Facets (37 page)

“Didn’t you use anything?”

“Once we didn’t.”

“That’s all it takes.”

She was aware of feeling lighter—perhaps from the sedative, perhaps from sheer relief that the secret was out and she was still alive. John didn’t sound as angry as she had thought he would be.

“When was it?” he asked.

“December. Early December.”

“Have you seen him since?”

She swallowed. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

Annoyed that he was prodding right where she hurt, she took her arm from her eyes. “I can’t
find
him. He’s gone. He doesn’t even know about the baby.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s not good. It’s his baby, too. He should be here with me.” Turning away from him, she tucked up her knees and pulled the blanket to her chin. She felt cold and alone. She should be used to feeling that way, she knew, but the thought didn’t help. The trembling wasn’t from a surface chill. It came from deep inside and was the kind that a blanket couldn’t stop.

“I’ll help you.”

Tears came to her eyes. “I want Cutter.”

“He’s run off. Gave Simon a day’s notice and left. No one knows where he is. Maybe he knew you were in trouble.”

“He couldn’t have.”

“He has no sense of responsibility.”

“He just doesn’t know I’m pregnant, and I can’t find him.”

“What would he do if he knew? Race back here?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the last thing he’d do. He doesn’t have money, and he doesn’t have a job.”

“Maybe he does. Somewhere else.”

“Doing what? Flipping burgers? Working on an assembly line? Face it, Pam, he’s a loser. You have the rest of your life before you. You’re better off without him. He would only drag you down.”

“But I want him.”

John was silent for a minute. “You’re tired and confused. You’ve been through a lot.” He sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Did you plan to go through it all alone?”

She peered at him over her shoulder. He looked sympathetic. Then again, she wasn’t sure she trusted her eyesight. The sedative was probably clouding her vision. She was probably seeing what she wanted to see. “I couldn’t tell you. You’d have hit the roof.”

“Did I?”

She hesitated. “No.”

“I can be reasonable.”

“You aren’t usually, when it comes to me.”

“Because I insisted you get your grades up? But you’ve done it. Doesn’t that make you feel good?”

She stared at him. His voice was gentle. She recalled another time when it had been that way. He had nearly raped her then. But he couldn’t have rape on his mind now. Not in a doctor’s office. Not with her pregnant and sick.

He guided damp strands of hair away from her temple and said quietly, “Come on. Get up and get dressed. You need rest.”

“Is the baby all right?”

“You’re weak. Haven’t you been eating?”

“I’m nauseated most of the time.”

He went to the door. “We can do something about that. I’ll be waiting out here.”

She watched the door close, then pushed herself up. The sedative slowed her, weighing down her limbs. Or perhaps it was due to fatigue. Or to confusion. John hadn’t reacted at all as she’d expected. She didn’t know what to think. He was being uncharacteristically nice. Remembering Palm Beach, she didn’t want to trust him. But she needed someone to lean on. The thought of going through pregnancy and delivery all by herself was more than a little daunting. She wanted Cutter, but, damn him, Cutter wasn’t there. If John was willing to accept the baby, she couldn’t turn her back on his help. After silently carrying her burden for nearly three months, she was relieved to share it.

Back in the car, he was solicitous. Was she too warm? Too cold? Did she want to lower the back of her seat? Exhausted, she did that, then closed her eyes and dozed. When she came to, she was disoriented.

“Where are we?”

“Route Six.”

She raised her seat, but even looking out the window she couldn’t make sense of it. “This is the road to the Cape.”

“That’s right.”

“What are we doing here?”

“There’s a private hospital in Chatham. It’s a restful place.”

She sat straighter. “I thought you were taking me back to school.”

“Pam, you passed out there. You’re exhausted. That’s the last place I’d take you.”

“I have exams coming up. I have to study.”

“You have to regain some strength.”

“Then home. Take me home.”

“This will be better. You’ll have plenty of care.”

“I don’t need plenty of care. I want to go home.”

“Relax. Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll spend a few days here. Come Monday, you’ll be back at school. You’ll have plenty of time to study then.”

“I don’t like this.”

“It’s the sensible thing. You’re in lousy shape. Let me take care of you for a change, okay?”

Hit by a wave of nausea, she didn’t argue further. But she was distinctly uneasy. Something didn’t feel right, and it had nothing to do with her stomach.

John pulled up at a large Victorian house surrounded by low trees and shrubs, and guided Pam inside. They were expected. She was immediately ushered to a pretty room where a soft-spoken nurse helped her undress and get into bed, then returned a short time later to give her an injection.

“Just something to take the edge off and help you sleep,” she explained. She looked so straightforward and kind that Pam trusted her. Within minutes, she was asleep.

When she woke up, the room was dim, lit only by a small lamp on the nightstand. She looked around. Her head was heavy, her eyelids even more so. She dozed off again, then came around to the awareness of movement by her side. It was the same smiling nurse.

“How do you feel?”

“Sleepy.”

“That’s to be expected.”

“I’ve been so tired.” She moved her lips very little, but even that was an effort.

“From the pregnancy. You’ll be getting over that now.”

“Past the first three months?”

The nurse gave her an odd look and made an adjustment that drew Pam’s attention to the pole by the side of the bed, then the tube that led to her hand.

“What’s that?” she asked, feeling as slurred as she sounded.

“Glucose.”

“Am I that sick?”

“You’re not sick at all, just a bit weak. After a procedure like this, we like to make sure you have enough fluids in your system.”

Pam struggled to focus. “Procedure?”

Again the nurse looked at her oddly. “D and C.”

Something ached in Pam’s chest. “D and C?” she echoed in little more than a whisper.

