This story follows "Some Say," which follows "In Your Eyes," which follows
"As I Was Drifting Away" in the "As I Was Drifting Away" series. Hmm.
Hope it's not as complicated as it sounds. And I hope you enjoy it.
POV: Donna Spoilers: None Rating: PG Disclaimer: These characters are not my own creation.
Stony Limits - Chapter One A West Wing Story
by MAHC
This doesn't make sense.
There must be something else.
What else? What else is wrong?
What else?
What else?
His anguished words echoed in her mind, drawing her thoughts from her living room couch back to the Oval Office. Even now it still hurt, hurt to hear the devastation from him, hurt to see his shock, hurt to know she had done it. She hadn't gone to work that day, called in sick, something that had happened only twice before in the six years of his presidency. But she couldn't go in, couldn't face Leo. Couldn't face HIM. She had unplugged the phone, knowing he would be calling and just curled up on the couch and cried. That was how Margaret had found her later in the morning.
Now the two friends sat, contemplating the surreal turn of events, their coffee untouched on the low table.
"Are you sure about this?" Margaret asked, eyes tight.
God no, I'm not sure. "I don't have a choice, Margaret. I just - don't have a choice."
"Why not?"
Why not? Didn't she realize? "It would ruin him, don't you see?"
Her friend seemed to consider this carefully. "Maybe, maybe not." She fixed her with a hard stare. "He deserves to know, Donna."
There it was, then. What she had been contemplating all along. "Margaret," she whispered with certainty, "it would ruin him. I can't do that to him. I can't do it."
"Don't you think he'd want to know?"
"I don't-I-" She trailed off. Yes, he would want to know, but she couldn't tell him. Couldn't place that burden on him. It would be hers alone.
Margaret remained silent a moment longer, then asked, "What will you do?"
She knew that, at least. "Resign. Go home. Mom will be shocked, but later she'll accept it and maybe even be pleased."
"Resign?"
"I'll have to. I've got my letter ready to give Josh. In that drawer." She waved a hand vaguely to indicate a simple wooden desk that sat between their position and the kitchen. "I just need to find the right time."
"Does your mother know that-that-"
She nodded. "She knows about him."
Margaret sighed and tried once again. "You're not going to tell him?"
"It's my fault, Margaret."
Now the frown creased her brow. "Excuse me? Your fault? Donna, you gotta know by now it takes two to tango."
It certainly did. And she and Jed had apparently tangoed at the wrong time, when the band was on break. Her fault. It was. She had assured him she used birth control, which, even though he was Catholic, he accepted without protest. And she did, but she had been so busy with the tobacco thing that-well, it was only a couple of days, maybe three. Damn! Stupid. Three days. Only three days and look what happened.
All she could do was repeat the only real thing she knew. "It would ruin him."
Margaret finally lifted the cup of coffee, screwing up her face as the cold liquid touched her lips. She set it down. "You don't think your leaving is going to do that?"
"Why would-"
"I'm not talking politics, now, Donna. I mean emotionally."
Please, don't, she thought, still hearing the despair in his voice as he called after her. Please don't, because it's going to ruin me, too. Oh, how can I do this? How?
And the tears fell again, as they had fallen since she ran from his office, his hoarse cry following her out. Margaret, always a friend, moved closer, drawing her into comforting arms. And Donna appreciated it. Really she did.
But those were not the arms she really wanted to be in.
The night was restless, with visions of his pained blue eyes mixing incongruously with angry cries for impeachment, vicious declarations of adultery and immorality. They bounced in her brain, growing louder and bolder until she sat up in bed crying out, her face wet, her gown damp, her breath coming in gasps.
She rose, unable and unwilling to return to that torture, showered and dressed, preparing to begin her journey home, her self-imposed exile from D.C., from the White House, from him. As she dragged the suitcase from under the bed, the door chime froze her. For a moment, she contemplated ignoring it, pretending she was not home, but that would not solve any of her problems. Some day she must face them. Might as well be today.
Cautiously, she peeped through the view hole, uncertain what she would do if it were he, but the lined face she saw scared her even more. Leo. And his eyes were dark with anger, his jaw tight with rage. But she couldn't ignore him any longer. Taking a deep fortifying breath, she opened the door.
He stood for a moment, as if he had not expected her to let him in, then took a few steps and turned, a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Raising it toward her, he asked, voice rough, "What the hell is this?"
