The Choice (14 page)

“I don't want to make it worse for you,” Sandy said.

“Part of me feels pain,” Angelica said, her face emotionless. “Part of me feels dead. Neither one is your fault.”

The girls sat at the table and drank tea in silence.

“Are you hungry?” Sandy asked.

“A little bit.”

“Would you like some popcorn?”

Angelica nodded her head.

“I love popcorn.”

The popcorn made a happy sound as it tapped against the lid of a large pot on the stove. In a separate saucepan, Sandy melted butter. Angelica sat at the kitchen table and watched. When the popcorn was ready, Sandy divided it equally between two bowls and sprinkled it with butter and salt. Angelica took a bite and closed her eyes.

“This is good,” she said.

Later, when Sandy lay in bed, she thought about Ricardo's betrayal. The same thing so easily could have happened to her. The baby inside her moved, and Sandy tried to shift into a more comfortable position.

As she lay on her side, Sandy prayed that someday Angelica would meet a good man who would treat her with the love and kindness she deserved—and that her sweet, dark-haired friend would have as many healthy, happy babies as she wanted.

TEN

T
he following morning Sandy took Angelica to her apartment before going to school.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Sandy asked. “I need to rest. I was bleeding some last night, but it is better this morning.”

Sandy reluctantly watched her friend climb the steps to the apartment and wave good-bye.

That afternoon when Linda came in from the airport, Sandy told her what had happened to Angelica.

“After I picked her up, I brought her here,” Sandy said. “I hope it was okay that she spent the night.”

“Certainly. Did the baby's father really leave town?”

“I'm going to phone Angelica later and find out. What he did was horrible.”

“Men are the bane of women.” Linda shook her head. “I'm happy I realized the truth.”

“What truth?”

“That a woman can have a full and satisfying life without a husband in the picture. It was hard when I was younger and all my friends were getting married, but now I don't have any regrets. A lot of them are divorced and single with extra layers of pain to deal with.” Linda paused. “Of course, singleness isn't for everyone. I tried to talk your mother out of marrying your father, but I'm glad she did. Otherwise, we wouldn't have you.”

“You tried to talk her out of marrying my father?” Sandy asked in surprise.

“You've never heard that story?”

“No.”

“When your mother asked me what I thought about your father, I had to give her an honest opinion, didn't I? Bob Lincoln's greatest ambition was to peddle life insurance policies to his buddies in Rutland and eat lunch at the country club. Your mother is one of the most gifted people I know. She could have landed a job with an interior design firm in Atlanta, Dallas, maybe even New York. Your granny had reservations about your father too, but she wouldn't say anything. That's not the way I'm wired. I have to be true to myself and those I care about. Anyway, once your mother went ahead with her plans, I determined to make the best of it. But your father never forgave me. Haven't you noticed how he feels about me?”

“Yes, but I didn't know why.” Sandy remembered the book of photos from her parents' wedding. Linda, her blond hair cropped short and wearing dark-framed glasses, was her mother's maid of honor. “You were smiling in the wedding pictures.”

“Because I'd said my piece. I've been willing to move on, but your father has been stuck in the same spot for twenty years.”

Sandy sighed. “I liked it better when I was a little girl who didn't know what was going on.”

“What's really sad is that age doesn't necessarily bring maturity.”

Sandy kept trying to reach Angelica, but no one answered. Four phone calls, spaced about an hour apart, were fruitless. At 9:00 p.m., Sandy went to the study where Linda was working.

“No one is answering the phone at Angelica's apartment, and I'm getting worried. What if the bleeding came back worse than before?”

Linda pushed the chair away from the typewriter and took off her glasses.

“What do you want to do? Go over there?”

“I don't know. If someone was home, I'd think they would answer the phone. We could call the police, but what are we going to tell them? If Ricardo has done something else to her—” Sandy stopped, trying not to fear the worst.

“Put on your jacket,” Linda said.

They took Sandy's car.

“It's a second-floor unit,” Sandy said as she turned into the apartment complex.

Sandy didn't see Ricardo's blue car. She parked in front of the apartment building. No lights shone from the windows.

“Nobody's home,” Sandy said.

“We've come this far,” Linda replied. “I'm going to knock on the door.”

