Screwed. Part 14

"All those longing glances? I can practically see the little hearts floating over your head."

Thinking back to the early days of her relations.h.i.+p with Abraham, Helen sighed. That feeling was probably the thing she missed most about being young. If her heart started to pound at her age, she would be more likely to think she was having a heart attack than falling in love. But she would give anything to experience that again, even for just a moment.

"Are you mad at me?" If Helen disapproved, Charlie wasn't sure what he would do. As much as he cared about Grace, it would break his heart to disappoint his aunt.

"Why would I be angry?" Helen asked.

"Well, she's not Jewish, she's pregnant, her parents have disowned her - the girl has a few issues." Although on paper Grace was radioactive, Charlie was transfixed by the real, live girl.

"That she does, but she's a wonderful person, and I firmly believe that a person should not be judged for any single act, and certainly not for the acts of her parents. Grace is much more than a young girl who's gotten herself into trouble. Besides, you can't control what your heart feels, can you?" Helen ruffled Charlie's hair.

She didn't have a problem with her nephew falling in love with a semi-homeless, pregnant s.h.i.+ksa, but she wasn't so sure his parents would be so open-minded. Having seen the worst of human nature during the war, Helen wasn't one to get bogged down in the minutiae of religious differences and social convention. Life was short, and such prejudices were nothing more than a waste of precious time. But not many people, thank goodness, had witnessed h.e.l.l on earth, and therefore few people possessed Helen's clarity. As much as she regretted having gotten caught up in the horrors of the war, her childhood literally up in smoke courtesy of the n.a.z.is, it did have one major benefit: it allowed her to view the world completely without preconception or intolerance.

"I can't. And it's not just like; I think I love her." Charlie hadn't meant to say that out loud, but if anyone would understand, it was Helen.

"Have you told her that?" Helen asked "Of course not. I kissed her, though, and I think that scared her, so I'm kind of in a holding pattern until the baby comes."

"Probably a good idea to take things slow. She has about as much as she can handle right now."

"Besides, how do I even know I'm really in love with her, or is it just that I think she's beautiful and I'm caught up in all her drama?" Charlie desperately wanted to sort out his feelings, and as bizarre as it was to be talking about his love life with his eighty-year-old great-aunt, she understood him better than anyone else.

"You've never felt like this about a girl before?" Helen was quite enjoying this conversation. That Charlie felt close enough to her to confide his most deeply felt emotions thrilled her beyond measure, and she wanted to offer him the support and guidance he deserved. But as it had been so many years since she'd felt those first pangs of falling in love - all the confusion and insecurities - she wondered if she had the expertise needed for the job.

"Never. I can't stop thinking about her." Images of Grace in yards of white silk and himself in a tuxedo, dancing on his aunt's terrace, tiny lights s.h.i.+mmering in all the trees, floated through his mind on a nearly daily basis. He knew it was beyond abnormal for a guy to daydream about his wedding day, especially with a pregnant girl he'd only known for six months, but he couldn't help himself.

Trying to remember how she had felt more than half a century earlier, Helen said, "Well, at your age that could just be hormones. If you're attracted to her, it could be easy to confuse s.e.x and love."

When Abe had proposed, exactly fourteen days after they'd met, Helen wondered how he could have fallen in love with her that quickly. At that point she didn't even know what that kind of love felt like. Perhaps he just wanted to go to bed with her, and in those days nice girls didn't give it up until their wedding night, which didn't leave h.o.r.n.y, well-bred young men with too many options. Although she soon realized that he loved her body and soul, it wasn't so clear at the beginning.

Charlie blushed. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But it wasn't like he could talk to his guy friends about having the hots for a girl who was having some other guy's baby. "I've been physically attracted to girls before, but this is totally different. It's not just the way she looks; it's all of me needing to be with her. I'm already missing her, thinking about her going to a different college."

"You've got it bad, kiddo. But I can't fault you for falling in love with her. I love her, too - it's as if she's the granddaughter I was supposed to have. I guess she's just our type." What an adorable couple they would make, and what beautiful babies they would have someday, Helen thought.

"What about Mom and Dad? They're not like you, Aunt Helen. They're going to be furious when they hear about her." Charlie paused. "You haven't told my parents, have you?"

"Just the vaguest details. But I didn't spill the beans about you having feelings for Grace. That's your job to tell them, if and when you want to." Charlie was almost eighteen. He could manage his own business. But if it ever came to that, Helen would do everything in her power to convince Charlie's parents that Grace was worthy of Charlie's, and their, love.

