At the thought of flowers she was reminded of the previous week on Valentine’s Day when she’d come into work to find a red rose on her desk. The tag said only: Paula. David had already sent a beautiful vase of calla lilies, so she knew it wasn’t from him. She remembered the “Roses are red” poem her mystery admirer sent her and shivered.
She left the rose there and went to ask Cindy if she knew where it came from.
Cindy shrugged. “It was on my desk when I got back from lunch break. I figured it was from your hubby.”
Paula muttered a thank-you and promptly tossed the flower into her trash can. The guy had been thirty feet from her desk. The thought coiled in her mind like a snake ready to strike. She hadn’t told David about it over the weekend. There hadn’t been enough time to really talk about anything.
Now she rubbed her eyes and told herself to focus on the story at hand. There were stories to tell, deadlines to meet, and she couldn’t keep getting sidetracked this way. She worked until the story was succinct, the wording tight.
Her desk phone rang, and she picked it up, still distracted by the story. “Hello, Paula speaking.”
“Hi, Paula, it’s Deb.”
Immediately every part of her mind redirected to the woman on the other end of the line. “Deb. How’ve you been doing? I’ve thought so much about you over the past week. I didn’t want to bother you with a call.”
“We’re OK, at least as much as can be expected. And we both want you to know how much we appreciate your telling us what you found out. It’s been—very difficult, but with God’s help we’re getting though it.”
Relief assuaged her like a storm-driven wave on the shore of Lake Michigan. It was amazing they weren’t angry with her for keeping the truth from them for several days. Instead, Deb had thanked her.
“I appreciate your understanding,” Paula said. “And I’m very glad to hear you’re both coping as well as can be expected.”
Just tell her the rest of it. You know you need to.
“Deb, there’s—”
“We were wondering—”
They spoke at the same time.
“I’m sorry,” Deb said. “Go ahead.”
Yes, Paula, go ahead. Go ahead and tell her what kind of woman you are. Go ahead and make this even worse for her.
“I was going to ask if we can get together again. There’s something else I’d like to talk about.” Paula closed her eyes, knowing she’d just started the ripple that would fan out and rock everything in its path.
“That’s funny—I was going to say the same thing.” Deb gave a short laugh. “How about if we meet somewhere other than our house? Steve’s mom is coming tonight to stay with Faith. I know it’s late notice.”
“Tonight would be fine.” But they couldn’t meet in a public place. Paula wasn’t going to spill her darkest secret someplace where she might be overheard.
Darrick passed by her desk without even making eye contact. He’d been distant with her and everyone else since his error on the harassment story.
“How about my place?” Paula asked. Linn would still be working, and the thought of coming clean in her own territory sounded a lot safer than doing it anyplace else. When Deb agreed, Paula gave her the address and hung up.
She was still thinking about the phone call that evening when she brewed a pot of coffee and straightened up the living area. She tossed a pair of her socks through the bedroom door and straightened the pillows on the couch and love seat. Then she paced.
She hadn’t been able to eat a thing for dinner. David e-mailed, and she back-burnered the response. It felt as if two worlds were about to collide, and she wasn’t sure there’d be any survivors.
Help me, God. I don’t know how to do this.
Three soft knocks sounded on the door, and Paula went to open it before she could weasel out of it. Deb clutched her purse in her crooked elbow, and Steve offered a smile, though his eyes seemed coated with sadness.
They said hello, and Paula took their coats and offered them a seat. When she offered them coffee, they declined.
Paula sat on the recliner across from them. She addressed Steve. “Deb said the two of you are doing OK under the circumstances.”
“With God’s help.” He placed his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers.
“My thoughts have been in a whirlwind,” Deb said. “There are so many aspects of this: the fact that our birth child died without our knowing, the realization that Faith was nearly aborted, that her cerebral palsy could have been avoided. It’s taken a week to start sorting through it all, and I’m afraid we’ve only scratched the surface.”
At the mention of the abortion, Paula’s nerves frayed, like the stringy ends of an old rope.
“I suppose the one positive thing here,” Steve said, “is that there’s no other birth mom out there wondering what happened to her birth child. There’s no worry about losing Faith now.”
Paula cringed from her toes to the top of her head. Now she really didn’t want to tell them the truth. How come it just kept getting harder? Maybe if she started with their questions, she could ease into it. “You said you’d wanted to talk again. Why don’t we start there?”
Deb and Steve exchanged glances, then Deb spoke. “I hope you won’t think we’re picking on you for asking this, because we do appreciate that you told us the truth.” She folded her hands in her lap. “That day I came into your office and asked if you’d found out anything—why didn’t you tell me then? I know you already apologized for that, and we’ve forgiven you.”
Beside her, Steve nodded.
“But I don’t understand why,” Deb said. “Were you afraid of hurting us? And what about your story? Steve and I thought that when you solved the mystery, you’d put it on the air. Not that we’re in a big hurry to have that happen—we just wonder why you haven’t.”
Everything inside Paula seemed to seize up like car brakes on a glazed, icy pavement. Words, which normally slid neatly into place, seemed stuck in a frozen jumble.