She recognized her resignation letter, wondered how it had gotten into his hands. "How-" she began, then realized. "Margaret."
He didn't answer, just continued on the offensive. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The sheer indignation that flowed from him almost knocked her down.
"I have to, Leo," she began, not knowing exactly what she would say to him, what she could say to him. "It's the only choice."
"Damn it, Donna!" he yelled, then visibly brought himself under control. "What are you trying to do to him?"
What happened? Oh God! "What do you mean? How is he?"
"How is he?" The voice rose again. "My God, woman, you go after him, lead him on, seduce him, promise him - I don't know what - and now you just decide you're leaving? How is he? How do you want him to be?"
"Is he - is he okay?" She didn't know what she expected, really. Maybe that he had cried in Leo's arms. Maybe that he had gotten drunk and passed out on the bed. But she knew Jed. That had not happened. And Leo's words confirmed her suspicions.
"No, he's not okay, Donna. He won't say a word to me. Still hasn't told me what happened but I can guess it wasn't good. He's clammed up, withdrawn again, with that look that somebody slugged him between the eyes with a baseball bat."
The sob rose in her throat. She couldn't stand it. "No, Leo. I - I didn't want him to feel-"
"Well, it's too late for that. He feels, all right. He feels for you, Donna. He loves you. He just managed to claw his way out of the hole after Abbey's death and now you just push him right back in. You told me- You said you loved him."
Her voice was barely audible. "I do."
His turn was so swift that he almost lost his balance, but caught himself with one hand on the back of the couch. "What? I'm sorry, but you have a strange way of showing it. You said you weren't going to hurt him, and now you just leave? I don't get-"
"I'm pregnant."
She might as well have slapped him in the face. He stopped, mouth open, eyes unfocused with shock. To make sure he heard, she repeated her revelation. "Leo, I'm pregnant."
"Oh my God." His hand clutched harder at the couch.
"Yeah," she laughed, but it contained no humor.
"Oh hell."
"That's why, Leo. That's why I have to leave. It would ruin him, I know. Don't you think I know that? I love him, Leo. I love him so much, but I can't do that to him. I can't see him ruined."
"Okay," he said, but it was only to delay until he could think of something more impressive. "Okay." He pushed his hand out, as if he pushed away the confusion in his brain, and looked down. "All right. Let's think this through."
Donna almost smiled. "Oh, Leo. I've thought it through. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I have to leave. I have to go away and-"
"Does Jed know?" Not the President. Jed. That showed how shaken Leo was.
She shook her head.
"Donna, if you leave, that will kill him, you know that?"
She nodded. It was killing her, that was for sure. "Can you tell me any differently, Leo? Can you say it will be all right for me to be pregnant with the child of the President of the United States?"
"Donna-"
"No! You can't tell me that, can you? Because you know it would be a disaster. It would ruin him and this administration. And it would be scandalous for the country. I know this. That's why I have no choice." Please, Leo. Let me go. Let me do this before I can't.
Leo took a deep breath and answered as if he had heard her thoughts, as well. "Where will you go?"
"Home. Wisconsin."
"This will kill him," he repeated vaguely.
She nodded. But the alternative would ruin him. What was worse?
Two days after Donna's announcement in the Oval Office Margaret brought Chinese. She still had not returned to work. Leo had promised not to say anything except that she didn't feel well and was taking some time off. Not that Jed would have believed him, but maybe it bought her some time to think, to pack. She had plugged the phone back in, mentally ready for his call, but it didn't come and she wasn't sure if the disappointment or relief was stronger. What would she say to him, anyway?
The steady rhythm of a rainstorm actually lulled her into a false sense of peace as she swirled bits of rice into the chunks of Mongolian Beef, nibbling only here and there at the food. Her bags were packed. She just had to call her landlord to let him know she was subleasing. Margaret ate a few bites more, but not much.
"Grover Cleveland."
What? Donna lifted her head and cocked it slightly, unconsciously mimicking Jed's habit. "Huh?"
"Grover Cleveland," her friend repeated. "President of the United States. Only non-consecutive Chief Executive. Twenty-second and twenty-fourth-"
"I know who Grover Cleveland was, Margaret. I just don't know why you decided to blurt out his name."
"Maria Halpin."