"Do you think Grace might love me back?" Charlie asked. Although he knew she liked him, seemed to be as attracted to him as he was to her, he wasn't sure she had the capacity to fall in love, at least for the time being.

"I think so, even if she doesn't know it yet. Just be there for her, in whatever way she needs you. When all the noise in her life goes away, you'll be holding her hand, and she'll see all of you. At that moment, how could she not fall in love with you?" Helen pinched Charlie's cheek and smiled mischievously at him.

"Thank you for listening, Aunt Helen. How did you get so good at this? You would have made a great mother."

"That's the highest compliment you could have paid me. I love you, dear boy, and I'm so glad you came to stay with me. I'm having the most wonderful time."

"Goodnight, Aunt Helen."

"Goodnight, sweetie. And don't worry so much. Lord knows, it won't change anything." Helen clicked on the television. "I'm just going to watch a little Masterpiece Theatre before I go up. Sleep tight."

Staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Charlie debated with himself. You owe her an apology. It can wait until morning. But what if she's upset? You just want to see her without a bra on, you pervert. He knocked gently on Grace's door. Not sure what he was going to say, he knew that he couldn't go to sleep without talking to her.

"Come in."

Grace was already in bed, reading a book. In a pale pink nightgown, with her dark hair lying in swirls on the white pillowcase, Charlie thought she looked like an angel. He had never seen her look more beautiful.

"I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I shouldn't have said anything. Of course I can't begin to imagine what you've been going through at school." Charlie took a step into Grace's room, wanting more than anything to crawl into bed with her and wondering how he could make that happen.

"It's nothing. And you're right, I shouldn't let people I don't even care about make important decisions for me, but I'm just so tired." Grace sighed and put her book on the nightstand.

"I'll let you go to sleep," Charlie said.

"No, please don't go. Do you want to sit with me for a while?" Patting the bed next to her, Grace nodded. "Would you read to me?"

"Of course." Charlie gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up Grace's book. "Mansfield Park?"

"It's the only Jane Austen I haven't read yet. You look like you're about to fall off. Come over here. Get comfortable," Grace said, propping a pillow against the headboard next to her.

Charlie stretched out next to Grace. "Okay, here goes." He hadn't read out loud to anyone since the third grade. When he came to the end of the chapter, he looked over at Grace to see if she was asleep. "Do you want me to stop?"

"If you want," Grace said, and yawned.

"You need your rest. Goodnight, Grace."

Leaning over, Charlie intended to kiss Grace's cheek, but she turned her head at just the right moment, and his mouth met hers. Knowing he should pull away, that they had agreed to wait until after the baby was born to try this again, Charlie was unable to stop. And when Grace made that sweet little meowing sound and opened her mouth to his, he let himself go. Her body was rounder and riper than it had been that first time, and his hands were desperate to explore. With one hand tangled in her hair, Charlie let his other hand slip inside Grace's nightgown. He knew what he was doing was wrong, was probably illegal in some countries, but he kept going, kissing his way down her neck, not stopping until his tongue was teasing her nipples. Grace moaned in his ear. He was nearly ready to come just from the sounds she was making.

"Grace," he breathed. "I ...."

Charlie's voice snapped Grace back to reality, and she pushed him away. "Charlie, we can't."

She could hardly catch her breath, and from the neck down, the last thing she wanted to do was stop, but in her heart she knew they would both regret carrying this to its logical conclusion. It was not the right time, no matter how incredible it felt.

Jerking upright and leaping off the bed, as if it had metamorphosed into a red-hot stove, Charlie turned away from Grace so that she wouldn't see his hard-on, which hadn't yet gotten the message that storytime was over. "I'm so sorry. Please, Grace, you have to forgive me. I didn't come in here to do that. I swear."

"I know that, Charlie. You didn't do anything wrong. I was right there with you," Grace said, pulling the sheet up to her neck, the tingle of Charlie's mouth on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s lingering like a delicious phantom pain. Still unable to believe that he could look at her, let alone touch her, in her puffed up state, she wanted to laugh out loud. The most perfect boy in the world wanted her, bloated body and all. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. I promised not to bother you, and then I attacked you." His hands splayed ineffectively over his crotch, Charlie couldn't shut off the movie of their too-brief love scene that was already replaying in his head.

"Stop." Grace felt hot all over, and her heart continued to pound. "Go to bed, Charlie."

"But ...."

Grace had to giggle at Charlie's obvious distress. "Go take care of yourself. I'll see you in the morning." She blew him a kiss and turned off the light.

CHAPTER 20.

