The Heart of Memory (4 page)

“That’s not what—never mind.” She took the bedding from Savannah’s arms. “Thanks for picking this up for me. Sorry I woke you up.”

“Honey, wait,” she said to Jessie’s retreating back. But she was out the door before Savannah could think of what else to say.

Jessie was inching further and further away. It hurt Savannah to see it, though in her heart she knew she was partly to blame. She just wasn’t around enough. She liked to think she was justified, at least somewhat—she did what she did for Jessie and her generation, for the Christian women they would become. They needed good role models, a culture that would allow them to be who God wanted them to be; Savannah was just trying to do her part to provide that for them.

The reasoning rang hollow when she tried to sort it out, so she didn’t often try, and she wasn’t going to attempt it now. Instead, she crawled back into bed and closed her eyes, fighting against the new maternal concerns that blossomed now for Jessie, and wondering who she
would
go to when she needed to talk.

J
ESSIE FELT THE FLAMES RISE
in her cheeks as she shut herself in her bedroom. Sex was dead last on the list of things she’d ever want to discuss with her mother. Where on earth had that conversation come from? Were her thoughts that plain on her face? She’d never have expected her mother to be able to read her that well.
It must just be coincidence. It’s got to be.

Regardless, it gave her that much more incentive to be more careful. Way more careful. The last person she’d want to find her out would be Savannah.

Not that there will be anything else to find out,
Jessie reminded herself. Last night had been a total fluke; she and Adam had already agreed it wouldn’t happen again. Had the other couple they’d been doubling with not canceled, they wouldn’t have been alone at the drive-in, and they wouldn’t have started the make-out session that nearly claimed her chastity. It was why they never went out alone, why they limited themselves to holding hands after dark and always crammed a pillow between them when they were sitting together on the couch. Typically the fear of headlines screaming that Savannah Trover’s wanton daughter had gotten pregnant was motivation enough to abstain, but last night her thoughts had been very, very far away from her mother’s reputation.

Angie had fixed that the minute Jessie had called her for advice. “You guys what?! Girl, are you out of your mind? What if you got pregnant? Can you just imagine what that would look like for your mom?”

Jessie hadn’t taken her best friend’s admonishment very well. “Seriously? You’re bringing my mother up? Have you not been my friend for the past fifteen years? Do you really not know that she is the last person I want to think about right now? Thanks a lot, Ang. That’s just why I called you, so you could read me the riot act and make me feel even worse than I already do.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Jess. Really. I’m just surprised; it’s so not like you to lose control like that.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just that I’m sick of always having to be in control for someone else and not for myself. Maybe I’m really
not
all that self-controlled. Maybe, if I didn’t have to worry about how someone else would be affected, I’d go totally nuts, be all crazy like that girl in Footloose.”

“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.

S
HAUN 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.

S
AVANNAH 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.

“I’m sorry, Van.” He sat beside her, rested his hand on her knee. “I know you were getting excited about that. But it just wouldn’t—”

“I know, I know.” She waved a hand, batting away the discussion without making eye contact. “I’ll call Dr. Helms today.”

Shaun left for work and Savannah stared at the trees until her coffee was cold. She made that her excuse to finally get up, then grudgingly pulled out the address book where the doctor’s number was recorded. It had been so long since she’d used it, she couldn’t remember if it was filed under the D’s or the H’s.

The receptionist said it was her lucky day — a cancellation had just been made, and she could come in at eleven. She killed time with a snack and mindless television, then left for the appointment. A small measure of her worry abated, knowing she’d likely leave with at least some kind of diagnosis, even if it required waiting for tests to confirm it. She was almost to the point where she didn’t care what was wrong, she just wanted to know for sure.

“That does seem like a long time for the flu, but in actuality the flu can last for quite a while,” Dr. Helms told her as he marked her chart. “But since you no longer have a fever, I doubt you still have it, if that’s what it was. Let’s take a listen.” He held the chest piece of his stethoscope between her shoulder blades and asked her to breathe deeply. He moved it to the back and she breathed again. He asked her to breathe deeply three more times as he moved the chest piece lower, finally settling it around her ribs. “Well, I am hearing something in there.”

“ ‘Something'? Like what?”

He marked on his chart. “They’re called rales. Noises in the lungs.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you have any chest pain?”