style="font-size:15px;"> “So you broke off the relationship?”
Melissa bit her lip. “Stupid, wasn’t it?”
Uncertain how to respond, Anne Marie squeezed her hand.
“I’ve never missed my dad more than I do right now. I’m so confused, and my mother’s so angry with me.”
“What does she say?” Anne Marie asked.
“She e-mails me two and three times a day with what she calls advice, except it reads more like a court order. I made a mistake, according to Mom, but that mistake doesn’t need to screw up the rest of my life. She told me to make an appointment at one of those clinics and terminate the pregnancy before it’s too late. She said if I lose this chance to work in England, I’ll always regret it—that I’ll never get a chance like this again.”
Anne Marie had to struggle to keep from saying what she thought of that advice.
“She made it sound like I wouldn’t regret making a hasty decision about my baby. I don’t think I can do it, Anne Marie.” The tears made wet tracks down her pale cheeks.
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, still clutching Anne Marie’s hand. “The thing is, I talked to a lady at the Pregnancy Crisis Clinic, and there are a lot more options than I thought.”
“Don’t you think you should explore all your options before you make such an important decision?”
“That’s just it,” Melissa sobbed. “I only have a few more days while it’s still legal to have an abortion.”
“How far along are you?”
“Over three months.” She pulled her hand free and scrabbled in her purse for a tissue. “At first I didn’t believe I could possibly be pregnant. I mean, I’ve never had regular periods, anyway, and there wasn’t any reason to…to think I might be. Michael and I used protection and, well, apparently it wasn’t a hundred percent effective, because here I am.” She gestured weakly, then wiped her nose.
“You’ve been to a doctor?”
She looked away. “Not yet. But a technician at the pregnancy clinic did an ultrasound and I actually saw my baby move.”
“Have you talked to your friends? Or Brandon?”
Melissa shook her head. “No one knows, other than you and my mother. I just couldn’t face anyone else.”
“How can I help you?” Anne Marie asked, wondering why Melissa had turned to her. But the reasons for her stepdaughter’s change of heart didn’t matter, Anne Marie told herself. She would do whatever she could.
“I need…I need someone who can help me decide.”
Melissa had difficulty making decisions; that was clear, since she’d made a number of spectacularly bad ones. But perhaps some of them could be reversed.
“Okay,” Anne Marie began, taking a deep breath. “First, I don’t see that there’s any reason to drop out of school, especially this close to graduation.”
“I know. That was just as stupid as breaking up with Michael, wasn’t it?”
“Do what you can to get back on course for graduation. Your father would’ve wanted you to complete your education.”
Melissa nodded; she seemed to appreciate the advice. “Several of my professors have asked to talk to me, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
“Good.”
“What about my mother?” Melissa asked, looking anxiously at Anne Marie.
“This is your decision, not hers.”
She nodded again, as if she needed to be reminded of that. “If I don’t go to England…”
“Why can’t you go?”
“Mom said I couldn’t have the job unless I aborted the baby.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t mean that,” Anne Marie said. “The news shocked her, that’s all.” She remembered Robert confessing that he’d gotten Pamela pregnant before they were married. Apparently she was afraid her daughter would repeat her own mistakes by marrying too young—and in Pamela’s view, marrying the wrong man.
“I should tell Michael right away, shouldn’t I?”
“That would be a good idea.” Anne Marie could see this was something Melissa wanted to do. “The two of you can talk it over together. Do you love him?”
“Yes, but… A friend told me she saw him with someone else.” She paused, tears running unchecked down her face. “If he loved me, he wouldn’t be dating again so soon, would he?”
“Who knows why men do anything?” Anne Marie asked, hoping to inject a bit of humor into the conversation.
Melissa responded with a wobbly smile. A moment later, she whispered, “Thank you, Anne Marie. I never thought I’d turn to you for anything and now I feel you’re the only person I can talk to.”
There’d been a time, a long time, when Anne Marie would’ve done anything to win her stepdaughter’s approval. Little did she realize it would come after Robert’s death.
They hugged and arranged to meet for lunch the following week. As they broke apart, Anne Marie recognized that Melissa wanted to say something else. She looked away and then back at Anne Marie, her eyes intent.
“I am sorry about the last time we met—you know that, right?”
Anne Marie nodded.
“Have you…?” She didn’t complete the thought, almost as though she was weighing the advisability of even asking.
“Have I what?”
Melissa shrugged. “Contacted Rebecca? Have you asked her about the…baby?”
“No.” Anne Marie kept her voice as flat as possible.
Her stepdaughter accepted that without further comment. With a wave and a “See you next week,” she headed for the door.
Anne Marie waited until Melissa had left the bookstore before she collapsed onto the overstuffed chair and pressed one hand over her eyes. This nightmare that had become her life just wasn’t going away. She was the one who wanted a child.
Not Rebecca.
Not Melissa.
Anne Marie.
Her longing for a baby had led to her separation from Robert—a desperate attempt to impress on him how serious she was. Not that it had done her any good. Instead, Robert’s personal assistant now had a baby, most likely his, and his daughter had turned to Anne Marie for advice about an unwanted pregnancy.
But