When Grace awoke from a dream in which she had peed in her pants in front of the entire student body of Silver Lake High School, she realized that while she was not standing in front of a thousand howling teenagers, she was still soaking wet. On top of all the other humiliations she had suffered in the last nine months, now she could add bedwetting to the list. But as she floated up through layers of sleep, she realized that it was the first of April, and the doctor had told her that her water could break at any time. Thank goodness. But if her water had broken, that meant she was in labor. Molly was on the way. Grace tried to stay calm, reminding herself that this was perfectly natural, exactly what was supposed to happen. Her efforts to soothe herself failing, Grace looked at the bedside clock: 3:45 A.M.

She tiptoed into Helen's room and stood by the bed, staring down at the tiny sleeping form, still wondering whether this could wait until a more civilized hour - she had already inconvenienced Helen in so many ways - when her belly seized up in a single enormous contraction. "Argh!" As hard as she'd tried to control it, the groan slipped out between her gritted teeth.

Helen sat up straight and looked around. "Sweetie, what's wrong? Are you in labor?" Having mentally prepared herself for this precise moment for weeks, she felt like a rookie fireman hearing the alarm bell, about to slide down the pole on the way to her first real fire. It was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. But she knew she needed to put on a calm front for Grace, make her feel like everything was under control. Throwing back the blankets, Helen leaped to her feet, ready for duty. In antic.i.p.ation of just such a middle-of-the-night emergency, she had been sleeping in a sweatsuit for the last two weeks, so she wouldn't have to waste precious time getting dressed and could focus all of her attention on getting Grace to the hospital. Aware that she didn't move as quickly as she used to, Helen didn't want to risk Grace giving birth in the car because an old lady's arthritic fingers took forever to b.u.t.ton her s.h.i.+rt.

"I think my water broke. Either I'm in labor, or something's really wrong. Helen, I'm scared," Grace whimpered, tears streaming down her face, more from fear than from pain.

"You're going to be just fine, my darling. Remember what Dr. Weston said. Everybody gets through it. And I'll be with you all the way."

Soothed by Helen's rea.s.suring words, Grace rallied. "Okay, my suitcase is downstairs. I guess we should go."

Helen grabbed her cell phone and dialed the doctor's answering service as she took Grace's hand and led her back to her room. "You're drenched, dear. First let's get you into some dry clothes, and then we'll go."

Five minutes later they were in the car on the way to the hospital. "How are you feeling now?" Helen drove with one hand on the wheel and the other one stroking Grace's arm. "Don't forget to breathe."

"It still hurts a lot, but not as bad as before," Grace said, not sure she was going to be able to make it through without drugs.

"Were we supposed to be timing the contractions?" asked Helen. There were so many details to remember, and she had left her little notepad on her nightstand. Now she would have to wing it.

"Probably."

"It doesn't really matter. The book said that if your water breaks you should go to the hospital. We'll let them figure everything out. That's what doctors are for." As they pulled up in front of the emergency room, an orderly magically appeared with a wheelchair. Five-star treatment, for sure, and Helen briefly wondered if everyone got that kind of service, or whether the hospital staff had been put on notice after receiving her donation the previous week. It was a worthy cause, and as Sidney always said, it didn't hurt to grease the wheels.

CHAPTER 21.

"You're six centimeters dilated and nearly eighty percent effaced," said the nurse as she withdrew a gloved hand from under the sheet. "You're more than halfway there. Good job."

As intense as the pain was, like a giant fist clenching and unclenching inside of her, Grace had thus far refused an epidural. Partly because she didn't want Molly exposed to any drugs, and she had heard that a spinal block could slow down her labor. But more than that, Grace viewed each searing contraction as part of her punishment for getting herself into this mess. Experiencing every second of this gut-wrenching agony was exactly what she deserved, and if she managed to get through it without folding, she might be able to forgive herself for her dreadful mistake and move forward with her life.

Helen put down the magazine she had been pretending to read and came over to the bed. "Grace, you don't have to be a hero, you know. Everybody gets an epidural."

"I know, but it's not that bad," Grace said, her voice raspy with the effort. It was more than that bad, and as every hour pa.s.sed there were fewer minutes of relief between the contractions. Her insides felt as if they were twisting themselves into a Gordian knot.

Grace's paler-than-usual skin told Helen that Grace was lying, but she didn't say a word. Whatever Grace's reason for refusing medication, it was none of anyone's business, and before the advent of modern medicine everybody had natural childbirth, so as unpleasant as it appeared to be, it wasn't impossible to endure. Hopefully, if it couldn't be pain-free, at least it would be quick.

"If you change your mind, let me know, and I'll have the anesthesiologist here in one minute, okay?"