Maybe Margaret was trying to distract her with trivia. Well, it sure as hell wouldn't work if she had chosen presidents as the category. "Okay. That one I don't know."
"Maria Halpin was a thirty-six-year-old Buffalo widow who had an affair with Cleveland, bore his son and was supported by him for the rest of her life."
No way! Donna's jaw dropped. "While he was President?"
"Well, the affair was before he was President, but the point is that is was a scandal. The Republicans plastered it all over the papers. Made it a campaign issue. Called him a rake, a moral leper, worse in moral quality than a pickpocket-"
"Margaret! This is not helping."
Her friend slid the slick food container onto the table. "Don't you see? It didn't matter! You ever heard of James G. Blaine?"
Donna searched her brain briefly for the name but came up empty. Jed would know, she thought, but pushed that disturbing idea away. "Well, no, not really."
"Republican candidate. My point?" Now the smugness sketched across her face. "Cleveland won! Didn't matter about the woman and the child. He won!"
Possible? Was there even any similarity here? Plus that was over 100 years ago. Things change.
As she opened her mouth to reply, she heard it: the engines of several vehicles. And she knew immediately even though the sirens had not sounded. Peeking through the curtains, she saw two black Suburbans at the curb. No limousine, no motorcycles. She wasn't sure how he had gotten away without them, but it didn't matter. He was here, trudging up the walk in the heavy rain, ignoring the efforts of Ron Butterfield to shield him with an umbrella.
Margaret gasped and stared at her, eyes wide. She mouthed something about hiding, but Donna shook her head just as the knock echoed in the room.
She had to open it. After all, it was probably against some national law not to. Anyway, the secret service could break it down if they wanted. So she dragged in a deep breath, grasped the handle and turned.
He stood there, raindrops dripping in steady intervals from his hair, trailing down his face, his shirt soaked despite the umbrella that his agent still held over his head. And even in such a disheveled state, he looked wonderful and handsome and sexy. Her heart pushed at her to leap into his arms, to bury her head against his shoulder, to clutch him to her and never let go. But her mind steeled itself for the painful necessity and somehow she managed only a slight nod, stepping back to let him in. Ron remained outside.
"Mister President," Margaret greeted in a small voice. He didn't answer. Maybe he didn't even realize she stood there. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll just-I'll just-go now." And she slid out the door almost instantly, leaving them alone.
They stared at each other for a moment, and Donna couldn't block the memory of those eyes holding hers as their bodies moved together. With effort she kept herself from licking the water from his lips, from combing her fingers through the thick, wet hair. His eyes looked different now, haunted, tortured. And she almost groaned aloud, knowing she was responsible.
After at least one full minute he finally spoke and the voice was rough, thick with emotion. "I've loved two women in my life," he said, and Donna almost broke down right then. "I've lost one. I won't lose the other. At least not this way."
She bit her lip, summoning strength from somewhere. "I'm sorry, Jed. I just-"
He didn't move, but his very presence drew her closer to him. "Donna, I don't understand. I don't know what happened."
Her head shook. She couldn't explain to him. "I - I just - I have to go."
"Tell me you don't love me," he demanded, raising a hand as if he wanted to grasp her arm, but letting it fall before he did. "Tell me." And despite everything, his expression indicated fear that she just might, as if she could ever bring herself to say anything like that.
Unable to deny the love, she remained silent.
"I'm in love, Donna. For the second and last time in my life I am in love. And no one is going to take that away from me. Not even you."
His eyes were sharp, penetrating. They took her breath and she almost succumbed to the temptation to throw logic away and tell him. But still, she managed to hang on, to grit her teeth and keep her mouth shut.
In her silence, the anguish showed plainly on his face and he ran a hand through his hair. "My God, Donna, I promise you, I don't understand. I've missed something somewhere."
An ironic smile crossed her lips. "No. I'm the one who's missed something." It was out before she could stop it.
"What?"
Heart racing ahead of her brain, she continued. "Several days worth of something."
His head turned a little to the side, but his eyes remained on her. She almost heard the sparks jumping as he considered her comments. The next words were slow, precise. "What are you saying, Donna?"
Her brain told her to shut up, but her heart saw the pain on his face and she knew even though she was leaving, she couldn't let him think she didn't love him. Inhaling, then exhaling heavily, she dropped the bombshell.
