Alison Strobel - The Heart of Memory

“Straddling the freeway in the face of oncoming semis, you mean?”

That made Jessie laugh. “Yes. Exactly. I’m totally the road-straddling type.”

“You’re not, though-you know that, right? Even if it weren’t for your mom, you wouldn’t be the kind to go wild. It’s just not who you are.”

Jessie let out a snort. “Thanks for the reality check. Of course I know. But sometimes I wish I were. I just want my own life, and I don’t feel like I’ll ever have it. I’ll always be ‘Savannah’s daughter.’ I can’t wait to get married and drop ‘Trover.’ At least that dead giveaway will be gone.”

“Gonna do plastic surgery to change your eyes and cheekbones and mouth, too? Because with your hair pulled back you’re a dead-ringer.”

“Gah, don’t remind me.” She fingered the cross Adam had given her for her birthday. The guilt returned, and with it, the anger. “I’m just so tired of being shadowed by her all the freaking time. I’m twenty years old, for pete’s sake. My mother should be the last person on my mind when I’m with my boyfriend. Even if it does keep me from going too far.” She groaned. “But man, Angie, it was dicey for a minute there. Seriously, I was this close to just throwing myself at him. And I’m seriously scared that we won’t be able to go back to the little boundaries we put up before to keep ourselves from going too far.”

“Extra vigilance, extra boundaries, extra company all the time. Do whatever you’ve gotta do. You do know that it’s not just your mother’s life that would be ruined if you got pregnant, right?”

“Well, to be totally honest, I don’t think my life would be ruined. Children are a blessing from God, right?”

“Seriously? You’re questioning the ‘no sex out of wedlock’ standard?”

“No, I’m not questioning it-I’m just saying I think it’s sad to say that a beautiful miracle like a baby ‘ruins’ your life. It doesn’t ruin it; it just changes it.”

“Uh, yeah-for the worse when you’re not married and still in college. Don’t try to make it okay, Jess.”

“I’m not, I’m just playing devil’s advocate.” But truthfully she did want to find a loophole, something that would give her a reason to chuck caution just once and do something on a whim and not worry about it.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text from Adam.

Bowling 2nite?

OK.

She set the duvet in the corner atop the box that held her bedding. Bowling was a safe choice. She appreciated that he was looking out for them, too. But what would they do afterwards? What if they went back to his house? To the basement where they watched movies and played Cranium with their friends? If no one else was with them…

Jessie sighed and continued to pack as she prayed a simple request. Give me strength, God. Give me strength.

SHAUN DROPPED HIS KEYS ON the counter and gave Savannah a hug. “Hey, babe. How was your day?”

She thought of the conversation with Jessie and decided not to share it. “Same old, same old, mostly.”

“Find anything to keep your mind busy?”

Savannah made a face. “You could say that.”

He eyed her carefully. “I hear a tone.”

“Well…” She smiled. “I have a theory.”

“A theory?”

“About why I’m still sick.”

“What’s that?”

She sat on a barstool at the kitchen island and motioned for him to do the same. “I think I might be pregnant.”

His eyes went wide as the color drained from his face. “You’re kidding.”

“No.”

“You can’t be-”

“I can, actually. I checked the calendar.”

He slumped in his seat and rubbed a hand over his face. “But you’re not sure, right? When will you be sure?”

“I can take a test in the morning.”

He shook his head as he stood, then walked from the room without another word. Savannah followed him to the bedroom. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I’m not as worried now as I was. I mean, we use two forms of protection. The chances of both failing at the same time have got to be close to nil.”

“Your point?” His voice was terse.

“That it’s God’s doing. And if he made me pregnant, then he wouldn’t just take it away; that wouldn’t make sense. What else do I have to learn from a miscarriage that I haven’t learned already?”

Shaun snorted. “That we should be using three forms of protection?” He pulled off his khakis and replaced them with a pair of shorts. “Savannah, the last miscarriage almost killed you emotionally. I can’t believe you’re not upset about this.”

“But I just told you, if God-”

“You learned a lot from the first miscarriage, right? And you still had another one. I wouldn’t count on God’s will being only for pleasant things.” He pulled on a T-shirt and took his running shoes from the rack on the floor. “This is bad on so many levels.”

His words stung. “Shaun -”

“What are the odds of two people our age producing a healthy baby after two miscarriages? And second-trimester miscarriages at that.” He tied the shoes, yanking on the laces with more force than necessary. “The timing is just-” He shook his head as he straightened and moved past her, leaving the room. She followed him to the front door. “I’m glad you’re not a panicky mess, Van, but I can’t be happy about this. I’m sorry. If it turns out you are…” He shrugged. “We just need to pray you aren’t.”

He left the house, taking off down the driveway at a near sprint. Savannah watched him go as the little light of hope that had bloomed in her chest snuffed out.

SAVANNAH WOKE AT FOUR AND couldn’t get back to sleep. Getting to sleep in the first place had taken longer than usual, and she dreaded the thought of a day wasted catching up on sleep. But that thought didn’t last long as she remembered the little plastic stick waiting for her on the bathroom counter.

She rolled quietly from bed, not wanting to wake Shaun. He’d been shortchanged on sleep, too. She’d wanted to talk to him in the middle of the night, knowing they were both faking sleep for the benefit of the other person, but the chasm that had opened between them seemed too wide to cross. He’d been in a foul mood all night after his run, and she hadn’t had the energy to spar.

She shut the bathroom door and turned on the light. Squinting, she read the instructions one more time, then took the test.

Three minutes never felt so long. She brushed her teeth and flossed, her back to the test where it sat on the bathtub ledge. She checked her watch continuously, not wanting to wait a second longer than necessary, and when the second hand completed its third trip around the dial she checked the instructions once more, took a deep breath, and turned around.

Negative.

She checked again, looking more closely, but the digital readout was too clear to be mistaken. Not Pregnant.

She sat on the ledge, tears gathering in her eyes. She’d convinced herself this was it, that God was going to finally and miraculously grant a long-abandoned wish. It made sense of her symptoms, and now, without that explanation, she was right back to where she’d been before: anxious and sick and sick of being sick.

She took a shower, allowing herself a good cry as the warm water brought a bit of relief to the muscles that still ached. By the time she got out and dressed, Shaun was already downstairs. She could see anxiety in his features when she joined him in the kitchen.

“Negative.”

He let out a deep breath and gave her a hug. “Thank God.”

“Easy for you to say.” She took a mug of coffee into the living room and took her place on the sofa, not wanting to discuss it any more than that.