night. Why hadn’t she told him she was worried? He rubbed his eyes. He loved her, but could he love the baby? His fists were so tight his knuckles ached. Dammit. This was his fault. He should have forgiven her for that misunderstanding about his sister. If he hadn’t pushed her away, she wouldn’t have been out with Ryan that night.
Maryanne’s father knocked on the bathroom door. “You can’t hide in there all day—What? Okay. I’ll tell him to leave.” He crossed to the living room and faced Lucas. “My daughter wants you to leave.”
“Sure. Let me speak to her one second.” Lucas walk
ed to the door and leaned against it. “I still love you, no matter what. I’ll leave now, but call me, okay?”
She opened the door a crack. “In a week or so, after all this is over.”
“Over? What do you mean?”
Her lips trembled. “I’m getting an abortion.”
“Wait. Let’s think about this.” He grabbed her hand. It was ice cold. “Are you sure?”
“I was raped,” she whispered, her eyes large with pain.
“I know, and I want to kill the guy who did this.” He hugged her, his voice croaking from his dry throat. “But it’s not the baby’s fault.”
“Baby?” Her voice rose and she pounded on his chest. “I just want it to be over. Can’t you understand?”
“Hey, buddy.” Her father grabbed Lucas’ collar. “Where do you get off judging my daughter? Get out!”
Lucas yanked out of his hold. “Sweetheart, I care about you. I don’t want you to do something you might regret.”
Her face tightened and she crossed her arms. “I’ve made my decision. It’s not your baby, Lucas.”
Maryanne’s father cocked his fist, and a jolt of pain snapped Lucas’ head back. “Get away from my daughter.”
Lucas pushed past him toward the door. A huge lump ballooned from his heart to his throat. No one had spoken out for his baby when Daria disposed of it. He stopped. “My baby would have been ten years old.”
Chapter 16
Maryanne had an appointment at the abortion clinic early Monday morning. Her father insisted on driving. He opened the passenger door and Maryanne got in, exhausted from a weekend of emotional upheaval. Lucas’ anguished last words echoed in her mind. His baby would have been ten. Well, this wasn’t about him or his baby. This was a rape baby.
“Drives just like a regular car?” Her father made a face as he scanned the instrument panel of her electric car.
“Yes, Dad. Be extra careful around pedestrians. They can’t hear you.”
Maryanne lay her head back on the neck pillow she’d attached to the headrest. “You don’t have to drive. It’s not like they’re going to put me under.”
“I want to be there. I’ve notified the police to meet us and collect the tissue. I want to make sure the chain of evidence isn’t broken.”
Maryanne bolted upright. “There isn’t going to be any tissue. They give me the pills, I take them on schedule and wait for a miscarriage. I’ll cramp and it’ll be like a heavy period.”
He set the GPS to the clinic. “So how would we know what part is the fetus? We need its DNA to prosecute.”
Maryanne leaned her forehead on the window, fighting the urge to retch. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to dig around and look for it.”
“Oh, come on. You’re a nurse. Let’s go and get this over with.” Her father started the car and backed out of the carport.
Maryanne looked back. “Dad! Watch out!”
A child on a bicycle slammed into the car and crumpled to the ground. Maryanne grabbed her first aid kit and hopped out of the car. She carefully laid the boy on his back and checked his reflexes while her father called 911.
“What’s your mother’s phone number?” Maryanne asked.
“Please don’t call.” The boy winced when she swabbed a scrape on his elbow. “She won’t let me ride my bike to school.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand. Didn’t you hear the beeping?” Electric cars had that annoying backup sound to warn pedestrians.
“I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was an alarm clock.” Tears swirled in his eyes. “I’m going to be late for school.”
“Shh… it’s okay. We have to get you to a hospital. You might have hit your head.” She touched the helmet. “Give me your mother’s number.”
The boy handed her his cell phone. “Tell her I was careful.”
She made the call and told what happened. The mother wanted Maryanne to stay until she arrived. The boy, Chris, was ten years old. His big brown eyes filled with tears, and he kept moaning about how he didn’t want to be driven to school like a baby. Maryanne squeezed his hand. “Everything will be okay.”
A lump swelled in her throat. Lucas could have had a boy or girl, someone to look up to him and go swimming or biking with. He would have made a great father, cracking jokes and taking them hiking and camping.
The fire truck arrived a few minutes later, followed by the police and ambulance. As they loaded Chris onto the ambulance, his mother arrived. She was frantic and climbed into the ambulance, holding his hand and rubbing his head. Maryanne watched them. Would she ever feel that kind of attachment to a child?
By the time the police and insurance company had finished taking pictures and making marks, Maryanne was already late to work. Her father contacted the case worker who recommended a sealed jar to collect the evidence, which meant having a vacuum extraction.
