35
“C
ongratulations!” Dr. Ping smiled as he entered the exam room. “You are officially pregnant!”
Corrie managed a small smile.
“Are you all right?” Dr. Ping asked. “I thought you’d be over the moon.”
“I’m just . . . well, to be honest, I’m not sure the baby is Mark’s.”
The words hung in the air between then. Dr. Ping said nothing for a long minute.
“Oh,” he said finally. “Oh.”
“I made a really stupid mistake.” Corrie’s cheeks were the color of bricks. “Just once, but . . . but now I don’t know who the father is.”
She buried her face in her hands and let the tears come.
“Does Mark know?” Dr. Ping’s voice was gentle.
“Yes, I told him.”
“I’m very sorry, Corrie. I know how much you’ve wanted a baby. And I can’t imagine how painful this must be for you and Mark.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Are you going to continue with the pregnancy?”
“Oh yes,” she said. “I want this baby!”
“Well, good then. I know it’s not the way you wanted things to work out, but sometimes life just throws us a curveball.”
“Doctor, how soon can we find out if the baby is Mark’s?”
“Well, that depends.” Dr. Ping sat down across from Corrie. “We can do an amniocentesis after the fourteenth week. That’s where we use a long, thin needle through your abdomen to draw out a little bit of amniotic fluid.
“Or, we can do chorionic villus sampling at about eleven weeks. In that case, we use a long, thin tube through the vagina to gather a bit of tissue from the wall of the uterus.”
“Okay,” Corrie said firmly. “Let’s do the one at eleven weeks.”
“Corrie, I have to tell you there are risks involved with either of the procedures. With either, there is a small chance of miscarriage.”
“How small?” Corrie wrapped her arms around her stomach, as if to shield the baby inside.
“With amnio, about one in four hundred. With CVS, it’s one in one hundred. The only really risk-free method is to wait until the baby is born, draw blood, and do the test then.”
Corrie shook her head. “I can’t wait that long. Mark is in hell, I’m in hell. We need to know.”
“All right.” The doctor made a note on his chart. “Then let’s decide which procedure is your best option. Because the risk is significantly lower, I’d recommend an amniocentesis. It’s only three weeks longer to wait, and it’s statistically safer for you and the baby.”
“So, fourteen weeks?”
“Can you wait that long?”
Corrie took a deep breath and nodded.
“Okay, I’ll go ahead and schedule you for mid-December. It’s an out-patient procedure. We’ll do it here in the office. In the meantime, I’m writing you a prescription for prenatal vitamins. I want you to get lots of rest, eat healthy meals, and try hard not to worry too much. Okay?”
“So, when do you think I’m due?” Corrie asked.
“We’ll call it June tenth. How does that sound?”
“Good,” she said. “That sounds very good.”
The doctor took her hands and spoke firmly. “You are going to need as much support as you can get. Have you told your mother yet?”
She shook her head.
“I hope you’ll do that right away. And get some good friends around you. And . . . and just take care of yourself, Corrie. Will you do that?”
“Yes, Dr. Ping,” she said. “I will.”
Corrie turned her phone on as she left the doctor’s office. She had a voice mail.
She stopped in the lobby to listen.
“Hey.” Mark’s voice was low. She sat down in the nearest chair, her knees shaking.
“I just wanted to let you know that Sarah had the baby last night, a girl. They named her Grace. They’re both fine. I just thought you’d want to know.”
Corrie gripped the phone tightly and listened to the message again.
They’d named the baby Grace. That would please Mark’s mother. Of course, they couldn’t very well have named her Corrie. Not after what she’d done.
She sat for a few minutes. Should she go see Sarah? Would Sarah even want to see her?
Finally, she stood, put her phone in her purse, and walked from the medical office building to the hospital next door.
“I’m here to see Sarah Burton,” she said to the woman at the reception desk. “She had a baby last night.”
The woman checked her computer and smiled. “She’s in room 248, in the east wing.”
