The Stakes are Raised
Rachel stared at the
plastic wand, the twin blue lines standing out from the white background.
Silently, she wrapped the wand in the instruction sheet, stuffed the lot back in
the box and dropped it in the trash.
She'd tried to ignore the signs, the nausea, the dizziness,
the lack of energy, but when her normally clockwork visitor failed to make an
appearance, she knew. The home test only drove the point further, and the
doctor's appointment she'd scheduled for the next morning would, she was sure,
make it crystal clear. She, Rachel Amanda Leeds, was pregnant.
Mechanically, she dressed and got into her car. The landscape
passed by unnoticed, the ocean sparkling in the early morning light failed to
draw her appreciation. Her mind was still locked on those blue lines. She pulled
into her parking space, flashed her badge to the security guard, and took the
route to her office in silence, not noticing those few people around who smiled
or nodded in her direction.
She shuffled the papers on her desk, for once not wondering at
the amount of paperwork generated by her division. The words barely registered
in her mind; when she finally noticed she'd been holding the same report for
half an hour and hadn't even read the title, she pushed it aside with a sigh.
Her mind wasn't in it. For all intents and purposes, her mind was two weeks in
the past, at the precise time she'd challenged Max Steel, her former partner, to
what she'd called a "defense exercise," won, and "claimed her
prize." Joke's on you, Leeds. Looks like it was your defenses
that were breached, after all.
"Oh god," she murmured, truth sinking in deeper
every moment. "I'm single, nearly thirty, pregnant by a man--a boy!--ten
years younger that I seduced…practically raped!" She slumped in
her chair, head in her hands, "What have I done?"
Half an hour later,
after much internal debate and struggle, Rachel found herself facing the one man
she'd never thought to visit: Dr. Paul Burroughs, staff psychologist at N-Tek.
"I just need to talk to someone I can trust," she explained, sinking
into the deep leather chair. "Someone unbiased, someone who'll actually
listen."
'That's why I'm here." Paul, in the chair opposite
Rachel, folded his hands in his lap. "Go on."
"This is very difficult for me," she admitted.
"Over the years, I've become used to relying on myself. I knew that I could
always trust myself, even if I couldn't trust others. The recent experience with
Mairot, for example." Paul nodded; everyone had heard about the traitor.
"It seemed clear, with my profession, that I should keep myself at a
professional distance from just about everybody. But this morning…this
morning, I discovered a situation I can't--or maybe shouldn't--handle on my own.
"I'm pregnant. And the father…he's…younger."
Rachel grimaced. "Much younger, in fact. He's just starting his life; I'm
afraid if I tell him about the baby, he may do something rash, something he'll
regret later in life. But at the same time, I respect him too much to keep
something this important from him. I could, you know. I am an experienced field
operative; I know how to 'go to ground.' If I wanted to, I could hide so deeply
that Jo…the father," she corrected quickly, "would never be able to
find me.
"Adding to this whole mess is my age. I'll be thirty in
three months, Paul. Thirty. That's a landmark age for a woman, almost a cutoff
time for having children. And I do want a family. I've put it off for a while
now, because of my job, being in the field…what kind of a mother would run off
to fight terrorists and leave her child with a baby-sitter? But now…now, I
have a desk job, more or less. If I wanted to, I could make it full-time. I
could balance a desk job with a child. Many women do.
"To be completely honest, I actually thought about
terminating this pregnancy. Not for long, mind you, only about two seconds. But
it was long enough for me to know I didn't want to do it. If I were to have an
abortion," her hands curled protectively over her flat stomach, "I
don't think I'd have a second chance to have a baby."
Paul nodded. "It sounds as if you've made your decision
about having the baby. You mentioned the father, his age, and the fact that you
feel you should tell him…?"
Rachel sighed. "I should tell him about the baby. He
deserves to know; it's just…. I don't want to burden him. He's too young to
have to deal with this. But…"
"He has a right to know," Paul finished.
"Exactly." Rachel rubbed her eyes. "Thank you,
Paul. For listening."
Upon leaving Paul's
office, Rachel went in search of Max. She checked in the exercise room, the
conference room, and the commissary with no luck. On a hunch, she headed for the
labs. Sure enough, Max was there, deep in discussion with Berto on some new
piece of equipment. He looked up and met Rachel's gaze. Her breath caught as
their eyes met; he still had the power to make her forget everything she wanted
to do.
