Somewhere Out There(23)

“Do you know who he is?” Jill asked. She kept her eyes pointed down, at her desk.

“Yes,” Brooke said, feeling embarrassed to be having this discussion with a girl fifteen years her junior. Her hair was in a side-pony, for Christ’s sake. She had perfect skin and cherry-pit dimples. She couldn’t possibly know anything about making this kind of life-changing decision.

Jill set her pen down and looked at Brooke. “Well, there are three options. Parenting, adoption, or termination. We can assist with any of them.” She paused. “Have you thought about which you’d like to pursue?”

“I’m not sure.” Brooke shifted in her seat, crossed her legs, and began to bob her right foot as it hung in the air. “I’m thirty-nine, so this could be my last chance to have a baby.”

“That’s true,” Jill said. She waited for Brooke to continue.

“The father is going through a divorce,” Brooke said, quickly. She maintained strong eye contact with the younger woman to show she was not ashamed of her situation.

“Okay,” Jill said, leaning back against her chair.

“And I definitely won’t give it up for adoption.”

“You’re not comfortable with that idea?” Jill asked, with a slight tilt of her head.

“No,” Brooke said. Her voice was hard. “I’m not.” She wasn’t against adoption, per se. Under normal circumstances, she knew it was an incredibly generous act, an amazing gift given to a couple or individual in need. But in her particular situation, with her particular past, it was something she just couldn’t do.

Jill remained silent, waiting for Brooke to say more.

“I can’t keep it,” Brooke said, and her voice broke on the words. Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and she attempted to blink them away. Goddamn it. She didn’t cry in front of other people, especially not strangers.

“Okay,” Jill said, again, pushing a box of tissues across her desk.

Brooke grabbed one and wiped her eyes. “Can I take care of it now, while I’m here?” she asked even as her bottom lip trembled. “Or is there some kind of waiting period?” Her stomach folded in on itself, and without thinking, she placed a hand over her abdomen. Oh, god. What was she doing?

“Not in Washington State,” Jill said. “Let me check the schedule.” She kept her voice soft, her tone neutral. Brooke held her breath as the younger woman typed and clicked her mouse a few times, all the while looking at her computer. “We actually could fit you in this afternoon,” she said, moving her eyes from the screen to Brooke’s face. “Does that work?”

Brooke nodded, pressing a closed fist against her mouth. It was the easiest option, the one least likely to make waves in her life. She wouldn’t have to tell Ryan. She could just get it over with. Nothing would have to change.

Jill eyed her, carefully. “There’s no rush,” she said. “You have some time to think about it, if you want to take a few days.”

“No,” Brooke said. “I want to do it now.”

“Okay,” Jill said, and then turned to type on her keyboard once again. “Do you have any questions for me about the procedure?”

“No,” Brooke said. The less she knew, the better. She just wanted it done.

“There’s someone to drive you home?” Brooke nodded, even though it was a lie. But Jill didn’t have to know that. “You’ll need to get some labs done, and an ultrasound, so I’ll take you to a room and a technician will handle all of that.” She flipped through a few pages from Brooke’s file and raised her eyebrows. “You’ve listed ‘unknown’ for your family medical history.”

“Yes.” Brooke’s pulse pounded inside her head; there was no subject she hated more than that of family. She had told Ryan that she was an only child, that her parents lived in Florida, and they were estranged. Lying to him—to everyone, really—was so much less painful than speaking the truth. She had wondered what it would be like to open up, to tell Ryan about her mother and the sister she’d lost along the way, about the foster homes she’d lived in, and the life she’d learned to tolerate at Hillcrest. She imagined saying the words “My mother decided she didn’t want me when I was four years old, so she gave me away,” and the physical reaction she had—her head spun and her throat closed as though she were choking on something hard and sharp—was so violent, she knew it was better to keep her mouth shut.

But now, sitting across from Jill, she decided to be honest, in the hope that it might put a quick end to the discussion. “My mother gave custody of me to the state when I was four. I have no clue about my father.” Brooke’s cheeks flamed, as though her past was something to be ashamed of. She hated that she had this reaction; if anyone should be plagued by that particular emotion, it should be the woman who’d discarded her as though she were nothing.

“I understand,” Jill said, even though Brooke knew there was no way the younger woman understood anything of what Brooke had been through. “I understand” was just something people said to fill in a blank, when nothing else made sense.

“I have some more forms for you to read over,” Jill said. She pulled open a file drawer in her desk and riffled through it, setting a small stack of paper in front of Brooke. “I’ll give you a bit to review everything, then come take you back to an exam room.” She stood up, pressing her fingertips into her desk. “It’s going to be fine, Brooke. We’ll take good care of you.”