A friend?
A real friend? Emma hadn’t considered such a thing since her mother died. There hadn’t been anyone she could trust with the whole truth. She leaned against the other tree, facing him. The thing was, she had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and the memories would be there waiting for her at home if she didn’t work through them somehow. “You want me to tell you about what happened that day?”
“Yes.” Shade protected them from the glare of the sun. Again he looked deep into her heart. “If you’ll trust me.”
This was the last thing she’d ever imagined herself doing, telling Gavin Greeley the details of her abortion. But he was here and he was listening. Like earlier, she had the sudden urge to go ahead and talk, just tell the story and get through it this one time. Maybe if she did, she could figure out why she had never recovered.
“You really want to know?”
“I do.”
The real way to tell him what happened was to start at the beginning. So she did. She told Gavin about Brad, about how they’d met and how they’d fallen in love. She told him about the trips to Holden Beach where they’d made the worst choice of all, and how she’d wound up pregnant. But she didn’t stop there.
“Brad picked me up that Saturday morning and took me to the clinic.” She stared off toward the trees, looking at nothing and seeing only the past. “We barely talked to each other on the drive there.”
“What was Brad feeling?” Gavin’s comments were few, but he was true to his word. He was interested and he wanted her to continue.
“I’m not sure what he was feeling. He told me I’d be okay. He kept saying that.” Emma remembered Brad’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. His breathing was jagged and nervous. “He told me not to be scared.”
In a rush, the memories took hold of her, each vivid detail. She didn’t spare any part of the story as she told Gavin everything about that day. In the process, she didn’t feel like she was talking so much as she was reliving that terrible morning.
When Brad told her not to be scared, Emma said nothing in response, because of course she was scared. Plus, she didn’t want to talk. She kept her hand over her middle, over the place where the life was growing inside her. Did her baby know what was happening, that the tiny heart would only beat for another hour?
I’m sorry, little baby. I wish I were braver … I wish I could walk away from Brad and have you on my own, but … but I can’t. My mom’s sick and … there wouldn’t be anyone to help me. It’s not your fault. Please forgive me.
The tape played in her mind constantly as they reached the clinic and went inside. What sort of mother was she, caring more about keeping Brad than keeping her own child? She had worried that someone would see them, recognize them, but the parking lot was behind the building, surrounded by shrubs and trees. At that early Saturday hour it was empty but for two cars.
Before they walked in, Brad turned to her. “Tomorrow at this time, we can put this whole nightmare behind us.”
Tomorrow at this time?
She felt sick at the thought. She would never put this behind her. He moved in close to kiss her, but she turned her head. “Not now.”
“Are you mad?” He took hold of her hand, his face riddled with shock. “Don’t be mad at me, Em. Please.”
He didn’t understand at all. She pulled away. “I’m not mad.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “I want it to be over, that’s all.” As soon as she said the words, she felt awful. What if her baby could hear her? She didn’t want to do this, but she had no choice — no way out.
Still, even as she crossed the threshold into the clinic, she knew she was wrong. She could certainly have the chance to love her baby. All she had to do was turn around and demand that Brad take her home. He could walk out of her life today, and at least she’d have their child. The truth of that put her in a vice grip of guilt and shame, but still she entered the building, walked up to the desk, and gave the woman behind the counter her name.
“Emma Landon.”
The woman smiled pleasantly, as if Emma were merely coming to get her nails done. “Emma … yes, here it is. You’re scheduled for a D and C procedure, is that right?” At the mention of the abortion, the woman’s smile faded appropriately.
“Yes, ma’am.” She barely spoke the words. She looked for Brad, but he was already sitting in the waiting area, his hands covering his face.
“You seem a little nervous.” The woman put her hand over Emma’s. “Don’t be afraid, honey. This procedure is more common than you think. It’s not something people talk about, but it’s a fact of life.”
Emma thought her choice of words was strange. This was abortion … and abortion wasn’t a fact of life, it was a fact of death. Emma closed her eyes for a long moment and then nodded at the woman. She didn’t want a lecture or reassurance or anything, but to sit alone in these, the last minutes of her baby’s life.