Max, for his part, was lost as soon as she stepped in the
door. Her eyes always reminded him of that afternoon; the look in them now
brought a sharp jerk to the lower portions of his anatomy. What Berto was saying
about the new whatcha-ma-thingie flowed past him; all he was aware of was
Rachel.
When Berto realized he was getting more response from the
chair than from Max, he looked up. Rachel was standing silently in the doorway. Now
or never, Leeds. "Max, I need to talk to you later tonight."
"Okay…." Before he could say anything else, she'd
turned and disappeared.
"What was that about, hermano?"
"Damned if I know, bro."
Josh paced his
bedroom, not sure what Rachel meant. "Did she want to talk to me, or
to Max? It must be me; if it were work-related, she'd have talked to me in her
office. So it has to be personal stuff."
As for the personal stuff, Josh wasn't exactly sure what was
going on. Other than that sparring session--which he still remembered fondly
late at night, or in history class when it got really dull--they'd gone
to dinner twice, he'd talked her into rollerblading on the boardwalk with him,
and he'd accompanied her to a rather disastrous symphony performance. "Can
I help it if Stravinsky puts me to sleep?" he mumbled at the memory,
rubbing his still-aching calf where she'd kicked him awake.
"I wonder what this is about," he mused, pulling his
red convertible into Rachel's parking lot. He had a nagging feeling it wasn't
about the symphony, and that it wasn't going to be good.
For her part, Rachel was pacing in front of her closet,
surrounded by scattered heaps of clothing strewn across the floor and half the
bed. In bra and panties, she regarded what was still on hangers. "What do
you wear to tell someone you're having his baby?"
She sighed and collapsed on the bed. "Maybe I should just
write 'I'm pregnant' on my stomach in chocolate sauce and greet him at the
door." She was momentarily distracted by the thought of Josh, chocolate
sauce, and bare skin, but quickly dispelled the image. "Damn
hormones," she muttered, digging through her wardrobe again.
She'd finally decided on a grey cashmere pullover and tan
khakis when her door buzzer sounded. She raced to the console. "Yes?"
"It's Josh."
She pressed the door control. "It's open." Rachel
leaned against the door before unhooking the chain and throwing back the
deadbolt.
"Hi." Josh stood, subdued, hands in the pockets of
his jeans. "You wanted to talk to me?"
Rachel nodded. "Come in. Sit down." You're going
to have to in a moment.
Josh moved to the small living room, perching on the edge of
the couch. Rachel paced a few times before finally sitting on the opposite end.
Her fingers drummed her knees as she tried to figure out the best possibly way
to tell him.
"Josh…would you like something to drink?" came out
instead. She popped to her feet, trying to dart into the tiny kitchenette.
"Or maybe something to eat; I know I have sandwich makings…"
Josh took her hands and pulled her back to the couch.
"Rachel, what's wrong? I've never seen you like this before."
She raised her head to meet his eyes. The words flowed from
her easily. "I'm pregnant."
Josh just stared. At first, the words just buzzed around in
his head, meaningless bits of noise.
"Josh?"
Then, with the force of a Mack truck, the impact of what she'd
said hit him. Pregnant. Baby. Tiny life. Responsibility.
"Josh?"
The color slowly seeped from his face. Pregnant. A baby. A
huge responsibility. Maybe if I close my eyes, this will all be a strange
dream.
"Josh?" He opened his eyes and met Rachel's again.
He saw the worry, the fear in her eyes that must mirror what showed in his own.
"Josh, say something."
"A baby, Rachel…."
"I know. I just found out this morning; I took a home
test. I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow, for confirmation."
"Rachel…"
"I've been putting money aside for a long time, and N-Tek's
medical plan will cover most of my doctor expenses. I'm not telling you this to
ask for anything. It was my fault, not thinking of consequences to my actions. I
won't hold you to anything. You…you just deserved to know."
"Rachel…." Josh stood, pacing. Rachel was reminded
of a caged tiger or lion, the way Josh moved in her small apartment. "This,
this is…overwhelming." He turned, looked at her sitting on the couch. Now
that the words were out, she seemed calmer. "I don't know what you want me
to say, Rache."
