He’d chatted pleasantly as she served his meal and that night, when her shift ended, he’d been waiting outside the cafe.
“How about getting some supper?” he’d asked.
“Thanks,” she’d replied, “but I already had mine.”
“Then how about a lift home?”
She’d said no to that, too. But the streets were deserted and the wind was frigid, and when he’d asked her if she really was choosing freezing to death over riding in comfort, she’d laughed and given in. Craig had taken her to the door and waited until she was safely inside, and then driven off, leaving her more impressed by his good manners than by his flashy car.
He’d turned up at the café a lot after that, his good looks and polite manners drawing oohs and aahs from the other waitresses.
And he’d shown her nothing but respect and kindness.
He took her to a little Chinese place the next town over when she thought she’d sooner die than look at one more hamburger or grilled cheese sandwich. He remembered that she liked green tea with lemon. He asked how her day had gone and really listened when she answered.
No one, not in all her life, had ever paid that much attention to her. She had never known her father and her mother had always been busy trying to make ends meet.
Being the focus of someone’s attention was a new and wonderful experience. In retrospect, she knew she’d been almost pathetically grateful for each kind word, each kind gesture.
And he never looked for anything in return.
A goodnight kiss. A smile. Nothing more.
Until that last, awful night.
They’d been driving home from a movie.
Suddenly, he’d turned onto a narrow road. And before she could even ask him where they were going, he’d pulled under a big tree and turned toward her.
In a heartbeat, his hands had been all over her, his mouth hot and wet on hers.
“Stop,” she’d pleaded. “Craig. Please…”
“I like the innocent act,” he’d said. “It’s a real turn-on.”
Jennifer had struck out at him with her fists. But, in the end, he’d overpowered her.
He’d seemed genuinely amazed that she’d stumbled from his car when he got off her.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he’d yelled as she ran.
But she’d kept running and somehow, she’d made it home.
She’d thought about calling the police, but what would she tell them? How did you prove you’d been raped when your rapist was a seemingly nice man you’d been dating for more than a month?
She’d told herself she would forget what had happened. That she would put it out of her mind.
But she hadn’t. She couldn’t. And what had happened next…
The memory was almost too much to bear.
Her mother suddenly became ill. Terribly ill. In the frantic search to find out what was wrong and how to treat it, Jennifer ignored everything else.
Including the fact that she’d missed two periods.
By the time she realized she was pregnant, abortion, had she wanted to have one, was no longer an option.
She would have her baby.