Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) Page 5
I glanced up as the show of color continued to explode above us, the booms resounding in my chest, masking the thrumming of my heart. Finally, I looked back at her. “Of course you’ll love the baby, Mel. You’re gonna be a great mom.” I couldn’t promise more than that. It wasn’t fair. How could I love anyone more than I loved her? “You’re going to be the best mom. Look at how you stood up to our parents just to keep the baby. Why would you have done that if you didn’t love it already?” I put my other hand to her belly. “And it’s still a peanut. Imagine when it’s a real baby.”
That got a small smile from her. “It’s just . . .”
“Just what?”
Tears filled her eyes, reflecting the kaleidoscope of colors from the sky above. “I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”
I scooted over and pulled her close. “Why would you lose me?” Okay, sure, I’d had the fleeting thought of running for the hills, but I’d never leave her. Baby or not. My heart was too fully invested. God, didn’t she realize she was the first girl I’d ever kissed? The only person who knew how much I hated flying—I mean irrationally scared out of my mind of it—and how chicken shit that made me feel. She was the first person I thought about in the morning, the person I wanted to call when I was happy, when I was bummed . . . Melissa Summers had become my everything since I laid eyes on her in that middle school cafeteria. I couldn’t think of one single solitary thing that could make me leave her now. Besides, I had a responsibility to this baby.
She threw her arms around my neck and her tears soaked through my T-shirt. “What if you decided you hated me or the baby? What if . . . ?” She choked on a sob as I squeezed and shushed her.
“It’s okay, Mel. I’m not leaving you, and I could never hate you. Never. Or the baby. How could I?” I stroked her back as the fireworks popped furiously above us in a resounding finale.
It finally grew quiet, the smoke from the show settling down over the water, people around us mumbling and picking up their chairs. I continued to hold her, my eyes straying to a couple holding hands as they strolled, another not holding hands, not touching, obvious tension shimmering between them as they towed a fussy toddler. My heart ached that I couldn’t do more to ease her. “God, Mel, I love you so much,” I whispered, wishing she’d believe me. Wondering why she’d suddenly doubt. We may be in a heap of trouble, but I never wanted to lose the spark that made us. Even at sixteen, I knew it was special.
She finally pulled back and looked up into my eyes. I used the pad of my thumb to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She simply stared for several moments. We said nothing. I let her look. Maybe she’d find whatever reassurance she was seeking. Then, gently, her eyes slipped down to my mouth. I leaned in and kissed her, giving her all the love, all the promises, all the comfort I had.
And all the hope.
July 4th
It’s the Fourth of July and I got to go out with Reed tonight. Finally! And now that I’ve had a few days to settle, I’m feeling better about this whole baby thing. No more bleeding, my nausea is subsiding, I read some reassuring stuff online about nature vs. nurture, watched A Baby Story on TV. Surprisingly, I’m kinda starting to like the idea.
But, as I laid there next to Reed at the beach, thinking and soaking in all of his sweetness, the guilt slammed into me. Big time. I needed his reassurance, though I don’t deserve it. He told me I’m gonna be a great mom. Even though he’s scared, I can see how hard he’s trying.
I broke down and ugly cried, told him that I’d die if I lost him. I couldn’t help it. But he held me and promised he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d never hate me or the baby. I even made him promise he’d love me no matter what. I want to believe him. I do believe him. It’s just so much more complicated than that . . .
But he made it seem so simple when he wiped my tears away and kissed me.
P.S. He called the baby Peanut. It’s silly, but cute. For more than one reason, I obviously hope Peanut has his hair and dimple. Sigh.
Daddy’s Girl
The parents were out to torture us. I was sure of it.
The day after the Fourth, Mel’s folks had a barbeque and invited my family over like it was something we did all the time. Not.
But I was anxious to see Mel after our emotional night on the beach, so I pasted on a smile and went with it, Mom’s potato salad in tow.
