Sybil pulled her shirt up several inches to examine her stomach in the mirror. Those who didn’t know she was pregnant wouldn’t think twice about the small bulge if they even noticed it. She curved her arm and held it in front of her, imagined what she’d look like six months from now.

A terrified shiver shot through her. What did she know about babies and raising children? Very little. She couldn’t keep this child. Her head screamed adoption, but her heart whispered keep. It wasn’t fair to this baby growing inside of her to be stuck with a clueless mom. The little one deserved better.

Three weeks later when her doctor confirmed her pregnancy, Sybil still tried to wrap her mind around it. Life had changed forever. Even if she gave up the child, she’d always wonder how he or she was. And if she kept the baby? Whew. She collapsed on the bed. Raising a child on her own overwhelmed her too much to think about.

She dreaded her appointment tomorrow. Her blood pressure had been high for the first time in her life at her initial checkup. Subsequently, she had to go in weekly for monitoring. At this rate, she’d run out of sick days by the third trimester and have to use her personal days and vacation time for all her appointments.

Her phone vibrated, and she checked the text message then frowned. Liz backed out of going with her tomorrow because she “had better things to do.” Go figure. Why did I even bother asking her? Her so-called best friend had avoided her since the birthday celebration that Sybil had to leave. Was Liz mad about that or weirded out by the pregnancy? Who knew with her.

At least the morning sickness didn’t bother her much anymore. She’d lost five pounds in two weeks, but after that, she’d felt much better. The biggest issue she faced now was a smell aversion to random scents. She never knew what would set it off, but the nausea rarely turned into vomiting now, for which she was grateful.

Reluctantly, she left the sanctuary of her bedroom and went to find food to eat for dinner. Her phone vibrated again. Though tempted to ignore it, lest it was Liz with another snarky reply, she snuck a glance at the screen, relieved to see the message came from Rysa.

—Any plans for tonight?

A hot bath and a big bowl of ice cream. She rolled her eyes at herself then sent a reply. —Not really. Why?

—The new Greek place opened this week, and I hear they have a killer souvlaki. Want to go?

Did she want to? Not really, but Rysa was the only friend from the group that hadn’t treated her differently since she’d told them about the pregnancy. She didn’t want to risk alienating her. Maybe she could compromise?

—Do they offer carry-out?

—I think so. If you’re too tired to go, I don’t mind bringing it to you.

Sybil burst into tears. Hormones had already turned her into an emotional wreck at times, and Rysa wouldn’t understand how much her kindness meant. —That would be great. I’ll pay you back when you get here.

—No worries. See you in an hour-ish.

A smile stretched Sybil’s lips, something that hadn’t happened too often lately. She went to her room and changed into a comfortable pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, then pulled her hair into a messy bun. She slipped her feet into a pair of bunny slippers Jayla had given her as a gag gift for Christmas last year, but the joke was on Jayla. Turned out, the slippers felt like heaven, even if they looked ridiculous. But unlike with the rest of her friends, Sybil didn’t have to be her best at all times around Rysa, who didn’t care what she wore or how she dressed or if a hair was out of place.

The freedom of imperfection made spending time with Rysa more enjoyable than with her other friends. The last several weeks had opened Sybil’s eyes to their true personalities and caused hours of introspection about her choice of friends. She rubbed her stomach. Maybe I’m growing up a little right along with you, huh, baby?

She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face to liven her body, then used a dab of makeup remover to clear the smudged mascara from under her eyes. She clucked her tongue when she looked at her reflection. Not perfect by any means, but presentable.

Her house was a mess, a result of her increased tiredness. She performed a quick run-through, gathering empty cups to put in the sink, then collecting miscellaneous papers and pieces of mail and stacking them in a pile to sort through later. She closed the blinds and curtains to keep the sun from peeking in and shining a light on the layers of dust on her furniture.

This weekend, she’d get her house in order once and for all. With the sickness gone and no work on Saturdays and Sundays, surely, she’d be able to muster the energy to catch up on the housework and her laundry. One more day wouldn’t matter.