The nurse squeezed her hand and said kindly, “It’s a nicer word than the other, don’t you think?”

“What other?” Pam whispered, but she knew. She knew. The pieces were fitting—John’s calmness, his solicitousness. “What other?” she asked more loudly.

It was a minute before the word came. “Abortion.”

“Oh God!” Pam cried. She put a hand on her stomach. “I had an abortion?”

“You had a D and C.”

“God!” Her heart had begun to pound, and her eyes filled up. She looked around frantically, as though there might be someone or something there to tell her it wasn’t so, but with even that small movement she felt the telltale pad between her legs. Her eyes flew to the nurse’s. “I’m not pregnant anymore?”

“No.”

“My baby’s
gone
?”

“It wasn’t viable. That was the whole point of doing it so soon.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. “The point of doing it so soon was to have it done before I knew what was happening.” She brought her hands—IV needle and all—to her mouth and stifled an anguished scream. Enough of it escaped to frighten the nurse, who ran to the door for help. Within minutes, a doctor was there, with John in tow.

Fragments of the nurse’s murmured words reached Pam from the door: “. . .?woke up . . .?didn’t know . . .?procedure . . .”

The doctor sent her out and came toward Pam, whose eyes were large and wet. “Is it true?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“That the baby’s gone? Yes.”

Pam gasped. “I wanted that baby.”

“You came here for a D and C.”

“I didn’t know it.” She avoided looking at John. He was reprehensible and repulsive. “I want my baby. I want it back.”

The doctor put a pacifying hand on her arm. “What you’re feeling is perfectly normal. You’ve been through a trauma. Something like this is hard enough for a woman in her twenties, but for a seventeen-year-old, it’s worse.”

“I want my baby.”

“There’s bound to be a sense of loss. But you made the right decision. You’re very young to be having a baby—”

“I could have done it. I wanted it. I loved it.”

“And now you feel guilt. That’s natural, too. You’re tired. Feeling drained. Is your stomach bothering you?”

The cramps she felt were nothing compared to the pain in her heart. “I want my baby!”

“Enough, Pam,” John said, coming forward. “It’s over. Done. The baby is gone. You can’t bring it back.”

“She needs time—” the doctor began in an undertone, only to be interrupted.

“She needs to be told the facts.” John’s eyes bore down on Pam with the anger that must have been festering inside him all along. “The baby’s gone, and it’s no loss. The pregnancy was a mistake from the start. You said it yourself; it wasn’t planned.”

“It was
my
baby, and Cutter’s. You had no right—”

“
You
had no right—” John boomed, only to interrupt himself this time. To the doctor he said, “I’d like a few minutes alone with her.”

“She shouldn’t be upset.”

“Give her a sedative.”

“It’s on the way. Still—”

“I don’t want another sedative,” Pam sobbed. “I want my baby!”

The doctor looked over his shoulder at the returning nurse. “Ah, there it is.”

Pam rolled to the far side of the bed, only to be caught by John. “Get your hands off me!” she yelled.

“You’ll hurt yourself. You’re not well.”

“I’m perfectly well. I’m pregnant.” She made a choked sound. “Or was until you stopped it. I don’t want that,” she told the doctor, who held a syringe in his hand. She struggled against John’s hold, but the needle found its mark. “You
bastard
!” she screamed between sobs.

“That’s right,” John goaded. “Call me names as much as you want if it gives you satisfaction.”

“Bastard! Dirty, filthy bastard! You won’t let anyone else have what you can’t, and you can’t have kids because no woman wants you near enough—”

John took her chin in his hand and squeezed hard, effectively stemming her flow of words. He looked at the doctor. “Leave us?”

“She’ll be asleep soon,” he warned.

“Then I’ll just say a few things before she is. I want her in a better frame of mind by the time she wakes up.”

“I don’t think—”

“Don’t,” John ordered. The single word was enough to send the doctor from the room. John’s glare sent the nurse along in his wake. By the time he looked back at Pam, her lids were heavy.

“I want you to listen and listen good,” he said.

The pressure on her mouth was painful. She closed her eyes, but tears continued to seep from their corners; it seemed the only way she could express her defiance and blot him out.

But he wouldn’t have it. “Look at me, dammit,” he growled and gave her chin a painful shake. When her eyes flew open, he said, “You had no business seeing Cutter Reid in the first place. I told you not to. I warned you that he was nothing but shit, but you thought you knew best, so you saw him. You let him touch you. You spread those lily-white legs and he screwed you.” His teeth were gritted at the last. “And where did it leave you? In a big fat mess! How were you going to take care of a baby? Hmmm?”

Pam couldn’t answer. He was hurting her jaw, preventing her from speaking. Her only sounds came from the back of her throat, against her will, from the crying she couldn’t control.

“You’re seventeen. Not even out of high school. Did you want to be a dropout like him?”

Pam grabbed his wrist and pulled with every bit of her dwindling strength. “You’re hurting me,” she whimpered, and he eased the pressure on her jaw.

“I’m doing what’s best for you,” was his answer. “Someone has to, since you can’t do it for yourself. You got yourself knocked up. I solved the problem.”

Her tears came faster. “It wasn’t a problem.”

“An unwed, pregnant teenager isn’t a problem?”

“I wanted the baby!” she sobbed.

“You have no idea what having a baby entails. You don’t know the work involved or the dedication or the expense,” he stuck a finger in her face, “and don’t say I don’t know, because I have friends who have kids. And don’t,” the finger jabbed her chest, “say I can’t get a woman, because if I wanted, I could have five women happily pregnant in a matter of months. I choose not to have a child. I don’t have the time or the interest.”