"I'm pregnant, Jed."
"Holy Mother of God."
Before he had hit the floor good, Ron was coming through the door.
POV: Donna Spoilers: None Rating: PG Disclaimer: These characters are not my own creation.
Stony Limits - Chapter One A West Wing Story
by MAHC
This doesn't make sense.
There must be something else.
What else? What else is wrong?
What else?
What else?
His anguished words echoed in her mind, drawing her thoughts from her living room couch back to the Oval Office. Even now it still hurt, hurt to hear the devastation from him, hurt to see his shock, hurt to know she had done it. She hadn't gone to work that day, called in sick, something that had happened only twice before in the six years of his presidency. But she couldn't go in, couldn't face Leo. Couldn't face HIM. She had unplugged the phone, knowing he would be calling and just curled up on the couch and cried. That was how Margaret had found her later in the morning.
Now the two friends sat, contemplating the surreal turn of events, their coffee untouched on the low table.
"Are you sure about this?" Margaret asked, eyes tight.
God no, I'm not sure. "I don't have a choice, Margaret. I just - don't have a choice."
"Why not?"
Why not? Didn't she realize? "It would ruin him, don't you see?"
Her friend seemed to consider this carefully. "Maybe, maybe not." She fixed her with a hard stare. "He deserves to know, Donna."
There it was, then. What she had been contemplating all along. "Margaret," she whispered with certainty, "it would ruin him. I can't do that to him. I can't do it."
"Don't you think he'd want to know?"
"I don't-I-" She trailed off. Yes, he would want to know, but she couldn't tell him. Couldn't place that burden on him. It would be hers alone.
Margaret remained silent a moment longer, then asked, "What will you do?"
She knew that, at least. "Resign. Go home. Mom will be shocked, but later she'll accept it and maybe even be pleased."
"Resign?"
"I'll have to. I've got my letter ready to give Josh. In that drawer." She waved a hand vaguely to indicate a simple wooden desk that sat between their position and the kitchen. "I just need to find the right time."
"Does your mother know that-that-"
She nodded. "She knows about him."
Margaret sighed and tried once again. "You're not going to tell him?"
"It's my fault, Margaret."
Now the frown creased her brow. "Excuse me? Your fault? Donna, you gotta know by now it takes two to tango."
It certainly did. And she and Jed had apparently tangoed at the wrong time, when the band was on break. Her fault. It was. She had assured him she used birth control, which, even though he was Catholic, he accepted without protest. And she did, but she had been so busy with the tobacco thing that-well, it was only a couple of days, maybe three. Damn! Stupid. Three days. Only three days and look what happened.
All she could do was repeat the only real thing she knew. "It would ruin him."
Margaret finally lifted the cup of coffee, screwing up her face as the cold liquid touched her lips. She set it down. "You don't think your leaving is going to do that?"
"Why would-"
"I'm not talking politics, now, Donna. I mean emotionally."
Please, don't, she thought, still hearing the despair in his voice as he called after her. Please don't, because it's going to ruin me, too. Oh, how can I do this? How?
And the tears fell again, as they had fallen since she ran from his office, his hoarse cry following her out. Margaret, always a friend, moved closer, drawing her into comforting arms. And Donna appreciated it. Really she did.
But those were not the arms she really wanted to be in.
The night was restless, with visions of his pained blue eyes mixing incongruously with angry cries for impeachment, vicious declarations of adultery and immorality. They bounced in her brain, growing louder and bolder until she sat up in bed crying out, her face wet, her gown damp, her breath coming in gasps.
She rose, unable and unwilling to return to that torture, showered and dressed, preparing to begin her journey home, her self-imposed exile from D.C., from the White House, from him. As she dragged the suitcase from under the bed, the door chime froze her. For a moment, she contemplated ignoring it, pretending she was not home, but that would not solve any of her problems. Some day she must face them. Might as well be today.
Cautiously, she peeped through the view hole, uncertain what she would do if it were he, but the lined face she saw scared her even more. Leo. And his eyes were dark with anger, his jaw tight with rage. But she couldn't ignore him any longer. Taking a deep fortifying breath, she opened the door.
He stood for a moment, as if he had not expected her to let him in, then took a few steps and turned, a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Raising it toward her, he asked, voice rough, "What the hell is this?"
