Read First Chapter

PROLOGUE: WEEK 10

Faint light filtered through the mini-blinds covering the bathroom window that Sunday morning as Karen fumbled with the small container. The plastic crinkled as she unwrapped the box and cautiously removed its contents. Squinting at the small print on the paper insert, she struggled to wake up enough to follow the instructions properly.

Peering into the mirror, her sleepy eyes-almost hidden under her tousled shoulder-length dark hair-looked back at her with fear. What if . . . ? Her breath caught in her throat. Stop it, she told herself, hands shaking.

After completing the task and setting a timer for three minutes, she walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice. Her mind raced while she paced restlessly, her purple silk pajamas swishing as she walked back and forth.

During the past few weeks Karen had been feeling sluggish: nothing specific, just not herself. She had the right to feel a bit under the weather, she rationalized, since she'd been through so many stresses within the past year. Her husband had divorced her after 18 years of marriage. Then came the move to conservative New England from Colorado and a new job as the guidance counselor at a Christian high school. And in September her 17-year-old daughter, Sarah, had left for a year in Europe as a foreign exchange student. No wonder the emotional roller coaster that had been the past year of her life had left her feeling drained.

The timer beeped and Karen shuffled back to the bathroom, reassuring herself that she had nothing to worry about. I'm fine. No big deal. She stopped at the bathroom door. It was the moment of truth, something that might change the course of her life forever. Then she caught herself. Of course, that was foolish. Melodramatic, she told herself. Such things didn't happen to mature-to Christian-women. Still she hesitated, frozen, one hand on the doorknob.

This is crazy!
Taking a deep breath, she walked through the doorway. Then, dazed and bewildered, she stared at the pregnancy test. No. No. NO!

The room started to spin and her legs gave out. Sinking onto the hard floor, she leaned against the sink, head pounding, heart racing. She struggled to breathe, her panic-stricken body forgetting its normal functions. Tears flowed down her face as reality ricocheted through her mind. How could I be pregnant? she asked herself again and again. Her stomach knotted, and she felt herself about to throw up. Holding herself tightly, she crawled toward the toilet. The nausea passed, but her body shook uncontrollably.

Grabbing the pregnancy test off the counter, she hurled it against the wall. No, God. Please, no! God, I promise, if You let this be a mistake. . . .

At the drugstore, hurried and embarrassed, she'd accidentally grabbed a box containing two tests, and now she felt grateful that she had. Frantically, she tore open the other package and started the second test, certain that the first one was an error.

Now she waited, counting the minutes, pacing back and forth outside the bathroom door, praying furiously. God, I promise I'll do anything if You'll just- Thoughts of herself donating her entire month's paycheck to her church's building fund as a bribe flitted through her mind. Three minutes had never seemed so long. Again the timer rang. Again she went through the bathroom door. And again-the same result.

She hardly knew that she stumbled back to bed, crawling in between crisp, flowery sheets. Burying her face in the pillow, she sobbed uncontrollably.

It's a bad dream, only a dream. I'll wake up and begin my day again. She remembered the nightmares that she had had when she was a child- dreams of monsters chasing her around a large house in which every door she opened led to nothing. Even now she could remember the panic she had felt then, even in her sleep, and the intensity of the relief she experienced when she would wake up safe in her bed. Desperately she longed for that same relief now-for a way out. When she pinched herself the hard, sharp pain did not wake her up, and the sobs burst forth again.

What will I tell my family? How will I explain this to Sarah? How will I survive financially without a job? Do I want to start over and raise a child at my age? Should I have an abortion and pretend that this never happened? On and on the questions came, as relentless and frightening as the monsters of her childhood nightmares.

I have to pull myself together and think of a solution. A person who prided herself on being organized and resourceful, Karen was unaccustomed to feeling helpless. I'll think of something, she repeated. One step at a time. First, get out of bed. Forcing herself to get up, she slipped on her robe and walked to the living room where she stared out the big picture window. Everything is so bleak this time of year, she thought, missing the summertime green of the sprawling lawn in front of her apartment. The overcast sky offered no hope of sunshine. Even the trees, gray and bare after shedding their leaves for the season, seemed sad and forlorn. Gazing at a large tree not far from the window, Karen noticed a single leaf hanging from an otherwise naked branch. Suddenly a gust of wind ripped the leaf from the branch. It swirled to the ground and skidded across the lawn.

I'm supposed to be a role model at a Christian school, and here I am in this situation. Just last week Rachel, a senior, had sat sobbing in Karen's small office, pouring out her concerns about her boyfriend wanting more from her than she thought was right. Karen had hugged her and shared words of encouragement. "Don't give in. Tell him you can't be pressured. It's worth the wait." The following day the girl was smiling again and had thanked her. What will she think of me when this scandal hits? Karen wondered, feeling like such a hypocrite.

And this is certain to be a scandal. If I just disappear, that would raise a lot of questions, but if I stay, then everyone will find out, and I'll get fired. The feeling of panic rose in her again. Stop, she told herself. Stop thinking about it. Face the day. One step at a time, remember? Shower. I need to take a shower.

Like a robot she headed for the bathroom. Slipping off her clothes, she stepped into the shower. Perhaps this will soothe my nerves, she hoped as she twisted the chrome knobs, making the water as hot as she could stand it. As the water poured down on her, she tried to find some solution. But nothing seemed workable. Think of something else. The book I'm reading-think about that. But it didn't help. Finally she dried herself off and went back to bed.

As she lay on her pillow she absent-mindedly traced the marks left from her earlier tears. God, please- She tried to form a prayer, but words wouldn't come. Then she began to sob so hard her eyes throbbed. Eventually she ran out of tears and simply lay there with puny red eyes. What am I going to do? she asked herself for the umpteenth time that day.

Overwhelmed with the implications of how this would affect her and the Christian community in which she worked and lived, she suddenly felt the need to immerse herself in what was most familiar - music. Hurrying to the living room, she grabbed the first CD she could find. As her fingers opened the case, she glanced down at the cover and came face to face with a photo of Rick, the father of her baby, and gasped out loud.

She had been so caught up in her own shock and fear that she hadn't stopped to consider him and how it would affect his life. What wouid the pregnancy do to a ministry that he had spent his entire life building?