A/N: Absolutely loved the stream of "OMG!" reviews last chapter. OMG says it all! Thanks to all who read the previous chapter: Nan girl, Margaret A66, sm2003495, Al, novembershowers, and Cherylann Rivers.
"In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns." —Calo
Sunday, September 12, 2021
Nancy put a protective hand over her still-flat stomach as she walked downtown. She wished for the umpteenth time that she could put her little bun in an incubator and wait until her late thirties to give birth, when she was married and settled down, after she'd seen the world and accomplished all her career goals. Then she made a conscious effort to lower her arm to her side, so as not to advertise to everyone at St. Alphonsus's that she was pregnant.
If Laura Hardy had kept her promise, then Nancy, Laura, and the medical staff at an out-of-town clinic were the only people who knew that she was expecting. Laura had accompanied her to a prenatal appointment (last-minute due to a cancellation) and Nancy and her child had both been given a clean bill of health. Nancy had ended the appointment by hesitatingly asking the doctor about the latest date to decide about termination.
"Within the first trimester is the easiest, but we can make accommodations if you decide after that," the doctor had said without even looking up from her paperwork. Nancy had carefully avoided eye contact with Laura.
So Nancy had one more month to choose. In the meantime, she was taking her prenatal vitamins and had written her scheduled follow-up medical appointments on her calendar. She'd continued to work on the writing project with Laura on the Hardys' back porch every morning and late afternoon, although she had a hard time concentrating, with an unexpected life form hitchhiking in her womb and a major decision hanging over her head.
And now it was time to do a little more work on the mystery of Alan Hooper, Sr.'s death. The most natural way Nancy could get Margaret and Mary Hooper alone to ask some questions was to "accidentally" cross paths with them at Catholic mass. Unfortunately, this sole Catholic church in Bayport would also be swarming with Italian Catholics.
Nancy took a deep breath and entered the old-fashioned stone building. It was packed, which was unsurprising, as the parish website had announced one combined Mass at 10:00 today to accommodate for the annual cookout at the local park immediately afterward. Everyone was friendly and laughing with each other before the service began, and the usher guided Nancy toward an available pew and handed her a bulletin. It felt more like a cathedral than a church, the acoustics loud and echoing. She assessed her surroundings, looking for Biff's mom, and froze at her extraordinarily bad luck.
Tony sat two pews in front of her, engaged in an obviously intimate conversation with a gorgeous Italian woman on his right. The two sat close together, their faces mere inches from each other, his arm resting comfortably on the pew behind her. Nancy couldn't hear what they were discussing.
Somehow it had never occurred to Nancy that Tony would have a girlfriend by now. Or had he lied, and had a girlfriend while he'd spent the night with her, too?
Nancy focused on the closest source of distraction, which happened to be the bulletin in her hand. She opened it with a snap and all of the inserts fell out, scattering in every direction on the floor. The sound was quite loud, even in this sanctuary that echoed like a cafeteria, and by the time she'd picked up her papers there was a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks.
"Nancy! You're a Catholic now?"
Tony and his female companion had swiveled around in their pew to address her. At first, Nancy had eyes only for the woman: mid-twenties brunette, flawless skin, every white tooth in perfect position, large, chocolate brown eyes. And a friendly smile that Nancy waited too long to return.
Nancy turned to Tony and instantly bristled at the wide smirk on his face. Tony moved his arm to the woman's shoulders. Nancy realized what this must appear like to him. She wasn't Catholic and she had randomly shown up here by herself. It looked like she'd followed him to church.
"You're a visitor? So glad you're here!" Tony's companion gushed. "I'm Marissa, and I'm on the Welcoming Committee. I'm one of the Youth Directors, too. How do you know my cousin?" Marissa glanced at Tony's arm and gave him a what-the-hell look.
Tony's smile somehow became even cockier, keeping his eyes locked on Nancy's as he lowered his arm to his side. She'd never taken him up on his offer of friendship; he could tease her now if he pleased. Nancy felt a stab of annoyance that he'd tried to make her jealous, and smoldering rage toward herself that it had worked. "We went to school together a long time ago," Nancy said, addressing the rest of the conversation to Marissa alone, asking many detailed questions about the enthralling work of the Welcoming Committee.
Mass started, and Nancy had a hard time keeping up with the various books and readings. She found herself mildly uncomfortable with the icons, stained glass windows, and huge crucifixes. She'd grown up Methodist and recently become a Quaker, and she was used to informal services held in boring beige buildings. Tony and Michael's parents sat on the other side of the sanctuary, and Nancy wondered if they would even remember who she was. It was difficult to assess who else was in attendance, as she'd have to turn around in the pew to do so.
Therefore she was very grateful when Margaret Hooper approached and greeted her warmly during Pass the Peace. Nancy had been Mary Hooper's babysitter for two months in ninth grade, and therefore she'd been over at the Hoopers' apartment several days a week. As Pass the Peace only lasted a couple of minutes, the two women agreed to walk to the cookout together after worship to catch up.
