Callie

I stared at the drug store test strip with the plus sign clearly visible and felt dizzy, afraid I would faint. I was pregnant.

With all the stress surrounding Mom's death, my monthly cycle had been irregular, but this was different. Call it a woman's silent knowing, but I knew.

I didn't say anything at first. Instead, I made an appointment with a doctor in Louisville who wouldn't know my family or friends. He confirmed the test and put me at about four weeks along. That meant it had probably happened the last time I saw Michael in the barn.

I tried to take Hector out for a ride. I wanted to go to the pasture where Mom and I had been that last time. Maybe there was some remnant of her spirit there that could tell me what to do. As soon as I mounted Hector, though, the symptoms appeared, so I dismounted and walked with him, holding the lead. It was mid-summer and hot. I wished I'd worn lighter clothing. The grasses were tall; bees and cicadas whirred through the deep growth. I unbuttoned the bottom of my blouse and re-tied it below my breasts to let some air reach my midriff, but that let the bugs reach it too, including horseflies that bit the small of my back. I tried mounting Hector again to ride back and made it about ten yards before my world went black.

When I came to, Dad was standing next to me in a small, white-walled room and I could feel something stiff in my arm. I looked down to see an IV needle seated in my vein. Dad was holding my other hand, and he sighed deeply when I smiled at him. I knew he was worried; the creases on his forehead had deepened, but were now relaxing.

"Hi, Dad," I muttered, still trying to get my bearings.

"Well, my girl came back to me," he said, patting my arm.

"Told you, Dad, won't ever leave you."

"I know, Callie, but can't always keep our promises if the good Lord don't see fit. But you're gonna be fine. The doc said he thought the heat was too much for you... and the little one." His voice was even, as though he'd rehearsed his words. "They're givin' you some fluids." He looked to the IV in my arm.

My eyes flashed to his face. How could he know? My heart began racing.

"Now, Callie, you knew you'd have to tell me sooner or later, right? Did ya think I wouldn't notice?"

I couldn't tell by his voice whether he was angry or accepting. Maybe he hadn't thought about it long enough yet to know himself. How could he?

"I was going to tell you, Dad. I've only known a few days myself, and I haven't figured out what I'm going to do."

"You don't mean you might not keep it?" His tone raised in pitch. That wasn't an option in Dad's mind, or mine.

I shook my head. "No, of course not, Dad. But I'm just out of high school and I want to study at the community college. I hadn't figured on this... just haven't had time to sort it all out."

"I'm assuming Michael's the daddy." He said it as a statement, not a question.

I nodded and he looked a little relieved.

"Well, then I guess we're gonna have to have a little talk," he said decidedly and walked to the window, his back to me. How I hated it when he turned his back to me. It was his way, but it always made me feel unimportant and left out. There were flashing lights; I'm guessing an ambulance. He seemed mesmerized, but I knew him well enough to know that he was buying time to think.

"Dad? No, we can't tell Michael. I don't want him to know."

"Why the hell not?" His voice was raised, angry, and I immediately went on the defensive.

"He's got college, Dad. This is my fault. I never meant for it to happen, but then Michael was leaving and I, well, I was feeling left behind and lonely..." My voice trailed off as I heard the hollow excuse behind my own words.

"He's the daddy, Callie. He's got a right to know - and a say in things."

I knew what Dad was getting at. He'd chosen a life of his heart, rather than his wallet, and raising a child wouldn't be cheap. Michael's family had money, lots of it, and Michael had a responsibility, along with me, to take care of the child.

"Dad, you know as well as I do that his family will take over the baby. It would be their first grandchild, Michael's heir. God, there's no way they'd let it go. And they'd make Michael marry me."

Dad turned around to look at me. "Well, and maybe they should." Dad was old-school, and there was a certain way these things were handled.

"We're not like them, Dad. You know that. Sure, they'd offer to pay for an abortion, probably, but I'm not going to let that happen. Everyone in the county would know the daddy, and what would that do for me? Or for the baby? You know what that would be like. They'd force a marriage to save face, whether they wanted me in the family or not. Like as not, in a couple years they'd talk Michael into divorcing me and keeping the child. I won't have it, Dad, I just won't have it."

"You could go stay with your Aunt Margaret," he answered, referring to his sister who lived in Tennessee. "She'd look after you until the baby was born, and that would give you time to decide whether you want to keep it."

"But, Dad, that would mean leaving you. I told you, I'll never leave you."

"It ain't the same, Callie. You ain't leavin' forever, just buyin' yourself a little time to figure out what's right for you, and for the baby."

I was so confused. I hadn't thought this far ahead; I'd been on my way to that pasture hoping for some answers from the angel who was my mom, and maybe this had been the answer God intended. Maybe He'd turned me around to look to my dad for support; someone flesh and blood who could help me.

"Okay, Dad, we'll do it your way. You call Aunt Margaret, but not just yet, okay? It'll be a while before I start showing, and I can hide it. I want to enroll in community college and start classes. No one there will know me. Then, when the time is closer, I'll go down to Aunt Margaret's. But Dad, I want this baby. You won't be mad if I keep it, will you?"

There were long moments as I held my breath for his answer. "No, Callie... I won't be mad. Just want what's best, is all." I heard the resignation in his tone. I was responsible for that. I'd just added to his load, and I swore to myself that I'd not let him carry it for me. It was my responsibility. It was time I grew up.