with a way to let Erica Stark down easy. “Mayday House is pretty basic accommodation, as you can easily see, Erica, and most of Mary’s guests were without resources. Often without family. In need, both financially and emotionally.”
Erica nodded, looked away for a second. When she turned back, her gaze was unflinching. “Look, all I need is a place to be alone, a place to disappear for a while and think a few things through.” She shifted back in the chair, placed a hand on her distended abdomen, and glanced around the room, her expression weary. “And frankly, Mayday House is perfect. The last place anyone would look for me.”
Everything in Keeley wanted to help. There had to be a way. All she had to do was find it. “How far along are you?”
“Going into my seventh month.” She paused before adding, “Twins.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“And the father?”
Erica took in a breath, then glanced away. “Out of the picture.” She got to her feet, placed both hands on her lower back, and looked down at Keeley. “Look, I’m exhausted, so if we can continue this interview later, I’d appreciate it. I need to lie down. And for your information—and as I explained to Mary—you don’t have to worry, medically speaking. I’ve had regular checkups, and I’ll be gone before my due date. I’ve already arranged for the delivery, and I’m healthy as a horse. My doctor, one of the best in Seattle, by the way, says my pregnancy is normal given my age—”
“Which is?”
“Forty-five.” Her expression was challenging.
Keeley raised her hands, tried to look innocent instead of shocked. “You look a lot younger.”
Her face softened somewhat. “Thank you for that, but right about now I feel like a hundred.” She rubbed her back again. “Now can I fill you in on the intriguing details of my late-in-life pregnancy tomorrow? Right now I need that bed. If you’ll just tell me how much, we’re in business.” She picked up the tote she’d placed beside her chair when she sat down, and withdrew a checkbook.
How much? Keeley’s mind stumbled. Erica Stark wanted to pay! “We don’t actually have rates. Mayday House is a women’s refuge. It’s always been privately sponsored,” she said, sounding as stiff as a besieged bureaucrat. “But we are willing to accept donations.”
Erica smiled thinly. “I’ll bet.” She scribbled out a check. “Will this do?”
Keeley gulped once, hoped it didn’t show, and looked up into the tired face of Erica Stark. “How long are you wanting to stay?”
“A week … a month.” Erica walked to the door and, for the first time, let her shoulders sag. “I’m not sure.”
“I have to say, I still don’t understand why. Why Mayday House?”
“Because I needed to get away, and I need time.”
“Time for what?”
“To make a choice.”
“Between?”
She hesitated, pursing her lips. “Becoming a midlife mother of twins or putting them up for adoption.”
“That’s some decision.”
“Not one an ex-nun could fathom, I’m guessing.”
“How did you know about that?”
“Like I said, Mary did ramble a bit. She mentioned it. It’s the kind of information that sticks.” She walked to the door, almost colliding with the slow-moving Bridget who’d finally arrived with the water. Erica turned and looked back, her expression curious. “Mary said you worked in Africa. I’d like to hear about it sometime.”
And it was the last thing in the world Keeley wanted to talk about.
She gestured to Erica’s bag. “Bridget,” she said. “Will you take Miss Stark upstairs, please? Either of the freshly painted rooms should do. They’re well aired by now. I’ll get some clean linens and be right up to help her get settled.”
When Bridget and Erica were gone, she looked at the check again. “Three thousand dollars.” She looked up and whispered the sum like a prayer, then silently mouthed the words thank you and closed her
Erica nodded, looked away for a second. When she turned back, her gaze was unflinching. “Look, all I need is a place to be alone, a place to disappear for a while and think a few things through.” She shifted back in the chair, placed a hand on her distended abdomen, and glanced around the room, her expression weary. “And frankly, Mayday House is perfect. The last place anyone would look for me.”
Everything in Keeley wanted to help. There had to be a way. All she had to do was find it. “How far along are you?”
“Going into my seventh month.” She paused before adding, “Twins.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“And the father?”
Erica took in a breath, then glanced away. “Out of the picture.” She got to her feet, placed both hands on her lower back, and looked down at Keeley. “Look, I’m exhausted, so if we can continue this interview later, I’d appreciate it. I need to lie down. And for your information—and as I explained to Mary—you don’t have to worry, medically speaking. I’ve had regular checkups, and I’ll be gone before my due date. I’ve already arranged for the delivery, and I’m healthy as a horse. My doctor, one of the best in Seattle, by the way, says my pregnancy is normal given my age—”
“Which is?”
“Forty-five.” Her expression was challenging.
Keeley raised her hands, tried to look innocent instead of shocked. “You look a lot younger.”
Her face softened somewhat. “Thank you for that, but right about now I feel like a hundred.” She rubbed her back again. “Now can I fill you in on the intriguing details of my late-in-life pregnancy tomorrow? Right now I need that bed. If you’ll just tell me how much, we’re in business.” She picked up the tote she’d placed beside her chair when she sat down, and withdrew a checkbook.
How much? Keeley’s mind stumbled. Erica Stark wanted to pay! “We don’t actually have rates. Mayday House is a women’s refuge. It’s always been privately sponsored,” she said, sounding as stiff as a besieged bureaucrat. “But we are willing to accept donations.”
Erica smiled thinly. “I’ll bet.” She scribbled out a check. “Will this do?”
Keeley gulped once, hoped it didn’t show, and looked up into the tired face of Erica Stark. “How long are you wanting to stay?”
“A week … a month.” Erica walked to the door and, for the first time, let her shoulders sag. “I’m not sure.”
“I have to say, I still don’t understand why. Why Mayday House?”
“Because I needed to get away, and I need time.”
“Time for what?”
“To make a choice.”
“Between?”
She hesitated, pursing her lips. “Becoming a midlife mother of twins or putting them up for adoption.”
“That’s some decision.”
“Not one an ex-nun could fathom, I’m guessing.”
“How did you know about that?”
“Like I said, Mary did ramble a bit. She mentioned it. It’s the kind of information that sticks.” She walked to the door, almost colliding with the slow-moving Bridget who’d finally arrived with the water. Erica turned and looked back, her expression curious. “Mary said you worked in Africa. I’d like to hear about it sometime.”
And it was the last thing in the world Keeley wanted to talk about.
She gestured to Erica’s bag. “Bridget,” she said. “Will you take Miss Stark upstairs, please? Either of the freshly painted rooms should do. They’re well aired by now. I’ll get some clean linens and be right up to help her get settled.”
When Bridget and Erica were gone, she looked at the check again. “Three thousand dollars.” She looked up and whispered the sum like a prayer, then silently mouthed the words thank you and closed her
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