She recognized her resignation letter, wondered how it had gotten into his hands. "How-" she began, then realized. "Margaret."
He didn't answer, just continued on the offensive. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The sheer indignation that flowed from him almost knocked her down.
"I have to, Leo," she began, not knowing exactly what she would say to him, what she could say to him. "It's the only choice."
"Damn it, Donna!" he yelled, then visibly brought himself under control. "What are you trying to do to him?"
What happened? Oh God! "What do you mean? How is he?"
"How is he?" The voice rose again. "My God, woman, you go after him, lead him on, seduce him, promise him - I don't know what - and now you just decide you're leaving? How is he? How do you want him to be?"
"Is he - is he okay?" She didn't know what she expected, really. Maybe that he had cried in Leo's arms. Maybe that he had gotten drunk and passed out on the bed. But she knew Jed. That had not happened. And Leo's words confirmed her suspicions.
"No, he's not okay, Donna. He won't say a word to me. Still hasn't told me what happened but I can guess it wasn't good. He's clammed up, withdrawn again, with that look that somebody slugged him between the eyes with a baseball bat."
The sob rose in her throat. She couldn't stand it. "No, Leo. I - I didn't want him to feel-"
"Well, it's too late for that. He feels, all right. He feels for you, Donna. He loves you. He just managed to claw his way out of the hole after Abbey's death and now you just push him right back in. You told me- You said you loved him."
Her voice was barely audible. "I do."
His turn was so swift that he almost lost his balance, but caught himself with one hand on the back of the couch. "What? I'm sorry, but you have a strange way of showing it. You said you weren't going to hurt him, and now you just leave? I don't get-"
"I'm pregnant."
She might as well have slapped him in the face. He stopped, mouth open, eyes unfocused with shock. To make sure he heard, she repeated her revelation. "Leo, I'm pregnant."
"Oh my God." His hand clutched harder at the couch.
"Yeah," she laughed, but it contained no humor.
"Oh hell."
"That's why, Leo. That's why I have to leave. It would ruin him, I know. Don't you think I know that? I love him, Leo. I love him so much, but I can't do that to him. I can't see him ruined."
"Okay," he said, but it was only to delay until he could think of something more impressive. "Okay." He pushed his hand out, as if he pushed away the confusion in his brain, and looked down. "All right. Let's think this through."
Donna almost smiled. "Oh, Leo. I've thought it through. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I have to leave. I have to go away and-"
"Does Jed know?" Not the President. Jed. That showed how shaken Leo was.
She shook her head.
"Donna, if you leave, that will kill him, you know that?"
She nodded. It was killing her, that was for sure. "Can you tell me any differently, Leo? Can you say it will be all right for me to be pregnant with the child of the President of the United States?"
"Donna-"
"No! You can't tell me that, can you? Because you know it would be a disaster. It would ruin him and this administration. And it would be scandalous for the country. I know this. That's why I have no choice." Please, Leo. Let me go. Let me do this before I can't.
Leo took a deep breath and answered as if he had heard her thoughts, as well. "Where will you go?"
"Home. Wisconsin."
"This will kill him," he repeated vaguely.
She nodded. But the alternative would ruin him. What was worse?
Two days after Donna's announcement in the Oval Office Margaret brought Chinese. She still had not returned to work. Leo had promised not to say anything except that she didn't feel well and was taking some time off. Not that Jed would have believed him, but maybe it bought her some time to think, to pack. She had plugged the phone back in, mentally ready for his call, but it didn't come and she wasn't sure if the disappointment or relief was stronger. What would she say to him, anyway?
The steady rhythm of a rainstorm actually lulled her into a false sense of peace as she swirled bits of rice into the chunks of Mongolian Beef, nibbling only here and there at the food. Her bags were packed. She just had to call her landlord to let him know she was subleasing. Margaret ate a few bites more, but not much.
"Grover Cleveland."
What? Donna lifted her head and cocked it slightly, unconsciously mimicking Jed's habit. "Huh?"
"Grover Cleveland," her friend repeated. "President of the United States. Only non-consecutive Chief Executive. Twenty-second and twenty-fourth-"
"I know who Grover Cleveland was, Margaret. I just don't know why you decided to blurt out his name."
"Maria Halpin."
Maybe Margaret was trying to distract her with trivia. Well, it sure as hell wouldn't work if she had chosen presidents as the category. "Okay. That one I don't know."