Her dad answered the door with a Coors Light in his hand. “Hi, Robert, Samantha.” His eyes seemed to frost a bit. “Reed.” He patted my little sister’s head as we walked in.
My mom went right to work helping her mom in the kitchen, and Izzie tagged along. I lagged behind, looking for Mel. Her brother, Chris, was lounging on the sofa, video game controller in hand. His uncertain gaze raked over me. “Hey.”
Nodding, I searched his face for how he felt about me. Did he hate me? Could he be sympathetic at all, being around our age? Didn’t look like it. “Hey,” I said, wishing I could go back to “perfect kid” status like him. But, then again, Chris was hard to compete with.
“Melissa’s finishing up getting ready,” her dad said, interrupting my thoughts, his hand clasping my shoulder with a squeeze. “Why don’t you and your dad come out back and help me man the grill?”
“Uh, sure.”
I followed them outside through a sliding glass door, onto the large wooden deck after he offered my dad a cold beer. He didn’t offer me anything.
We stood around the smoking pit for a while, our dads talking about their jobs and politics, football season and Chris being on the Varsity team this year. I tried to act interested, but my gaze kept straying to the sliding glass door. Where was Melissa?
“So, Reed,” her dad cut into my thoughts. “How’s the job going?”
I glanced up into his face. He was studying me intently, his eyes narrowed, sweat streaming down his brow. He sipped his beer, waiting for me to answer.
“Good.”
He nodded. “And what are your plans now?”
“Plans?” My voice cracked. I looked to my father for guidance, but he averted his gaze as if the Summers’ backyard was the most interesting place in the world.
“Yes, Son. Plans? School. Your future.” He tilted his head. “With my daughter and grandchild.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Uh . . .” In a godsend, the back door opened and Mel appeared in a loose pink sundress and made her way to me.
“Hi,” she said, brushing a kiss to my cheek.
“Hi,” I said back with a genuine smile for her. Saved by the bell.
“Well, Son?” her dad interjected.
Maybe not.
“Oh.” My gaze shot back. I felt like a cornered mouse.
“What’s going on?” Mel asked, her hand unconsciously gripping mine in support.
“I was just asking your little boyfriend here how he plans to support you and the baby—”
“Now, wait just a minute,” my dad interrupted.
“Dad!” Melissa shouted at the same time.
“What?” her father demanded, slamming his beer down on the picnic table, sending out a rivulet of white foam. “I think I have a right to know how this is going to be handled.” He turned to my dad. “Don’t you wonder, too? They made a baby, now I wanna know what they’re gonna do to support it. Namely him!” He pointed a shaky finger in my face.
My dad’s mouth fell open. “What about her? It takes two to Tango.”
My gaze snapped to him, shocked. But thankful.
Both of the moms came out about then with Chris and Izzie tagging behind. Mel’s mom rushed over to put a hand on her husband. “You’re absolutely right, Robert.” She turned to my dad, her eyes calm. “This is both of their problem.”
Mel’s father took a deep breath. “Right. I just . . .” He turned sad eyes to Melissa. “She’s my only daughter.”
Mel sucked in a wobbly breath, her eyes clearly conflicted. Izzie tucked herself into my mom’s embrace as Chris studied us all with a detached stare. B
ut I thought I caught a glimpse of something in his eyes . . . something, I’m not sure what. His light eyes seemed to be full of concern, yes, but . . . empathy? Maybe. Then it was gone and I turned my attention back to Mel’s father.
“Uh, sir?”
I waited until his steely gaze was fully focused on me. “To answer your question, I don’t really know how we’re gonna do this. But we’re going to finish school and I’m going to keep working and trying my best. And I love your daughter. I think that’s the best I can do.”
He studied my eyes a moment, flicked a glance to my dad, then nodded once. “All right. Fair enough. Let’s eat.”
“That went well.” Mel giggled up at me, her eyes twinkling in the setting sun.
