She jerked her face out of his grasp. “You’re damn right it does. You’re out of here at the first phone call, so why the hell should I look deeper? Why the hell should I let myself care?” Without waiting for an answer, she jumped to her feet.
Mike rose but remained silent. Obviously he knew he couldn’t fight the truth.
With her vision blurred, Carly ran for the house. More than once she stumbled on the sand and rocks in her path, but she kept going. She flung open the door to the house. Feeling out of breath and desperate for peace from her rampaging emotions, she sought the security of home.
Instead she ran into Peter. “Just what I needed,” she muttered under her breath. They might have resolved their issues, but he was the last person she wanted to see right then.
She wiped the tears still running down her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Carly...”
“Not now, Peter. You apologized, I apologized. Now let it be.”
“I was just leaving.” He glanced at her face and his brow furrowed. “You’ve been crying.”
“It’s been known to happen.”
“Has it ever happened over me?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “For crying out loud, can we just...”
“I’ll take that as a no. Whatever Mike said, just forgive him. It’s obvious you care about each other.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You figured that out based on the five minutes we all spent together in the kitchen?”
“We were friends before we made the mistake of getting engaged. I’d like to think I knew you pretty well. And I know that even though you broke up with me, what I did hurt you. Just remember one thing.”
She swallowed hard. “What’s that?”
“Mike isn’t me.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, then attempted to duck around him.
“Carly, wait.”
She sighed. “Make it quick.”
His lips formed a wry smile. “I know my brother better than anyone. Everything he’s done since he’s been back proves one thing to me.”
“What’s that?” she asked, truly curious.
“He loves you. Think about that.” Peter opened the side door leading to the beach and slipped out, shutting it behind him.
Carly stood in mute silence, Peter’s words wrapping around her heart. Even if he was right, it couldn’t make one bit of difference.
* * *
Carly spent the rest of the day in her room sorting through mail sent by her editor. Periodically she would glance out the window only to discover Peter’s rental car still parked on the street out front. Though she wondered when he would leave, she was glad Mike had time alone with his brother. As for her conversation with Mike, she preferred not to dwell on it for now.
She slit open a purple envelope and read the contents. The letter was brief and to the point.
I’m sixteen and pregnant. I haven’t told anyone. I can’t decide what to do and the problem is affecting every part of my life. I can’t sleep, can’t study for summer school, and no one has patience with my mood swings. Help.
Carly’s answer was easy to formulate, but as this young girl would find out, even harder to carry through.
The first thing to do is seek medical attention, as prenatal care is of paramount importance. The next is to tell the people closest to you. Perhaps your parents, the baby’s father, a teacher or local clergyman. If you don’t talk, you can’t expect to come to any meaningful decisions. Only after you face your fears will they seem less overwhelming. Then you can make the right decisions for yourself and your baby. Good luck.
Carly realized the irony in her answer. Talk out your answers. Face your fears. The one thing she advocated for this young girl was the one thing she hadn’t been permitted to do. Talk. Perhaps if she had, she wouldn’t be in such a sorry state now.