Sitting in her recliner, taking a break until Rysa showed up, she flipped through a book about what to expect while pregnant. She’d picked it up from the used bookstore after the second doctor’s appointment when she’d started to come out of denial. Last night was the first time she’d read beyond the back cover.

She read three pages before setting the book aside and pressing a palm to her stomach. “Don’t worry, baby. I can’t keep you, but I’ll do everything in my power to bring you into this world safely.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. Love for this tiny fetus, no bigger than a peach at this stage, overcame her, but she didn’t know what to do with it. She’d never experienced a love like it. Had she ever experienced love at all?

For all she’d done wrong in life, she vowed to get this right. Her baby would be born and handed over in love to a family who knew how to love.

As she stood to get a tissue from the bathroom, the doorbell rang.

“It’s me,” she heard Rysa call from outside.

Sybil used her shirt as a substitute tissue and wiped her eyes as she walked to the door. “Coming.”

When she opened the door, Rysa held up a brown paper bag. “If it tastes as good as it smells, they deserve every glowing review on Yelp they’ve gotten.”

“It does smell great. Thank you.” Emotion got the better of her, and unbidden tears sprung again.

“Uh oh.” Rysa entered the house and pressed a hand to Sybil’s back, guiding her to the table, and then set down the bag. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s silly.”

“If it’s making you cry, it’s not silly.” Rysa pulled a napkin from the bag and handed it to her.

Sybil sniffled, wiped her eyes, then sniffled again. “It feels like the others have written me off, but you’ve gone out of her way to be kind.”

“That’s what friends do.” Rysa wrapped her in a hug. “The others are sowing their oats, and I think your pregnancy has them freaked out and thinking about the consequences of their lifestyle. They’ll come around, and if not, that’s their problem.” She let go of her, backed up a step, and winked. “Between you and me, I’m not sure it would be that big of a loss.”

She broke out in a dry smile. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“They aren’t bad people—they just have to mature in their own time.” Rysa shrugged. “Most of them. at least.”

“Why are you different?”

“I know what it’s like to need a friend.” Shadows darkened Rysa’s eyes, but in a split second her eyes returned to their clover green hue. She smiled and pulled multiple containers from the bag. “And you, my friend, are in need. Let’s eat while it’s still warm.”

The battle not to cry again was a hard-fought win. “What did you get?”

“Two of the souvlaki platters that come with a Greek salad and hummus.” Opening a box, Rysa waved it in front of Sybil. “And this is fried kibbe. I’ve never had it, but the lady in front of me said it was a must-try.”

“I’m so hungry.” She grabbed two water bottles from the refrigerator and returned to the pub-style table. “I’ve eaten so much this week, I think I’ve made up for those two weeks I couldn’t.”

“You’re eating for two now, it’s allowed.” Rysa rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell my boss I said that. He’ll give you a lecture on the exact number of extra calories you should be eating.”

Sybil’s laugh bounced off the walls. “I wish your office took my insurance. I’d much rather have you as my nurse than that fuddy-duddy at Dr. Foster’s office.”

“You’re not the only one who’s said that, but Dr. Foster is a fantastic OB. My boss refers some of his high-risk patients to him.”

“That’s good to know.” She stepped up on the chair rung and took a seat. “I have another appointment tomorrow to check my blood pressure.”

“What time?” Rysa stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork. “I have off and can come with you, if you’d like.”

“Eleven. You’d do that? Liz was supposed to come, but she backed out.” She pursed her lips, tamping down the annoyance. “I know I could do it on my own, but…”

“Hey, I understand. We all need someone. Even Moses needed Aaron and Hur to help him win a battle.”

“Huh? Who are Moses and Aaron?”

“No one. Don’t worry about it.” Rysa’s countenance changed, as though a brick wall had been erected to shield off any further questions.

The behavior struck Sybil as odd and uncharacteristic for Rysa. Whoever Moses and Aaron were, they must have brought grief to her life at some point. Sybil let it go and nibbled at the rice underneath the chicken. She’d start with the bland flavor first to test out her stomach. “You don’t have to come.”

Rysa’s normal, happy, disposition returned. “I don’t mind. Besides, I like to spy on other doctors and see how they run their offices.”

