by Ace Collins
“Meg,” Barbara pleaded. “If you abort this baby, then you’re just as bad as that kid you hate so much for killing Steve. As a matter of fact, every newborn baby that you see for the rest of your life will haunt you just like seeing people drink and drive will haunt you. Think about it!”
“Shut up, Mom,” Meg stood up as she yelled. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“I’m going to pray that you change your mind. I’m going to pray that God wakes you up!”
“Stop it, Mom. Praying is not going to get you any nearer to me. It fact it will drive us further apart. Now, pick up your coat and get out of here. Don’t send anyone to see me either. I don’t want to hear from the preacher or anyone else. And I don’t want you to call me until after this is over. And don’t call Steve’s parents. They’re never to know about this! You understand? If you tell them, it means you and I will never have a chance at being close again!”
Grabbing her unwelcome visitor’s coat, Meg tossed it to her mother. Barbara stood and slipped on the gray wool jacket, looking all the while as if she wanted to say something else, but held back. Instead, she swallowed hard and slowly and sadly walked to the door. Just before she opened it, she looked back at her daughter.
“I love you.”
“I know you do, Mom. But don’t say anything else. The subject is closed. Nothing you can do will change my mind. I’m not doing this to spite you. I love you, too.”
Barbara nodded, opened the entry, and walked out. Meg followed her to the threshold, pushed the door shut, and locked it. Moving back across the room, she once again sat in Steve’s favorite chair. She’d won. She knew she had. What she’d said made more sense than what her mother had countered with. And yet, the victory seemed so hollow because, like Nancy had, her mother said a few things that rocked her.
Meg was extinguishing a life, but at least this life didn’t have a family or loved ones yet. It didn’t have a past and now it wouldn’t have a future. And even though Meg felt a little bit ashamed that she wasn’t willing to give birth, she was sure that she couldn’t face the pain of having to deal with someone who would remind her of Steve. Even at this moment, just glancing at his picture caused her to hurt in more ways than she could believe possible. No, she had to keep her mind on the goal. A baby and old memories combined with the words of a woman dying of cancer and her mother couldn’t get in the way. Not now and not ever!
31
ON FRIDAY MORNING, THE FIRST THING MEG DID WHEN SHE ARRIVED FOR her shift at the hospital was to share every facet of the Comet Cleaners encounter with Heather. She described in great detail the way the boy had tossed off his crude remarks and how she shocked the teen by turning and putting him in his place. As the story ended, Heather gave her a big hug and told her how proud she was of her.
Just before she had concluded her rounds that day, Meg even stopped by Nancy’s room to tell her about the unexpected meeting. Nancy sympathized with Meg, especially concerning the boy’s cocky attitude and unnecessary flirting, but unlike Heather, she hadn’t laughed when Meg informed her how she’d blown him away. In fact, the only thing Nancy said was, “That child needs help.” Meg assured the patient that Thomas would soon be getting all he deserved.
After relishing in her small victory all day Friday, Meg spent Saturday being lazy. She never got out of her nightgown and didn’t call or text anyone. Instead, she just flipped on Turner Classic Movies and watched every classic film the channel aired. Fortunately, most were comedies, and none dealt with the death of a spouse. So, for one day only, the bad memories stay buried.
Sunday, Meg got up, read the paper, and did a thorough cleaning of the apartment. She even reorganized her drawers in the kitchen and bedroom. After taking a late afternoon nap, she looked out the window and noted that the signs of the winter’s passing had been premature. As Meg slept, the skies once again had turned gray and a strong, cold wind whipped out of the north. Still, despite the fact she’d always hated cold weather, Meg felt strong and strangely satisfied. That strength and satisfaction had been born during her chance meeting with Jim Thomas in the cleaners. Now she felt like she could do anything. That unexpected meeting had been exhilarating. It was as if she’d been reborn! In the span of five minutes, she went from a frightened kitten to a ferocious tiger.
