I started writing this about a year ago. The manuscript is complete, and I’m currently working on getting it published. If you’d like to learn more about Eden’s Gate, visit my website at www.francesca-rogers.com Enjoy!
Apex, Texas
Twelve Years Ago
They were all scared. It wasn’t the reaction she expected when she finally spoke up.
In the middle of a room full of grown-ups who normally expected her to be silent, her words hung in the air like the echoes of a thunderclap. Heather fidgeted, unsure of herself in Mrs. Smith’s perfectly decorated living room as that woman stared at her. Diamonds winked from the older woman’s earlobes, wrist, and fingers, while her pretty dress looked new and well-tailored. Mr. Smith was an important lawyer in town, and she wore his prosperity with ease. The difference between her and Heather’s own parents was stark, as Reverend Davis and his wife were well-mended and plain in the extreme.
Heather felt her face turn bright red under Mr. Smith’s scrutiny. Her mind raced with all of the things he must be seeing about her now as his eyes roamed up and down her body, his expression almost hungry. She braced herself for what he would finally say, but Mrs. Smith’s reaction was the one that shocked her.
“Are you sure it’s Brian’s?”
It set off an argument between both sets of parents, but all Heather could do was stare at Brian. He refused to meet her eye, and huddled into his mother’s side. How could he leave her alone in the middle of his parents’ living room like this?
The bickering grew so loud that Heather wanted to squeeze her palms against her ears. She had to bite back a scream when Mr. Smith silenced them all by slamming a check down on the coffee table between them. No one had noticed him go to his desk.
“Enough.” He said in his best courtroom voice. “Melody, a DNA test would only confirm what’s all over our son’s face right now, and Heather doesn’t have a reputation as a slut. Yet.” He turned to Heather then, his face and demeanor all serious and stern. “As for you, young lady, I hear you’re one of the smartest girls in the whole school. Now, you don’t want to throw your life away, and cause the rest of us a lot of undue embarrassment. A baby is a lifetime commitment, and none of us needs to pay for your mistake.”
Brian had told her that his father wanted to run for mayor in the next election; a grandchild out of wedlock would certainly be embarrassing.
“You think I should give it up for adoption,” she said, feeling relief for the first time in the twenty-four hours since the doctor had delivered his news. She’d been thinking along the same lines. A nice family in a nearby town would be ideal, so maybe she could make sure the baby grew up okay. Mr. Smith was a lawyer, so he must have some clients or a connection to a nice family looking to adopt a baby.
“Not exactly.” He placed a card on top of the check. It was for a motel in the next town, and a room number was written in the corner. “You don’t want to have this baby, Heather. It will ruin your future.” After a moment, he added, “It will ruin your body. They’ll know how to take care of you here. It’ll be easy, you take some pills, and then you won’t be in trouble anymore.” He tapped the card and looked at her expectantly.
Her father stood up, but seemed incapable of either speech or action. Her mother sat still on the sofa, her head down, her hands balled into tight fists. It took Heather a moment to understand what Mr. Smith meant, and when she did, she stared at her parents in disbelief.
“But we protest outside that clinic in Arlington,” Heather insisted, hearing the desperation in her own voice. “It’s wrong to kill babies. Mama, you told me.”
“Heather, you still have a chance at a normal life here,” Mr. Smith said when her mother didn’t reply. “No one at your school knows, and nor will they.” He looked sharply at his son who merely shrunk more into his mother’s side. “Look at what happened to Dana Whitaker when she came home from college pregnant. Do you want people to stare at you like that? For them to think you’re an easy girl?”
But they were already staring at her like that.
Heather took one last look at Brian. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, he just hugged his mother while she whispered over and over, “Daddy’s taking care of it. Everything will be fine.”
She forced herself to meet the eyes of every other person in the room. They all looked at her as if her life was over. There would be no more opportunities or adventures; she’d committed the hideous sin of having sex and getting pregnant and now there was nothing left but to resign herself to a life she would never willingly choose. A normal life, as Mr. Smith called it.
She vowed then and there to crawl through a fiery pit of broken glass before she resigned herself to anything these people would call a normal life.
When she looked at the coffee table again, the check was gone. Her mother was folding it slowly and putting it in her purse, her head hung in embarrassment. Was it for taking the money, or for raising a wanton child? Heather felt a fresh burst of anger, but she made herself choke it down until it settled in her stomach; an angry outburst would do nothing but confirm what they thought they knew about her.
She saw them all so clearly in those few moments: her weak boyfriend and his horrified yet indulgent parents, the reverend who would preach an absolute ideal, yet turn his back when reality tried to muddy his words, and her mother…It hurt too much to think about her mother.
Hot tears threatened to spill out of Heather’s eyes, but she refused to cry, she refused to let them think that she believed as they did, that her life was over and there was nothing left for her to do with it anymore.
“You look like you have something to say, Heather.” Mr. Smith said, disapproval all but dripping from his voice. “Care to tell us what you’re thinking?”
All eyes fell on her. She should have felt the shame of what she had done, but she couldn’t. In fact, she felt nothing. She realized for the first time that she was free of their opinions, and she felt lighter in her heart for it.
Instead of the polite denial she’d been raised to give such questions, she said coldly, “You’ve bought my abortion, not my thoughts.”