Crimson Eve (17 page)
“What did
you
know?”
She drew back, eyes narrowing. Pointed a snaggy-nailed finger at me. “I do
not
want a baby in this house, is that clear? No way am I raisin’ another squally kid. You were enough.”
Heat flushed through my body. Did
no one
want me? Not Mom, not Bryson. It took everything I had not to cry. “You made that very clear long ago,
dear Mom
. So don’t you worry. If I have this baby, I won’t let you get
near
it.”
“You can’t have a baby, Carla! How are you going to finish school? You going to quit before your senior year? End up waitress-ing all your life like me? I want something better for you than that.”
Really? Could have fooled me.
“Carla. Go. Get. An abortion.”
“Maybe I don’t have the money! You want to pay for it?”
She threw her hands in the air. “Don’t look at
me
. It’s all I can do to keep a roof over your head. You should have plenty money after working in that fancy office all summer. It’s your fault if you’ve been spending it all on clothes and CDs.”
We argued for another five minutes until Mom yelled, “Don’t talk to me again until you get rid of it!” She slammed my bedroom door and stomped away so hard the walls rattled.
Such a fun morning.
But Bryson and I were meeting in the afternoon. Finally. I couldn’t wait to see him, and I was also scared to death. Would he give me the money? Would he help me through this?
Did he still care for me?
Surprise — at the cabin we sat on the couch and talked. That’s it. I didn’t miss the sex at all. I just wanted to be close to him. To feel his arms around me and hear him say everything’s going to be okay. I told him how much I’d missed him. Couldn’t help crying. He said how sorry he was and held me tight. Said he’d been thinking of me all the time, trying to figure out what to do.
I studied his eyes. “Don’t you want me to get an abortion?”
He got that look on his face that I’ve seen so many times on TV. That serious expression, like he’s about to say something profound, something he absolutely believes is right, no matter who says otherwise. His eyes narrow a little, and his mouth firms, and he nods. And looking at him, you just know what a great man he is, and that you can believe every word he says.
“I’ve been thinking about this.” He smoothed a strand of hair from my face. “I know the simple thing would be to just abort the pregnancy. But I’m going to tell you something about me that most people don’t know. Something very . . . hurtful. Can I trust you with it?”
“You know you can.”
“Okay.” He gave me a sad smile. “I’ve told you before that Catherine has been trying for years to get pregnant, and it’s never worked. Her cycle is very irregular, often with months between periods. She’s been going to Dr. Hughes. He’s sent her to specialists. All the tests on both of us have indicated that we’re fine as far as being able to produce children, if we can just time it right. But still, no pregnancy. Something had to be wrong with one of us. But who?” He took a long breath. “I thought I knew the answer to that, but still, in the back of my mind I wondered. When you became pregnant, I knew for sure.”
I thought back to when I told him. That look of triumph on his face.
“Catherine and I have been thinking for some time about a private adoption. Carla, I
need
to have children. Not just because I want them badly, but because it’s good for my career. People vote for a family man, someone who can show he’s committed to his children. You understand that?”
My throat tightened. I did understand. I’d learned a lot about politics since I started working with Bryson. I heard the news enough to know that the
person
was every bit as important as the issues he stood for. I just hated to hear the term “family man” come out of Bryson’s mouth. “Family” didn’t include me.
“Yes.”
“Good. And you know what an advocate I’ve been for giving children a stable, loving home.”
I nodded.
Tenderness creased his face. He leaned down and kissed me gently. Like he loved me more than anyone else in the world.
He pulled away. “You once told me you thought abortion was ‘awful.’ ”
I thought of my mom, how one visit to the doctor would have ended my life. Of the photo I’d seen of the dead baby. “I do, but — ”
“Carla, I can make it so you don’t have to have an abortion. So you won’t carry that guilt in your conscience.”
What did he know about “that guilt”? He was a staunch supporter of abortion.