Her response brought Sybil a hearty chuckle. “And what would you do with that information? You’ve told me a hundred times at least that Dr. Mel is set in his ways.”

“He is.” Rysa grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”

Sybil forked a piece of chicken, put it in her mouth. Her taste buds awakened and savored the seasoned poultry. “This is fantastic. Make me a promise that you won’t let me eat it every day.”

“All right, but only if you don’t let me have one of these every day.” Rysa followed her statement by dipping the fried kibbe in tzatziki sauce and taking another bite.

“It’s a deal.” She finished the meal, feeling lighter than she had in weeks despite her full stomach.

For a short time, her emotional baggage had disappeared, and she’d been able to relax. Even pregnancy thoughts had disappeared.

“One last treat.” Rysa pulled a final box from the bag she’d set aside.

Sybil’s eyes widened, and she glanced her stomach. “I can’t eat another bite.”

“That’s okay.” Rysa’s eyes twinkled. “We’ll just have to sit and chat until you’re ready to enjoy coffee and baklava.”

She clutched a hand to her chest in an exaggerated movement. “It will be a hardship, but I’ll try my best.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Rysa grinned and angled her head toward the living room. “Want to move over there?”

“Dear goodness, yes.” Her cheeks warmed when her reply came out more emphatic than she’d meant. “I’m barely into this pregnancy and have already decided the recliner is my favorite spot other than the bed. I like my dining room set, but let’s face it, wooden chairs don’t scream comfort the way a recliner does.”

“I hear you. My table rarely gets used unless I have guests, and even that’s questionable.” Rysa stood and gathered their trash. “Do you want me to save any of yours?”

“All that’s left is a few bites of rice. Not enough to make a meal or side out of.” She pushed back from the table then went to the kitchen. “I’ll put the coffee on now. Do you mind decaf?”

“Fine with me.”

Several minutes later, they sat in the living room with their mugs of coffee. Sybil stretched out her legs on the opened footrest of the recliner, and Rysa sat on the worn, gingham sofa, leaning on the armrest.

Rysa sipped on her coffee, then set the mug on the end table. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” The answer rolled off her tongue with little thought. Years of giving the expected reply had conditioned her to offer automated responses.

“Hey. This is me. You can tell the truth.”

She exhaled and adjusted her position in the seat. “The truth? I don’t know.”

“Let me guess. You’re scared, doubting your ability to care for a child, torn about your choices, and probably feeling guilty and ashamed. All of which combines to make you feel completely and utterly lost.”

“That about sums it up.” A derisive snort escaped, then she arched a brow. “How did you know?”

“I’ve been there.”

Sybil’s eyes widened before she brought her reaction under control. “What do you mean? When?”

“In college.” Rysa fidgeted, twirled her thumbs. “I’ll tell you my story, but I’d like it to remain between us.”

“My lips are sealed.” She made a zipping motion over her mouth.

“My freshman year of college, I got pregnant by a guy I thought loved me.” Sighing, Rysa wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. Whenever I think how dumb and naïve I was, I get worked up.”

She offered a sympathetic smile that didn’t reach its fullest capacity. “We’ve all been there.”

“When I told him about the baby, he gave me an ultimatum—him or the baby.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I know, but at the time, I wasn’t thinking straight. We argued for weeks until I finally bought into the lies he fed me.” Rysa jumped from the sofa. “Excuse me a minute.”

Rysa ran into the bathroom, leaving a trail of tears and reverberations of her sobs.

When she hadn’t returned in five minutes, Sybil followed her path to the bathroom and knocked on the door. A familiar scene from three weeks ago, but with reversed roles. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” Rysa opened the door with a tissue in hand. “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be helping you, not bringing you down.”

“You’re not. In fact, it’s refreshing to have someone be real for once.” She reached behind Rysa and grabbed the box of tissues. “Something tells me we’ll need more of these before the night’s over.”

Sniffles turned into giggles, and Rysa wiped her eyes again. “Smart thinking.”