The woman gave her a clipboard with paperwork to fill out, and then another brochure, explaining the procedure and its aftereffects. “You haven’t eaten this morning, right?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Okay, let’s take a look.” She studied the paperwork. “You’re eleven weeks along, is that right?”
“Something like that.” Emma could barely make out her own voice.
“Okay, then. How would you like to make payment?”
The nausea was a regular part of her mornings by then, and suddenly the woman behind the counter reminded her of Judas, taking money in exchange for innocence. “I’m not sure …” She gripped the counter and bent over, trying to keep from throwing up.
Brad must’ve heard the question, because he was at her side. “I’m paying.” He pulled out his wallet. “I brought cash.”
Emma straightened and reached for Brad’s hand. “I don’t feel good,” she whispered.
“I know.” He kissed the side of her head. “I’m here.”
The woman behind the counter seemed slightly irritated by the delay. She waited until she had Brad’s attention. “The cost for a D and C is three-fifty.”
Brad’s hands were shaking. “I brought three hundred.”
“Oh.” The woman’s face fell. “I’m afraid that’s not enough. This type of Service is always more than three hundred.”
Service? Emma grabbed onto Brad’s elbow. Was that how they looked at an abortion? Just another service for women? Like getting her hair done or stopping in for a massage? She should turn around and leave. Brad didn’t have enough money, right? So that was a sign from God to get out of there before anyone could harm her baby. She tugged on his arm. “Come on … let’s go.”
The woman realized their dilemma, because she handed Brad the phone. “Maybe there’s someone you can call. We take credit cards over the phone.”
“I … I don’t want anyone to … to know we were here.” Brad could barely get the sentence out.
“We know.” The woman’s smile seemed condescending. “The notation on the credit card statement will only say Wilmington Services.”
Everything about Emma’s life from that point on hinged on what happened next. Brad looked at her, a desperate look. But instead of acknowledging her request and taking her back home where they could figure out what to do next, he turned to the woman. “I’ll call my father … if that’s okay.”
She smiled. “Go right ahead.”
Brad swallowed hard, but despite his trembling fingers, he pushed the buttons in a hurry. His mom must’ve answered, because he asked to speak to his dad. Emma couldn’t believe what was happening. She could never look Brad’s father in the face if he knew what they were about to do. But as Carl Cutler came on the line, Brad didn’t launch into a lengthy explanation.
“I’m in trouble, Dad. I need fifty bucks.” There was a pause, and Brad muttered. “I know. I’ll tell you later.” A longer pause. “Okay, thanks. Here … I’ll hand you over to the lady.”
Emma didn’t find out till later that Brad’s father thought he was getting his car worked on. His billing statement would never prove otherwise. Carl Cutler hadn’t for a moment thought the person he was giving his credit card information to was a clerk at an abortion clinic. Either way, the information was passed along, and a minute later the call was over and the woman was satisfied. “Have a seat. You’ll be called back in a few minutes.”
A cool breeze brushed against Emma’s face, and she jolted free of the memory. Gavin was still watching her, his eyes marked with sadness. Had she really just told him all that? He must think she was terrible, but that was okay. At least now he knew the truth about her. She raised her shoulders a little. “That’s as far back as I go. The rest … I can’t …”
“I don’t need to hear the rest.” Gavin’s attention was entirely on her, compassion filling his eyes. Again he was thoughtful with his words, taking his time before making any response. “Thank you. For trusting me.”
“I’ve never told anyone.” The slightest sense of freedom came over her. “I think … maybe I needed to.”
“What happened … with Brad?” He wasn’t pushing. His eyes were as kind as ever. “After, I mean?”
“We tried to make it work.” She took a slow sip of her coffee, but it had grown cold. She lowered her cup and clenched her other fist. “Two days later he picked me up and took me to Wrightsville Beach.” She could see them again, the distance between them that day. “We sat on a towel near the Sunspree and just … just stared at the water.” She looked right at Gavin. “We had nothing to say.”
“Hmmm.” For whatever reason Gavin truly seemed to care.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about the baby.”
