Two Wrongs Make a Right

by Ann Everett

  “When you say it like that it sounds bad. It’s better if you concentrate on the larger number. The worst part is because I lied, I can never see him again. I’ve never met anyone like him. He has a beautiful house in the country, which he built with his own two hands.”

  “I could do a reading. That might tell us if you’re pregnant.”

  “I don’t think I am. With all those things I mentioned working against me, it seems damn near impossible. I’ll wait for Mother Nature.”

  Megan nodded. “Quinn’s right. No need to borrow trouble. I can’t believe you appealed to him because you are not his type. I’ve never seen him with a woman over the age of twenty-five, so I couldn’t imagine you’d have a chance in hell that he’d be interested.”

  Raynie scrunched her face. “That’s rude.”

  Megan dismissed her with a hand wave. “Nothing against Quinn. It’s him. He likes them young and blonde.” She faced Quinn again. “So we’ve got what? A couple of weeks before we know if you’re pregnant or not? Between now and then, I’ll be praying my ass off. Dak has such strong moral values, if you are, and he ever finds out, we’ll be in a shit load of trouble.”

  Quinn’s heart sank. Megan was probably right, Molly wasn’t his type, and he’d only spent the weekend with her because she’d been easy. It made sense. Easy lay and then after the back-to-back sex, he probably figured why not tap that all the way to Memorial Day. She was such a fool. She’d thought he’d be upset to find her gone without a note, when in fact, he was probably relieved. When would she ever learn and stop making a fairytale out of every relationship?

  ~~*~~

  As Quinn waited for Mother Nature, every day was endless. She tried to concentrate on work, but hardly an hour passed that she didn’t think of Dak and her possible dilemma. Her body indicated the start of her period. Her breasts were sore, and she was bloated, not to mention how weepy she was. When she baked, she cried about her dad’s condition. Even though he was doing fine, the threat of cancer returning always loomed. Just the thought of visiting her mother brought tears, and that damn animal cruelty commercial with Sarah McLachlan’s haunting song created a flood big enough to float the ark.

  Putting away the last of the pots and pans, Quinn flashed back to the top of the line appliances in Dak’s kitchen. Her chest rose and fell with a blissful sigh. Cooking in an environment like that was paradise. When she’d seen it, she’d wanted to climb on the gleaming granite countertops and roll like a dog in grass. Let the surface rub against her skin. Embrace the French door refrigerator with ice maker and filtration system. Bask in the light illuminating custom design shelves and super glide vegetable drawers. Even now, the smooth surface range called like a siren’s song, enticing her to use its double ovens.

  Unbelievable. I’m even in love with the guy’s kitchen!

  Shaking herself from the trance, she removed her apron, and poured herself a glass of water. She was dry as a bone. Ever since Memorial Day, she suffered from an uncontrollable thirst. She decided it was a side effect of all the lies she’d told. After draining the tumbler in a few gulps, she refilled it and drank again. She ambled down the hall to the bathroom, and when she sat on the toilet, the answer to the biggest question of her life, stared her in the face. Four days early, she’d gotten her period. She burst into tears and wasn’t sure if they were from joy or sadness.

  She grabbed a wad of paper and held it to both eyes. On one hand, she was relieved. Lying wasn’t in her nature and she must have been crazy to think she could do it without guilt and shame. That combination, she’d discovered, was lethal. It tied her stomach into a knot, turned her heart to stone, and blackened her soul.

  Now all she had to do was figure out a way to see Dak again, and tell him the truth.

  ~~*~~

  Dak walked past Helen’s desk and she looked up at him. “Yeah, I know. If Molly Harper calls, put her through no matter what you’re doing.” The secretary rose and followed him into his office. “Do you ever plan to tell me who she is?”

  He set his brief case on the floor. Helen plopped into one of the two leather client chairs, crossed her legs, and folded her arms as if she’d taken up permanent residence.

  He sat, rocked back, and stretched out his legs. “No idea.”

  Helen shifted, leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs. “That makes no sense, so you need to tell me the whole story.”

