Take Four (6 page)

“I know.” Confusion racked Andi’s heart, and questions assaulted her. What did this mean, these feelings inside her? Was she supposed to raise her baby after all? Did her
parents want her to keep him? She had no time to ask a single one, because there was a knock at the door and Dr. Wilmington walked in.

“Andi…” he smiled. “How are you?”

She started to answer, but then a sound which was more a cry than a laugh came from her. She must’ve looked like a wreck, her eyes red and swollen. “I’m fine.” She dabbed the tissue at her eyes and nose again. “I wasn’t ready for that…how clearly I could see him.”

“It’s amazing.” He was a young doctor, mid-thirties, maybe. “This is the stage when a lot of young pregnant women rethink their decision to give a baby up for adoption.”

“Do a lot of them change their minds?” Andi’s mom still had red cheeks and bleary eyes, but she was more composed now. “I think the reality of the little guy, how clearly we could see him…it caught us both off guard.”

“Yes.” Dr. Wilmington leaned back against a nearby wall, unrushed in his response. “Lots of moms change their mind at this point. We believe the ultrasound is a helpful tool in guiding a woman to make the right choice. The decision best for her and her family, best for the baby.”

“Do women…do the ones who give their babies up, do they regret it later?” Andi had never even wondered before. “From what you’ve seen?”

“I’ll be honest, Andi. It’s a tough decision either way. It’ll stay with you all your life no matter what you do.” He crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. “The young women with family support and a stronger faith handle their decision better—whichever way it goes.”

Andi appreciated his answer, but she wanted more than that. “But do you think it’s possible to give…to give up a baby and feel at peace? Like it was the right decision?”

“Absolutely.” The doctor smiled. “We’ve seen many beautiful adoptions happen over the years. Truly, it’s one of the bravest
decisions a young woman can make. That is, if she’s not ready to be a mother.”

Suddenly Andi’s head was spinning, because maybe she was ready to be a mom. She was almost twenty, so she was old enough, right? And just because she wasn’t married and the timing wasn’t convenient, didn’t mean she shouldn’t step up to the responsibility. “It’s…a lot to think about.”

“It is.” He reached for her chart. “That’s why we encourage our clients not to inform the adoptive family until a little later in the pregnancy. When the decision has been made and it’s one the birthmother has lived with for a while.”

Andi let that idea sink in while Dr. Wilmington performed her checkup and looked over the ultrasound. Maybe she should call the adoption agency and ask them to wait before telling Luke and Reagan. At least a few weeks. The doctor finished his exam and crossed his arms, his eyes kind. “You and the baby are very healthy. Everything’s on schedule.”

“Good.” Andi smiled, but all she could think was that something had changed in the past hour. The peace of mind she had about giving up her baby was no longer an assumed emotion. The images of her baby son had rocked her world off its axis, and Andi wasn’t sure how to right it again.

On the way home Andi had planned to have her mother stop by the adoption agency. She wanted to show her the picture of the family, the one she’d chosen back on her first visit. But as her mom neared the driveway of the agency, she raised her brow in Andi’s direction. “Still want to stop?”

Andi put her hand over her stomach. The baby was moving again, touching the underside part of her belly with those now familiar hands of his. “No…not today.” She couldn’t make eye contact with her mother. If she did, her mom would see right through her, at just how difficult the decision had become. Again her mom didn’t push, didn’t ask if Andi was sure or probe her
about why she’d changed her mind. The only answer needed was the one Andi held in her hand the rest of the way back home to Bloomington.

The ultrasound photos of her son.

B
AILEY COULD BARELY CONCENTRATE ON HER CLASSES
that September morning, because this was the day. Her screen test for Jeremiah Productions was set for later that afternoon. She still hurt from the failed Broadway audition, but in the last few weeks she’d allowed herself to get excited about this opportunity. Her mom planned to go with her, and both of them agreed the audition would probably be for little more than a featured extra role. But that didn’t matter. The audition would take her one step closer to doing what she loved: performing. If she kept moving ahead, kept dancing and singing and finding small acting roles, then one day she’d make it on Broadway. She had to believe that.