Gavin sighed and the sound was heavy in the morning air. He spanned the short distance between them, reaching out and touching her shoulder. “I’m sorry. For what you went through.”
The feel of his fingers sent a shock through her, and again she felt like running. But she stayed. Against everything inside her, she stayed. She’d come this far and she wanted to finish the story. The part she was willing to tell, anyway. That, and she liked this — feeling like she had a friend in Gavin Greeley — even for an hour in the woods a world away from the coffee shop. “As for Brad … I think he felt guilty, but he didn’t say.” A sad sound more cry than laugh sounded lightly on her lips. “After that it was impossible to laugh or play on the beach or think about a movie.” She felt suddenly awkward about Gavin’s hand still on her shoulder. He must have sensed her discomfort because he eased his hand to his side again. She rested her head back against the rough bark of the tree. “I don’t know … we were different.”
“I’m sure.”
“The holidays came and went and Brad left for college.” Their last day together, their good-byes, none of it was heartfelt or drawn out the way it might have been. And of course not. The love they’d shared was long dead by then … dead since the twentieth of November. “A few years later my mom died. Brad came back for the funeral, but we barely talked.” Emma drew a quick breath and drew her foot up against the tree trunk. “And that was that. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“It still hurts.” Gavin’s perception seemed to come naturally. He never looked away, never gave her anything but his complete attention.
“Yes.” She looked down at her hands for a few seconds. “It still hurts.”
He stretched out his legs, again unhurried. “Do you love him? Now, I mean?”
“No.” Her answer was a little too quick, but it was the right answer. No matter how she sometimes felt on late afternoons when she ran along Holden Beach. “It’s just …” she squinted at the sky, trying to figure out her feelings. When she turned her eyes back to his she felt the same sense of freedom she’d felt earlier. “We never found closure. About the baby … about us.”
He smiled with a tenderness that warmed even the darkest corner of her soul. He took a few steps and nodded for her to follow. “Maybe this helped. Talking about it.”
“Maybe.” She was glad they were walking again. The pond glistened ahead of them.
“See?” A smile sounded in his voice.
“What?” The path narrowed, the trees on either side closer than before.
“I’m still here.” His shoulder brushed against her as they walked. “You thought I wouldn’t want to be your friend, but that’s crazy, Emma. We all have a past.”
“I know, it’s just …” this was the first time she’d ever spoken of these feelings, ever really understood them. “I should’ve been braver. I should’ve had the baby. I hate myself for it.”
“You can’t go back.” Gavin’s voice grew softer. They came into another clearing, and a few yards up the path they reached the pond. Three mallard ducks sailed in a lazy circle at the far end. Gavin paused for a long while, staring at the scene. Then he turned to her, looking straight into the part of her soul she never shared with anyone. “This is why you didn’t want to pray for Kristin?”
Emma couldn’t bring herself to talk about God, not in light of what she’d just admitted. She nodded and once more fought the urge to leave. “Brad made an impact in a lot of ways. It’s ironic. Especially when it came to my mom.” Emma felt a sad smile tug at her lips. “I started going to church with him when I was in middle school. My mom … she became a Christian because of Brad’s influence in our lives. She died with a very strong faith. But me …”
“You have walls.”
It was like he had known her forever. She looked down, unwilling to let him see inside her heart a moment longer.
“You know what?” His tenderness was like water to her parched, dry soul.
She looked up.
“I think inside those walls is a very bright light. You care, Emma. I can see that.” He exhaled, long and slow, clearly wanting her to understand. “God forgives you.” He wasn’t preaching to her. He was doing what he said he wanted to do. He was being her friend. “Maybe you should take all this to Him. I mean, have you thought about it?”
The kind man beside her meant well. His comment about her touched her deeply. But Emma couldn’t talk about turning to God in light of all she’d just revealed. A restlessness came over her. “You know what?” She smiled politely as she turned in the direction of the parking lot. “We need to get back.” She started walking and again he stayed with her pace. “Thank you for listening.”
“Emma … I didn’t mean to — ”
“It’s okay.” Her pace was faster than before. Not rude, but definitely faster. “You need to get to church.”