I glanced behind her toward her house to make sure there were no prying eyes and no bratty sister. “I guess.”
She grabbed my hand as we ducked under the pilings of her carport. “Sorry about my dad.”
I shrugged. “It’s expected, I guess.”
She kicked at a couple of stones and her free hand cupped her belly as she stared down. “I suppose.” She glanced up at me. “Still. It was embarrassing.” Her head dipped and her voice came out whisper soft, “And I feel guilty I haven’t been able to get a job to help.” She met my eyes, hers shining with the twilight. “I have some babysitting money saved and I’ll go back to doing it as soon as I feel better.”
I leaned against her dad’s truck, tugging her in front of me, her back pressed to my chest, and laced our fingers around her stomach. I pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, babe. I’ll take care of it. I don’t want you hurting or sick or bleeding again.”
She sighed and relaxed her head on my chest.
For just a moment, I pretended we were the old us again. Not the pregnant us. Not the us whose parents had to have a barbeque just to get to know each other because they were going to be grandparents. Not the us who were petrified more than we could admit.
Just us.
I let the fantasy last until the front door slammed and my mom hollered for Izzie. The real world beckoned.
Mel lifted her head and stiffened a bit in my arms. She must’ve felt it too.
I dropped my forehead into her mass of hair. “I have to work a lot these next few weeks,” I warned. “Mr. Ross asked me to cover some shifts that we’re short and I could use the extra cash.”
She nodded, spinning in my arms, her eyes full of guilt. “Okay.” Her arms circled my neck. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” I kissed her. “But it’s just a few shifts.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
July 5th
We had Reed and his parents over today for a barbeque. But I knew even before it happened what it really was . . . The Great Inquisition Part II, by my Dad. He’s been priming for it for the past few weeks. I’ve heard him talking to Mom in hushed voices behind closed doors. But occasionally, his voice will raise with things like: “How is a kid like that going to support my daughter? Much less a baby?” Or: “Why couldn’t he have just kept it in his pants?” Or, my personal favorite: “Thank God we don’t have to worry about shit like this with Chris.”
Of course. The wonder brother. Did I ever mention that not only does he look just like my dad—the perfect Ken doll with blond hair and blue eyes, tall, athletic, smart—he’s also named for him? Christopher Maxwell Summers III. He’s nice, popular, thoughtful . . . everything I wish I could be and never will. I’m not genetically mapped for it. I’m wondering, for the millionth time, what I was genetically mapped for . . . what the baby’s genes will be.
But today, my dad was really on a roll, calling Reed out big time, and his father got on the bandwagon. “It takes two to Tango.” Seriously?
What would they say if they knew the truth? Would they hold me, tell me everything was going to be all right? Would they demand to know all the gory details? Would they do anything about it?
No.
I can’t let that happen.
The Temptation and Treachery of Aphrodite
Yeah, well, a few shifts turned into three weeks of working, and I was more than ready for a weekend off. Three weeks of missing my girl. Three weeks of thinking about all that baby stuff, my mom’s on-again, off-again tear-fests, my little sister’s general bratiness, my dad’s accusing eyes, and I was nearly ready for a permanent hiatus.
I only wished I had more time to just be with Mel. Like we used to be. But we did the best we could.
And I guess some of the guys from work were warming up to me because they’d let Mike invite me with them to the bay for some fishing and fun today. And I was more than willing.
“Hey, babe.” I called Mel as I shoved my swim trunks into a duffel bag, along with a clean T-shirt and my iPod. “What’s goin’ on?”
She groaned. “I’m so tired. I’ve been lying around all day.”
I sat and one-handed my sneakers on. “You’re not still feeling sick, are you?”
“No.”
“And the bleeding’s gone, right?”
She yawned. “Yes. I’m just wiped. Peanut’s sucking the life outta me,” she said, adopting my nickname for the baby invader in her belly.
I smiled. “Well, how would you like to lay around on a boat?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going with some guys from work and their girlfriends to the bay. You wanna come with me?” I pocketed my keys and my shades, picked up my duffel, and headed out.