"Okay," Grace said, once again grateful for this magical old lady who had rescued her like an abandoned dog found at the side of the road, feeding her and loving her like her own. She wondered if Betsy and Brad knew she was in the hospital.

Once again displaying a flash of clairvoyance, Helen asked, "Do you want me to call your parents and let them know what's happening?"

In fact, Helen had already called the Warrens and left a message on their answering machine informing them that the birth of their granddaughter was imminent. That was three hours earlier, and there hadn't been any response. Apparently time did not heal all wounds. If Grace wanted them, however, Helen would call Sidney and he would have one of his guys kidnap them and drag them to the hospital. Whatever Grace wanted.

"No, I doubt they'd want to be here, and this is hard enough without worrying about what they're thinking," Grace said, grimacing as another contraction stabbed her body. If girls knew how excruciating labor pain was, they would never have s.e.x.

Helen's phone rang, but it was Charlie, not the Warrens. "Helen, is everything okay? I just found your note." When Charlie had woken up that morning, he had found Helen's note (drafted two weeks earlier as part of her baby preparation: Dear Charlie, The big day has arrived. Have taken Grace to the hospital. Love, H), and now he was in the car on the way to the hospital.

"Everything's fine, darling. Grace is doing beautifully. She is so incredibly brave." Helen paused, listening. "I'll ask her. Charlie would love to come and hold your hand, but he understands if you don't want him here."

Grateful that Charlie had the good sense not to just show up, Grace shook her head. "I don't want him to see me like this. Thank him for me, but could he wait until it's over before he comes?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Charlie, I'll call you, okay? I think this is kind of a girls' outing today, you know?"

"I understand. Tell her I love her," Charlie said, disappointed that he wouldn't be there to help her through it, but hopeful that she would want to see him afterward.

"I'll let you tell her yourself, later. I love you, sweet boy. Bye."

When Helen hung up the phone, Grace said, "I don't want to hurt Charlie's feelings. It's just that I don't want him to see me so out of control. He'll never be able to forget this moment, and I don't want a screaming, sweaty, b.l.o.o.d.y blob to be his default image of me."

"Don't be silly, sweetie. He understands perfectly. All Charlie wants is what's best for you. Trust me. He really cares about you." Stopping short of telling Grace the whole truth, Helen was fairly certain that Grace reciprocated Charlie's feelings. They just needed time to work it all out.

"I know, but he thinks I'm this fallen angel or something, like I was this perfect piece of crystal that Nick dropped and now I have a crack, and Charlie feels like it's his job to glue all my pieces back together."

"Charlie does come from a family of fixers. And the only reason he's put you up on a pedestal is because he likes you so much. He just needs to learn that as much as he has enjoyed putting you up there, it's no place for a girl to live."

"That's exactly right. I can't be half as good as he thinks I am."

"You are just the right amount of good, Grace Warren, and Charlie knows that. Men aren't very good with their words, especially in a crisis. But just pay attention to how Charlie behaves, even if he's saying all the wrong things, because his actions will show who he really is." Even though Helen was certain Charlie would get there on his own, she couldn't resist helping things along.

"Do you know absolutely everything, Aunt Helen? Owwww, that hurts so much." Grace squirmed in the bed, but she could hardly move, because she was tethered to so many monitors - her heartbeat, the fetal heartbeat, blood pressure, IV.

"By the time you get to my age, darling, you've had plenty of time to make mistakes and figure things out. I wish you just such an education, my pet."

A knock at the door interrupted their heart-to-heart. "Come in," called Grace, hoping it was the doctor to tell her that Molly was ready to be born and the torture would be over in the next few minutes.

"Hi, ladies," said Janet. "How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess." Determined not to cry, not to appear weak, Grace managed a tight-lipped smile.

"You're almost there. The Millers are in the waiting room, and when the baby leaves the delivery room, your job will be done."

Although she had witnessed literally hundreds of births, Janet was always floored by the guts these children had. Having a baby was stressful for a thirty-year-old woman with a husband and family to hold her hand, but these girls, for the most part, were getting the job done all by themselves. The strength of the human spirit was extraordinary.

Grace nodded. So lost in the pain and worried about how she was going to push something the size of a large chicken out of such a small opening, she had completely forgotten what was going to happen directly afterwards. Still uncertain whether she wanted to see Molly at all, not wanting to forge a bond that would immediately have to be severed, Grace still hadn't decided whether she should hold her daughter before she gave her up forever. Would she just be causing herself more pain if she kissed her h.e.l.lo and goodbye, or would she regret missing that opportunity for the rest of her life? If only there were someone who could tell her what to do.

"I'll see you after," Janet said, and went to sit with Rebecca and Michael in the waiting room.