Help. It was the only word she could think of, and it was sent up to God like a desperate plea from a dying woman. But she’d be the first to admit she didn’t deserve His help at all.
Deb and Steve sat patiently waiting for her to collect her thoughts. He took his wife’s hand and intertwined his fingers with hers.
“You’re right. There is a reason I didn’t tell you that day, Deb. And there’s a reason I’ve not been in a rush to air the story. It’s why I asked to meet with you.” She took a deep breath, and the expansion of her lungs pulled on her tightened muscles. “Several years ago, just when my career was starting to take off, I got pregnant. As much as I wanted to have a child someday, I was unhappy with the timing. I’d just received a promotion and didn’t want to jeopardize that.” She cringed at how shallow that sounded. But that’s the way it had been.
“I was surprised that my husband was happy about the pregnancy. I tried to go along with it. I tried to be happy about it, but the only thing I could think of was my career going down the tube. In TV you have a very limited amount of time to make it. Especially women. As you age, your chances become slimmer and slimmer. Not that it’s any excuse. I see now how distorted my thinking was.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “To make a long story short, I decided to have an abortion.”
When she looked at Deb, she was surprised to see compassion instead of condemnation. It gave her the courage to go on.
“I was scheduled to attend a conference, and I saw that as the perfect opportunity. I decided to have an abortion while I was out of town, then call my husband and tell him I had a miscarriage.” She closed her eyes, knowing the compassion in Deb’s eyes would be gone, and not wanting to know what had replaced it.
“Looking back, I know it was the biggest mistake of my life. It was wrong and stupid and selfish.” Paula twisted the ends of her cashmere sweater. “And the repercussions—” She shook her head. “I had no idea.”
“I’m so sorry
, Paula,” Deb said. “I can’t imagine the pain that brings.”
Paula wished it were only her own pain. But her decision would cause pain for others who didn’t deserve it, and that’s what hurt the most.
Steve cocked his head. “It makes sense. All of this about the aborted baby surviving has opened up old wounds.”
If only that was all it was, she could nod, and they would pat her shoulder and express their sympathy and leave. She had to say it before she lost her courage. “I’m afraid it’s more than that.” Her mouth felt as dry as talcum powder.
“What do you mean?” Deb asked.
Paula was about to shatter their world all over again, and the guilt was overwhelming. “The city that held the conference I was supposed to go to—the one where I had the abortion—was Chicago. I had it right here in Chicago.” She made herself meet Deb’s gaze. “At Chicago General. On June twelfth.”
The emotions that passed over Deb’s face were like the stages of dusk. One blended right into the other—confusion, realization, and horror, without any clear distinction between them.
“What year?” Steve’s voice was like a taut wire.
Paula’s heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. She was afraid to look at Steve. “The same year Faith was born. The very same day.”
“But—” Steve tugged at his collar. “But there must have been others. More than one abortion that day.”
He was reaching to grab hold of any other possibility than the one they feared.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Paula went on. “But when I had the abortion, I used the name Paula O’Neil. I didn’t want it to be traced back to me. The nurse who saved the baby—saved Faith—told me the patient’s name was O’Neil. I didn’t tell her it was me. No one knows.”
Deb’s eyes seemed to deflate of every emotion except horror. Paula looked away. Steve closed his eyes, and Paula wondered if he was praying or just trying to escape the truth.
Across the room the computer fan hummed. Outside the window, cars whizzed by. Inside Paula’s body her heart cracked like an old, brittle stick.
She felt like a human tornado. Have you broken everyone around you yet? Is there anyone whom you’ve left untouched? Perhaps you should go tell your mom and your sisters, and don’t forget David. Yes, you’re not finished with your search-and-destroy mission yet.
Paula’s eyes stung, but she wouldn’t cry. This wasn’t about her anymore, and crying wouldn’t fix a thing. She finally looked at Deb. The woman’s face was mottled red, and her eyes were glassy.
“What—what are you planning to do?” Steve’s tone was as smooth as a shiny, steel lamppost and every bit as hard.
Paula touched the couple’s clasped hands. “I’m not going to do anything. Look, you’re Faith’s parents. I tried to abort her, for heaven’s sake. What right do I have to be a mother to her? Please, believe me, I won’t try and take Faith away. She’s right where God meant her to be all along.”
Steve’s eyes filled, and his Adam’s apple darted down, then back up again.
Deb met her gaze as if to weigh Paula’s sincerity.
“I promise you, Deb. I won’t do anything. I do love that little girl—” Paula’s throat closed up. “But Faith is your daughter, and she belongs with you.” As painful as those words were to say, they were the truth.
“What about your husband?” Steve asked.
David. Maybe Paula didn’t deserve a child she’d tried to abort. But what about David? He’d wanted that baby. How would he feel about losing the child he was just finding out about? She couldn’t make a promise for David. She didn’t know how he’d respond to her or how he would feel about Faith. She wanted to reassure them, to tell them that David wouldn’t dare take their child away, but how could she know?
“I—I haven’t told him yet.” She shifted in her chair and forced herself to maintain eye contact.
