IV

Nobody's Mother

Joan Redding had gotten a couple more wrinkles, a few more gray hairs in the five years since Beth had seen her last, but she recognized Beth on sight and burst out beaming, and Beth wanted nothing more than to run. "Beth!" The nurse cried. "It is you, isn't it? Look at you! You've got to be downright pretty! What are you doing back here?"

Anxious to turn the attention away from herself as quickly as possible, Beth gestured at Stace. "My friend—"

Joan Redding was a nurse first, and she turned to Stace. "Yes. What's your name, dear?"

"Stacey Paxton," said the same. "I need . . . I need you to run a test. I think I'm pregnant. Four of those convenience store kits say so, anyway. I need to confirm it. And then . . . then I need to decide what the hell to do." If Stace had been knocked up, Beth thought, it was a lie what they said, that pregnant women glowed. Stace looked like glue, white and sweaty, and scared as hell. Beth wondered if her own mother had looked like that when she'd found out she was pregnant.

"Yes, of course. I'm Nurse Redding. I'll just need to take your vitals, and then you'll need to give me a urine sample," said the nurse, switching gears without a hitch. She took Stace's blood pressure, weight, height, asked her age. Stace wouldn't be a teen mom, but she'd just barely missed it. Nurse Redding wrote down all the information, then when Stace went to give her urine sample, she turned back to Beth. "So, how do you two know each other?" she asked.

"She's my neighbor," Beth lied. "Sometimes she and her sister Meg help me watch the little kids when my guardians go out." That part was not a lie. Lies always worked better when there was a little truth mixed in, she'd found.

"Nice of you to come to the clinic with her. How are you doing, sweetheart? Really?" The nurse looked down at her with evaluating eyes, like the social workers, like the school counselors, but the thing was, Beth knew Nurse Redding cared. That made it harder, lying. Also made it necessary.

"Fine. I'm fine, Nurse Redding." It was a clear invitation for the nurse to shut up and butt out, but the nurse persisted.

"I was surprised you never called. I hoped to hear from you, after we met."

Beth folded her arms and wouldn't look at the woman. "Look, you told me about my mom," she said. "I appreciated it." But that was too blatant a lie and wouldn't stand—she'd hated what she'd heard that day, and Nurse Redding knew it—so she corrected herself. "Well. I know it couldn't have been easy, and you were really nice about it. But that's it, okay? You gave me a name to go on the paperwork, but that's as far as we go. Don't act like you know me, lady."

The tomcat routine usually worked with other people. When she puffed up and spat, talked bigger than she was, she'd found most adults wouldn't bother trying to push past the hostility to ask more questions and would go back to minding their own damn business. Trouble was, it hadn't worked on Nurse Redding the first time, either. She'd seen past it then, and she saw past it now.

She searched Beth's face. "What are you into, child?" she asked then. "Why are you ashamed?"

But then Stace came back, and she had to take the urine sample, and take the paperwork back to the lab. Beth was grateful when she left but somehow didn't feel any better. She cursed, and shifted in her seat.

"What's up with the nurse? How do you know her?" Stace asked. She didn't really care. She stared at the wall, and her hands twisted in her lap. Stace had her own problems.

At least Beth could distract her a while. "My mom ran out on me the day I was born and never even named me," she answered. She jerked her head at the door. "That was the woman that did. She told me the short, sad story a few years back, and now she thinks I owe her something, I guess. Didn't know she'd be your nurse. Wouldn't have come if I'd known."

"I like her," Stace said. She looked over at Beth, frowned. "You do too, don't you, Shepard? That's why you didn't want to see her. Why you lied. Neighbors." Stace barked a laugh. "At least it's better than saying you know me from church."

Beth grimaced. "Because the truth would've gone over so well," she retorted. "Anyway, you're one to talk. You don't tell Meg shit about the things you do for the Reds." She gestured at the room, Stace's stomach. "You told her about this yet?"

"No."

"Told Tony?"

Stace shook her head. "You're the only one that knows, Beth," she said. "Might not ever go further. I'm nobody's mother."

Beth hugged her arms around herself. It was nice and warm in the clinic, but the heating and insulation all at once didn't seem near enough to keep out the winter chill. "That's what my mother said, according to Nurse Redding. Will you abort, then?"

