2. Chapter 1
Raegan - The Present
Six weeks. It’s been six weeks since my life changed. Since my world cracked, right down the middle. I knew it was possible. But I never expected it to happen. Never expected him to actually leave me without a backwards glance. I sit in my car, soaking in the silence after a long day at the café.
I would say it came out of left field, but I’m not in the punny mood. Because my heart is broken. Because my boyfriend is gone. And I don’t even know if I can call him my boyfriend because we haven’t talked since he left.
Ashamedly, I’ve tried only once to contact him. He didn’t answer. Why would he? Not after the fight we had, and not after what we’d done. Instead of facing our problems, instead of talking, making it work… I turned and ran away.
And he left. But he had to. He’d made a commitment to the Atlanta Bottle Caps.
And my home is here, so it’s not like I could follow him nearly seven hundred miles away.
I’m not his wife, so I’d have to find my own place, find a job.
And I'm not ready for that. I like the job I have here.
I like seeing and interacting with people from church, folks around town, my family, and my besties as they all come in for coffee and pastries.
I’ve followed his progress on the team website, and even paid to watch one game. Watched the way he swung the bat perfectly. The way his strong legs ran as fast as they could to earn him an amazing double–a beautiful slide into second.
I’ve done everything that I can to push away thoughts of him. There’s enough guilt and shame and every thought of him takes me back to that night. But the giant pile of guilt and shame in my mind grows, much like a stack of laundry that keeps getting put off.
Should I reach out again? Or would that make me seem desperate and clingy? I’ve been doing my best to stay busy with running the café, and he’s clearly busy as well.
But in those quiet moments while I scrub the dishes, or scoop cookie dough onto the baking sheets… Austin makes his way into my thoughts. I’ve probably tainted a dozen batches of cookies with my salty tears by now.
I’ve tried taking it to God. But there’s a disconnect there as well.
That closeness that I once had–those times that I had no problem taking my cares and concerns and laying them at Jesus’ feet–it’s gone.
And sometimes I think that I’ve ruined that relationship beyond repair just like I have my relationship with Austin.
My stomach rolls. I need to get out of the car. But I’m sort of comfortable sitting here, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger.
My stomach shifts again. Ugh. This has been happening for about two weeks now.
I work long days. I’m on my feet from four in the morning until I finally close the café around two in the afternoon.
I'm cranky. I’m anxious. It has to be the exhaustion from working this hard, and trying to remove Austin from my mind.
I slide from my Jeep and my boots kick up gravel as I make my way to my parents’ ranch house. The squeaky hinges on the screen door are a comforting sound.
“Rae, how are you feeling? Busy day?” Mom asks as I toe off my boots in the foyer. I know if I were to ask she’d have a snack waiting for me, just as if I was a kid returning from a long day of school.
“I’m tired, and just feel… off. I never realized how hard Ms. Rosa worked to run the café.
” I can’t lie to her. We’ve always been close, and she knows everything that has happened with Austin.
I shake my head, hairs from my golden blonde braid wisping across my face.
“I’m sure all the crying I’ve been doing doesn’t help.
” I let my shoulders slump and let out a sigh.
I’d love to fall face first into my bed right now.
Mom studies me and slides a finger down my cheek. I look away, avoiding her all-knowing gaze. I know she’s going to ask or say something serious. “Rae, I hate to ask this, but have you had your period? Since Austin left?”
Silence surrounds us as she waits for me to look at her. I bring my head up sharply. Her words fully sink in. She thinks I might be pregnant. I stare at her like she grew another head. My blue-gray eyes have to be huge, like a dark deep pool with rocks at the bottom.
I can’t breathe. I’m panicking. And my stomach is rolling, again .
I clap a hand to my mouth and make a beeline for the powder room.
Bumping into my mom’s shoulder in my hurry.
As the heaving of my stomach wracks my body, my mind does its own somersaults as I wrap my mind around the possibility of being pregnant.
Not possible. I mean, yes, it is possible.
But… I don’t want it to be possible. I want Austin back. I want our relationship mended.
I walk back out, my head hanging. I already know the answer. I haven’t had my period. Not since that night with Austin. I’ve always been regular. So I know the answer. I just know.
Mom tilts my chin up slowly, forcing my eyes to meet hers. Her eyes are warm. It’s not pity or judgement, it’s motherly concern. I know she loves me no matter what. “Based on the exhaustion, and other symptoms… I think you should probably take a test.”
I slowly nod my head. “Um, yeah, I guess I probably should.” I don’t want to take one. But I need answers. The chances of me not being pregnant are fifty, which means the possibility of me actually being pregnant is also fifty. And the only way to know for sure is to take a test.
