Devil Moon (16 page)

And what did this new development mean to their budding relationship? Probably the end. In truth, the thought of dealing with the complications of an affair and impending motherhood made her dizzy. Of course, she might opt out of parenthood. She could get a quiet abortion and deal with Phil later, if he still showed interest. Or just let it go. Life might just be a lot easier if she stayed solitary and maintained her quiet life. Oh, so many conflicting emotions.

Ready to jump out of her skin, she considered hopping in her car and driving away into the sunset. But leaving Phil itchy and stranded was a horrible thing to do. She looked about the room, grabbed the cell phone out of her purse and closed herself in the bedroom.

She heaved a sigh of relief when Randy picked up on the second ring. "Randy, it's me. Could you do me a big favor?"

"Sure, darlin', whatever your little heart desires." Randy's sweet voice helped calm her down.

After making arrangements for Randy to pick her up, she found a pen and wrote Phil a note on the back of a brown paper grocery sack. She slipped back into her Miss Harris assistant principal persona.

"Dear Mr. Wilcox,

Thank you for the very enjoyable fishing expedition. I've had a personal emergency and must get back home. I have arranged for transportation. Please enjoy a bowl of stew and the rest of the cake. You may leave my car parked with the keys under the mat in the lot at your apartment complex. I have a spare key and will come by tomorrow afternoon to pick it up.

I hope your rash improves quickly.

Very truly yours,

Madeleine Harris"

Phil awakened in the early morning hours. He sat up and stretched, figured Maddie was asleep in the bedroom. A light over the stove and the last embers of the fire cast a small glow in the room. The food smelled good and he dished himself up a bowl, drowsily taking it over to the table. He fought to keep from scratching his itchy chest. After a couple of spoonfuls, he glanced down at the paper sack lying at his elbow. He noticed some writing and flipped on the overhead light.

"Dear Mr. Wilcox,

Blah, blah, blah

Madeleine Harris"

He shook his head in disbelief. Son of a bitch, he was back to "Mr. Wilcox." What the
fuck
had happened while he was asleep?

And so ended their romantic weekend.

* * *

On Sunday afternoon, while an itchy Phil erected a basketball goal in Pam's driveway, Randy drove Maddie to get her car in Phil's apartment parking lot. Like a coward, she'd avoided Phil's calls by taking the phone off the hook. After leaving her some memorable messages, he'd called Randy.

Randy pulled in next to the Camry. "I told him to give you some space, that you had some issues to work out. He didn't like it, but I think I bought you some time."

Maddie sat in uncharacteristic silence, merely nodding her head. He hated the ghostly pallor of her skin. He generally avoided playing serious scenes, but at the moment Maddie needed a counselor, not a clown.

Randy touched his hand on her arm. "You know whatever you decide to do, I'll be there 100% for you. Remember how you got me through that awful summer I got dumped by Fabulous-but-Faithless?"

Maddie managed a wan smile. "He wasn't nearly good enough for you."

"Spoken like a true friend." Randy let his flighty front slip. "Listen, dear heart, I haven't forgotten how you forced me out of my pity party during my darkest days. Let's go to the café and talk this out. Father Randy is always available to the lost and forlorn."

She shook her head, a distant look in her eye. "I'm going to take a drive and think things through. Don't worry about me. I'll find you later. Thanks for everything." Maddie leaned over, kissed him on the cheek and exited the car.

He sighed. His Maddie, pregnant. An unexpected plot switch in the story of their lives. He'd ponder the possible scenarios over a nice cup of cappuccino at his favorite coffee house.

***

A beautiful fall day surrounded Maddie as she sped down the road. Fluffy clouds skittered in the indigo blue sky, not that she really noticed. Internal wrestling had kept her up through the wee hours, until exhaustion brought a troubled sleep. The battle for objective thinking over incoherent hysteria still raged behind her eyes. As the oaks, pines, and cottonwoods flashed by in her peripheral vision, she forced intellectual consideration of her options.

Abortion. Certainly a practical, expedient avenue to returning to the normal course of her life. She'd had friends in Boston who'd done it. They went to a clinic, come home tired and sore, no worse off than a bad day at the dentist. Their physical recovery had been swift and complete. If they'd suffered some kind of remorse, they'd hidden it well. She was a strong, modern woman. Surely, she could look upon an abortion as a necessary medical procedure and easily put it behind her.

Her other options meant changing her entire life, giving up her job and probably her new home, for a very uncertain future. If she allowed the pregnancy to go full term, she could give it up for adoption; see that it went to a good stable home. Or she could join the legions of single moms and devote herself to the nurturing of the child.

She supposed she could find new employment over the course of time, perhaps swallow her pride and stay in her parents' home while she sorted things out. Lord, moving back home at her age was unappealing. Her mother would drive her crazy, and her father would be looking to force some man into a shotgun wedding. Then she would have to spill the truth of the unknown paternity.
For shame, Maddie, for shame.

All in all, abortion seemed the most practical decision, under the circumstances. While her mind rattled out all the good reasons to simply rid herself of an unwanted pregnancy, her spirit remained unsettled. She needed a sense of peace before embarking on such a course of action.

She'd driven unknown miles up and down the rural hills, not really knowing or caring where she headed. Coming up on her left, she spotted a sign for the Thorn Chapel. Without conscious thought, she turned in the direction of the arrow and followed the short road into the parking lot. It had been years since she'd come with Grammy for an outing to the famous glass chapel nestled in the rocky Arkansas hillside. She parked her car and stared at the path that led up the hill to the chapel.

The angular top of the glass building glinted in the sun. An architectural marvel of glass and beams, the chapel created an enclosed space where the outside ferns, trees and bushes of the habitat visually surrounded the worshipper. A center aisle separated a dozen rows of padded pews allowing visitors to sit in prayer or meditation and drink in the unique spiritual power of the wooded site.