And tomorrow was the day when she would no longer be carrying the nightmare in her body. The child that would have been so welcome another time seemed more an unwelcome invader now. Not carrying it would lift a huge weight from her shoulders.
As she finished dressing, Meg glanced at the stove clock. Cheryl would arrive at any moment, so she didn’t have any spare time to paint her fingernails. Strolling back into the living room, she picked up the coat she’d earlier laid out on the couch and checked her hair one more time. Glancing out the window, she saw the assistant district attorney’s gray sedan pull up to the curb. Hitting the light switch, she left her apartment and skipped out into the cold air.
Dinner went smoothly. Cheryl had a small steak. Meg, her appetite still controlled by her all-day, come-and-go morning sickness, had a salad and several packages of crackers. Thankfully this kind of diet would be ending soon. Neither of them spoke of the case until after their meal. It was Meg who opened the conversation by rehashing the story of running into Jim Thomas at the cleaners.
“Well,” Cheryl noted when Meg delivered her finale, “he sounds like an even bigger jerk than I had him figured to be.”
“I wish you could have seen him squirm,” Meg grinned.
“Believe me.” Cheryl’s voice was now filled with enthusiasm. “If he gets on the stand, I’ll see him squirm and I will keep him on the edge of his seat for a long time.”
After delivering those words, Cheryl became less an attorney than a partner in a plan of revenge. She listened to Meg’s fantasies of seeing Jim Thomas going flying over cliffs or wrapping his car around trees. She smiled and nodded her head when Meg spoke of getting the maximum sentence possible. In both scenarios she mirrored the widow’s emotions and daydreams. She agreed how important it was to exact some kind of personal justice. The only thing she voiced reservations about was Meg going outside the law.
“Fantasy is one thing,” Cheryl explained, “and I’ve had a lot of them concerning the guy who killed my father. But if you really do anything like that, then the weight of the law comes down on you. If you go to jail because you claimed your revenge in an unlawful fashion, then the guy gets both Steve and you and he wins again. You understand me?”
Meg nodded. “I won’t go far enough outside the law to be brought to trial. I’m smarter than that.”
“I hope so,” Cheryl said. “You know, since we last spoke I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this case. In fact, it is all I’ve thought about. I really believe you’re the reason that we’ll win.”
Meg didn’t verbally respond to the assistant district attorney’s insight, acknowledging it only with a nod and smile. She hoped the look in her brown eyes coupled with that smile would prove she wanted to hear more. Taking the cue, Cheryl continued.
“Up until this generation, there was not as much publicity about drunks killing or maiming people on the highway. Today, thanks in large part to Mothers Against Drunk Driving and the Internet, there is a lot more information out there. Hence, laws are becoming more strictly enforced. So, I feel that just because of this change in public perception, we have a good chance at getting a conviction. Still, considering who Thomas’s father is, as well as his own Superboy standing in the community and particularly in his high school, I believe it will be a tough battle. I was worried that a conviction would only lead to a reduced sentence. But then, you offered us a way to paint this young man as more than a kid out for a good time who used poor judgment. If fact, you have given us much, much more. You are the trump card. You are a prosecutor’s dream!”
“I am?” Meg answered, reacting to the information by pointing the index fingers of both hands to her chest.
Cheryl paused for a moment, took a sip of coffee then continued. “What I have to say sounds terrible. If it was printed in the newspaper it would read like every bad lawyer story you have ever heard. It links me with many in our profession who have a horrible reputation. It makes me look like a person who will use anything in order to win a case. Yet, the fact is, you’re pregnant. And that child you are carrying may well be the key to putting Thomas away rather than seeing him walk out of the courtroom with probation.”
For at least a minute, nothing was said. It was as if Cheryl was waiting for some confirmation Meg understood the real advantage they had. But she didn’t respond. She couldn’t. This strategy had been so unexpected it had left her totally stunned.