During communion, Nancy found herself increasingly nauseous as the line moved toward the wine and the host. Finally she reached her limit and left the sanctuary, locating the vestibule restroom just in time. Afterward she stood and leaned against the bathroom wall for several minutes, lightheaded, wondering if all women experienced morning sickness as severely as she did. At the same time, she felt frequent uninvited, primal tugs of desire; she'd never experienced sexual frustration to this degree before.
She washed her face and decided to wait for Margaret Hooper in the Narthex. Exiting the bathroom, her pulse quickened, and then skipped a beat.
Even to sober eyes, Tony and Angelo looked so much alike. But Angelo had a sizable mole on one cheek and slightly longer hair.
Angelo lifted his hands surrender-style from his seated position across the room. "I'm not coming any closer. We're in the House of God. I just want to apologize."
Nancy straightened her purse strap and crossed her arms warily. She didn't feel traumatized to see him again, but neither did she have any interest in getting to know him. "Did Michael put you up to this?"
"I'm here because I want to be." Angelo looked at the ceiling for a moment, evidently searching for words. "Michael told me the next day that you weren't having a good time, that you'd been telling me to stop. For what it's worth, I didn't hear you. It's crazy how much it's bothered me, knowing there's a girl out there who thinks I'm a rapist. I'm sorry that happened."
Nancy's defensive posture softened somewhat. As apologies went, it wasn't terrible, yet the focus seemed to be on his absolution, rather than how the experience had affected her. "Thank you for apologizing. I really just want to forget about the whole thing."
She never found out what his response would have been, as the service got out then and a crowd of parishioners streamed between them. She ducked between people, going against the flow of traffic, focused on finding Margaret. She saw Tony walk out a side door without seeing her, and she breathed easier. For the rest of the afternoon, she'd need to make sure she was constantly engaged with other people, avoiding both Angelo and Tony.
Mary raced past her and toward Marissa. Nancy remembered Marissa mentioning that she was a youth director.
"You'll be with Marissa the entire time, Mary?" Margaret called anxiously to her daughter.
"I won't let her out of my sight," Marissa promised, and the two disappeared from view.
Nancy surreptitiously waited for Margaret Hooper to finish several lengthy conversations. Most of the sanctuary cleared out. Eventually Margaret saw her, remembered their agreement to walk together, and approached.
"Of course. Weeks of sunshine, and now clouds for the cookout," Margaret said to Nancy as they walked outside together. Margaret was wearing makeup, and Nancy could tell that she'd gotten her hair done since Auntie G's funeral. "Let's hope the rain holds out. Oh, Biff is very excited that he gets to be a character in your and Laura's book series, how is the writing coming along?"
Nancy saw no reason to believe that Margaret would open up to her immediately or answer random intrusive questions. They'd have to build a rapport, possibly for several weeks. So they began to talk about every topic except for the topic that Nancy wanted to talk about. Nancy also wanted to have one open and honest conversation with Mary Hooper, so she asked about possible ways to volunteer with the youth group. Margaret told her that Catholic Youth Ministry met every Tuesday at 6:00, year-round, and that they welcomed all the help that they could get.
The cookout was a mile away at a local park, so almost everyone had opted to walk rather than search for downtown parking. The clouds darkened, the humidity rose, and Nancy suspected that it would have been quite buggy if the wind weren't coming in from the bay. Suddenly a strong whiff of barbecue came their way. Others close by sniffed the air in anticipation, yet Nancy doubled over, her hand on her painfully contracting abdomen. She gasped for air; if her stomach weren't already empty, she would have vomited again. She smelled it again and her stomach protested even more strenuously, and Nancy found herself almost running down a side street, desperately trying to escape from the aroma, Margaret Hooper calling after her.
Nancy stopped a block away, tall buildings shielding her, and retched bile. She broke out in a sweat, attempting to even her breathing, and held on to the side of a building for balance. Were all pregnant women this sensitive to smells? Finally she stood up and saw Margaret standing beside her with a look of infinite compassion. Tears came to Nancy's eyes, she felt so frustrated; how could she build a rapport with Margaret now?
"So you have panic attacks too," Margaret said softly. "It really can get better, Nancy."
Nancy tried to process this misinterpretation, but Margaret had her arms open, and Nancy very much needed some human compassion. Nancy walked into her arms and allowed herself to be held.
A few moments later Nancy took some ragged, deep breaths, and knew that this was the critical juncture. She only needed to speak with Margaret as a fellow human being who had suffered. "It feels like there's no hope. How did you get better from from panic attacks?"
"When my bastard husband died," Margaret answered simply.
"When I heard that your ex-husband had died…I wasn't sure whether to offer you condolences or congratulations," Nancy said, and pulled out of the embrace to check Margaret's reaction.
"Congratulations would be more appropriate," Margaret said, clasping Nancy's hands. But Margaret didn't look entirely relieved and carefree; she looked like a woman who continued to be haunted, but was slowly recovering.
Nancy smiled. "You're safe now. I'm so happy that your family is finally safe."
