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Now, her quiet tears and huddled form rattle me. I know what it’s like to be young and pregnant and in an unsettled place. I mean, circumstances are worlds apart, but still, her lot isn’t an easy one.
I ask her how she’s feeling and learn she’s been sick pretty much twenty-four-seven since about week six. Shame on me for never considering her wellbeing before tonight.
"Do you need anything? We can stop if you do.” Food, a drink?
She shakes her head. “I just want to be home. Nothing helps, anyway.”
The brief conversation lags, slipping us into silence. She cradles her stomach, almost protectively.
Her baby.
My grandchild.
Heavens. I’m not old enough for this!
A thought for another day.
I reach out and pat her arm. “I’m sorry you’re so miserable.”
She scoots back some hair that’s slipped over her face. “Are you?”
My breath jerks to a halt. Yes, I deserve that. “Yes, I am, Reagan, and…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t treated you well.”
She stares for a moment. Sighs. “I understand.”
I shake my head. “No, I was wrong. I apologize for being…cold.”
Her smile is small yet kind and forgiving.
She starts working her hands in her lap in a nervous gesture with which I am well-acquainted. “I’m sorry, Ms. Carpenter.”
“Please don’t worry about anything. And, as for you and Jacob and the baby, I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Thank you, but…I’m not talking about all that.”
Then what?
“I’m sorry about the fight you guys had. I told Jacob he shouldn’t have talked to you like he did.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“I know, but I’m still sorry. You didn’t deserve it. He’s just been terribly angry lately.”
“Well, becoming a parent can be a challenging time.”
She focuses on her hands. “I know you’ve been where I am.”
No, she hasn’t. I was in hell. At best, Reagan is in a very temporary purgatory.
Her tone shifts. “I’m sorry about what you went through, Ms. Carpenter.”
A hot chill shivers its way along my spine.
“Jacob told me…”
Sheknows?
“He’s been so upset…”