Corrie stopped at the gift shop and bought a bunch of pink balloons and a small pink lamb. When she knocked on the open door of room 248, Sarah’s husband raised his head.
“Oh,” he stammered. “Um, hi, Corrie.”
“Hi, Kevin.” Corrie smiled. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he said. In his lap he cradled a tiny, pink-blanketed bundle.
“Sarah’s in the bathroom,” he said, nodding toward the closed door.
Corrie walked to his side and gazed at the baby asleep in his arms.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “She is, isn’t she?”
“Corrie?” Sarah stood in the doorway, her hand on her belly.
“Hi,” Corrie said. “I hope it’s okay I came.”
“Sure.” Sarah walked to the bed and lowered herself slowly onto it. “It’s fine. I’m glad you came.”
“Here.” Kevin laid the baby in Sarah’s arms. “I think I’m going to get a cup of coffee. Do you want anything?”
“No,” Sarah said. “I’m good.”
“Okay then.” Kevin edged toward the door. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
An awkward silence ensued. Finally, Corrie said, “She’s really beautiful, Sarah. She looks so much like Laurel.”
“She does, doesn’t she? You should see the two of them together. Here . . .” She lifted her phone from the nightstand and did a quick search. “Look.” She held the phone up so Corrie could see a picture of three-year-old Laurel holding tiny Grace in her lap.
“Oh my God,” Corrie breathed. “That’s precious.”
She touched the top of the baby’s head with her finger, felt the fine fuzz of blond hair. Tears stung her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Sarah asked.
Corrie nodded. “Just . . . just happy for you.”
“Mark told me what happened,” Sarah said.
“I’m so sorry,” Corrie whispered. “I’m so damned sorry.”
“I know.” Sarah reached for her sister-in-law’s hand. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Thank you.” Corrie squeezed her hand.
“I mean, I’m really mad at you,” Sarah continued, holding Corrie’s hand tight. “I don’t understand how you could cheat on Mark. But you are still my friend, my oldest friend. And no matter what, you’ll always be my sister.”
Tears brimmed in Corrie’s eyes and a lump filled her throat. She didn’t deserve Sarah’s friendship. “I love you,” she finally managed to say.
“I love you, too.” Sarah shifted in the bed. “Do you want to hold her?”
“Can I?” Corrie reached for the baby, kissed her head, breathed in the intoxicating aroma of spit-up and baby shampoo.
“How’s my granddaughter?”
Corrie’s mother-in-law stopped in the doorway when she saw Corrie.
“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had . . . company.”
“Hi, Grace.” Corrie’s voice was small.
“Hello.” Grace looked at her coldly. Corrie’s stomach lurched.
“I was just going,” she stammered, handing the baby back to Sarah. “I’ll call you soon.” She kissed Sarah’s cheek and walked quickly past Grace, still standing in the doorway.
“The nerve!” Grace’s voice followed her down the hall.
36
W
hen she got home, Corrie sat down at the computer to write an email to Mark. Ignoring her in-box, she wrote:
Dear Mark,
I just wanted to say thank you for calling me about Sarah. I know you are hurt and angry. I know I messed up. I wish I could take it all back. I wish there was some way I could make it up to you, or prove to you how sorry I am. I love you so much.
I had my first appointment today with Dr. Ping. He confirmed the pregnancy and set up an appointment on Dec. 14 for me to have an amniocentesis. That will tell us for sure whether or not you are the father. I am praying so hard that you are.
I wish you would come home. I miss you so much. I hate sleeping in the bed without you. I hate not having you here in the morning. I just hate you not being here.
Please call me if you want to talk. I won’t keep trying to call you. I know you need some time and space to work things out. Please just don’t forget that
I love you.
Always yours,
Corrie
She hit the send button and closed her eyes, willing her stomach to settle. Finally, she sighed and looked at the long list of messages in her in-box. Most of them were from Daniel. She read the most recent:
Dear Corrie,
I’m trying hard to be good and not harass you. But I wish you would just email me and let me know you’re okay. I haven’t heard from you since I came back, and I’m starting to worry.