“Here’s what you do. Have the baby. Everyone will assume it’s your boyfriend’s. Let them. Catherine and I will sign an agreement with you and him for a private adoption. That means we’ll pay for everything. You’ll get the best of care from Dr. Hughes. Once the baby’s born, you both can know he or she will be in a loving family. And
you
, alone, will know the baby’s being raised by his own real father. You will be helping my career, as I know you want to do, because you love me. And more important, you’ll be doing the best for the baby.”
I stared at him, stunned. So many thoughts crowded my mind, I couldn’t think what to say first. “Let me get this straight. You want me to tell Scott the baby is his, then turn around and ask him to sign it away. To you.”
Pain flicked across Bryson’s face, as if he couldn’t believe I would think badly of him. “Scott is going to think the baby’s his anyway. We have no other choice but to let people think that, do we?”
“Of course we have a ‘choice’ — not to let the pregnancy continue in the first place.” My voice went flat. “In fact, isn’t that your word for the whole abortion issue? Women should have a choice?”
“Carla.” He shook his head. “You’re going to be a great lawyer some day.”
He smiled indulgently, but I couldn’t smile back. He was asking me to stay pregnant. For
nine months
. To have the baby. True, I didn’t like the idea of abortion, but to really think about staying pregnant. Being sick every morning. Getting fat. Going through labor.
“Look. Honey.” He smoothed my hair. “Wouldn’t it hurt you to know you got rid of a baby you and I created? When I wanted so badly to raise it?”
I looked down at my lap, feeling my cheeks burn. “But if I have the baby, aren’t you afraid someone will find out about us?”
He nudged my chin up so he could look me in the eye. “
You
won’t tell, will you? Knowing what it would do to me? Knowing what it would cost you and our baby?”
Our baby
. The words knifed through me. How could I let Bryson think I wanted to harm the baby? “No, Bryson. I won’t ever tell anyone.”
“Neither will I. No one will know but the two of us. And Jilke. He’ll help make sure everything goes smoothly.”
My eyes widened. “
Jilke
knows?”
Bryson smiled again, like a father would smile at his child. “Carla, Jilke knows everything about me. He runs my career. He protects it. He’s not going to let anything hurt me. So don’t worry. He’ll be kind to you and make sure you have everything you need.”
“You make it sound like I’ll never see you outside of work! That I can never really
be
with you again!”
“Carla, it’s been too much of a risk all along. You know that. I’ll still be here for you.”
“But I can’t lose you, Bryson!” Tears ran down my cheeks. “If having this baby means I’ll never be with you again — I can’t
do
it! I just want to
be
with you!”
“Carla, shhh.” He pulled me close again, and I sobbed against his neck. “Don’t. It’s okay. Forget I ever said that. I
will
manage to see you. You know how much I want to.”
I hiccupped. Wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “You promise?”
“Of course I do. You won’t lose me, Carla, you won’t. And just think — even when we can’t be together, we’ll always be connected through the baby. Forever.”
I pushed away and sat up. Feeling so very tired. “
Why
did I have to get pregnant? Why didn’t the stupid Pill work? I just want it to go back to the way things used to be.”
Yeah, and pigs want to fly.
If only I’d never told Bryson I’m pregnant. If only I could take it back. Maybe I could have borrowed the money for an abortion from friends. Scraped it together somehow. Maybe an abortion wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe my conscience wouldn’t hurt too much. Or at least I’d get over it. Someday.
Now I have to go to Scott and tell him he’s going to be a father. Then convince him to give up his own baby. I’m already rehearsing the lines. “Are you ready to raise a baby?
I’m
not! This way, the baby can live, but we don’t have to raise him. Or her. We can know she’s in a good home . . .”
I sound like a politician.
We will have to have meetings with Bryson and his wife to discuss the adoption, Bryson told me. We’re doing what’s called an “independent adoption.” We’ll have to go through the courts. Someone will be assigned to the case. That someone will meet with the Hanleys and make sure they’ll be good parents. And also meet with me to make sure I want this. I’ll get counseling. And I can change my mind. So can the Hanleys, but I can’t imagine why they would.
When I think of Mrs. My-Husband raising my baby, part of me wants to throw up. But there’s another part of me that thinks,
Now who’s the better one, huh? Who gave Bryson something you
couldn’t?