Unfortunately, all the clinics in the Bay Area were booked solid. Maryanne had no choice but to accept an appointment for July 17, more than two weeks away. Demand must have spiked with all the recent graduation parties and senior proms.
~~~
Lucas bowed his head and stepped into the sanctuary of Glory Baptist Church. The pastor was friendly on the phone and agreed to counsel him. But first, he needed to pray. Thankfully, the tiny church was empty on a Monday morning. He walked slowly to the altar and knelt. Even though the rape was heinous, the baby was innocent. But to think of Maryanne carrying it, feeling violated and unclean…
Lucas’ eyes blurred. Wiping them discreetly, he bowed his head. Oh God, comfort Maryanne and heal her pain. Help me to understand her and be compassionate. But don’t let her go through with the abortion. Give her strength and comfort and heal her spirit. I love her so much and I don’t want her to make a mistake. Give me strength to help her. In Jesus’ Holy Name, Amen.
He stared at the baptistery and the orange and green stained glass above it. Sunlight filtered through calm, soft rays. If her father hadn’t been there, he could have comforted her, been the shoulder she cried on. It’s not like he wanted this baby either. The thought of Ryan or any other man hurting Maryanne turned his stomach and twisted a knife in his heart. He looked at his watch and prayed it wasn’t too late.
A giant white cross with the words “In Remembrance of Me” hung on the wall between the windows. A shaft of sunlight sparkled from the stained glass, as if answering his prayer. Warmth filled Lucas’ heart. He would be strong for Maryanne. He’d love her no matter what her decision, but mostly he wanted her to know the forgiveness and joy of putting her faith in Jesus Christ.
He finished praying and walked to the back of the church. Pastor Ortega greeted him at the doorway. “Glad you could come by.”
Lucas towered over the pastor who was no taller than Maryanne’s father. He shook his hand and followed him up the stairs to a small room in the rafters stacked full of books. An electric fan blew from behind a sturdy wooden desk. A picture of the pastor, his wife and their daughter smiled back at Lucas. Mrs. Ortega was a black woman.
“Beautiful family.” Lucas wondered what the child he and Daria lost would have looked like.
The pastor smile broadly. “That’s my wife, Stella. My little girl is Joy, because that’s what she is, a real joy.”
“You’re very fortunate,” Lucas said. “I’m new in this area and looking for a home church. Have you heard of Morning Star Baptist Church?”
“Oh, yes. Pastor Stone is a good friend of mine. A bit of a drive, but it’s a solid church. King James only, like we are.”
“My mother wants me to go there, but as you said, it’s a bit of a drive.” Lucas felt his face heat. He was never a man to whine about his problems to others, but the sorrow for Maryanne and her dilemma crushed his soul.
“Is there something you wanted to talk about today?” The pastor handed him a cup of water.
Lucas stared at the pastor’s desk pad. “My girlfriend is about to have an abortion.”
“I’m so
rry. Did you try to stop her?”
“I told her I didn’t agree. But it’s not my baby, so she and her father said it was none of my business.”
“It must have been hard for you.” Pastor Ortega’s eyes were sympathetic. “What does the father of the baby say?”
“She doesn’t know who he is.” Lucas exhaled slowly. “She was raped after being drugged.”
The pastor dabbed his forehead with a napkin. “This is tough. How are you feeling about this?”
Lucas sipped some water. “I hate what happened to her. I wish I could help her. She’s already emotionally unstable, which caused the drinking and partying. She’s needy, like there’s something missing, an empty space she’s trying to fill. And now, whatever happens, she’s going to need lots of healing. I don’t want her to make a horrible mistake she’ll regret.”
“Why do you love her?” The pastor fiddled with a pen.
“She’s fun and smart. When she first met me, she honestly didn’t try to figure out what race or ethnic group I’m in. She’s a very caring person. She tries to act tough, but she’s a real softie.”
“Sound like good reasons. What will you do if she has the abortion?”
Sweat ringed Lucas’ forehead. “She could have had it already. I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”
The pastor opened his Bible. “You should pray about it before charging into a situation where you’re unprepared, especially if her father’s there. Let’s pray.”
They bowed their heads and Pastor Ortega prayed for God’s hand on the situation and wisdom for both Maryanne and Lucas.
“Thank you, Pastor.” Lucas stood to leave.
“Please bring your girlfriend by. We’d love to meet her, and I’m sure my wife can be a help to her.”
“Okay, will do.” His cell phone rang with Maryanne’s ringtone. Lucas waved to the pastor and hurried to the parking lot.
“Hey, how’s it going?” He closed his eyes, prepared for grief.
“I’m fine. You’re probably wondering what happened.”
“Yeah, are you okay?”
Hidden Under Her Heart Page 12