I love you,
D
Corrie sighed heavily and began reading through the older messages. He loved her. He knew she loved him. He didn’t want to mess up her life, but he really wanted to give them another chance. On and on they went. Eventually, she rose and threw the nearest book across the room.
“Damn you, Daniel!” she yelled. “Damn you! Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
Her phone rang, startling her into silence. She looked at the caller ID and sighed before answering.
“Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“What’s going on with you and Mark?” Patrice’s voice demanded.
“What do you mean?”
Oh God
, Corrie thought,
she knows already
.
“I ran into Grace at the mall this morning, and she walked right past me. She didn’t even say hello. And when I called after her, she just kept walking and didn’t turn around. Are you and Mark all right?”
“No, Mom. We’re not all right.”
“What happened?”
“Mark left me.”
“What! Why? What did you do?” Patrice demanded.
Corrie sat down at the kitchen table, willing her voice to stay calm.
“I slept with Daniel while I was in California.”
“Oh, Corrie, no! Why would you do that?”
“It just happened. I messed up big-time.”
“And you told Mark about it? What were you thinking?”
Corrie sighed heavily. “I’m pregnant, Mom.”
That silenced Patrice for an instant.
“Is the baby Daniel’s?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Good lord, Coriander Bliss, how could you be so stupid?”
“I don’t know.” Corrie’s voice shook.
“I mean it, how could you be so stupid? You have a perfect life—a nice house, lots of money, a husband who adores you. Why would you throw that away for a man who dumped you years ago?”
Corrie didn’t reply.
After a minute, Patrice said in a calmer voice, “Okay, you messed things up. Now what are you going to do to fix them?”
“I don’t know,” Corrie said. “I went to the doctor today and he’s set up an amniocentesis for me in December. That will tell us who the father is.”
“I cannot believe you told Mark about Daniel. Why would you do something like that?”
“Because he’s my husband, Mom. I love him and I couldn’t just lie about him being the father.”
“I cannot believe I raised such a selfish child!” Patrice’s voice rose again. “What do you think you’re going to do when he divorces you? Who will support you? Don’t even think about moving back in here. I did my job. I raised you kids. It’s your turn to take care of me now.”
Corrie’s hand shook and she bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.
“Don’t worry,” she spat. “I would never move back in with you, not if my life depended on it.”
She ended the call and sat staring at her beautiful kitchen, the granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, cheery tile backsplash. Her mother was right about one thing. She’d had the perfect life. And now she’d lost it.
She rose unsteadily, walked to the bedroom, and flopped down on the bed. Then she cried until she had to run to the bathroom to throw up.
“Oh God, honey, I’m so sorry.”
Bryn sat on the edge of the bed, holding Corrie’s hand.
“Are you okay?”
Corrie nodded. Her eyes were puffy and red.
“I knew she would be upset,” she said. “But God! She’s my mother. She’s supposed to be on my side, you know?”
Bryn hesitated briefly, then said, “She hasn’t really been a mother to you for a long time, Corrie. Maybe it’s time, finally, to let it go. Just take care of yourself and the baby now. Let Patrice figure things out for herself.”
“I guess so.” Corrie sighed. “I just wish—”
“I know, it’s the same thing you always wish. That she was a normal mom. But she’s not. And you have got to start standing up for yourself. And not just for you, for your baby. All this drama can’t be good for the baby.”
Corrie nodded. “You’re right.”
“Come on,” Bryn said, pulling Corrie up from the bed. “Let’s make something to eat. I’m really hungry.”
“Ugh,” Corrie said. “I’m not.”
“Have you eaten anything today?”
Corrie stopped to think about it. “I had half a bagel this morning.”
Bryn shook her head. “You have to start taking better care of yourself. You’re eating for two now.”
They made chicken salad sandwiches and ate them with grapes on the back porch, watching the autumn sun sink below the horizon.
“So are you sure you want to do the amnio?” Bryn asked.
“I have to,” Corrie said. “I can’t wait nine months to know. I think I’d go crazy.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to.” Corrie smiled at her friend.