Back in the living room, Rysa continued her story. “I’d decided to give my baby up for adoption, but that wasn’t good enough for Erich, my boyfriend. He insisted on an abortion.”

“He sounds like a jerk.”

“He was, but I didn’t realize it until too late.” Rysa paused. “I aborted my baby, Sybil. All to keep a man who I found out three months later was married.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her heart ached for Rysa, and no words seemed adequate.

“Me, too. It’s haunted me for years.” Biting down on her lip, Rysa remained quiet for several seconds. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it, but if I can help one person to make better choices than I did, or even be the support I never had, then I will.”

“I’m giving the baby up for adoption,” she blurted out. Saying it out loud knocked the breath from her lungs. Telling someone made it real.

Rysa folded her hands in her lap, her reaction unreadable. “Is that a final decision?”

“I think.” She rubbed her temples. “I want the best for him or her.”

“You don’t think you can be that?”

Sybil shook her head, sadness seeping into her. “I’m only now realizing how messed up and scarred I am. I’m in no condition to be a mom, let alone a good one.”

“I can understand that.” Rysa grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it. “What does the father think?”

“He doesn’t know.”

Rysa gasped. “When are you going to tell him?”

“I’m not.” Even as she said it, her conscience berated her.

“We’re friends, right?”

Sybil nodded.

“Then know I say this out of love, but you have to tell the dad.” Rysa’s eyes bore into hers, imploring her to come clean.

The intensity of Rysa’s stare made Sybil squirm. “If I’m giving up my baby, I don’t see the point of disrupting his life.”

“He has a right to know.” Rysa cleared her throat. “Can I ask who he is?”

Sybil hesitated. She hadn’t told anyone, hadn’t wanted to risk it getting back to him. But she could trust Rysa. Instinct told her so. “Jared Scott.”

“The Marine who lives down the street?”

“Yes.”

Rysa emitted a low whistle. “With both of your genes combined, that will be one gorgeous baby.”

A sad smile curled Sybil’s lips. “Especially if it takes after him, but I won’t be around to see.”

“Lots of moms raise babies on their own.” Leaning forward, Rysa tossed the pillow aside and laid a hand on Sybil’s arm. “You can do this, and I’ll help any way I can. And Jared might want to be involved. You won’t know unless you tell him.”

She shook her head. “My mind is made up, and it’s because I already love the baby that I’m making this choice.”

“Whatever you decide, know I’ll be there for you.”

“I appreciate that. More than you know.” Her gaze drifted to the edge of the room, and she stared blankly at the latte colored walls. “I told my mom last week.”

“How did that go?”

Sharp pains drilled a hole through her heart. “As well as can be expected for my mom. At first, she laughed because I followed in her footsteps but commended me for—unlike when she had me—at least knowing who the father is without a paternity test. She said don’t be expecting her to be called granny or anything of the sort and don’t ask for financial help because Tommy Joe just left her and wiped out her bank account.” She laughed harshly. “Knowing Mom, she probably didn’t have more than twenty dollars in there for him to take. I can’t feel bad even if there was more because she’s done her fair share of that to men over the years.”

“I’m sorry.” Rysa sat upright and reached for the pillow again. “My parents weren’t supportive either. Dad was a deacon in the church and mom held several positions. When they found out I was pregnant, they made me promise not to breathe a word, but people found out anyway. Then when I had my abortion, they disowned me for ‘murdering my child’ as they put it.”

Chills pricked Sybil. Maybe her mom had been right about church people. “That’s terrible.”

Rysa shrugged, but her eyes betrayed the indifference of her gesture. “No pain they inflicted on me could be worse than living with what I’d done. I’m glad you’re not considering abortion. No one warned me about the emotional aftermath.”

“If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here.” Despite the serious nature of their conversation, Sybil smiled. For the first time she could remember, she had a friendship that went beyond the surface. Opening herself to that vulnerability scared her, yet she found solace in the possibility.

“I know.”

“You really think I should tell Jared?” Though she knew the answer, she wanted confirmation. Rather, she needed someone to prod her to the difficult task.

“If you were in his place, wouldn’t you want to know?”

The rapid beating of her heart gave her the answer.