Maybe It’s Fate

Prologue

At seventeen, you thought you had your entire world figured out.

Your parents were wrong about everything, and the boy you were in love with—the one everyone had warned you about—was the love of your life.

Deep down, a part of you knew he was going to hurt you, destroy your faith in men, in the world.

But you didn’t care because, at that moment, he was your whole world, and he’d told you there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you.

Except stick around when the line on the stick turned pink or blue or appeared twice. And while you were happy because a baby meant you’d be with him forever, he had other ideas.

As did your parents. They were deeply religious and didn’t understand why you’d insisted on disobeying them. Why would you throw your life away for a boy who didn’t care about anyone but himself?

I love him, Daddy.

Love wasn’t enough. At least not to him.

Love meant something else to him, and as long as everything was just the two of you, there weren’t any issues.

Three of you became a problem.

I lay back and stared at the blue sky. I tried to imagine the clouds forming those shapes everyone saw when they gazed upward, but all I saw were mounds of cotton balls floating off to someplace better than where we were.

My best friend, Antonia, lay beside me, her hand in mine, staring at the same sky, the same clouds, the same nothingness.

“Maybe I should do what my parents want and give the baby up for adoption.” Instinctively, my hand covered my lower abdomen, where my little pea nestled.

“I can go with you, if you want to speak to someone about it.”

Antonia had always been by my side since we were three.

Although I didn’t remember us at three, four, or five, I did remember us starting kindergarten together.

Our teachers called us “inseparable busybodies,” and they wanted us in different classes.

The joke was on them. The powers that be, thanks to Antonia’s aunt being the registrar at school, put us in the same class every single year.

It wasn’t until junior high that we had different classes.

Different likes.

Always best friends.

“What if I keep her?”

“Is it a girl?”

I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I guess it could be a boy.”

“Or twins.”

I groaned at the thought and covered my face as a fresh wave of tears began to fall. “What have I done?”

Antonia let go of my hand and propped herself up on her elbow. “Nothing that any of our classmates haven’t done. We’re graduating soon, Miriam. Things will be okay. You can still go to college if you want.”

I did want to, but I knew my parents wouldn’t foot the bill if I had this baby. I’d heard about some programs, though. The government gave a lot of financial aid to single moms, and I could take out a school loan.

“If I keep this baby, we won’t be able to go to school together.” Going away to a big school like the University of Arizona had been our dream. Now it was just Antonia’s unless I made the right decision. Or the wrong decision. It was hard to know which decision fell into the right category.

“If you keep this baby, you’ll be a mom, Miri.”

“I know.” My words were barely above a whisper. Being a mom was something I’d always said I’d do. Sure, I wanted a career, but I wanted children too. I just never thought I’d be a mom at eighteen.

“When do you have to decide?”

Without asking, I knew what she meant. I supposed when you were early in your pregnancy, everything was on the table.

“Soon.” I already knew I wouldn’t be able to do it, to follow through with ending my pregnancy.

The father—the boy—I had considered the love of my life didn’t want anything to do with me or his child.

He’d walked out on me, saying he had bigger dreams and aspirations than working some nine-to-five job so he could buy diapers and formula.

This was news to me, since he’d already dropped out of high school and had a part-time gig at the auto shop.

Antonia lay back down, scooching closer to me. We tilted our heads toward one another, both sighing.

“Maybe my parents can help?”

She had the best parents. Renzo and Carmela Bernardi were kind and gentle, and they let Antonia and her siblings, Rocco and Isabella, do anything they wanted, as long as they obeyed the law.

“Renzo would hunt . . . him . . . down.” I couldn’t even bring myself to say his name. Anyone who walked out on their pregnant girlfriend didn’t deserve a name.

“He would.” Antonia squeezed my hand. “So would Rocco.”

The thought of her family helping me this way brought more tears to my eyes. Why couldn’t my parents feel the same way?

“If I don’t do what my parents want, they’re going to ask me to leave. They won’t tolerate me showing up at church with a protruding belly and no band on my finger.”

“You don’t want to marry him, Miri.”

I coughed out a strangled sob. “You know, when I saw the lines on the test, I thought he’d get down on his knee and ask me to marry him. The moment was so vivid in my mind. Him sweeping me off my feet, twirling me around, and telling me how much he loved me. How we were going to be a family.”

“Just because he didn’t, doesn’t mean someone won’t. He wasn’t the one for you, Miriam.”

“I wish I’d listened to everyone.”

“This is one of those hindsight moments. We can’t change what happened because, if you want to get technical, I encouraged you to date him. I saw how your eyes sparkled when he came near. He’s hot, but unfortunately, he knows it and uses it to his advantage.”

“Don’t I know it.”

I lost track of how long we lay there, watching the clouds move overhead, letting time pass us by, the tall grass tickling us with each gust of wind.

I was content because nothing mattered here.

Antonia would never judge me for my decisions, and she was the only person to have vowed her unconditional support.

She must’ve sensed I needed a little reassurance, because she reached for my hand. “Are you getting hungry?”

My shoulder lifted in a weak attempt at a half shrug. “Do you think eating for two is a real thing?”

“We learned about cravings in health class, remember?”

I nodded. “I wish we’d learned more about the consequences of the bad-boy attraction and sex.”

Antonia laughed. I knew it was in good fun, and not mocking. “The teachers would never. Parents would throw a fit. Can you imagine what the school board meeting would be like?”