"I don't want you to say anything. I just wanted you to
know." She stood. "Maybe…maybe you should go. We both need time to
think."
Josh let himself be herded out of her apartment. He collapsed
in the front seat of his car, not sure he could trust himself driving quite yet.
"A baby," he groaned, forehead hitting the steering wheel.
The next afternoon
found Rachel at her desk, efficiently finishing off the two days' worth of
paperwork. Her appointment that morning had gone well, the doctor confirming the
diagnosis. Armed with a prescription for vitamins and an armload of pamphlets,
Rachel felt the awkwardness of the day before slip into the past, to be replaced
with efficient, orderly planning.
She was just getting ready to leave for the day when a knock
on her door was followed by Max entering. "Hey," he greeted her.
"How'd the appointment go?"
"As expected." She looked at him, met his eyes.
"Rachel…." Max shifted his weight, fingers tapping
off the bio-link. If I screw up now, better Berto doesn't know.
"After I went home last night, I did some thinking. A lot of
thinking," he admitted wryly. "And a lot of points made sense. I mean,
a baby needs space, right? You can't really fit anything else into your
apartment, but I've got more space than I need. And, my parents left me enough
to be comfortable, so you wouldn't have to worry about expenses, and a baby
really should have two parents…what I'm trying to say, is, would you marry me?
Or Josh, I guess. Both, really…"
"No." One word, spoken quietly, stopped his flow of
words.
"But…." Max put his hand behind his neck.
"No. I appreciate the offer, but no. I meant what I said
last night, Max. I'm not holding you to any responsibility."
"But…."
"No." She placed her fingertips over his lips.
"My mind is settled." She shouldered her bag. "I have to
go."
Max watched her leave, confusion filling his soul. It had
taken every ounce of courage he possessed to ask her to marry him, and he hadn't
expected her to say no. "What went wrong?" he asked the walls.
Outside, Rachel
allowed the mask of self-confidence to drop. She rested her head on the steering
wheel, feeling the ache of responsibility in her bones. Max's offer, well
meaning though it was, had touched a nerve she didn't know she had. "Is it
so wrong," she asked the parking tag, "to be wanted for myself, and
not out of a sense of duty or honor?"
Looking at the front doors, at the flow of people entering and
exiting, something crystallized in her mind. If she stayed at N-Tek, she'd have
to face Max every day. Every day of her pregnancy, when her hormones and
emotions would be volatile…and he puts me on edge as it is. If he asked me
again, I might not have the strength to say no. A spark of pride, of
dignity, flared in her soul. She knew what she had to do.
"Resign?"
Jefferson Smith rose from his chair in disbelief. "Why?"
"Sir…." Rachel swallowed. "Sir, I've recently
discovered that I'm pregnant." That wasn't so bad, Leeds. Seems to get
easier and easier.
"That's no reason to resign. In fact, it's a strong
reason to stay on. Babies are expensive, Rachel. You'll need your salary, and
the medical benefits. Plus, our maternity plan is one of the best in the
nation."
"Sir, I was hoping to spend my pregnancy in London, where
I can be close to my family."
What about the father? Jeff thought. "Rachel, I'll
tell you what. Instead of accepting your resignation, --which, by the way, I
never will--I'll put you on sabbatical. You'll still receive salary and medical
benefits. You can apply for maternity leave when you feel it's best."
"Thank you, sir. And, sir?" Rachel paused, thinking
of how to ask delicately. "I'd appreciate it if the details behind my
leaving were kept quiet. I'd rather not have everyone at N-Tek knowing about my
condition."
Jeff agreed, all the while thinking, What
the hell am I going to tell my son?
Rachel looked out the plane window, feeling a mild twinge of regret as the plane lifted. She was leaving her job, her coworkers, peers, and the only home she'd known for the past several years. This is right, for everyone, she thought. You'll realize it soon, Josh. You wouldn't want a baby and a thirty-year-old wife tying you down, not when you're just starting your peak. I do appreciate your offer; I just wish it came from love, not duty. As she watched, Del Oro Bay became just a spot on the far horizon.