“Me, too. It’s haunted me for years.” Biting down on her lip, Rysa remained quiet for several seconds. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it, but if I can help one person to make better choices than I did, or even be the support I never had, then I will.”
“I’m giving the baby up for adoption,” she blurted out. Saying it out loud knocked the breath from her lungs. Telling someone made it real.
Rysa folded her hands in her lap, her reaction unreadable. “Is that a final decision?”
“I think.” She rubbed her temples. “I want the best for him or her.”
“You don’t think you can be that?”
Sybil shook her head, sadness seeping into her. “I’m only now realizing how messed up and scarred I am. I’m in no condition to be a mom, let alone a good one.”
“I can understand that.” Rysa grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it. “What does the father think?”
“He doesn’t know.”
Rysa gasped. “When are you going to tell him?”
“I’m not.” Even as she said it, her conscience berated her.
“We’re friends, right?”
Sybil nodded.
“Then know I say this out of love, but you have to tell the dad.” Rysa’s eyes bore into hers, imploring her to come clean.
The intensity of Rysa’s stare made Sybil squirm. “If I’m giving up my baby, I don’t see the point of disrupting his life.”
“He has a right to know.” Rysa cleared her throat. “Can I ask who he is?”
Sybil hesitated. She hadn’t told anyone, hadn’t wanted to risk it getting back to him. But she could trust Rysa. Instinct told her so. “Jared Scott.”
“The Marine who lives down the street?”
“Yes.”
Rysa emitted a low whistle. “With both of your genes combined, that will be one gorgeous baby.”
A sad smile curled Sybil’s lips. “Especially if it takes after him, but I won’t be around to see.”
“Lots of moms raise babies on their own.” Leaning forward, Rysa tossed the pillow aside and laid a hand on Sybil’s arm. “Youcando this, and I’ll help any way I can. And Jared might want to be involved. You won’t know unless you tell him.”
She shook her head. “My mind is made up, and it’s because I already love the baby that I’m making this choice.”
“Whatever you decide, know I’ll be there for you.”
“I appreciate that. More than you know.” Her gaze drifted to the edge of the room, and she stared blankly at the latte colored walls. “I told my mom last week.”
“How did that go?”
Sharp pains drilled a hole through her heart. “As well as can be expected for my mom. At first, she laughed because I followed in her footsteps but commended me for—unlike when she had me—at least knowing who the father is without a paternity test. She said don’t be expecting her to be called granny or anything of the sort and don’t ask for financial help because Tommy Joe just left her and wiped out her bank account.” She laughed harshly. “Knowing Mom, she probably didn’t have more than twenty dollars in there for him to take. I can’t feel bad even if there was more because she’s done her fair share of that to men over the years.”
“I’m sorry.” Rysa sat upright and reached for the pillow again. “My parents weren’t supportive either. Dad was a deacon in the church and mom held several positions. When they found out I was pregnant, they made me promise not to breathe a word, but people found out anyway. Then when I had my abortion, they disowned me for ‘murdering my child’ as they put it.”
Chills pricked Sybil. Maybe her mom had been right about church people. “That’s terrible.”
Rysa shrugged, but her eyes betrayed the indifference of her gesture. “No pain they inflicted on me could be worse than living with what I’d done. I’m glad you’re not considering abortion. No one warned me about the emotional aftermath.”
“If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here.” Despite the serious nature of their conversation, Sybil smiled. For the first time she could remember, she had a friendship that went beyond the surface. Opening herself to that vulnerability scared her, yet she found solace in the possibility.