I laughed with her. She was right. “My mother would’ve lost it, demanding to know why her daughter had learned how to put on a condom.” I covered my face with my hand. “If only.”

“It’s not just your responsibility.” Antonia’s voice was soft, kind. She was right. I was not the only one to blame. “Things happen.”

“Things?” I turned to look at her, only to find her staring at me.

Antonia shrugged as best she could while being prone. “I didn’t want to call the baby an accident, because if you decide to keep him or her, then they definitely weren’t an accident, ya know?”

I wanted to hug her and strangle her at the same time. Why did she have to say things to make me question my already-questioning mind?

“If I keep this baby, will you still be my friend?”

“Always and forever, Miri.”

“And if something ever happens to me, you’ll take care of them for me?”

Antonia nodded.

“Do you promise?”

“With my whole heart, Miriam. I’ll treat your son or daughter like they’re my family. I’ll be Auntie Toni.” She smiled brightly. “Besides, nothing will ever happen. We’re going to grow old together. Remember?”

“Yes, spinsters. The two of us sitting on a porch in our creaking rocking chairs, yelling at the teens racing down the dirt road.”

Antonia chuckled. “Why do we live on a dirt road?”

I gave her another half shrug. “Because we bought and restored an old farmhouse.”

“We did?”

I nodded. “We have chickens for fresh eggs every morning, and a goat because they like to eat grass, and we wouldn’t have to mow.”

“No cats, though, because I’m allergic.”

“Barn cats are a must because they keep the mice away.”

Antonia shuddered. “Our home sounds magical.”

“It will be because we’ll be together.” I held up our clasped hands. “Best friends forever.”

“The future spinsters of America.”

We both laughed until our sides hurt, and then everything turned serious again.

“I’m scared.”

“I know you are. Let’s go talk to my mom, Miri. She’ll help you.”

“Okay.”

Antonia drove her Ford Escort at a snail’s pace, telling me I had precious cargo, and she wasn’t going to be the one at fault if we got into an accident. As much as I appreciated her efforts, I wanted to go to her house and get this over with.

I wasn’t afraid of what Carmela would say. I was afraid of the look she’d give me. It didn’t matter how hard someone tried; you couldn’t mask initial disappointment. Even though I wasn’t her daughter, I’d grown up in her home, and she treated me like I was.

There wasn’t a parent alive who would be excited to hear that their son or daughter was having a child at seventeen. Well, I’d be eighteen when the baby came, which I guess made me an adult.

We pulled up in front of the two-story colonial. My heart jumped into my throat when I saw Renzo and Rocco throwing a football out front, while Carmela was on the front step, watching her husband and son.

To me, Antonia’s family was perfect. They never fought, they were always laughing, and they genuinely seemed to love each other. It was the kind of family I wanted and strived for. Carmela was the kind of mother I wanted to be.

Antonia got out of her car and met me at the passenger side. We walked together up the pathway, until we reached her mom.

“Hey, girls. Did you enjoy your outing?”

Antonia nodded. “Mama, can we go inside and talk?”

Carmela looked from her daughter to me, and as soon as I diverted my eyes, she knew I could feel the disappointment coursing between us.

“Come on. I just took some cookies out of the oven.”

We followed her into the house, taking off our shoes as we entered.

The Bernardis had mauve carpet in every room, with a white-and-floral-patterned couch.

Rarely would I ever sit on it, out of fear I’d spill my drink or something.

Antonia and I would always put pillows on the floor when we watched TV with her family.

To the right, after you entered the home, was the dining room.

Their family table was large, seating up to eight people.

The thinly crocheted tablecloth that draped over it had been made by Antonia’s great-grandmother back in Italy.

If you sat at the table, you moved the tablecloth. That was the rule.

Off the dining room was the kitchen and breakfast nook. Carmela motioned for us to go sit. We did and then waited.

Antonia reached for my hand under the table. She held it tightly. I fought back the onslaught of tears waiting to spill over. Carmela came to the table with a tray of cookies and three glasses of milk.

She pulled her chair out and sat, the silence among the three of us palpable.

“Did you girls do something illegal?”

“No, Mama.”

Carmela nodded and looked directly at me. Her hand covered mine. “Are you in . . .” She didn’t finish before I started nodding. She was up and out of her chair, and I was in her arms before the tears spilled over.

“I’m scared.”

She cradled me. Unlike my mother, who’d told me to get out of her sight. Maybe the difference was because I wasn’t Carmela’s daughter. I probably wouldn’t ever know.

It felt like an eternity before she let me go. When I sat down again and looked at Antonia, I saw that she’d been crying as well, but she managed to give me a smile.

“Do your parents know?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I imagine they aren’t happy.”

“No, ma’am.”

Carmela nodded.

“Do you need a place to stay?”

I nodded, unable to find the words.

“Do you need to see a doctor?”

Again, another nod.

“Very well. I’m going to go see your mom and let her know you’re here. And then we’ll figure everything else out.” She placed her hand on mine and squeezed it reassuringly. “No matter which road you choose, it’s going to be hard.”

“I know.”

We sat for another moment until she cleared her throat. “Let’s eat these cookies before the guys come in. We need the pick-me-up more than they do.”

For the first time since I’d taken and failed the only test that would ever matter, I felt like things would be okay.