Sunshine streamed through the trees as Bailey pulled out of the Indiana University parking lot and headed a block west to Starbucks. Tuesdays were often the days she visited Andi, since they both finished class by noon that day. Lately she’d fallen into a routine, picking up a couple decaf lattes and bringing them to Andi’s house. It was one way she could let Andi know how much she cared.

Andi had talked to her last night about how she was no longer sure she wanted to give her baby up for adoption. So especially today, Bailey wanted to make herself available. That way Andi had someone other than her parents who could listen and offer input. Not that Bailey had a strong opinion one way or another. If she’d made the same mistakes and gotten pregnant, she was pretty sure she couldn’t give her baby up. But then she knew lots of people whose lives were forever changed for the better because
a brave young woman was able to give up her baby. Recently Bailey had even heard a well known Christian singer include, as part of his life story, a thank you to his birthmother for giving him up.

So Bailey didn’t have the answers, but she loved Andi and she could at least listen. Hopefully today that would be enough. She dashed into Starbucks and bought a latte for herself and at the last minute, she changed Andi’s order to a decaf green tea frappuccino. Andi didn’t have the sweet drink often, but it was her favorite. Three miles down the road, Bailey pulled into the driveway of the ranch house where Andi lived with her parents.

As Bailey parked , she remembered the first time she reconnected with her friend after Andi’s mom called and told Bailey what had happened—that Andi was indeed pregnant and had been about to have an abortion when God intervened. The story was absolute proof the Lord had worked a miracle to stop Andi from doing something she would regret all her life. The day after Andi came home from Indianapolis with her parents, Bailey drove over and the two of them took a walk around Andi’s new neighborhood.

“It’s my fault,” Andi told her then. “I should’ve listened to you about Taz…about the parties I was going to…all of it.” Andi’s eyes clouded with shame. “I feel so stupid.”

“We all do stupid things once in a while.” Bailey thought about her decision to date Tim, the months she’d gone in a relationship she should’ve ended long ago. “That’s why we need a Savior.”

“I know.” Andi’s expression looked pained. “I’ve missed Jesus so much this past year. It was like…I don’t know, like I wanted to do things my own way. I didn’t want anyone telling me what to do—not even God.”

Bailey had let that sit for a few seconds as they kept walking, their pace slow. “And now?”

“Now?” Andi stood straighter, her expression determined.
“Now I want to follow His plan every day, for the rest of my life.” She crossed her arms tight across her stomach. “I sure made a mess of things on my own.”

“You aren’t the only one, Andi. Jesus forgives us.”

Andi smiled. “I’m holding onto that.”

They talked some then, about the experience at the abortion clinic, how maybe God sent an angel to stop Andi from having an abortion. Then they talked about how strained their friendship had been last semester. “Taz didn’t like you.” Andi winced a little. She had never admitted that before.

“I’m not surprised.” Bailey pictured the young student producer, the way he wouldn’t make eye contact with her, and his way of having somewhere to go if Bailey walked up. “He didn’t like what I stood for.”

“Exactly.” Andi looked down for a long moment. “Bailey, I’m sorry. You were a friend to me, and I…I took you for granted. I rebelled against everything good and right and true. Even Rachel and you.”

Rachel Baugher had been Andi’s best friend from high school, a girl who had been killed in a tragic car accident just after graduating. Bailey figured losing Rachel was part of why Andi had rebelled in the first place, but that hadn’t been the time to talk about it, and Andi hadn’t brought Rachel up again in their past several Tuesdays together.

She took the drinks from her front console, shut her car door behind her and hurried up Andi’s walkway. Her friend’s mother answered the door, her eyes deep with gratitude. “Hello, Bailey.”

“Hi, Mrs. Ellison.” Bailey stepped inside. The early afternoon temperature was in the high sixties, too warm for a coat. But still, there was a chill in the air that made Bailey grateful for her hot drink.

“Thank you for coming by. Andi looks so forward to this.”
She pointed to the back bedroom. “She’s home from class, in her room.”

