and windows of her house and of her mind locked.
The phone shrieked and Mary gave an echoing gasp. Her book slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. Who would be calling at this hour? Not Ben. He encouraged her to go to bed, to be asleep when he got home, especially now that she was pregnant.
The menacing black plastic instrument screamed at her again, demanding her attention.
The always ominous phone call in the middle of the night became even more ominous when Ben was on duty.
It rang a third time before she could find the courage to answer it.
She reached toward it, the movement slow and difficult, as movements in a nightmare when some evil creature pursued the dreamer.
"Hello?" The sound that issued from her mouth was more a croak than a word.
"I hear congratulations are in order."
Charles.
She should be relieved that Ben was safe, that no one was calling to say, I'm sorry, Mrs. Morton. There's been an accident . But she wasn't relieved. The gargoyle creature of fear still sat beside her and taunted her.
"My partner tells me he's going to be a daddy," he continued when she didn't respond. "At least, he thinks he's going to be a daddy. You and I know different, don't we?"
Her heart crawled into her throat, pounding so hard she couldn't talk, couldn't deny the unspeakable thing he'd just suggested.
"Let me tell you what else I know. I'm not having any damn kid messing up my life again just because you women are too stupid to use birth control. You wanted what happened as much as I did. You teased me and flirted with me and now you think you're going to have some squalling brat and prove it's mine and ruin everything for me. Well, you're dead wrong, bitch. I've got somebody who'll take care of things. You meet me tomorrow at—"
"No!" The word erupted as a volcano, propelled by the horror in Charles' diatribe.
For a moment, Charles said nothing, just long enough for Mary to think perhaps she was having a nightmare, this wasn't really happening. It couldn't be happening.
"No?" His voice, deceptively soft, sent a chill down her spine. "I don't think you mean that. I don't think you want Ben to know what we did, how you seduced me into betraying my partner." He paused for a long moment then continued in a slower, deeper tone. "I don't think you want to worry about whether or not your husband will make it home some night."
Oh, God! It wasn't a dream. It was all real...the attack, the insinuations Charles was making about her baby, what he wanted to do to her baby.
"This isn't your baby!" she protested, finding her voice at last. "It's Ben's! Ben's and mine!" She slammed the phone down, refusing to listen to any more of his insanity.
Blood rushed past her ears in a loud roar, and cold invaded her chest. She wrapped her arms about herself to warm and protect her baby.
Charles was insane.
There was no doubt about that.
But he wasn't the father of her child.
Tears streaked down her face, icy tears as though she'd frozen solid inside.
He couldn't be the father of her child.
The phone rang again.
Clasping her hands to her ears, she ran upstairs then crawled under the covers, hiding her head beneath the pillow.
Ben's baby! Not Charles'!
She curled into a ball, pulling her knees to her chest, shielding the tiny child inside her. Tears welled up from a bottomless pit, uncontrollable sobs shaking her body so hard she feared for her baby's safety.
A minute or an hour later a hand grasped her shoulder.
"Noooo!" she wailed, jerking away and rolling to the other side of the bed. Had she left the door unlocked? Had he come in?
Two arms grabbed her, hauling her upright, into the cold darkness of the room. She kicked and hit and screamed and flailed against her assailant.
"Mary! Mary! Wake up! It's me, Ben! Wake up!"
Slowly the voice, the familiar scent of her husband, penetrated the black veil of her fears.
She flung her arms around him, holding on tightly and sobbing against his neck.
He patted her back
The phone shrieked and Mary gave an echoing gasp. Her book slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. Who would be calling at this hour? Not Ben. He encouraged her to go to bed, to be asleep when he got home, especially now that she was pregnant.
The menacing black plastic instrument screamed at her again, demanding her attention.
The always ominous phone call in the middle of the night became even more ominous when Ben was on duty.
It rang a third time before she could find the courage to answer it.
She reached toward it, the movement slow and difficult, as movements in a nightmare when some evil creature pursued the dreamer.
"Hello?" The sound that issued from her mouth was more a croak than a word.
"I hear congratulations are in order."
Charles.
She should be relieved that Ben was safe, that no one was calling to say, I'm sorry, Mrs. Morton. There's been an accident . But she wasn't relieved. The gargoyle creature of fear still sat beside her and taunted her.
"My partner tells me he's going to be a daddy," he continued when she didn't respond. "At least, he thinks he's going to be a daddy. You and I know different, don't we?"
Her heart crawled into her throat, pounding so hard she couldn't talk, couldn't deny the unspeakable thing he'd just suggested.
"Let me tell you what else I know. I'm not having any damn kid messing up my life again just because you women are too stupid to use birth control. You wanted what happened as much as I did. You teased me and flirted with me and now you think you're going to have some squalling brat and prove it's mine and ruin everything for me. Well, you're dead wrong, bitch. I've got somebody who'll take care of things. You meet me tomorrow at—"
"No!" The word erupted as a volcano, propelled by the horror in Charles' diatribe.
For a moment, Charles said nothing, just long enough for Mary to think perhaps she was having a nightmare, this wasn't really happening. It couldn't be happening.
"No?" His voice, deceptively soft, sent a chill down her spine. "I don't think you mean that. I don't think you want Ben to know what we did, how you seduced me into betraying my partner." He paused for a long moment then continued in a slower, deeper tone. "I don't think you want to worry about whether or not your husband will make it home some night."
Oh, God! It wasn't a dream. It was all real...the attack, the insinuations Charles was making about her baby, what he wanted to do to her baby.
"This isn't your baby!" she protested, finding her voice at last. "It's Ben's! Ben's and mine!" She slammed the phone down, refusing to listen to any more of his insanity.
Blood rushed past her ears in a loud roar, and cold invaded her chest. She wrapped her arms about herself to warm and protect her baby.
Charles was insane.
There was no doubt about that.
But he wasn't the father of her child.
Tears streaked down her face, icy tears as though she'd frozen solid inside.
He couldn't be the father of her child.
The phone rang again.
Clasping her hands to her ears, she ran upstairs then crawled under the covers, hiding her head beneath the pillow.
Ben's baby! Not Charles'!
She curled into a ball, pulling her knees to her chest, shielding the tiny child inside her. Tears welled up from a bottomless pit, uncontrollable sobs shaking her body so hard she feared for her baby's safety.
A minute or an hour later a hand grasped her shoulder.
"Noooo!" she wailed, jerking away and rolling to the other side of the bed. Had she left the door unlocked? Had he come in?
Two arms grabbed her, hauling her upright, into the cold darkness of the room. She kicked and hit and screamed and flailed against her assailant.
"Mary! Mary! Wake up! It's me, Ben! Wake up!"
Slowly the voice, the familiar scent of her husband, penetrated the black veil of her fears.
She flung her arms around him, holding on tightly and sobbing against his neck.
He patted her back
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