“You can’t go by yourself,” Bryn said firmly.
“Thanks.”
“Have you told Daniel yet?”
Corrie shook her head.
“Have you heard from him?”
“I’ve had about a million emails from him.”
“You probably should answer him,” Bryn said. “I know, it sounds weird coming from me; we both know he’s not my favorite person in the world. But if you just keep ignoring him, he might end up on your doorstep again. You don’t want that, do you?”
“No!” Corrie shook her head. “I just don’t want to deal with Daniel right now. If he is the father, I’ll let him know in December. Right now, I’m just concentrating on the positive. I keep thinking if I pray hard enough, the baby will be Mark’s.”
Bryn smiled and shook her head.
“I know it’s silly,” Corrie said. “But that’s what is keeping me sane right now.”
“Hey, whatever works.” Bryn rose and took Corrie’s plate. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”
Corrie laughed, and Bryn said, “Hey, as long as I’m not throwing up I might as well be eating, right?”
“I guess so.”
They put their dishes in the sink and found their shoes.
The doorbell rang.
Bryn’s eyes widened. “Do you think it’s Mark?”
“I don’t think so,” Corrie said. “He just came in last time.”
She walked into the living room and opened the front door. Her father-in-law stood on the porch, his hands in his pockets.
“Oh, Tom,” Corrie said. “I wasn’t . . . Is everything all right?”
“Can I come in?” His voice was low.
“Sure.”
He stopped when he saw Bryn. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.”
“It’s okay,” Corrie said. “Bryn was just leaving.”
“You call me if you need me,” Bryn whispered in her ear as she hugged Corrie.
Corrie closed the door behind her.
“Do you want a drink?” she asked.
“That would be good,” Tom said.
He followed her into the kitchen and sat at the table.
“So . . . what’s up?” Corrie asked, handing him a glass of wine.
“I’m just so sorry about you and Mark,” he said. “I know Grace was unpleasant when you saw her at the hospital, and I wanted to apologize for that.”
Corrie sank into a chair across from him.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she said. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m so sorry . . .”
Tom held up his hand.
“Listen,” he said, “just let me say what I came here to say.”
“Okay.” She sat back in her chair and waited. After a long pause, Tom spoke.
“I was unfaithful to Grace once, a long time ago. It was a terrible mistake, and I’ve never stopped regretting it.”
Corrie stared at her father-in-law.
“The point is that sometimes these things . . . happen. But that doesn’t have to mean the end of the marriage. Grace finally forgave me, and we’ve had forty wonderful years together.”
He paused and sipped his wine.
“I think that’s part of why she’s so angry with you,” he said. “It brings back old hurts.”
“Does Mark know?” Corrie whispered.
Tom nodded. “I told him a couple nights ago. I thought he needed to hear it, to see that you can work through it if you try.”
“Thank you.” Corrie’s voice shook. “Really, thank you. I can’t imagine how hard it was to tell him.”
“He’s my son.” Tom smiled at her. “I want him to be happy. And I know he loves you.”
“But if the baby isn’t his . . .” Corrie’s voice trailed away.
“That will be hard,” Tom said. “But again, if you want to make it work, you’ll find a way. That’s what I told him, and that’s what I’m telling you.”
They sat silently for a minute, then Tom rose and put his glass on the counter.
“I won’t keep you,” he said. “I just want you to know that Grace and I both love you. And we are both praying that you and Mark can work things out.”
He hugged her as she cried into his chest.
“Thank you, Tom. You have no idea how much that means to me.”
“Oh, but I do,” he said, smiling down at her. “That’s why I’m here.”
He kissed the top of her head and left.
Corrie folded her legs beneath her on the couch, wondering at the conversation she’d just had.
Maybe if Tom could forgive her, Mark could, too. Maybe they could work things out, after all.
Please, God, let that be true
.
She sat in silence for a while, then picked up the phone and dialed Maya’s number. Her mother might not be on her side, but her little sister damned well would be.