Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) (7 page)

We nodded.

I didn’t hold out much hope, but I guessed that was just what they had to do.

He smiled when he wheeled the big machine in and we went through the whole pull back the shirt, goo, wand on the belly thing again.

Mel wouldn’t even look.

But I did. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Dr. Patel grinned at me. It took a moment, then I could see it. The peanut had little arms and legs now.

I swallowed.

It also had a heartbeat.

July 1
st

Scary day. I didn’t feel up to going out, so I was home alone while my parents and Chris went to some stupid work retreat of my dad’s, and I started bleeding. Like a lot.

I freaked out and found myself praying in the bathroom as I cleaned myself up. But what I was praying for, I wasn’t really sure. Do I want this baby? Even if it’s HIS? Was I praying for a miscarriage? For God to save this baby? For it to be Reed’s? God, I feel so guilty still . . . I’ve been so adamant about keeping it, not doing the adoption thing. But for the first time, I saw the light that used to be the old me. I also got my first glimpse of what both of my mothers must have felt. My birth mom, wanting something better for me. My adoptive mom just wanting a child she thought she couldn’t have. Maybe I’ve been too angry for too long for all the wrong reasons.

Maybe I am loved after all.

But, unfortunately, I scared the crap out of Reed. He was awesome, tried to reassure me on the way to the hospital, though I could tell he wasn’t sure. I mean, what was there to say? “So, you hoping for a miscarriage, or not?” God, if he had any idea whose baby this might be, the answer would be obvious.

Reed asked me if I was scared. Uh, that was an understatement. He said he was too, so I broke down and told him the truth. Well, the part about not being sure if I wanted to lose the baby or not. I just couldn’t rip the entire truth from my heart and I feel like a horrible person. I will tell him. Soon.

I feel like a traitor to my own baby. I want it to be alive. Yet, I don’t.

But it is

Fireworks and Waterworks

F
ourth of July snuck up on us. Guess we were still sucked into the drama of our bleeding scare. But, Melissa and I went to the beach that night like we usually did, and curled up on a blanket with our favorite junky snacks and the pounding of the surf behind us, grasping at any sense of normalcy we could. Only this year, we had another, smaller, invisible guest between us, making it impossible.

Mel flopped back with a Twizzler in her mouth. “You think I’m getting bigger yet?” She put her hand to her stomach.

I glanced down. She still looked skinny to me. “No.”

“Hmm . . . my jeans are getting tighter.” She twisted to her side and propped her head on her elbow and stared at me. “Are you still gonna love me when I’m big and fat?”

I started to laugh, but swallowed it when her liquidy brown eyes told me she was serious. Chicks and their weight. I sighed and leaned down next to her, brushing my hand along her cheek. “Mel, you’re not going to get fat. But, even if you did, I’d love you no matter what.”

She blinked as tears filled her eyes. “You promise?”

I kissed her lips and tasted the strawberry licorice. “Yes. I swear.” I put my hand to her still flat belly. “But I really don’t think Peanut here is going to make you fat.”

“Peanut?”

Busted. I shifted and glanced away. “Yeah . . .”

“The baby is
not
a peanut,” she said indignantly.

“Well, it did sorta look like one on that first ultrasound, you gotta admit,” I said.

Her mouth hung open.

“Besides,” I added, “peanuts are kinda cute. Right?”

She shook her head and grabbed another Twizzler. “Peanut,” she mumbled under her breath, seeming to think about it. “Hmmm. Well, I hope
Peanut
has your pretty wavy hair.” She faced me, her eyes serious. “And your dimple.”

I shot her a look. I knew she’d always hated that her hair was so straight. I’d never given much thought to my dimple. “Really?”

She nodded and rested her hand over mine on her belly.

I laid back and gazed up at the stars. At least there still was a peanut. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Mel seemed happy about it again. The doctor told us the bleeding was okay as long as it didn’t get heavy again and she needed to take it easy until she followed up with her doctor next week.

Mel shifted next to me just as the first pop of fireworks exploded above our heads. Beyond our feet, the excited tittering of the other people gathered on the beach carried to us. To our right, Lettie’s cross glowed in the moonlight as the occasional red and blue sparkle from the sky glittered around us.

She glanced over at me, the fire in the sky dancing on her skin. “You think we can love this baby enough?” She blinked and looked away for a moment, guilt washing over her features. “You think
I
can love this baby enough?”

Confusion tied my tongue. How had she just ripped the thoughts from my heart? Wasn’t she supposed to be the one doing the loving for the both of us until I figured this damn thing out? Wasn’t all of this her idea? Where was this coming from?

I glanced up as the show of color continued to explode above us, the booms resounding in my chest, masking the thrumming of my heart. Finally, I looked back at her. “Of course you’ll love the baby, Mel. You’re gonna be a great mom.” I couldn’t promise more than that. It wasn’t fair. How could I love anyone more than I loved her? “You’re going to be the
best
mom. Look at how you stood up to our parents just to keep the baby. Why would you have done that if you didn’t love it already?” I put my other hand to her belly. “And it’s still a peanut. Imagine when it’s a real baby.”

