Wicked Choice

by Sawyer Bennett

  I've never been close to my parents, and not because they are bad people. On the contrary, they sacrificed their relationship with their only daughter by letting me pursue my Olympic dreams. That meant I often lived away from them. Jacksonville, Florida wasn't exactly the best place for a winter athlete to train. So, from the time I was twelve until I left the Olympics, I lived mostly with training foster families out West where snow was plentiful, or I lived in the dorms at the U.S. Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

  My time with my family was limited but focused, usually centered around holidays. My parents fully supported my dreams. They attended as many of my competitions as they could, but by the time I was sixteen, I was competing around the world. It just wasn't practical with their busy medical practices.

  Sadly, the bond between us is strong by blood but weak by missed opportunities. I haven't even told my parents that I'm pregnant, although I will. Maybe I'll even fly to Florida to visit them soon.

  A sudden yearning for my mom hits me from nowhere. A desire deep within me to just sit with my mom on a couch, put my head on her shoulder, and spill all my secrets. I'm not sure why I want it now. It's not something I've ever really yearned for, but I'd give anything for some security and understanding now.

  "Estelle," I say impulsively as I turn to look at her fully. "I'd actually like to talk to you about something."

  "Anything, honey," she says warmly, taking my hand in hers. "Let's go grab something to drink and sit down."

  I nod mutely, happy to be given this opportunity.

  "Bodie... Geo," Estelle calls out. They turn to look at us, eyes almost glazed with the hunt for a big stuffed animal. "We're going to go back up to the pavilion to get something to drink. Kick our feet up and relax a bit."

  Geo nods absently, turning back to the game booth to pick up a dart. But Bodie's eyes become focused on me intently for a moment, trying to discern if I'm okay. I give him a smile, and he relaxes.

  Nodding, he says, "Okay. You two have fun. We'll catch up to you later."

  Estelle chatters about little things on the way to the pavilion, a huge open tent with drinks, vending, and tables to sit at to get out of the hot sun. We purchase some bottled waters but rather than sit under the tent, we choose a park bench that fortuitously sits under some shade trees and is looking rather abandoned and private.

  Estelle doesn't waste time. The minute we sit down and before I can even uncap my water bottle, she asks, "So what did you want to talk about?"

  "Well," I begin slowly. "You said something back there that struck me. You offered up your ear as a woman, and it really hit me... I need a woman's perspective."

  "That's generally a good idea when you're talking about pregnancy and motherhood," she says with a tinkling laugh.

  I smile and bob my head in agreement. I'm almost shy when I admit, "I don't have any girlfriends. I've never had much time to develop friendships of any sort, and because I work in such a male-dominated field, there aren't many female coworkers I could even bond with. Like me, they're all into the action and career aspects and we're all so busy, we just don't hang that much together."

  "What about your mom?" she asks.

  My smile grows fond and nostalgic. "Yes. I actually could talk to her, I believe. We're not super close because I was practically raised in other people's homes or at training facilities, but yeah... she's my mom and she'd give me good advice. But, you're here and she's not, and I feel like you'd be honest with me."

  "Lay it on me," she says, slinging her arm over the back of the bench to turn more fully toward me. Her brown eyes--same as Bodie's--are soft and welcoming to my needs.

  "I'm not sure if Bodie told you or not, but I've been having some second thoughts about the baby. About being involved in its life."

  Estelle doesn't even raise her eyebrows. "He hasn't told me that, but I would think it would be natural to have conflicting feelings and doubts about any decision that involved a baby."

  I nod. "I wasn't prepared for this. I thought I was solid in my decision, and then...week before last, I started spotting. It scared me so bad that I had to reevaluate everything, because when that happened, I was not ready to let this baby go. And it's nothing but a little tiny thing that can't survive outside of me yet. And I'm thinking... if the bond is that strong now, what the hell is going to happen to me when the baby is born? What will I feel when you and Bodie get on that plane and take the baby to Nebraska?"