She hesitated. “Girlfriends?”
“Yeah. Why?”
I grabbed a Coke and strode out past Izzie, who was watching something on the Disney Channel. “Tell Mom and Dad I went fishing with some friends,” I called out over my shoulder. “Mel?” I spoke into the phone when she was still silent.
“Yeah.”
“What’s the problem?” Then it dawned on me. “You’re not worried about those other girls, are you? I’m sure they’re nice. But if they’re not cool, you don’t have to hang out with them.”
“Is Jonah going?” her voice had taken on a strange quality. Distant. Almost frightened. What was her deal with Jonah lately?
“No. Why?”
She hesitated a beat too long. “Nothing. Just wondering.”
“Uh, okay,” I said, drawing out the ‘okay.’
She didn’t say anything else. I could half hear the wheels turning in her brain as she struggled with something. I ran down the front steps, rounding the pilings under the house. “What is it?” I tossed my pack in the backseat then sat and shoved the key in the ignition impatiently.
“I’m pregnant, Reed.”
“Yeah. And?” I sat motionless, waiting for her to explain what the heck that had to do with anything. She was quickly making a fun day on the water into a big freakin’ deal.
Silence.
“Mel, what does you being pregnant have to do with going to the bay?”
A breath. Two. “I can’t wear a swimsuit now,” she finally admitted.
I started the car. Jeez. “Mel. You don’t have to wear a swimsuit. Just put on some shorts and sit with me. It’ll be fun. We need the break.” I didn’t think it needed to be said that we could use a little bit of normal and a little less babyness. Even for one afternoon.
“But I don’t even know those people.”
What happened to my fun-loving, carefree girlfriend? “So?”
“Why would you want to hang out with them, anyway?” Now she was whining. I rolled my eyes and put the car in reverse.
“Listen,” I said. “I’m going. Do you want to come or not?”
“No. I’m tired.” Her voice went from whiny to icy sharp in a flash. “Have fun.” Then she hung up on me.
WTF?
I threw my phone on the seat and drove to the docks, ignoring the impulse to call her back. I wouldn’t play her hormonal games. She could just take a nap, or whatever she needed, and talk to me when she was feeling normal again.
I parked, grabbed my drink and duffel bag, and made my way toward the small crowd already gathered on the dock by a shiny pontoon boat that reminded me of a long distant memory of my grandpa’s boat and fishing with my dad. As I approached, they parted like the Red Sea and greeted me with smiles, pats on the back, and a couple good-natured cat-calls.
“’Bout time you got here, Young,” Mike said with a smartass grin.
“Hey, dude.” I tossed my duffel down next to everyone else’s. “How’s it goin’?”
“Good. We’ll be shoving off in a minute. Everyone’s here.”
I glanced around at everyone—Mike, his girlfriend, Mackenzie, Aaron and Dean from the movie theater, and their girlfriends . . . I didn’t catch their names. There was a blonde in a purple bikini talking to Dean’s girl at the end of the dock who looked slightly familiar.
Mike hefted a cooler and the last of the bags onto the boat then turned to me. “Ready?” He glanced over to the girls when he saw where I was looking. “That’s Chloe. She’s Sierra’s friend.”
“Sierra?”
“Yeah. Dean’s lady.”
“Oh.” I shrugged and jumped up onto the boat. Why would he think I’d care?
It took several minutes for the girls to load up, but finally we shoved off from the dock and began to skim across the smooth water, the sun melting the worries from my soul. I tipped my head at Mike then laid on a bench in the rear with a towel for a pillow, popped in my iPod, and enjoyed the ride, letting the steady rhythm of the water lull me.
I could’ve laid there for five minutes or an hour, I had no idea, but eventually, I roused when the boat’s movement stopped. I pulled out my earbuds, and girls’ squealing pealed through the heated air just before two large splashes.