That got a small smile from her. “It’s just . . .”

“Just what?”

Tears filled her eyes, reflecting the kaleidoscope of colors from the sky above. “I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

I scooted over and pulled her close. “Why would you lose me?” Okay, sure, I’d had the fleeting thought of running for the hills, but I’d never leave her. Baby or not. My heart was too fully invested. God, didn’t she realize she was the first girl I’d ever kissed? The only person who knew how much I hated flying—I mean irrationally scared out of my mind of it—and how chicken shit that made me feel. She was the first person I thought about in the morning, the person I wanted to call when I was happy, when I was bummed . . . Melissa Summers had become my everything since I laid eyes on her in that middle school cafeteria. I couldn’t think of one single solitary thing that could make me leave her now. Besides, I had a responsibility to this baby.

She threw her arms around my neck and her tears soaked through my T-shirt. “What if you decided you hated me or the baby? What if . . . ?” She choked on a sob as I squeezed and shushed her.

“It’s okay, Mel. I’m not leaving you, and I could never hate you. Never. Or the baby. How could I?” I stroked her back as the fireworks popped furiously above us in a resounding finale.

It finally grew quiet, the smoke from the show settling down over the water, people around us mumbling and picking up their chairs. I continued to hold her, my eyes straying to a couple holding hands as they strolled, another not holding hands, not touching, obvious tension shimmering between them as they towed a fussy toddler. My heart ached that I couldn’t do more to ease her. “God, Mel, I love you so much,” I whispered, wishing she’d believe me. Wondering why she’d suddenly doubt. We may be in a heap of trouble, but I never wanted to lose the spark that made us. Even at sixteen, I knew it was special.

She finally pulled back and looked up into my eyes. I used the pad of my thumb to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She simply stared for several moments. We said nothing. I let her look. Maybe she’d find whatever reassurance she was seeking. Then, gently, her eyes slipped down to my mouth. I leaned in and kissed her, giving her all the love, all the promises, all the comfort I had.

And all the hope.

July 4
th

It’s the Fourth of July and I got to go out with Reed tonight. Finally! And now that I’ve had a few days to settle, I’m feeling better about this whole baby thing. No more bleeding, my nausea is subsiding, I read some reassuring stuff online about nature vs. nurture, watched A Baby Story on TV. Surprisingly, I’m kinda starting to like the idea.

But, as I laid there next to Reed at the beach, thinking and soaking in all of his sweetness, the guilt slammed into me. Big time. I needed his reassurance, though I don’t deserve it. He told me I’m gonna be a great mom. Even though he’s scared, I can see how hard he’s trying.

I broke down and ugly cried, told him that I’d die if I lost him. I couldn’t help it. But he held me and promised he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d never hate me or the baby. I even made him promise he’d love me no matter what. I want to believe him. I do believe him. It’s just so much more complicated than that . . .

But he made it seem so simple when he wiped my tears away and kissed me.

P.S. He called the baby Peanut. It’s silly, but cute. For more than one reason, I obviously hope Peanut has his hair and dimple. Sigh.

Daddy’s Girl

T
he parents were out to torture us. I was sure of it.

The day after the Fourth, Mel’s folks had a barbeque and invited my family over like it was something we did all the time. Not.

But I was anxious to see Mel after our emotional night on the beach, so I pasted on a smile and went with it, Mom’s potato salad in tow.

Her dad answered the door with a Coors Light in his hand. “Hi, Robert, Samantha.” His eyes seemed to frost a bit. “Reed.” He patted my little sister’s head as we walked in.

My mom went right to work helping her mom in the kitchen, and Izzie tagged along. I lagged behind, looking for Mel. Her brother, Chris, was lounging on the sofa, video game controller in hand. His uncertain gaze raked over me. “Hey.”

Nodding, I searched his face for how he felt about me. Did he hate me? Could he be sympathetic at all, being around our age? Didn’t look like it. “Hey,” I said, wishing I could go back to “perfect kid” status like him. But, then again, Chris was hard to compete with.

“Melissa’s finishing up getting ready,” her dad said, interrupting my thoughts, his hand clasping my shoulder with a squeeze. “Why don’t you and your dad come out back and help me man the grill?”

“Uh, sure.”

I followed them outside through a sliding glass door, onto the large wooden deck after he offered my dad a cold beer. He didn’t offer me anything.

We stood around the smoking pit for a while, our dads talking about their jobs and politics, football season and Chris being on the Varsity team this year. I tried to act interested, but my gaze kept straying to the sliding glass door. Where was Melissa?

“So, Reed,” her dad cut into my thoughts. “How’s the job going?”

I glanced up into his face. He was studying me intently, his eyes narrowed, sweat streaming down his brow. He sipped his beer, waiting for me to answer.

“Good.”

He nodded. “And what are your plans now?”

“Plans?” My voice cracked. I looked to my father for guidance, but he averted his gaze as if the Summers’ backyard was the most interesting place in the world.