“Meg, what I’m saying is that a judge and a jury will no doubt feel a lot more sympathy for you as you sit there in maternity clothes and wait for them to make a decision about the person who killed your child’s father. It sounds low and cruel, and maybe it is, but I think that it will win the case for us.”
Meg nodded. There was no other explanation necessary. It was all very clear. Maybe there was a God and He was just as mean as she thought He was. While her mother’s and Nancy’s prayers had been answered, Meg had been punched in the gut and all the wind had been pushed from her lungs. In the process, all her plans had been turned upside-down again. As she sat there not fully believing what was happening, Cheryl continued.
“I know that I could have told you all of this on the phone, but that would’ve seemed a little cold to me. After all, Meg, I’m using you and your unborn child in a way that almost seems dirty. But in all honesty, I don’t mind getting a little grime on my hands if it will help me put away a piece of scum. Do you understand?”
Meg nodded. She understood all too well.
“Meg, I was so relieved when we talked last time. Simply by your reaction when I brought it up, I discovered that you weren’t considering an abortion. Can you imagine what would happen if you’d done that and it had gotten out? In this town, and in reality, this state, abortion is still murder in many people’s eyes. When Tidwell got through trotting that information out, the jury would’ve probably thought of you in a lower light than Thomas. Consequently, an abortion probably would’ve finished us, and yet, if I had been in your shoes, that’s exactly what I would have done. In this case, I’m so glad you didn’t react like I would have.”
Meg had never considered how it would affect the case if she opted for having her pregnancy terminated. When she had resolved that it would be best for her, she hadn’t considered the repercussions. What if it did get out? Those kinds of things always did. How would it affect not only this trial but the rest of her life? Why did this have to be so complicated?
The rest of the conversation took place in a dense fog. She was there, Cheryl was explaining steps in the case, but Meg wasn’t hearing any of it. Her ability to process information had terminated with the news she couldn’t have an abortion. To have what she really wanted, she was going to have to hang onto something she didn’t want. It just wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to raise a child by herself. She certainly didn’t want a little image of Steve staring back at her for the rest of her life.
Later that night, long after Cheryl had dropped her off and long after Meg had turned off the lights and gone to bed, a war raging deep inside her soul kept Meg from sleeping. This war was tearing her apart. It was a war she knew she would fight all night long and she couldn’t win.
If she got an abortion, she’d be the one on trial. She couldn’t deal with that. If she were the reason Thomas got off, then she would never forgive herself. Giving up on sleep, she struggled out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. After pouring herself a Coke, she looked out the window. The sky was filled with stars. There were no cars on the streets and certainly no people out at this time of night. The world was quiet—so quiet that Meg could almost hear her heartbeat. A sudden churning in her stomach reminded her that another heart was beating inside her, too.
Looking up, she shook her head and whispered. “You got me again, didn’t You, God? One way or the other, things have to be Your way. You wouldn’t let me get rid of the kid, even though I could have done it with no guilt feelings at all. No, You made it where I have to keep the child because it is the key to my getting the justice that I have to have.
“Well, tell me this, God,” Meg whispered. “Where were You on that night when Steve was driving home? You could have turned the tables then. Thomas could have been killed. Now You are making it not only impossible for me to have what I want, You’re not doing anything to keep Nancy from dying. And what about poor Julie? She was nothing more that a frightened little child who made one mistake. I mean, she’d worked her way up from nothing and she had positioned herself at a place where she could have gone to college and escaped the rotten life she had at home. If it hadn’t been for the wonderful Christians at our church, she would’ve had an abortion. Great present, wasn’t it? They had her keep her baby and lose her life. And where were You when she was walking home that night when some guy raped her and then left her to die in a cold, dark alley? And where is the guy now? He’s probably running around doing the same thing to someone else.
“Well, God, if You wanted me to have this child, then You’re going to have things Your way. But remember, I’m not doing it for You, or Mom, or Nancy, or anyone else. I’m doing it to get Jim Thomas. So, if You’re expecting any wonderful signs of a loving mother to jump out, just forget it.”
