Robert was right. She couldn’t rush into something—even though it felt so right—because she was still married.
She rolled back and reached for the pretty journal he’d given her, but a powerful wave of nausea hit like a Mack truck before she could grab the book. She threw back the blankets and rushed to the bathroom, the room tilting precariously as she did so.
She barely made it to the toilet before her stomach heaved. It didn’t take long to empty the contents from her stomach, but her abdomen continued to seize. Jessie dry-heaved again and again.
Weak and exhausted, she sank back onto the floor. Her stomach dropped. She’d tried to chalk the nausea these last two weeks up to stress and anxiety. But she could no longer deny that little voice in the back of her head that said this wasn’t anxiety.
It’s morning sickness.
She leaned her head back against the wall and let the tears flow.Why now?
Why, when she finally found the courage to leave Patrick, was she stuck with this link to him? A baby that would constantly drag him back into her life. She would never escape him now, or the power he had over her.
All the beautiful dreams she’d built last night—where Robert forgave her for leaving and they found a way to move forward together—dissipated faster than her breath on a cold winter day. Robert would want nothing to do with her now. Even if he could someday forgive her for choosing her dreams over him, he wouldn’t want to be stuck raising another man’s child.
Pulling herself to her feet, she studied her face in the mirror. She still wasn’t used to seeing herself with her new haircut. All the thought she’d put into the new hairstyle and worry over whether Robert would like it seemed so trivial now. It didn’t matter if he liked it, he’d hightail it the other way as soon as he found out she was pregnant.
The red and splotchy face that stared back at her may as well belong to a stranger, because Jessie didn’t know who she was anymore. The confident woman who set off for New York City to chase her dreams was long gone. But she refused to remain the timid punching bag Patrick had made her into.
So who am I supposed to be?
She’d started to develop a plan last night as she lay in bed in a state of euphoria, but those plans had been swept away in a flash flood.
Jessie washed her face and went to dress for her morning walk. She thought about telling Emily she wasn’t feeling well and crawling back into bed. Maybe she’d stay there all day, so she wouldn’t have to face anyone. But she was too frustrated and upset to lie in bed. Too agitated and resentful. So many emotions roiled around in her, it made her dizzy. No, that was the morning sickness making her lightheaded.
She cast an irritated glance at her bedroom ceiling. God must be laughing at her right now. She’d thought he’d sent Robert in answer to the prayer she’d been too faithless to pray. Not once, but twice—first at the cabin and then with the journal last night. So why had He done this to her?
She lowered her eyes. God didn’t do this to her. She did all of this to herself. Robert kept telling her not to blame herself for everything Patrick had done to her, but shewasto blame. She let him into her life. She’d been so sure she’d never love anyone again, like she’d loved Robert, that she hadn’t given a second thought to letting an attractive, wealthy man into her life. It was better than being alone. How wrong she’d been.
She made her way to the kitchen, where she found Emily munching on a piece of buttered toast. A second piece sat on the counter, waiting for Jessie. Over the course of the past week, Jessie had often waited for Emily to finish a slice of toast before they walked, since Emily didn’t enjoy exercising on an empty stomach.
By the time they returned, Lottie usually had breakfast ready. But Jessie had gotten into the habit of eating toast with Emily because her stomach was often queasy in the mornings.
Jessie rolled her eyes at herself. How had she missed the signs for so long? It wasn’t like this was her first pregnancy. She knew morning sickness for her was often sporadic. She stopped herself before she again experienced the pain and loss associated with the miscarriages that ended those other pregnancies.
Then it hit Jessie. Emily was pregnant, too. She often came home after work and took a nap on the couch. She acted every bit as exhausted as Jessie felt. And Jessie had seen her turn away from certain foods as though the smell made her nauseous.
The knowledge should make Jessie feel better—or less alone, anyway—but it didn’t.
“Good morning,” Emily said, though it sounded less like a greeting and more like a question.
Could she see that Jessie didn’t think it was a good morning? Or was Jessie projecting her own foul mood onto everyone around her?
“Morning,” Jessie mumbled as she shoved toast in her mouth.
Emily continued to stare at Jessie as she put on her dusty Nikes between bites of toast. Patrick would have a fit if he could see her expensive running shoes.
Her lips curved in the first smile of the day.
It didn’t last long, though, because Jessie knew Emily would expect her to talk about whatever was on her mind while they walked. But Jessie didn’t want to talk about it. Any of it. Not the fact that she was pregnant. Nor did she want to talk about how her hopes of building a life with Robert had been dashed faster than they could form.
Within minutes, they headed out the back door, and Jessie vowed to keep up today. They walked nearly half a mile before Emily broke the silence. “So, did you and Robert have a fight last night?”
“Nope. Quite the opposite, in fact.” Now why did she have to tell Emily that?
Because, other than my mother, I don’t have anyone else to talk to.
But Jessie didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. She wanted to sulk and feel sorry for herself. Maybe even throw a tantrum.
