dripping from her voice. “He didn’t even know what that meant, for Pete’s sake. Anyway,” her eyes slid away, “he came right there, like he couldn’t help himself, and then he scrambled out. He was such a moron! I wouldn’t have his baby if the future of the human race depended on it!”
“So that was it? He didn’t—penetrate?”
“No.” She added reluctantly, “He was a total loser. But to be fair, I probably looked like a slut. I can’t really blame it all on him.”
“But you didn’t get help? No one else saw?”
“It didn’t seem like that big a deal, and there weren’t any witnesses, so what was the use of talking about it? Besides,” she added, “I couldn’t find my panties, and I didn’t want to get out without them on, because after he left, other people came into the room. I was sitting there, groping around the hot tub with my toes, trying to find my panties.”
With a supreme effort I kept my face straight. “I hope you did find them eventually.”
“I didn’t. But Amber brought me a towel.” Her lips twisted. “And just because of that I get pregnant. It’s not fair. I wasn’t even really misbehaving. Why should I have to pay such a heavy price?”
“You could have the baby and give it up for adoption.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I’m not going to school pregnant. I’m not going through all the whispering and the questions. Do you think that jerk would even acknowledge it was his? It would all be on me. Mom, Dad—Gramma and Grampa would all croak.” She stared at me, wide-eyed. “Is that what it was like for you?”
“No, but it wasn’t pleasant. And, as it turned out, they were right to tell me not to marry him.”
“They would make me have the baby,” Amy said with conviction, “and I would die.”
“You wouldn’t die. But I agree that you’re old enough to decide for yourself what to do.” I watched her nervous fingers pat the bread crumbs on the table. “How pregnant are you?”
“Less than two months.” Amy hugged herself. “I have to decide soon.”
So she hadn’t really made up her mind yet.
“Well,” I said, refilling her milk glass, “as long as you’re eating for two, I’ll get out the apple pie Bridget sent me home with last night.”
Chapter 12
Amy ate more than half of the little pie and seemed to feel better. I, however, could not be comforted by apples, even with lots of cinnamon. The ramifications of Amy’s pregnancy chased everything else out of my brain. “Man,” I muttered, getting up to carry plates to the sink. “Renee would—”
“You’ve got to swear, Aunt Liz.” Amy jumped out of her chair and grabbed my arm. “You’ve got to solemnly promise that you will never, never tell Mom, no matter what. You’ve got to, Aunt Liz.”
Her mouth was stubbornly set, her eyes brilliant with command. For a moment I saw my father in her, the rigid, controlling man who wanted us all to dance to his piping. Then tears filmed those sharp eyes, and she was just Amy, desperate with trouble.
I loosened her grip on my arm and patted her hand. “Amy, hon, I can’t promise that. You can’t tie my hands before we know all the circumstances. What if there were complications and you ended up in the hospital? Don’t you see the position you’re putting me in here?”
She wasn’t listening. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her head came to rest limply on my shoulder. “They can’t know. I can’t tell them now, maybe not ever! You’ve got to help me!”
I guided her into the living room. “You’re so tired, Amy. Why don’t you try to take a little nap? I won’t tell anyone anything you don’t want me to. Rest now. Then we’ll talk.”
She let me tuck the afghan around her shoulders, nestling her head into the pillow I’d put together from unpieced quilt squares left in the closet after my friend Vivien’s death. Barker assumed his Sphinx position on the rag rug beside the couch, until he saw me put
“So that was it? He didn’t—penetrate?”
“No.” She added reluctantly, “He was a total loser. But to be fair, I probably looked like a slut. I can’t really blame it all on him.”
“But you didn’t get help? No one else saw?”
“It didn’t seem like that big a deal, and there weren’t any witnesses, so what was the use of talking about it? Besides,” she added, “I couldn’t find my panties, and I didn’t want to get out without them on, because after he left, other people came into the room. I was sitting there, groping around the hot tub with my toes, trying to find my panties.”
With a supreme effort I kept my face straight. “I hope you did find them eventually.”
“I didn’t. But Amber brought me a towel.” Her lips twisted. “And just because of that I get pregnant. It’s not fair. I wasn’t even really misbehaving. Why should I have to pay such a heavy price?”
“You could have the baby and give it up for adoption.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I’m not going to school pregnant. I’m not going through all the whispering and the questions. Do you think that jerk would even acknowledge it was his? It would all be on me. Mom, Dad—Gramma and Grampa would all croak.” She stared at me, wide-eyed. “Is that what it was like for you?”
“No, but it wasn’t pleasant. And, as it turned out, they were right to tell me not to marry him.”
“They would make me have the baby,” Amy said with conviction, “and I would die.”
“You wouldn’t die. But I agree that you’re old enough to decide for yourself what to do.” I watched her nervous fingers pat the bread crumbs on the table. “How pregnant are you?”
“Less than two months.” Amy hugged herself. “I have to decide soon.”
So she hadn’t really made up her mind yet.
“Well,” I said, refilling her milk glass, “as long as you’re eating for two, I’ll get out the apple pie Bridget sent me home with last night.”
Chapter 12
Amy ate more than half of the little pie and seemed to feel better. I, however, could not be comforted by apples, even with lots of cinnamon. The ramifications of Amy’s pregnancy chased everything else out of my brain. “Man,” I muttered, getting up to carry plates to the sink. “Renee would—”
“You’ve got to swear, Aunt Liz.” Amy jumped out of her chair and grabbed my arm. “You’ve got to solemnly promise that you will never, never tell Mom, no matter what. You’ve got to, Aunt Liz.”
Her mouth was stubbornly set, her eyes brilliant with command. For a moment I saw my father in her, the rigid, controlling man who wanted us all to dance to his piping. Then tears filmed those sharp eyes, and she was just Amy, desperate with trouble.
I loosened her grip on my arm and patted her hand. “Amy, hon, I can’t promise that. You can’t tie my hands before we know all the circumstances. What if there were complications and you ended up in the hospital? Don’t you see the position you’re putting me in here?”
She wasn’t listening. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her head came to rest limply on my shoulder. “They can’t know. I can’t tell them now, maybe not ever! You’ve got to help me!”
I guided her into the living room. “You’re so tired, Amy. Why don’t you try to take a little nap? I won’t tell anyone anything you don’t want me to. Rest now. Then we’ll talk.”
She let me tuck the afghan around her shoulders, nestling her head into the pillow I’d put together from unpieced quilt squares left in the closet after my friend Vivien’s death. Barker assumed his Sphinx position on the rag rug beside the couch, until he saw me put
Similar Books