I don’t want this. I don’t need another reminder of my mistake.
My socks catch on the worn floor as I pace the hallway.
I already carry the guilt, dragging it behind me like a dirty blanket.
Right now I’m the only one that sees it there.
If I’m pregnant then everyone gets to see it.
I’m only eighteen. How am I supposed to raise a child?
Sure, all I’ve wanted is to be a mom… But in those dreams and longings I’ve always had a husband.
Never had those dreams included being a single mom this young.
It’s not like I have grand plans. I’m not off at college like Chrissy, not chasing my baseball dreams like Austin.
My stomach clenches, and I swallow to force the bile back down.
I’m here, working in a café. And it’s rewarding.
I’ve learned new recipes and new tricks for the kitchen.
Will a baby mess with that? How will I run the café and raise a baby?
Isn’t the guilt enough of a consequence, God?
The broken heart? The broken relationship?
I’m disgusted at how far I’ve fallen from the standards I set–the standards that Austin and I set together.
Maybe Austin didn’t care about the boundaries.
He didn’t seem as hurt over it afterwards as I had.
Maybe that’s why he hasn’t called me back.
He doesn’t feel the guilt and the shame that I feel.
Or maybe I was just a conquest? He got what he wanted, and now he isn’t interested anymore. Maybe he never really loved me.
“I’ll grab a test from the pharmacy so you don’t have to feel embarrassed.” Mom offers with a hug, her eyes crinkle up in the corners, a look of patience and love filling them. But there’s concern and worry in there as well.
I stare down at the test, hopping back and forth from one foot to the other. I know what it will say. Both of my hands are on my necklace, rubbing back and forth over the heart pendant.
The little flashing hourglass mocks me.
You messed up. You messed up big time.
I used to be able to call up scripture when anxiety laid its hands on me. Leaning my shoulder against the wall, I do my best to quiet down my thoughts. Seeing if in this moment God will calm me. Deep breaths, in and out.
Almost as if He were in the room with me, the words come. He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress, My God, in whom I trust!”
I don’t feel His presence like I used to. The peace I long to feel seems just out of reach.
Like a sloth moving, I open my eyes and peer down at the test on the counter.
The word flashes on the screen. PREGNANT
Pressure builds up in my nose, and I’m helpless to stop it. I let the tears fall. Before opening the door I just stand there, my hands shaking. Why God? Why did You let this happen to me?
I turn and slowly open the door. I know Mom is waiting to see what the test says.
I don’t have to show her the test. My face says it all. My bloodshot eyes. Mascara trails down my cheeks.
My tears drip onto her shoulder as she envelops me in a warm and comforting hug. Her unique scent, lilies and fresh baked bread, wraps itself around me as well. I know that this is a shock for her as well. What Christian mom wants her unwed eighteen year old to be pregnant?
She took the news of my mistake with Austin with her trademark calmness. She wrapped me in a hug just like this one. Telling me that it would be okay. That she still loved me no matter what. That God still loved me. That both of them forgave me.
“A baby.” Mom whispers the words on a silent sob.
Oh, God, don’t let this be the thing that breaks her.
My whole body starts to shake and I feel like I need to go sit down. I don’t want to ruin my mom’s life. I don’t want to mar her image at church, or in the community.
Her words pull me from my pity party, “A baby, no matter how they were conceived-” she draws a fortifying breath, “-is a blessing.” She presses a kiss to my head. “Every. Single. Baby. Is a blessing.” I can’t help but bury my face deeper into her shoulder.
“I know, Mom. I know.” This baby is a blessing.
A gift from God. I know it will be a huge responsibility, and if all the lessons I’ve learned over the years are true, God chose me for a reason.
He picked me to be the mother of this baby for a reason.
But why? Why me? How can being an unwed teenage mother be His will for my life, and how could it bring Him glory?
The voice in my head comes roaring back, picking up signs that have the words guilt and shame written on them. Everyone will look down on you. They’ll talk about you behind your back. You’ll be Raegan-the-church-girl-who-messed-up-and-got-pregnant-before-marriage.
I pull back, and look into Mom’s watery eyes.
“I already have so much shame and guilt, Mom. How can I deal with this on top of all that?” Tears blur my vision.
My legs are losing their strength. Mom’s arms hold me up, her hands still stroking my back.
“I don’t know how to do this, Mom. How will I show up at work, go to church?
What will Austin think when he finds out?
What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me once he finds out?
I don’t think I can handle all of this,” I say through heaving sobs.
“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light,” Mom says as she holds me and I fall apart further.
I close my eyes. Why would God want to carry this with me when I’ve disobeyed him? Am I still any use to a Holy God? I’m broken now. I feel almost as if I’m unforgivable.