  He never whined about women, but Molly was different. He’d opened his heart and home to her. Something he’d never done before and for her to leave without as much as a note, hurt. So what if she’d gone back to her former boyfriend? She could have at least told him. They’d made no promises to each other, but he’d been clear about wanting to see her again, and he expected some common courtesy. He was sure Helen agreed.

  He spent the next fifteen minutes relating the saga, and when he finished his assistant said nothing, just sat back and studied him.

  “Well? I’m right, aren’t I? Don’t you think she should have at least called? And what’s going on with her telling the bartender she was waiting for me? That part is driving me nuts.”

  She took a deep breath, and he didn’t like her expression. “Well?”

  “I’m thinking. You said you thought she was getting even with her boyfriend. So maybe she was waiting for a guy with a certain look. Big. Handsome. Green eyes. You filled the bill.”

  “Hadn’t considered that. You may be right. But why sneak away?”

  Helen fiddled with the diamond cross resting against her windpipe, and it took him back to the bar and Quinn messing with his shirt button. Heat settled in his groin, so he shook the memory away.

  “Let’s put the shoe on the other foot,” she said. “And be honest. Back in the day when you were hooking up, how many one-night-stands did you leave without saying goodbye?”

  “Plenty. But that’s because I’m a guy. We’re jerks.” He held up his hand. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. It shouldn’t be that way, but it is. The thing that bothers me most is I can’t find her. It’s like she doesn’t even exist. I called every medical supply company in El Paso and nobody named Molly or Harper ever worked at any of them. And, she has no social media. How do you explain that?”

  “With all the cyber stalking going on, I’d say it’s easy. Face it. Women have to be more careful than ever these days. She meets you in a bar. Doesn’t know you from Adam, so to be safe, she gives you fake information. That way, if things don’t work out, you can’t hunt her down—like you’re doing.”

  He rocked forward. “Is that what I’m doing? Stalking her? That’s not my intention. I just want answers. I liked her. She liked me. Hell, I took her to the woods at midnight. I could have been a serial killer. She trusted me enough to go, so I don’t get it.”

  “Speaking of trust. Did you share the story about the scar on your chest? How you almost died because a woman lied? That it took years for you to get over it, and because of what happened you don’t trust women?”

  “Well, maybe not that much detail, but yeah. Why?”

  “Well. If I’d met a man, slept with him, been untruthful, and found out he’d almost died because of a woman’s lie, I might not come clean either”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Quinn sat in her car unable to move. Pregnant. Due February 19. Maybe it’ll come on Valentine’s. There’d been such excitement in the doctor’s voice, Quinn couldn’t help but feel it too.

  Turned out, women often bled when the egg attached to the uterus wall and mistook it for their period. Then there was the undying thirst she’d had for weeks. It all made sense once the doctor explained that sometimes thirst was the first symptom. Crazy. She finished her water and ran her hand across her belly. A baby. My baby. Dak’s baby. Tears came in torrents and this time there was no doubt why. Joy bubbled in her chest and she couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt so—happy.

  She unscrewed the lid on her water bottle and took a long slow drink. H
er stomach churned. There were people to tell and sharing the news made her anxious. Who first? Not Mother. Quinn wanted her at the bottom of the list. She didn’t want Mom putting a damper on the euphoria. Megan? No. Save her for last. Mom moved up a notch.

  She couldn’t wait to see Dad’s and Gramps’ faces light up. They’d be thrilled. She wanted to tell them, but not today. She could save the news until the next food delivery. Poppa. Paw-Paw. Pops. What would he want to be called? There was plenty of time to choose a name. She had other pressing matters.

  A crib. Car seat. High chair. She’d have to make a list. Pulling herself together, she drove down the street to Wee-Ones Boutique, and found a parking space nearby. She jumped out of the car and walked into the shop with a bounce in her step.

  Every female in the place looked to be in a different stage of pregnancy. Surprised by the number of men in the store, and how happy they acted, she wondered if Dak would be attentive. She shook the notion away, before it sullied her mood.