  Estelle doesn't respond right away, her expression thoughtful. She leans toward me, and her tone is strong and assured. "I know my son, and I am quite positive he's not pushing you one way or another. He's always content to let people make their own way. But I'm not going to be like that, because I am a mother and I know exactly what you are going to feel when we leave for Nebraska. Rachel... you're going to be crushed. You're going to be immersed in pain. You're going to drown in regret. You're going to hate yourself for missing out on all the wonderful and glorious things that happen with a newborn on a daily basis. Even if you change your mind a week after the baby is born, you're never going to forgive yourself for missing out on just a short seven days."

  I lean back from Estelle, almost as if I want to escape her sharp words. They weren't said unkindly, but said so emphatically I can't help but believe her.

  "What if I'm no good at it, though?" I ask on a whispered plea for her to tell me some truth that will make me feel more confident about everything.

  She crushes me further by giving me the toughest of love. "You might be bad at it at first. All new mothers have to learn their way. It's hard, and you're going to be an emotional mess through it all."

  "You do know you should be trying to convince me to stay involved, right?" I say dryly.

  Tilting her head back, Estelle gives a laugh. "Oh, honey... I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. You have everything you need to make your decision, and you don't strike me as the type of woman who is afraid of a challenge."

  "I'm not," I say a bit too proudly, because now I'm feeling a little foolish for exposing my fears.

  "Then what's the problem?" she asks bluntly.

  So bluntly, it pierces my defenses like an arrow slicing through thin air. I blurt out another worry, and then I'm immediately ashamed. "Your son."

  This time, Estelle does blink, but she quickly pulls a mask in place that reflects open curiosity and no condemnation. She silently waits for me to explain.

  "He complicates things," I mutter, feeling horrible to even say that. My eyes drop down to my lap.

  "Aha," she says in a knowing, enlightened way. "You have feelings for Bodie."

  My head raises slowly, my eyes even slower, but I finally look at his mom. "Yeah... and you have to understand, I've never had feelings like this before. My entire life I've only been responsible for me. I've only answered to myself. And it's one thing for me to commit to a child... there's something biological and primal at work there. But with Bodie? I'm more scared of that than I am of being a mother."

  Estelle's eyes grow softly luminescent, and her happiness that there's someone who cares for her son is obvious. She reaches out and takes my hand. "That I can't help you with. I've only ever loved Geo, so I don't know much about the game of finding love. Geo was always right there since ninth grade. But I can tell you that when you do find love--true love--it's about the most wonderful thing in the world."

  "So they say," I murmur, appreciating that Estelle is pushing the beauty of love rather than the hard work and sacrifice. God knows I've got enough of that facing me with a baby on the way.

  "Just let it be," Estelle suggests, and it sounds like sage advice because it's the easiest thing for me right now. "Just wait and see what happens. If it's meant to be, it will be."

  Estelle drops my hand and nods at something over my shoulder. I don't bother looking when she says, "Our menfolk are coming this way, but one last piece of advice, okay?"

  I nod quickly.

  "K
eep your heart open, Rachel. I suspect you're the type of person who has become so accustomed to being alone that you don't know how to share it. But if you just keep it open, even a little, to let someone else in, I think you'll find that the benefits far outweigh the fears."

  I don't even have time to assure her I'll take her advice, because a massive purple and white panda bear is dropped from above into my lap. It's so huge my arms can't even fit all the way around it. I tip my head way back and see Bodie hovering over me.

  "Finally got that damn bear," he says with a blinding grin.

  "How much money did it cost you?" I ask.

  "Only seventy-two dollars," he says with a laugh. "So, you better enjoy it."

  I don't say it out loud, but I think to myself, This would look awesome in the baby's nursery.

  I also wonder what the nursery would look like. Would we decorate it with cliche or our own personal style?

  All questions that lead me to believe that what I thought I wanted when I first found out I was pregnant is not what I want at all right now.

  CHAPTER 21

  Bodie

  I've seen some shit in my time as a SEAL and working at Jameson. Bullet wounds, broken bones, guts spilling out. I once saw a man jump off a three-story building and land on his head. It popped like a grape, and brains splattered all over.

