Red Lily

made certain the boxes were buried at the bottom of her bag and well hidden. But she’d taken two steps into the house when David appeared like some magic genie.
    “Hi, sugar, want a hand with that?”
    “No.” She gripped the bag to her chest like a cache of gold. “No,” she repeated more calmly. “I’m just going to take these things up. And I have to pee, if that’s all the same to you.”
    “It is. I often have to pee myself.”
    Knowing her tone had been nasty, she rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m sorry. I’m in a mood.”
    “Something else I often have.” He pulled an open tube of Life Savers from his pocket, thumbed out a cherry circle. “Open up.”
    She smiled, obeyed.

    “Let’s see if that sweetens your mood,” he said as he popped the candy into her mouth. “Can’t help worrying about you, honey.”
    “I know. If I’m not back down in fifteen minutes, you can call out the cavalry. Deal?”
    “Deal.”
    She hurried up, then dumped the contents of the bag on her bed—for God’s sake, she’d forgotten the diapers. Cursing, she snatched both pregnancy tests and bolted to the bathroom.
    For a moment she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to pee. Wouldn’t that just be her luck? She ordered herself to calm down, took several long breaths. Added a prayer.
    Moments later, with the sweetness of cherry candy still on her tongue, she was staring at the stick with PREGNANT reading clear as day in its window.
    “No.” She gripped the stick, shook it as if it were a thermometer and the action would drop things back down to normal. “No, no, no, no! What is this? What are you?” She looked down at herself, rapped a fist lightly below her navel. “Some kind of sperm magnet?”
    Undone, she sat on the toilet lid, buried her face in her hands.
    T HOUGH SHE MIGHT have preferred to crawl into the cabinet under the sink, curl up in the dark, and stay there for the next nine months, she didn’t have much time to indulge in a pity fest. She washed her face, slapping on cold water to eradicate the signs of her bathroom crying jag.
    “Yeah, crying’s going to make a difference,” she berated herself. “That’ll do the trick, all right. It’ll change everything so when you look at that stupid test again the damn stick will read: Why no, Hayley, you’re not pregnant.You just needed to sit on the toilet and bawl for ten minutes. Idiot.”
    She sniffled back what felt like another flood of tears and faced herself in the mirror. “You played, now you pay. Deal with it.”
    A quick makeup session helped. The sunglasses she grabbed out of her purse helped more.
    She buried the home pregnancy test boxes in the bottom of her underwear drawer, jumpy as a drug addict hiding his stash.
    When she went out, David was already halfway up the stairs.
    “I was about to get my bugle.”
    She stared at him. “What?”
    “To call the cavalry, honey. You were longer than fifteen.”
    “Sorry. I got . . . Sorry.”
    He started to smile and brush it off, then shook his head. “Nope, not going to pretend I don’t know you’ve been crying. What’s the matter?”
    “I can’t.” Even on those two words her voice shook, broke. “I’m going to be late for work.”
    “Somehow the world will keep turning. What you’re going to do is sit right down here in my office.” Taking her hand, he tugged until she sat on the steps with him. “And tell Uncle David your troubles.”
    “I don’t have troubles. I’m in trouble.” She didn’t mean to tell him, to tell anyone. Not until she had time to think, to deal. To bury her head in the sand for a few days. But he draped an arm around her shoulders to hug her, and the words leaped out of her mouth.
    “I’m pregnant.”
    “Oh.” His hand stroked up and down her arm. “Well, that’s something my secret horde of super chocolate truffles won’t fix.”

    She turned her head, pressed her face to his shoulder. “I’m like some sort of fertility bomb, David. What am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do?”
    “What’s right for you. You’re sure now?”
    Sniffling, she boosted her butt off the steps, tugged the stick out of her pocket. “What’s that say in there?”
    “Mmm. The eagle has landed.” Gently, he caught her chin in his hand, lifted her face. “How are you feeling?”
    “Sick, scared. Stupid! So damn stupid. We used protection, David. It’s not like we were a couple of lust-crazed teenagers in the back of a Chevy. I think