She sat watching night clouds. It was all so lovely and peaceful. One billowing stately argosy drifted by her window. If only I could sail away on it, she thought and never come back—that’d be a consummation devoutly to be wished.
But it wasn’t that simple; it never was. There’d be no escape from this roiling blackness, because it was inside her.
She was pregnant.
“It’s just a lump of tissue,” he said.
She looked at him uncomprehendingly, as if gazing at a stranger making a random remark.
“Really—Is that all it is?”
“C’mon, Heather, you know what I mean. What’s it been—two months?”
It was almost four months but what did it matter?
Jeffery Barrington had been here before—a failed relationship at twenty-two—a failed marriage at twenty-nine. Both ending the same way. Now at thirty- five, older and yet no wiser, still living off his parents’ wealth, he impregnated yet a third woman.
She had no excuse.
Even Zanny saw it coming. Zanny, whose real name was Alexandra Lewis, was her best friend and confidant. Sure, she was a little zany, hence her nickname, but she had a knack for deciphering character and reading people like a book.
Why she didn’t listen to Zanny’s warnings was beyond her and now she was exactly where every other woman in Jeffery’s life eventually landed—choosing Jeffery or the baby in her womb.
“You’re such a headstrong girl.” Millicent Barrington’s eyes flashed as she poured herself a sherry. “In case you’re unaware, it means self-willed and obstinate.”
Heather’s eyes flashed back like a semaphore. “I graduated Vassar, Mrs. Barrington—I’m not a bimbo in leopard skin tights or a dancer in a bar.”
Advantage Heather.
Millicent winced. She knew only too well the women her son usually chose. She’d try a different tack.
“Charles and I were discussing this over breakfast and we feel it’s necessary for you to do the right thing.”
“Right for who—you or Jeffery? Certainly not for me, I’m sure.”
“Don’t be so intransigent. You know what has to be done. We’re prepared to assist you in every way and we’ll certainly make a generous settlement.”
Heather looked to Jeffery, but he was sitting with downcast eyes.
Seeing the lack of support, she threw up her hands. “We’re through here,” she said and headed for the door.
Jeffery hurried after her and caught up with her on the red pebble drive.
“Don’t leave it like this, Heather. Mother only means well. Why don’t you just do it and we can continue on—maybe get a place together?”
“Don’t you mean rent a room?”
She slammed the car door shut on his protests and drove off, red gravel spurting out behind her tires and Jeffery leaping to one side to avoid soiling his shoes.
Later that night, she went through the usual household routines—washing the dishes, watering her plants—speaking to them, encouraging them and misting their leaves.
Her mind in default mode fixated on Jeffery and his furrowed brow. He certainly had his charm. Every girl on campus drooled in envy when they saw her with him.
“You look like royalty, like Will and Kate,” they told her and just ate him up with their eyes.
A pang of longing caused a sharp intake of air. She put down the plant mister and sat down, lowering herself into the rocking chair.
Something was happening inside her. She felt, not quite a tremor, but a gentle tickle under her ribs—a fluttering of butterfly wings.
The child inside her was beginning to move.
She laughed and put her hand over her stomach and felt the gentle wriggling of new life.
“It’s okay, “ she said, “Don’t worry—no one’s going to hurt you.”
She stopped. Silly.
She heard her voice echo hollowly in the empty apartment. She felt foolish.
“It’s just a lump of tissue,” he said.
Of course, it wasn’t yet a living, breathing baby, was it?
Or, maybe it was.
She looked at the plant mister where she left it on the counter. She had talked to her plants, encouraging them and misting their leaves. Surely, a human life was worth more than these.
Millicent Barrington’s face flashed across her inward eye—haughty, headstrong and obstinate.
Jeffery Barrington’s face followed—quiet, submissive with downcast eyes.
The child inside her flutter-kicked floating in amniotic bliss—innocent, trusting and sheltering in her womb.
Jeffery and Millicent were right about her.
She was definitely her own person. She liked who she was and loved the life inside her.
Yes, definitely headstrong…and human.