This was the usual routine. Andi was determined to finish the semester with strong grades in each of her five classes, but sometimes when she got home she was more tired than usual. She’d stretch out on her bed and nap for half an hour until Bailey got there.

She tiptoed down the hall, a drink in each hand, and peeked her head into Andi’s room. Sunshine flooded the room, but Andi’s eyes were closed. “You awake, or should I go?”

“Don’t go.” Andi stretched and slowly sat up. “I can sleep later.” She smiled at Bailey and patted the spot next to her on the bed.

“Here.” Bailey handed her friend the cold drink.

“You don’t have to do that, buy me a drink all the time.” Andi took the green tea frappuccino. “But thanks. It means a lot.”

“It’s no big deal.” She held out her paper cup and tapped it against the plastic one in Andi’s hands. “Here’s to another Tuesday.”

“Because God keeps getting me through.”

“Exactly.” Bailey kicked off her shoes and sat at the end of the bed.

For a moment, they sipped their drinks and neither of them said anything. Something about Andi’s attitude felt a little off. She studied Bailey for half a second. “Cute jeans.” Andi’s compliment sounded laced with something less than sincere. Not that she was bitter, or even resentful. Just a little jealous, maybe, like Andi was realizing her situation more now. Maybe because she was showing. Even still, she smiled, maybe trying to lighten the moment again, but it fell short of her eyes. “Are they new?”

Bailey nodded. “Anthropologie. “Bought them yesterday.” She tried to find the right smile in response. “After January you have to get some. They’re super comfortable.” Again, the silence
between them was more awkward than usual. Bailey shifted, restless. “Right?”

“I don’t know.” Andi’s eyes looked distant. She was quiet or awhile again. “Do you ever think about it? You and I are in such different places now.” She lowered her drink. “I’m not thinking about jeans.”

The comment stung, and Bailey considered defending herself. She wasn’t trying to be flip. After all, it was Andi who had brought up the jeans. “Sorry.” Bailey sipped her coffee. Sometimes it was hard being with Andi. She was right…they were in different places now. “I didn’t mean to frustrate you.”

Andi looked out the window and shrugged one shoulder. “I know.” She sighed. “It’s not you. I have a lot on my mind.” She looked at Bailey, and again there was something sad in her eyes. “I have the ultrasound pictures.”

Bailey felt guilty for taking Andi’s attitude personally. Of course she wasn’t thinking about jeans. “Can I see them?”

Andi reached for a folder on her bedside table. “You won’t believe how clear they are.” Her voice sounded lighter. “It’s like there was a window into my stomach or something.”

When they had talked last night, Andi mentioned that the ultrasound made her pregnancy so much more real. From what Bailey could tell, her friend was doubting her decision to give the baby up. Bailey took the folder, opened it, and felt her eyes grow wide. “Wow…” She looked at Andi. “It’s like a photograph. I was eight when Ricky was born, and I remember seeing my mom’s ultrasound pictures.” She looked at the first photo again, a picture of the baby’s face. “But they weren’t like this.” Even with a quick glance there was no denying that the baby was Andi’s. “He looks just like you.”

“My mom says he looks like my baby pictures.” Her tone was soft, more maternal than before. “And like my three brothers who died before they were born.”

Bailey stared at the photo, at the clarity of the lines and definition of his face, and she understood why Andi would be struggling now. The baby had to feel so much more real with pictures like this. Then knowing the child you were carrying looked so much like you—how would that feel? Bailey sorted through the other photos and handed the folder back to Andi. “So you’re thinking about keeping him?”

“I’m not sure.” Andi set the folder down and pulled one knee up to her chest. “I guess it’s not
that
, so much as I can’t imagine giving him away. One day soon he’ll be born and instead of a picture there he’ll be. A tiny little boy who looks just like me. They’ll place him in my arms, and I’ll feel this crazy connection.” Her voice faded but she didn’t look away. “How am I supposed to let him go after that?”