  Blood and gore never bothered me, but when the doctor pulls a fucking eight-inch-long needle out of its protective wrap, knowing he's going to stick that in Rachel's stomach, my knees go a little weak.

  I'm standing by the examination table at her side, and my hand blindly reaches out to hers. She gives me a comforting squeeze, and I realize it's the first time since Rachel and I started on this journey that she's the one giving me support.

  The thought is almost laughable, but I'm afraid if I open my mouth, I'll puke.

  Rachel just lays there like this is nothing. She even has her other hand propped under her head to raise it, so she can watch what's going on.

  Dr. Anchors has already run the ultrasound wand over her lower belly and located the baby's position. He did that while the local anesthetic he gave her was working its mojo. Now he gets all his implements ready, which is basically just a big fucking needle he's going to stick in my woman.

  The doctor has laid a blue sterile paper over Rachel's lap, which is where he puts the needle. I watch uneasily as he rubs a gauze soaked with a reddish-brown antiseptic all over her belly. She's at fifteen weeks now and according to the internet, the baby is as big as a navel orange. I read that last night after Rachel went to sleep. It seems awful big, which means there's not a lot of room in there for the doctor to make a mistake.

  Just thinking about that again causes my anxiety to flare. I want to scoop Rachel off the table and run.

  I get another squeeze of her hand in mine, and my gaze travels to meet hers. She's staring at me knowingly, but she doesn't make a big deal out of my fears. I give her hand a squeeze back, but that's not enough. Bending over, I put my lips to her forehead and whisper, "Brave girl."

  "Okay," Dr. Anchors says. I pull back from Rachel to watch. I don't want to, but I'm going to because it's the least I can do. "Let's get started."

  A nurse moves in close with the top of the syringe that will draw the fluid out. It's oddly shaped--a rectangular-looking unit with a pull lever and cylindrical container in the middle for the fluid. Dr. Anchors puts the ultrasound wand back to Rachel's belly and quickly locates the baby. My breath catches much as it did the first time, and I sneak a quick peek at Rachel. She's staring at the ultrasound screen with large eyes full of wonder.

  Dr. Anchors holds the wand in place and carefully takes the needle in his other hand. He deftly pierces her abdomen, pushing it down through her uterine wall. My head swims for a moment, but then I blink it away. The nurse moves in, attaches the thing she's holding in her hand to the cap on the needle, and pulls the lever. The cylindrical container fills with a golden yellow liquid. She pulls on it slowly but steadily, and I get a little dizzy again at the amount of fluid coming out.

  My eyes cut to the screen and I have to swallow hard when I see the needle hovering so very close to the baby. My hand reflexively bears down on Rachel, but I don't care at this point. I assume she'll pay me back during childbirth.

  When the tube is filled, the nurse disconnects from the needle, and then Dr. Anchors is pulling it free. He moves the wand a little, checks the baby again, and then pronounces, "All done."

  "That wasn't so bad," Rachel says lightly.

  Dr. Anchors chuckles. "I find that the women usually have an easier time than the men with that procedure."

  "Not this man," I say in a deep, confident voice with my chest puffed out slightly. Thank God, the nausea has passed.

  "While most of the results will take a few weeks, we'll have the gender back in a few days," Dr. Anchors says as he pulls off his gloves. A nurse dries Rachel from the antiseptic that had dripped down her sides, and when she's done, I help her sit up on the table.

  "It's a boy," Rachel says as she comes up to the sitting position.

  "Oh, yeah?" Dr. Anchors says with interest. He pushes up from the stool and goes to the sink to wash his hands. "I believe Bodie declared it was a girl on the last visit."

  "It's definitely a boy," she says confidently. "I just know it."

  "You didn't tell me that," I say somewhat accusingly. Many of our discussions focus around the baby and the pregnancy, and my little proclamation about it being a girl was just a joke. I have no clue whatsoever.

  "I didn't know it until just a little bit ago, when we saw him on the screen. And then I just knew."

  "Huh," I say in contemplation. She's so confident about it, I sort of believe her. I could totally handle a son. But then a thought hits me. "I've got a weird request, though."

