Chapter 13
Steph
Then
I’m in the middle of my sociology class when it hits me.
The professor has assigned a new project, and I pull up the calendar on my phone to input the due date, which, according to my tracker, should also fall at the beginning of my next cycle.
It sparks a troubling thought, and I scroll anxiously back through the weeks in search of the little icon that indicates my last period.
My stomach lurches—something that’s been happening quite often this week—and I suddenly know.
The woman at the cash register eyes me with concern, no doubt taking in my wild-eyed expression, but she refrains from commenting.
I purchase a pregnancy test—well, three of them—and make immediate use of their restroom.
But I already know what I’m going to find, and three minutes later it’s confirmed.
Pregnant.
The vomiting that ensues, whether from nerves or hormones, I can’t be certain, only serves to emphasize that point.
Eventually, I stop shaking enough to exit the stall and wash up, cupping my hand under the tap to rinse out my mouth.
I leave the tests behind on the counter in my haste to escape my new reality.
The thirty-minute drive back to Llyn Lakes is made in twenty, with my foot heavy on the gas and my mind a chaotic jumble of emotions, the most predominant being fear and uncertainty.
Everything is going to change now.
Continuing past my street, I proceed through town on autopilot, making the familiar turnoff without thought and winding my way up through the trees to the place where I’ve always felt safest.
Even after Riley had begun pulling away last year, I’d still continued to come here. To our special place. To the ridge that borders our county and the next. To the lookout where we’d come so many times to be alone together.
At first, it had helped me to feel closer to him. More recently, after his betrayal, it has just helped to have a quiet place to think. To escape.
I park my car in the small dirt lot overlooking my town and the twin lakes.
My fingers are sore from how tightly I’d been gripping the steering wheel, and it’s an effort to loosen them.
Climbing out, I make my way over and down to an outcropping of flat rock, one that had once hosted afternoon picnics and nighttime stargazing, with Riley and me snuggled together under warm blankets.
I settle there, staring out over the land.
The tall coniferous trees sway slightly in the cool breeze, giving way to more deciduous trees already changing colors as they descend toward the valley below.
The lakes beyond glitter under the noonday sun, and seagulls—tiny specks of white in the distance—swoop and dive around the fishing boats already returned to the marina and unloading their catches.
It’s a beautiful day. And one that I’ll never forget, for better or worse.
With my back to a giant granite boulder, breathing in the crisp fall air, I finally allow myself to cry.
Eight weeks later, Sam and I have both dropped out of school and rented a shabby little two-bedroom cottage on the edge of Llyn Lakes so we can be near my parents when the baby comes.
Sam’s apprenticing with his uncle to be an electrician over in Red Bend, and I’m working the register full-time at Food Junction.
We need the money to support our soon-to-be expanding family.
Our parents had insisted we get married—so we did—at the Llyn Lakes town hall, to little fanfare.
Katie served as my maid of honor, and Sam skipped having a best man altogether.
He’s a confusing mix of resentful and supportive; at once angry that he had to give up college and his dreams of escaping the small-town life, yet excited about the baby and becoming a dad.
It’s so far from the life I thought I’d be living when I imagined this time a year ago, but it’s mine, and I’m going to make the best of it.