Stace stared at the floor. "I don't know," she murmured. "I just . . . it's already a strain, with me and Meg. I can't take care of a baby, too. And it's not like Uncle Dave does shit for us."

"With you looking out for her, Meg could get a job," Beth said. "She would if you asked her. She's smart. It'd be minimum wage, but they'd hire, and it'd help. Tony would help too, if you asked him. Hell, I think he'd marry you now, even without knowing. Take care of you and Meg and the baby. I think he'd've asked already if he thought you'd say yes."

Stace was skeptical. "And what kind of life would that be, Shepard?" she demanded. "I love the bastard, but there's no stability, no security there. The minute either one of us slips up, the second something goes wrong on a job, pfft, that's it. I get shot, or he gets busted and goes to jail for ten years. Plus, he still thinks he's too old for me."

"It is a fifteen-year age gap," Beth pointed out.

"I don't care, and until he doesn't either we're casual," Stace said fiercely. "I won't have him regretting anything, Beth. Not a thing. So this? Whatever happens, it's on me. I was the moron that forgot to take her damn pill."

Beth stared up at her friend. "Say whatever you want, Stace, you'd be a fantastic mother," she said, and she'd never meant anything more in her life. "All the abusive shrews, whiny idiots, and selfish cows in the world that have kids? You'd love that baby to death. You'd take care of him. Or her. No matter what. And that kid would grow up to kick ass."

Stace smiled, just a little, and her freckled, scarred face smoothed so the strong, beautiful, young woman underneath the Reds' top hitter shone out, just for a moment. "It would, wouldn't it?" she whispered. "And God, the kid'd be cute."

"I don't know," Beth teased. "Tony and a ginger? The kid could be pretty weird looking, if you ask me." She nudged Stace's shoulder with her own.

"No. It'd be cute," Stace said, as if that settled the matter. "Beth. If I am pregnant . . . you think I should keep it?" She stared at Beth, and Beth's stomach twisted as she realized Stace Paxton actually wanted her opinion on something so important.

She swallowed. "I think that's up to you," she said at last. "But Stace, if you are—if you decide to carry to term, but give it away, hold the kid before you do. Give it a name, and give the doctors yours, and pass on your medical records. Just, if you give it a chance, one way or the other, make sure it's a real chance."

Stace held her gaze. "Yeah," she promised seriously. "Yeah, I will. But Beth? You do alright. You know that, don't you?"

Beth looked down. "Lied to Nurse Redding though," she replied. She didn't have to say anything else. Stace knew exactly what she meant.

"You never hurt anybody," Stace defended her. "God, you never even rip off anybody unless you're damn sure they deserve it. You think I don't notice, how careful you are not to get in too deep? How hard you work to keep up in school? You're headed places, and you won't let the Reds or anything stop you."

Beth felt her face heat up. "Is it that obvious I'm going to leave?" she asked.

"Only to those of us that know you," Stace reassured her. She snorted. "And you've been careful that doesn't happen much, either. Not that the new guy, Will, wouldn't just love to get to know you better." She jostled Beth back, teasing, but seeing Beth didn't take the bait, too interested in the answer to her question, Stace continued. "I think Lukas knows too, but no one else, and neither of us want to stop you."

Beth squirmed, guilty. She certainly didn't want to stay hip deep in the Tenth Street Reds her entire life, but Stace was her friend, and suddenly, especially here, now, what she planned felt like abandonment. "Stace, I'm—I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Stace told her. "Nothing holding you back. I hope you do get out. Tear up the world for the rest of us, right? For me. I'd be a lousy friend to want to keep you when you have a shot at something better."

"So do you," Beth promised her friend, and she meant it. "It'll be harder for you, Stace, but one way or another, you'll make it. You will. You'll make things good for you and yours, for Meg, and whoever else comes along. You may have to do it differently, but I think you're getting to the place where you might be able to do that."

Stace considered this. "Maybe." She smiled then, reached over, and squeezed Beth's hand. "You're a good friend, Beth. Thanks for coming here with me."

"Yeah," Beth said, as a hand touched the doorknob, signaling the doctor's arrival with news, and counsel, one way or the other.