"Maria Halpin was a thirty-six-year-old Buffalo widow who had an affair with Cleveland, bore his son and was supported by him for the rest of her life."
No way! Donna's jaw dropped. "While he was President?"
"Well, the affair was before he was President, but the point is that is was a scandal. The Republicans plastered it all over the papers. Made it a campaign issue. Called him a rake, a moral leper, worse in moral quality than a pickpocket-"
"Margaret! This is not helping."
Her friend slid the slick food container onto the table. "Don't you see? It didn't matter! You ever heard of James G. Blaine?"
Donna searched her brain briefly for the name but came up empty. Jed would know, she thought, but pushed that disturbing idea away. "Well, no, not really."
"Republican candidate. My point?" Now the smugness sketched across her face. "Cleveland won! Didn't matter about the woman and the child. He won!"
Possible? Was there even any similarity here? Plus that was over 100 years ago. Things change.
As she opened her mouth to reply, she heard it: the engines of several vehicles. And she knew immediately even though the sirens had not sounded. Peeking through the curtains, she saw two black Suburbans at the curb. No limousine, no motorcycles. She wasn't sure how he had gotten away without them, but it didn't matter. He was here, trudging up the walk in the heavy rain, ignoring the efforts of Ron Butterfield to shield him with an umbrella.
Margaret gasped and stared at her, eyes wide. She mouthed something about hiding, but Donna shook her head just as the knock echoed in the room.
She had to open it. After all, it was probably against some national law not to. Anyway, the secret service could break it down if they wanted. So she dragged in a deep breath, grasped the handle and turned.
He stood there, raindrops dripping in steady intervals from his hair, trailing down his face, his shirt soaked despite the umbrella that his agent still held over his head. And even in such a disheveled state, he looked wonderful and handsome and sexy. Her heart pushed at her to leap into his arms, to bury her head against his shoulder, to clutch him to her and never let go. But her mind steeled itself for the painful necessity and somehow she managed only a slight nod, stepping back to let him in. Ron remained outside.
"Mister President," Margaret greeted in a small voice. He didn't answer. Maybe he didn't even realize she stood there. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll just-I'll just-go now." And she slid out the door almost instantly, leaving them alone.
They stared at each other for a moment, and Donna couldn't block the memory of those eyes holding hers as their bodies moved together. With effort she kept herself from licking the water from his lips, from combing her fingers through the thick, wet hair. His eyes looked different now, haunted, tortured. And she almost groaned aloud, knowing she was responsible.
After at least one full minute he finally spoke and the voice was rough, thick with emotion. "I've loved two women in my life," he said, and Donna almost broke down right then. "I've lost one. I won't lose the other. At least not this way."
She bit her lip, summoning strength from somewhere. "I'm sorry, Jed. I just-"
He didn't move, but his very presence drew her closer to him. "Donna, I don't understand. I don't know what happened."
Her head shook. She couldn't explain to him. "I - I just - I have to go."
"Tell me you don't love me," he demanded, raising a hand as if he wanted to grasp her arm, but letting it fall before he did. "Tell me." And despite everything, his expression indicated fear that she just might, as if she could ever bring herself to say anything like that.
Unable to deny the love, she remained silent.
"I'm in love, Donna. For the second and last time in my life I am in love. And no one is going to take that away from me. Not even you."
His eyes were sharp, penetrating. They took her breath and she almost succumbed to the temptation to throw logic away and tell him. But still, she managed to hang on, to grit her teeth and keep her mouth shut.
In her silence, the anguish showed plainly on his face and he ran a hand through his hair. "My God, Donna, I promise you, I don't understand. I've missed something somewhere."
An ironic smile crossed her lips. "No. I'm the one who's missed something." It was out before she could stop it.
"What?"
Heart racing ahead of her brain, she continued. "Several days worth of something."
His head turned a little to the side, but his eyes remained on her. She almost heard the sparks jumping as he considered her comments. The next words were slow, precise. "What are you saying, Donna?"
Her brain told her to shut up, but her heart saw the pain on his face and she knew even though she was leaving, she couldn't let him think she didn't love him. Inhaling, then exhaling heavily, she dropped the bombshell.
"I'm pregnant, Jed."
"Holy Mother of God."
Before he had hit the floor good, Ron was coming through the door.