Page 100 of Stone

“Won’t be long.” She threw the door open, jumped down, and made for the double doors leading into the massive warehouse building.

My unseeing eyes followed her, frantically trying to piece things together in my head.

John remembered to put on a condom before he came, but before then, I sensed he was close. Was Kelly right? Was it possible to get pregnant regardless?

Furiously, I thought back to that night and everything we said and did. I remembered we showered together for the first time that night, among other things. Did he wear a condom? I made him come with my hand, but he was inside me before that.

What if…?

My eyes closed as my hand automatically went to my stomach. The clouds that had muddled my mind since Dad died parted, allowing bright clarity to shine through.

Was I pregnant?

Oh my God! Was Ipregnant?

I’d gained a little weight over the last month or so. I’d found it strange because I’d only eaten enough to stay alive. Food tasted like sandpaper, and even coffee had lost its appeal, often making my belly churn.

I hadn’t had any sickness, but certain smells did turn my stomach. My mom used hairspray one morning, and I’d gagged at the chemical scent, even though it had never bothered me before.

Grabbing my purse from the passenger footwell, I burrowed inside and pulled out my small pocket calendar, frantically leafing through it to look at dates.

I always circled the first day of my period in red. The last date I’d circled was July 5, which was just over two weeks before I went to San Diego, which meant the last time I saw John. I was smack bang in the middle of my cycle.

The back of my skull hit Bessie’s headrest, and I cursed out loud.

Jesus!

An office door opened behind my desk and brought my mind back to the present. I looked up to see Mayor Henderson emerge, holding a stack of envelopes.

“Elise,” he called, approaching my desk. “Could you mail this correspondence? It all needs to go today.”

I smiled up at him. “Of course. I have a letter I want to send to John anyway. I’ll go in my lunch hour.”

The mayor studied me with kind eyes. “How’s John doing?”

“Okay,” I replied softly. “I don’t hear from him as much as I’d like. The Marine postal service isn’t great. Most of his letters get here late, that’s if they make it at all. It’s frustrating. He phones when he can, but we only get a minute before the line cuts out.The conditions there are difficult, and most of their power is needed for more essential things than calls back home.”

“Maybe it’s time for us to look into a fundraiser,” the mayor mused. “We could try and raise money for a computer for the men. Have you heard of the World Wide Web? There’s a thing called email that seems to be taking off. Letters arrive the second you click ‘send.’ It’s nifty.”

“We learned about it in my college course.” I beamed. “I’m sure they’d love that.”

“I’ll look into it,” he promised. “We could see if it’s feasible to set email up on our computers, too. That way, you could keep in touch much easier.”

“That’s so kind,” I murmured.

He shrugged. “We’ve all got to do our bit. I’ve been where John is. I understand how vital it is to have connections with home. It’s easy to get institutionalized into a different way of life if you live it for long enough. Having links with Hambleton will go a long way to help him reacclimatize when he eventually returns to us.”

I sat back in my chair to study Bert’s expression. “I keep forgetting you were in Vietnam.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “It was the best and the worst time of my life. We lived like pigs. If the enemy didn’t get you, the sanitation did its best, but I’ve never laughed so much or so hard before or since.” He smiled down at me. “He’ll be okay. He’s Bandit’s son, after all. That in itself makes him pig-headed enough to get himself home, if only to prove a damned point.”

For the first time in months, laughter bubbled in my throat. “I hope you’re right.”

He touched my hand comfortingly. “Have faith.”

I watched as Bert turned and ambled back into his office, closing the door behind him. Then, pulling my purse from theback of my chair, I fumbled inside for the letter I’d written to John the night before.

Unfolding it, I spread it flat on my desk and, with a sigh, began to read.

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