Bailey had no answers. The waters Andi was navigating were far too unknown for her to offer any real opinion. “Do your parents know how you feel?”

“I think they’d like me to keep him.” Andi tilted her head, pensive. “They haven’t said that exactly, but you know…my mom was with me at the ultrasound. We were both crying.” Andi put her hand on her stomach. “Just thinking about having to say goodbye to him.”

“What about the adoptive family?” Bailey kept her questions kind and unrushed. She didn’t want to push Andi, especially when she was clearly hurting. “Do they know about you yet?”

“I’ve told the agency about my choice, but we haven’t arranged a meeting yet. I haven’t signed anything. The family’s supposed to find out soon.”

“Hmmm.” Bailey’s heart ached for her friend. She took a few swallows of her latte. “There are no easy answers.”

They talked awhile about the physical changes Andi was going through, how wild it was to feel a baby moving inside her and what it was like to know God was knitting him together a little
more every day. And they talked about the classes they were taking. Andi wanted to go into social work or public speaking, so she could use her story to help girls realize the value of staying abstinent.

“I have a feeling I’ll finish up in Los Angeles somewhere.” Andi hadn’t mentioned that before now. She took a long sip from her drink. “My parents talk about moving there after this movie. I think it’d be good. A change of scenery. Whether I give up the baby or not.”

Their conversation lasted another half hour, and it was time for Bailey to go.

“You have that screen test today, right?” Andi stood and hugged Bailey, but the struggle was back in her voice. “My dad mentioned it this morning.”

“I do.” They shared a look, one tinged by the regret that on a day like this Andi should’ve been going to the screen test too. “It’s probably an extra part, but still…”

“I got the feeling it might be more.” Andi bit her lip, and for a long moment she seemed to wrestle with herself, fighting the jealousy or regret. Whatever she was dealing with. But finally she grinned, and the look in her eyes lightened for the first time that morning. She hugged Bailey once more. “You go get ’em, Bailey Flanigan. I’ll pray for you.”

“Thanks.” Bailey still felt the bittersweet reality of this time between them, the different directions their lives were headed. She made a silly face as she stepped toward the bedroom door. “And I’ll pray for you. About your decision.”

“Thanks.” Andi’s smile faded. “If only God would text me what He wants me to do.”

“Yeah,” Bailey angled her head, trying to imagine being in Andi’s situation. “I wish it were that easy.”

On her way out, Bailey thanked Andi’s mom and drove home to drop off her books, change clothes, and grab something to eat.
She was in her room getting ready when Cody called. “I finished class early, so I had to call.” His voice still made her knees weak. “I’m praying for you.”

“Thanks.” She sat slowly on the edge of her mattress and for a minute she told him about Andi. “It was weird, like we were strangers, almost.”

“She has a lot on her mind.”

“That’s what I told myself.” She still felt a little guilty about the earlier conversation, even if she couldn’t figure out exactly why. “I guess it’s bound to be awkward once in a while.”

They talked a few more minutes about his classes and how he was excited about graduating. He’d increased his class-load the last few semesters and now he was slated to finish his degree in education a year from January. After that he would go for his teaching credential so he could coach and teach like her dad had always done. Cody was about to start his first full season as assistant coach for Clear Creek High, and he loved every minute. Already he had confided that he could see himself coaching football forever.

“I miss you,” Bailey wished she could see him, but they were both too busy today. “Have a great practice. I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Miss you, too. Call me when you know anything.” His tone was warm, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

A quick fifteen minutes passed, and Bailey was sitting breathless in the passenger seat of her mother’s Suburban, headed to the production office where Andi’s dad and Dayne Matthews would be waiting for her.

“Are you nervous?” Her mom was planning to stay with her if possible.

“So much.” Bailey laughed. She thought about the audition in New York and how great the disappointment had been. But then she sat straighter in the car and shook off the memory. This
was a new day, a different moment. She would shine for God, no matter what the outcome. But just as quickly the doubts crept back. “What if God doesn’t want me to perform?” She turned to her mom. “Maybe He wants me to do something else. Be a nurse or something.”