Maddie left her car and followed a compulsion toward the chapel. Her feet moved forward, drawn by an irresistible force. She tugged the tall wooden door open and entered hallowed ground. A few visitors sat scattered in the pews, quietly whispering prayers. Maddie wandered to an empty area, and sank onto the velvet-padded pew. Strains of hymns wafted in the air from large speakers.

Sitting quietly, she allowed the atmosphere of the chapel to permeate her being. The air seemed charged with a kind of supernatural power, palpable to even the most spiritually insensitive individuals. Angels resided in this place and whispered eternal truths in the ears of the pilgrims who entered the sanctuary. The puny minds of men shrank in proportion to the mighty mind of God; the arrogance of human ego humbled and transformed.

Maddie began to tremble; her intellectual control slipped as turbulent uncertainty swirled in her solar plexus. She had taken a cold, cerebral survey of her situation, but now her emotions surged to the surface, making her mind spin and split.
Oh, God, what should I do?
She wasn't having a love child, formed from an established, caring relationship. Why, she'd almost been raped, a total stranger coming upon her and taking advantage of her compromised state of mind, not to mention state of dress.

"Hold, on sister." Lord, Grammy appeared again, dimly occupying the seat next to her. "You were pretty much the one who jumped his bones, as I recall. And as for rape, much as you would like to deny it, that was the greatest sexual experience of your entire pathetic love life." Grammy took on solid proportions. "And here's another thing. The child in your womb is not an 'it.' That child is a boy or girl you're fixin' to flush out of existence. You better think long and hard before you wipe away my great-grand child."

Tears streamed down Maddie's face. She'd been holding the image of an actual baby at bay, but now it came into her mind full blown. A baby in her arms. Next, she envisioned a toddler, pudgy, and soft struggling to take a first step. Then an elementary age child transformed into a handsome young man, a real person who was blood of her blood, connected to her soul. She
knew
she carried a boy. All of a sudden the wells of maternal hormones gushed through her blood stream, causing her breasts to tingle and she longed to hold the swaddled baby in her arms.

She cried herself out in the chapel. Unlike other crying jags of hysterical proportions, this was a controlled stream of tears that cleansed her soul. She received some sort of absolution that afternoon. The reckless behavior of a hot summer night seemed somehow predestined. Shame, embarrassment, and guilt lifted off her shoulders and scripture came to her.
Go, and sin no more
.

The Dream Man appeared in her mind. That's how she thought of him. Dream Man was going to be a father and he didn't know it. She felt a bone deep need to share her news. Maybe she should run a classified: "If you had sex with a stranger by the lake on the night of August 26, please call…" Such crazy thoughts.

Then she thought of Phil and she felt a longing almost as strong as the yearning emotion for the baby. But she knew her budding romance with Phil was over before it really began. She'd be going away. The baby needed to become her top priority. Expending the energy necessary to build a relationship with a man right now was out of the question. Besides, Phil would probably drop her like a hot rock anyway. Pregnancy sent men running.

Phil had his plate full trying to reclaim his identity in Melissa's life and build a career in Beaver Cove. He didn't need some pregnant woman bothering him with her problems. She'd do them both a big favor and make a clean break.

Giving Phil up would be the penance to be paid for her sinful behavior. As she marched back up the aisle of the chapel toward the towering doors, her feet kept beat to the strains of
The Old Rugged Cross
, and she hummed it on the long ride back home.

* * *

Despite a foul mood and a relentless itch, Phil completed the task of installing the basketball hoop in Pam's driveway. Melissa's excitement and smiling chocolate eyes took the edge off his ill humor. Though he never had the speed or height for a serious basketball player, his natural ball-handling abilities made him a worthy opponent for a one-on-one game with an eleven-year-old.

He bounced her the ball. "Come on, see if you can get past your old man."

Dribble, dribble, feint to the left, feint to the right. He stole the ball away from her and shot a basket.

"No fair," she squealed.

"That's how the game is played, sweetheart."

He passed her the ball. "Try it again."

Round and round they went–running, sweating and laughing. After spending the last twenty-four hours pissed-off at Maddie and sleep-deprived from the torture of poison ivy, Phil found genuine relief in the company of his wiry, tomboy daughter.

They called a time out and panted to catch their breath. Melissa casually bounced the ball. Gone were the sullen looks of suspicion. More and more she reminded him of a love-starved puppy dog.

Her small hand controlled the ball with surprising agility. "Did you know an elephant weighs less than the tongue of a blue whale?"

"You're kidding."

"No. Can you imagine this big, honkin' tongue in your mouth?"

Sometimes his stupid tongue felt that big and honkin'.

Pam wandered out onto the porch carrying a tray of iced tea. The slant of the afternoon sun glinted on the strategically placed sequins that decoratively drew attention to her bust line. Tight spandex Capri pants wiggled as she crossed the concrete in spike heels. Pam’s goods on display.

"Take a break, you two. Come have a seat on the steps," Pam said.

The players wandered across the grass and gratefully grabbed a glass of refreshment.

Phil had to admit, it hit the spot. "Thanks."

"It's just the way you like it. Sugar and lemon," Pam purred.

"Can Daddy stay for dinner?" Melissa asked.

Phil frowned. "Oh, no, I–"

"Of course. I've already got chicken frying and baked beans in the oven. Say you'll stay." Her big, green eyes pleaded.

Though Pam's getup reminded Phil of a three-dollar hooker, her efforts at reconciliation and peace were growing more convincing. Perhaps he should drop his guard and give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe there was some class developing under the big hair. "Okay, beats a stale baloney sandwich."