  A young blue-eyed woman approached. “Shopping for a gift or yourself?”

  Quinn smiled. “Myself. It’s my first, and I don’t have a clue where to start.”

  “I can help you. We have a list of everything you’ll need during the first twelve months. Do you plan to bottle or breastfeed?”

  Quinn’s eyes went wide. In her mind, she’d not gotten past dressing and rocking the baby. “Uh—breastfeed, I guess.”

  The girl wheeled around, headed toward the counter, and spoke over her shoulder. “Let me get you the list that includes a pump and nursing bras.”

  Quinn followed, her gaze flitting past pink ruffles and bonnets. She stopped short at a display of plush animals and picked up a teddy bear, so soft, she wanted to bury her face in it. The bunny she’d had as a child came to mind and how she’d wagged it everywhere until it became so tattered and worn, her mother took it away. She’d cried for days, but Mom had said Kindergartners were too old for stuffed toys. A week later, Dad bought her a new one, but it never felt the same.

  Funny. She’d not thought of that in years. She replaced the bear and picked up a caramel colored rabbit with floppy ears, big brown eyes, and a pink bow. She hugged it to her chest and imagined her baby loving it as much as she’d loved Roscoe. She looked at the tag. Roxie. That was a good name. If it turned out she was having a boy, she’d switch out the ribbon and shorten it to Rox. She’d let her son or daughter carry it until they started high school, if they wanted.

  Taking it to the register, she laid the animal on the counter. “I want this for sure.”

  “Okay. Here’s the list. Some of the items you won’t need right away, but you’ll need a car seat for the trip home from the hospital. Everything is marked according to when you should purchase. I won’t bother you while you browse, but let me know if you have questions.”

  “Thank you.”

  A display of maternity tee-shirts caught her eye. Sliding them along the rack, she read the captions. Eating for two. Watch out, I kick. Bake at 98.6 for 40 weeks. They were all so cute, and a perfect way to announce her condition.

  She spent the next hour looking and touching lush blankets, frilly dresses, baseball caps, tub toys, and all sorts of lotions and potions that smelled downright edible. She soaked it all in, loving every single minute.

  Back in the car, she took the furry animal out of the bag and hugged her close again. Soft fuzz tickled her chin. Closing her eyes, she imagined a curly top, sleepy eyed, toddler clutching it tight.

  February was a long way off, and she was barely pregnant. That made her laugh out loud. She wasn’t barely pregnant. She was all in. But before sharing the news, maybe it was a good idea to wait until the second trimester. As much as she hated considering it, something could go wrong. Dr. Baker had made it clear. How did she say it? An ‘elderly prima gravida’—older first-time mother. Not good to be considered elderly at thirty-five, but in the motherhood department, she was. AARP will call any day.

  Quinn rubbed the bandage where they’d taken blood. Doctor B pointed out the risk of having a child with chromosomal abnormalities, and because of Quinn’s age, her chances increased by three and a half times over younger women. Then there was the danger of hypertension and the possibility of an emergency C-section during labor. So many things to consider, it made her head spin.

  No. She shouldn’t broadcast the news and get everyone excited until she was sure everything would be fine. There were tests to rule things out. They all carried a slight risk, but the benefits outweighed the danger.

  But she wanted to tell someone, so that left Raynie. Quinn started the car and shifted into drive. Ten minutes later, she parked on the opposite side of the street and watched Rico exit from the shop’s alley door. Then she thought of the tribal art on Dak’s arm, and her heart kicked up a notch. She could add him to the list. Hi, Dak. Remember me? Molly? Well, guess what? My name isn’t Molly. I don’t work or live in El Paso—and you’re going to be a daddy! Yeah, he’d love that. Of all the women he’d been with, he knocks up the spinster.

  She picked up a quarter from her coin holder. Heads I tell him. Tails I don’t. She gave it a toss and let it land on the shopping bag. Okay, best two out of three. Another short lob. Crap. Once more will decide. Again. She cast her eyes toward heaven as if she’d get some Devine intervention, then stared down at the coin once more. Dammit. Best three out of five. Two more tosses. This was a stupid idea.