  "What's that?" Rachel asks.

  "I don't want to know the sex just yet." Rachel doesn't even look surprised. In fact, she has sort of a knowing smirk on her face. "I mean... I don't want to find out by Dr. Anchors calling us in two days. It's kind of--"

  "Anticlimactic?" Dr. Anchors suggests.

  "Not traditional," I suggest instead as I turn to the doctor. "It's just... I sort of imagined it would be via an ultrasound and Rachel and I would be looking at the screen, not able to even understand what we're looking at, and then you will point at a spot on the screen and say something like, 'Look... it's a penis.' And then I'll yell 'yee-haw,' and Rachel will be like, 'I told you so,' and--"

  Rachel starts laughing and claps me on the shoulder. "Fine. Let's not find out the gender until the next visit with an ultrasound."

  Dr. Anchors chuckles as he dries his hands. "I'll note in the file not to call you with results, and believe it or not, you're not the first parents who have requested to find out via ultrasound."

  "It's a plan," Rachel says with a smile.

  Dr. Anchors reaches his hand out, shakes Rachel's, and then mine. He and the nurse clear out of the room, and Rachel hops off the table.

  I reach over to a chair in the corner and pick up her clothes. As I hand them to her, I ask, "How did that really feel?"

  As Rachel shrugs on her jeans, she says, "It felt weird. The needle burned at first, then I felt a little crampy when they started taking the fluid out."

  She stands up straight to button and zip her jeans. "It hurt a hell of a lot more getting shot."

  "I thought I was going to pass out there for a moment," I admit sheepishly. "I don't know how you were so calm."

  I expect Rachel to laugh at me. Poke at me a little. Tease me good and proper.

  Instead, she steps into me and wraps her arms around my waist. "Thank you for being by my side. That's why it didn't bother me that much."

  Jesus. Sometimes, the things this woman says make me want to believe in all kinds of potential for our future.

  Makes me think we could have something amazing if Rachel were to ever let loose and open herself up.

  When she pul
ls back from me, she moves over to the chair to put her socks and tennis shoes on. I check my watch, mentally calculating the things I need to do tonight. I'm leaving tomorrow for Egypt. It's an intelligence-gathering mission we're subcontracting on with a special forces group and the CIA. We don't know what the objective is yet, but we'll be filled in during transport out of Washington.

  I hate to leave Rachel, not only because I'm going to miss her, but also because I worry about her. Everything has been fine since the spotting a few weeks ago, and our sex life is as active as ever. Rachel has even appeared more settled since my parents' visit last week, and I like the routine we're in.

  I'm still staying at Rachel's each night. She's not asked me to leave, and I've not offered. I merely go to my house every few days to do laundry and check my mail.

  As Rachel ties her last lace, I ask, "Mind if we do takeout or something easy tonight? I've got a ton of stuff to do to get ready for the trip."

  "I want to keep the baby," Rachel blurts as she stands up. If she had a feather in her hand, she could have knocked me over with it.

  Her cheeks pinken with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to just say it like that. But I couldn't quite figure out how to bring it up."

  My shocked senses are having a hard time catching up to what she's saying. "When did you decide this?"

  She gives a tiny shrug, crossing her arms protectively over her belly. "If I'm honest, that day I was spotting. I just think it took this long for me to admit it out loud."

  "This is huge," I murmur as I step into her. I pull her arms away from her torso, and then lay my hand over the spot where our little orange is hibernating. "Are you sure?"

  She nods effusively, but her voice is still wary. "Will you stay here if I do this? Don't go to Nebraska. I'd really like to stay on at Jameson, and this means you could as well. But I don't know how set you are about going back home now. I mean... your parents are awesome times ten, so why wouldn't you want to go there?"

  I shake my head. "I'd rather stay at Jameson. Here in Vegas. With you."

  Special emphasis in my head on the "with you," but I don't push that just yet. It's enough that Rachel wants to raise the baby with me.

  It's a decision I knew she'd get right in the long run.