Sandy wrapped her arms around herself against the chill as they walked up the single flight of steps to a metal door painted forest green. Sandy put her ear to the door for a second and heard nothing. Linda rapped the door sharply. They waited. She knocked again. Nothing. Sandy raised her hand and pounded the door with the side of her fist. There was no response.

“If someone is in there, they're not going to answer,” Linda said. “First thing tomorrow, I'll call the manager of the complex and see if I can find out something. It may be a dead end.”

Sandy didn't like the sound of Linda's last words.

Before eating breakfast the following morning, Sandy called the apartment again. The phone rang and rang. Just as she was about to hang up, a female voice with a Spanish accent answered.

“Capitola?” Sandy asked.

“Yes.”

“It's Sandy Lincoln. Where is Angelica? I've been worried sick about her.”

“On her way home to Monterrey. I took her to the airport last night and put her on a plane to Mexico City.”

Sandy breathed a sigh of relief. Then the realization that Angelica was gone hit her.

“Is she coming back? I'd hate for her to drop out of school. We're near the end of the semester.”

“No, her parents are going to send her to her old high school. After that she'll probably go to the Tec de Monterrey. It's one of the best universities in the country.”

“She's good in science,” Sandy said.

“Yes, and she told me what you did for her while I was gone. Thank you for your courage in picking her up when she'd been abandoned. Her father knows about your kindness.”

Sandy had seen a photo of Angelica's father, an unsmiling man wearing a dark-blue business suit.

“Is Ricardo gone?” she asked.

“I haven't seen or heard from him. He didn't come to work and hasn't answered the phone at his apartment.”

“I was worried he might have caused more trouble.”

“He's a coward. Maybe someday Angelica can forget what happened here.”

“Will you let her know I called and send me her address so I can write?”

“Yes, you were like a sister to her.”

Sandy didn't trust herself to say anything else without crying. She hung up the phone as Linda came into the kitchen.

“That's a relief,” Linda said when Sandy told her about the conversation. “But I know you'll miss her.”

“Yeah, now I'm really going to have to learn how to be alone at school.”

Several days later Sandy had an appointment with Dr. Berman, her ob-gyn. While sitting in the waiting room, she flipped through a magazine and found an article about a mother of twin boys. Sandy stared at the picture of the woman, a blonde like herself, who lived with her husband in Ohio. The boys were fraternal twins. As she read the story, Sandy rested her hand on her ever-growing abdomen. That morning at breakfast Linda had interrogated her about her food intake. Sandy defended herself.

“You know the meals in the cafeteria at school are terrible, and I'm not snacking in the afternoon”—Sandy paused—“except for the bag of chocolate-chip cookies I keep in the bottom drawer of my dresser. But that bag has lasted four days and the one before it even longer.”

“No need to hide anything; however, ask Dr. Berman about your weight. And I think you should probably drink milk with your cookies. Vitamin D is important.”

Taking the magazine with her when she was called for her appointment, Sandy stepped onto a scale in a centrally located hallway. The nurse pushed the weights to the right, readjusted the one on the bottom lever, and tapped the one on top a few more times until it balanced. Sandy didn't look at the result. After a nurse checked her vital signs, Sandy was left alone in an examination room. She continued to read the article about the twin boys who had distinct differences as well as close similarities. Dr. Berman entered the room.

The ob-gyn was a short Jewish woman with curly dark hair. She sat down, crossed her legs, and started talking while reviewing Sandy's chart.

“No more morning sickness?”

“Not for several weeks.”

“Taking your vitamins?”

“Yes.”

“All your vitals and blood work from your previous visit are good.” The doctor flipped back a page, then returned to Sandy's current status. “Let's talk about your diet.”

Sandy answered all the doctor's questions about her caloric intake.

“The baby's father is a football player,” Sandy offered at one point. “He plays wide receiver.”

“That might make your baby fast but not necessarily large.” The doctor stood up. “Normally, I don't do a physical exam on this visit, but let's take a look.”

Sandy watched the doctor's face as she measured and examined. Nothing about the physician's expression revealed any concern.

“You're a small-framed woman carrying a fast-developing baby,” Dr. Berman said when she finished.

Sandy sat up on the edge of the examination table.

“I was reading an article about twins. Is there a chance I might be carrying two babies?”