  Getting out of the car, she strolled to the front entrance. When the door swung wide, a bell tinkled. Her friend came from the back, smoothing her hair in place.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Raynie asked.

  “Better question is what have you been doing with your next door neighbor? I saw him leave. Something going on with him?”

  She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Nothing serious. Back to you. Why are you here? Wait. That didn’t come out right.”

  Quinn held up her hand. “You’re right. I don’t come by unless I need something.”

  “Well then, name your poison. Tarot reading. Horoscope.” She walked to the end of a counter and ran fingers along the shelves. “Incense? Essential oils? Healing stone? Tibetan Singing bowl?”

  “I’ve got something to tell you, but first, I need the ladies’ room.” Bathroom visits had increased in number, but Quinn wouldn’t complain. Peeing was nothing compared to puking. She disappeared down the hall and when she returned, she looked at her friend. “What I’m about to say can’t be repeated to anyone.”

  “Even Megan?”

  “Especially Megan.”

  “Cups, swords, and wands! What is it? You didn’t catch Charlie cheating, did you?” She threw her hands in the air. “If you did, I’ll whack off his willy and hang it from a tree.”

  Quinn grabbed her shoulders. “No. It isn’t about her. It’s about me. I’m pregnant.”

  “Holy shit! Are you sure?”

  “I just came from the doctor. I’m due in February.”

  Raynie took her by the hand, and pulled her to a stool behind the counter. “Are you okay?”

  Quinn hung her head and spent the next few minutes filling Raynie in on the egg attaching and how she’d misinterpreted the period. When she finished, she wiped a tear away, and rested her arm on the counter. “Do you think I should tell Dak? I mean, when I thought I wasn’t pregnant, I’d decided to see him again. I planned to show up at his office, confess everything and hope he’d forgive me. But now that I am, I’m conflicted.”

  Raynie opened a drawer and took out a deck. “Let me do a reading. The outcome may guide you in the right direction.”

  Quinn let her attention wander to the cards, reminding herself how crazy it would be to rely on them. But what the hell? They were as dependable as flipping a coin. God, the baby hormones must already be making her irrational. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to see him. Kiss him. Have him lay his hand on her belly. Beam with joy. “Let’s do it.” She followed Raynie to a nearby table and sat. />
  Raynie shuffled, then riffled, followed by three more hand over hand shuffles, and divided the deck into three stacks and Quinn pointed to the middle.

  “Page of Swords Reversed. As you can see, this is a single figure passing over rugged land, holding up a sword. He’s looking around as if an unexpected enemy might appear and he’s unprepared.”

  A lump formed in her throat. She fixed her eyes on the picture, then at Raynie. “Does that mean I’ll be seen as the enemy?”

  “Not necessarily. It shows muddled thoughts. I need to turn the other two before we get a clear picture. Here we go. Ten of Pentacles. This is better. You see a man, woman, and child beneath an archway giving entrance to a house. That could be you, Dak, and the baby. It signifies family.”

  Quinn brightened. “So it means there’s a chance we could be a family?”

  Raynie presented the last the card and her face drew tight.

  “What? Tell me. It can’t be good, but just say it.”

  “Five of Pentacles Reversed.”

  “Oh no. It’s a woman walking away from a man. She doesn’t look happy, and neither does he. It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “It usually means material trouble, but it can also refer to love, lovers, husbands, wives, or friends.” Raynie leaned forward with body language that said, this isn’t good. “I’m sorry. According to this, those alternatives can’t be harmonized. But keep in mind, the cards aren’t always a hundred percent right.”

  Quinn’s head hurt. There was no need to fight it. First the coin toss said no, now the reading had the same outcome. “No, they confirm what I’ve known all along. As much as I want the three of us together, he’ll never forgive me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The grocery store checker slid the last of twelve cans across the scanner and looked at Quinn. “You must love Beanie-Weenies—and Whoppers.”