Bryson is right. No matter what happens, as long as he’s raising my baby, we’re connected. He
can’t
forget me.
But when I look into Catherine Hanley’s eyes, I wonder how I’m going to keep the smirk off my face.
“Tanya?”
Leslie Brymes’s taut voice made Tanya shudder. Just fifteen minutes ago, Leslie had sounded totally calm. “Yes, it’s me. Have you found Carla?”
“No. And her cell phone’s turned off. But there’s — ”
“What am I going to
do
?” Tanya pressed a hand against her forehead. She’d been in this hotel far too long. Anyone she’d given the slip would’ve had more than enough time to find her. “I just don’t — ”
“
Listen
to me. Something has happened. That call you made to Java Joint this morning — it was tapped. You hear? Somebody out there knows you called.”
Tanya felt the blood drain from her body. She slapped a hand against the wall, steadying herself. For a long, white moment, all thought fled.
“Tanya?”
“I . . . yes.”
Somebody out there knows you called.
She had to get out of here. Out of Seattle. No way now could she return to work, her home tonight. The mere thought of pulling into her garage, walking into the darkened hallway made her shudder. She would be dead by morning.
Tanya straightened, feeling eyes at her back, but she was afraid to turn around. “I’ll call you when I can,” she whispered. Wondering if she’d ever have the chance.
“No, wait, Tanya, don’t — ”
Tanya banged down the receiver, then fled into the bathroom until she could think what to do.
She couldn’t use her car. They would be looking for it. Maybe they even watched it now. Maybe, being on foot, she’d fooled them into thinking she was still at work.
She needed another car. And somebody’s cell phone.
There was one friend who just might lend them to her.
Tanya checked down the hall both ways before leaving the women’s room. She eased into the hotel’s busy restaurant and out its side entrance. Scurried across the street and into another hotel. Two minutes later, out of breath and disheveled, she slipped out the building’s back door — and hailed a cab to the outskirts of the city.
Interstate 90 rushed toward Carla. Should she turn west or east? West would take her toward the airport. Rental cars, flights. But what good were they with Thornby on her tail? East would take her through town, closer to Kanner Lake. But she couldn’t go home, trailing death behind her. Besides, she only had an eighth of a tank of gas.
The decision moment arrived. Carla turned east.
Thornby followed. Close now, only a car length away. Too many cars rushed by in the four lanes. Carla knew he wouldn’t allow someone to slip between them.
Her heart drummed. Where to go?
Carla chose the second lane from the right, close enough to exit if she chose, far enough away that maybe she could swerve last minute and leave Thornby on the freeway.
What now, Carla, what?
Rationality screamed it didn’t matter. If she lost him now, he’d only find her again. But right now, thinking she could die any minute, she’d take any extra time she could get.
They passed Deaconess Hospital on the right — where Chief Edwards’s wife worked. Nancy would be on shift now. Carla cried out to Nancy in her mind, feeling so near to help, and so very far. All the familiar sights of Spokane, a town she had lived in for ten years, now streamed by like dark passages pounded by a fugitive.
Carla passed the turnoff for the combined Highway 2/395, the freeway narrowing to three lanes. She found herself on the far right.
She threw a glance in the rearview mirror. Thornby drove with back straight, both hands on the wheel, his face like granite. For a split second their gaze met, and Carla saw herself through his eyes. She could almost feel his anticipation. His
hatred.
I will kill you slowly for this
.
Carla knew it was true.
She breathed deeply, trying to keep her head clear. Trent Avenue, exit 282, whipped by. How many more should she pass? Should she take one, try to lose Thornby on city streets? If she could jump from her car into the midst of people — surely he wouldn’t kill her in front of a dozen witnesses.
They passed Altamont Avenue, then the Thor/Freya exit. A sign welcomed them to the city of Spokane Valley.
Carla checked the gas gauge. It was going down fast. It always did toward the end. She’d learned that the hard way the first month she owned the car. Ended up running out of gas on the way to Priest Lake to show some property.
Sprague Avenue approached. She knew it was a major thoroughfare, lots of businesses, many stoplights. Could she zoom through one, leave Thornby behind?