“You haven’t told him about Faith?” Deb asked.
Paula’s lips trembled. “I haven’t told him anything. He still thinks I had a miscarriage three years ago.”
“Oh, Paula,” Deb said.
She heard both compassion and frustration in Deb’s voice. “I know I have to tell him. Maybe I should have told him before I told you. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”
“How do you think he’ll take it?” Steve asked.
Paula looked at Steve, remembering when David had thought she’d betrayed him. He’d become like a stranger—even though he had little proof. What would he do when he found out she had tried to abort the child he wanted and lied about it? What would he say when he realized they’d held each other as he cried, all the while knowing she was the cause of all his pain?
A tear slid down her face. “I don’t know,” Paula said.
Steve stood up and walked to the window. The streetlamp outside the window spotlighted the flurries that drifted to the ground. “Maybe she doesn’t have to tell him everything.”
“Steve.” Deb nailed his back with a look. “You know that’s not right.”
Steve turned. “You want to risk our losing Faith to a man she doesn’t even know?”
Deb clutched her purse with her hand. “When we decided to go forward with this, when we called Paula to tell her our story, we felt God was leading us. It can’t be a coincidence that Paula and I ran into each other at the hospital that day. God is doing something here. I don’t know where it’s going to take us, but we have to do the right thing and trust Him to work it out.”
“I’m not losing my daughter.”
Deb stared at her hand, wrapped tightly around her purse.
Steve’s harshly spoken words were followed by a silence that made Paula want to squirm. She’d managed to divide the Morgans with her news.
“When are you going to tell him?” Deb asked quietly, as though sheltering Steve from her words.
“I’m going home this weekend. I’ll tell him then.” Paula’s spirit trembled at the thought. But there was no sense in dragging it out. She couldn’t hide the truth anymore, and the Morgans needed to know what David’s position was. It was only fair.
“I’ll be praying for you.”
Who was Deb to say those words for her? She didn’t deserve Deb’s thoughtfulness and concern. Paula had only recently become a praying woman herself, but she said the only words she could think of to comfort the woman. “I’ll be praying too. For all of us.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
David set his Coke on the coffee table and snapped open the Wall Street Journal. Though his eyes focused on the page, his mind wandered to his own business. JH Realty was doing well, considering it was winter. Of course, with Paula gone to Chicago, it meant more time spent working. His extra effort was paying off, though, and if it became necessary to sell it and move to Chicago, he’d be able to get his money out of it and then some.
Paula hadn’t said much about the anchor spot when she flew home for the baby’s birth, but they’d been rushed. Rushed to get to the hospital, rushed to get home to sleep. Well, not too rushed for the sleep.
He smiled, remembering their lingering moments in bed before they set the alarm clock so they could make it to church. Paula hadn’t said anything, but she had seemed different. Softer somehow. And later she hadn’t made a single sarcastic remark about the people at church or the pastor’s sermon. She’d even seemed to enjoy the service. Maybe something was happening in her heart. He’d been praying for it.
When the phone rang, he knew it was Paula. Who else would call after ten?
“Hi, baby,” he said.
“How’d you know it was me?”
“I could tell by the ring.”
“And how is my ring different from all the others?” He could hear the smile in her voice.
“It’s low and sexy. It practically purrs.”
She laughed and the sound of it endeared him. “You goofball.”
“It’s late. I’m slaphappy.”
“It?
??s ten fifteen. You’re not a pumpkin quite yet.”
“How’s your week going?” he asked.
“Well, that’s what I called about. Miles took me aside today and asked if you and I could join him and his wife on their boat this weekend.”
A part of David was disappointed. He realized he’d been looking forward to some quiet time alone with his wife. “But you’ve got tickets to fly home.”
“Well, normally, I’d put him off. But he said something else. He said, ‘We’ve got some important things to discuss,’ and he had this twinkle in his eyes. Hon, I think he’s going to offer me the anchor chair.”
Conflicting emotions churned up in him, but the foremost one was happiness. “Oh, babe, that’s great. You think he’s going to offer it to you this weekend? But I thought that other reporter was doing a bang-up job lately.”
“We didn’t have time to talk about it over the weekend, but Darrick suffered a major career setback. His coverage of that big story he broke a couple of weeks ago was incomplete. Irresponsible even. And one of our competing news channels got the full scoop. Darrick’s been in hot water with Miles ever since.”
“What about the other reporters? You don’t think any of them are in the running?”
She huffed playfully. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I know you’re destined to be the next Diane Sawyer.”
“That’s more like it.”
“I’m thrilled for you, really. I guess I’m just a little disappointed that we won’t have time alone this week. I was looking forward to talking, you know?” The pause went on so long, he thought he’d lost the connection. “Paula? You there?”
“I’m here. I was looking forward—I wanted to talk with you too. Maybe I can come home the following weekend, and it’ll be just you and me. OK?”
He thought he detected sadness in her voice and realized he’d just dragged her down when he should have been excited for her. “Sure, you’re right. And it’s not like we won’t be seeing each other this weekend. I’m thrilled for you, Paula. You’ve worked hard, and you deserve the promotion.”