Meg walked slowly back to her bed. The clock on her night-stand told her that midnight had become three and that in three hours of debating with God and herself her mind was still a jumble of confused thoughts and unwanted options. The fact that her appointment for the procedure was just hours away only added to the pressure. Why the devil couldn’t she have scheduled it for later in the week? Better yet, why hadn’t she already done it? Finally, just before dawn, she resolved to cancel her appointment for the abortion. How ironic that this child, conceived in love, was now having its birth guaranteed by her own boiling hate.
32
AS SHE’D ALREADY ARRANGED TO HAVE THE DAY OFF, MEG MADE THE CALL she didn’t want to make, canceled her procedure, and spent all of Monday in her nightclothes watching TV. What she viewed was unimportant; the programs were nothing more than just something to keep her busy. At six, her mother called. When she found out Meg hadn’t gone through with the abortion, she was thrilled. After she listened to Barbara go on for over five minutes about how right the decision had been and how time would show Meg this was so, the phone call finally concluded. In a very real sense, the conversation left Meg completely humbled and humiliated. She was sure her mother thought she’d changed her mind for the wrong reasons.
The second call, also unwanted, was from Nancy Leslie. As she now recognized the number, Meg considered letting it go through to voice mail, but, in a fit of compassion due to the caller’s terminal condition, she picked up.
“How are you feeling?” Nancy asked after greetings had been exchanged.
“A little sick,” Meg responded truthfully.
“I guess that’s to be expected,” Nancy said. “I’m sure that within a few days you’ll feel wonderful again.”
“I doubt it,” Meg replied wearily. “I didn’t have the abortion.”
“Really, you changed your mind?”
“Not for the reasons you would have expected,” Meg admitted. “The district attorney’s office believes it would be better for the case if I were pregnant. It seems that my being in a motherly state might well sway the jury to give Thomas a harsher sentence.”
“I’m glad for the decision,” Nancy answered, her voice a bit breathy. “And I hope and pray that it’ll work out the way that you want it to.”
“Well,” Meg said, “we’ll find out in a month or so. Won’t we?”
Nancy didn’t reply to Meg’s observation but simply issued a warm good-bye.
Only after the phone had gon
e dead did Meg realize that for Nancy a month might be longer than a lifetime. She might not be around to find out what was going to happen. Just more proof that life wasn’t fair.
33
THE NEXT FOUR WEEKS PASSED EVER SO SLOWLY FOR MEG. THE GOOD news, much of it lost on her, was that there was new life everywhere. Winter had finally ended and fresh buds signaled the beginning of spring. Yet, she hardly noticed. She’d been too busy working at the hospital, experiencing morning sickness, and finding uniforms that would fit her ever-changing shape. The only date that meant anything was the one when the trial started.
She was hovering at her station, going over charts, when the call came in.
“Nurse Richards,” the voice asked after she’d answered.
“This is Meg Richards.”
“John Willis here. I need to see you in my office. Can you get away now?”
“Sure, Heather can cover the wing.”
“Good, come straight to my office. There are things we need to discuss.”
Meg set the phone back in the cradle. Wonder what this was about. She hadn’t missed a single day of work. She’d done her job. So what did he want?
“What’s up?” Heather asked. “You have a distant look in your eye. Is it about the case?”
“No, Willis wants to see me. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Meg walked through three long wings and then took an elevator to the first floor to get to the hospital administrator’s office. His secretary was out, so she strolled right up to his door and knocked. A muffled voice on the other side told her to enter.
Willis was sitting at his large desk staring at a computer monitor through his thick glasses as she entered. Looking up, he hit a save command and turned his attention to his visitor.
“Have a seat,” he ordered, more than said.
Feeling like a student being sent to the principal’s office, Meg eased down into the chair. Willis wasted no time with formalities.