"That sadistic man hurt me in the worst way that a woman can possibly be hurt," Margaret said. Her voice shook with anger and passion. "Funny enough, the entire time I was married to him, I never had a panic attack. My first one came right after he left. Never knowing when was going to come back and torment us." A troubled look crossed her face as she began to re-enter the past. "I understand the cycle of violence now, how I stayed with him because the good times were so good, plus I believed I deserved the treatment. But when I found out I was pregnant with a girl—no. He left Biff alone because he was a boy. But he would have treated a daughter the same way he treated me. And I finally got the courage to hide with a family member, and I left him a note on the kitchen counter, telling him I was having a girl—trash, to him—and I was finally choosing the kids and getting a lawyer. He read the note and left Bayport."
"You're one of the bravest people I've ever met," Nancy commented, and meant it.
Margaret's expression suddenly cleared. "I just made this all about myself, didn't I? I'm sorry, Nancy. All this to say, there is hope. Sometimes we can be brave, sometimes we can win against evil, the anxiety and panic can get better. I'll walk you back."
Margaret taught her various grounding techniques on the way back to the Hardys' residence. Nancy didn't have the heart to bring the topic of conversation back to the Hoopers' years-long abuse, and didn't think the response would be good even if she tried.
Nancy entered the house and heard the familiar clacking sound of typing. She stopped in the bathroom to make sure there was no lingering evidence of her morning sickness, and then went to the back porch. "I decided not to go to the cookout," she said to Laura. "I'll get my laptop and join you."
"Leave the laptop for now. Come sit." Laura took off her glasses and patted the seat next to her on the porch swing.
Nancy tried to brace herself for whatever talk was coming. She crossed the porch and sat down warily.
"Fenton cracked his case this morning. He called me from the police station. He'll spend the rest of the afternoon submitting evidence and his statement." Laura didn't wait for expressions of congratulations. "He asked me a few days ago if I thought you might be bulimic."
Nancy's heart sank. She couldn't expect to hide her pregnancy from Fenton much longer.
"I assured him that I didn't think you were." Laura assessed her. "How much longer are you expecting to keep this a secret?"
"Til I start showing," Nancy mumbled, and felt ridiculous. "I'm trying to make a decision by early October. But it's not fair to you and him, to have a pregnant woman here. You didn't sign up for that. I'll find another place to live."
Laura waved away the suggestion. "Why haven't you told your family and friends in River Heights? Fenton and I would be happy to drive you back, and we can return to our old habit of writing together on Zoom. You're afraid they'll be that judgmental?"
"No." Nancy looked away. "It's because, if I decide to terminate…I don't want people asking me about it, checking on me."
"You wouldn't want anyone to ever mention the baby, so it would be like the baby never happened."
Nancy winced but didn't deny it. She was very grateful that Laura had respected her privacy regarding who the father was.
Laura took her hand. "I wish you'd let your loved ones help you through this. But I'm constantly telling myself that I can't make your decisions for you. Any decisions, including spending this next month trying to convince you to have this baby." Laura let a moment of silence pass. "Our writing sessions haven't been productive lately. Would you like to tell our publisher that we'd be happy to revisit writing the Hardy Boys at a later date?"
Nancy's eyes widened. "But you've said that the publishing industry almost never gives second chances."
"It's a long shot, I'll admit. But the Hardy Boys series is not going to be the reason why—" Laura didn't finish the sentence. "Under normal circumstances, Fenton and I would rent a cabin in the mountains now. It's something we do when he's between cases and I'm facing crunch time with publishing deadlines. I get a lot more writing done when I'm up there, and he—he stays busy with nature walks, bird watching, things like that."
Nancy was supremely grateful for a moment of levity, and fought to keep a straight face. She highly suspected that there were ways Fenton inspired his wife's creative muse that had nothing to do with nature walks or bird watching.
"If he and I get out of the city for a few weeks, get rid of all distractions, I can do the lion's share of the writing for our project." Laura appeared thoughtful. "If the Hardy Boys series takes off, that would be a wonderful and lucrative opportunity for a young mom. Working from home, whichever hours you want, no babysitter required. Or, if the series doesn't work out, we could start working on a new Nancy Drew book. Although our publishers were pretty adamant that they only want one Nancy Drew book a year unless sales go up. But I don't feel good about leaving a pregnant woman here by herself, even though the doctor said everything was normal."
"Oh, I feel fine," Nancy lied, feeling relieved. "I'm only two months along. A few weeks, by myself, to make my decision without pressure, would be the kindest gift you could give me. And I'll check in with you, and Frank's less than a mile away." And Nancy continued to reinforce her hosts' decision at dinner that night.
Three days later, Nancy waved goodbye to Laura and Fenton, promising to check in regularly and email all completed chapters. Then she made herself grilled cheese and a cup of tomato soup for lunch, good comfort food to prepare for a long, hard day of writing.
She sat down with her food at the kitchen table and opened her laptop. Then she covered her mouth and ran to the bathroom.