able to conceal the bouts of nausea that sometimes accompanied pregnancy.
“Have you been to a clinic, seen a doctor?”
“No.”
“Have you told your boyfriend?” Ashley and Mike Reynolds, a star football jock, had been dating steadily since they were in eighth grade. Things, apparently, had progressed naturally when two healthy, sexually active kids had been unable to resist going all the way. Without protection.
“Mike knows.” Her face was turned away now. “He said I should get an abortion.”
“And you disagree?”
“I don’t know.”
“And since you haven’t told your parents, I’m assuming you don’t need to hear what they might think about such a decision.”
“They’ll hate me.”
Rachel sighed, pulled the chair over that Ashley had just vacated, sat down and took the girl’s hand. “They won’t hate you, Ashley. Just because you’ve made a mistake in judgment doesn’t mean your parents are going to stop loving you. And you need them now. You shouldn’t have to handle such a momentous decision on your own.”
“I know all that, Ms. Forrester,” she said, beginning to cry again. “But they’re gonna be so disappointed in me. I—I was supposed to g-go to college and now I’ve ruined everything. Besides, I think I’ve waited almost too late, as it is. Last night—” she gulped, wiping hard at her eyes with the tissue “—last night, I felt the baby move.”
“Then the sooner you talk with your parents, the better.” Rachel reached over and, with a gentle touch, brought the girl’s chin around to look into her eyes. “I will be happy to call your mother or both your parents—whatever makes you more comfortable—and help you tell them. Would you want to do that?”
“I guess so.”
“Is your mother at home today?”
“No, she’s in Dallas shopping with my aunt. But maybe she could come in Monday.”
Rachel stood up. “Tell you what. I’ll phone her now and leave a message. Then, when she calls, we’ll arrange to meet at a time we both agree on, okay? I’ll let her know that it’s urgent.”
“Okay.” Ashley was sitting up now. Her color was better. She brushed her mane of straight blond hair away from her face with both hands. Her blue eyes were red and slightly puffed, but she got to her feet easily, then stood with both hands cradling her tummy. Cautiously, she took a step toward the door.
“You’re welcome to stay and rest awhile until you feel able to take on the day,” Rachel said.
Now at the door, Ashley turned back. “No, that’s the funny thing. When this happens—the nausea, I mean—I just feel horrible, like I want to die. But then when it’s over, it’s completely over and I feel just fine.”
Rachel smiled, knowing the feeling after giving birth twice herself. “Pregnancy’s like that, Ashley.”
“I hate it.”
“Which is all the more reason to have this discussion with your parents and try to work something out.”
She nodded. “Thanks, Ms. Forrester.”
“You’re welcome, Ashley.”
After the door closed, Rachel sank back in her chair with a sigh and put her head in her hands. Sixteen years old and four months pregnant. She’d put a positive spin on it for Ashley’s sake, but the teenager’s life was drastically changed, no matter what her decision about the abortion might be. The only bright spot was that she’d been able to talk the girl into confiding in her parents.
A quick knock at her door brought her head up.
“Got a minute, Rachel?” Preston Ramsey, the school principal, pushed the door open and waited for her to wave him inside. She did, pointing to a chair, which he refused. “No time to sit. I’ve got a killer schedule today and that’s why I’m here. Is there anything of vital importance on yours? I need someone to go to Dallas.”
Rose Hill was located southeast of Dallas, about an hour-and-a-half drive. Rachel enjoyed an occasional trip into the city. She glanced at her watch. “If I stay in my office, something will come up, as you know. If you want me to go, I should leave before that happens. What’s the problem?”
“One of Coach Monk’s kids was picked up in Dallas last night on a DUI. It’s Jason Pate. Parents are divorced, lives with his mom, who’s single with three more kids, all younger than Jason. Anyway, Monk made some calls and arranged for Jason’s release if a representative of the school will vouch for him. Monk’s got a conflict today, a conference call with a college that wants to sign Pete Freidman.”
“The quarterback who performed so well this season,” Rachel murmured. “Monk’s doing the deal today?”
“Apparently.”
“And his record for signing his athletes to major universities is impressive.”
“He takes a personal interest in these kids, Rachel.” He was instantly on the defensive. It was well known to Preston that Rachel and Monk Tyson had had fierce disagreements several times over his blind ambition. To Tyson, performance at sports—whether football, basketball, baseball or track—took precedence over his athletes’ academic performance. Preston had had to step in more than once to mediate when neither Rachel nor Tyson would give an inch.
“Anyway,” he said now, “if you could go to juvenile detention—I’ve got the address here—and pick up Jason, it would help us out of a jam.”
“Not a problem,” Rachel said, getting to her feet. “When are they willing to release him?”
Preston glanced at the note in his hand. “The paperwork will take a while to process, but according to Coach Monk, he’ll be ready to leave around ten.”
“Then I’d better get going,” Rachel said, taking her purse out of her desk drawer. “I wish they’d release him later as Ted’s in Dallas today, and if I could find him, I’d let him buy my lunch.”
“Oh, too bad.”
“It’s okay. It’s a long shot, anyway.”
“I owe you one for this, Rachel,” her boss said, handing over the note with the address.
“No, Monk owes me.” She snapped off the light in her office and smiled at him. “File that for the next time we lock horns and you’re dragged into the fray.”
When dealing with bureaucrats, Rachel thought as she turned into the parking lot of a trendy restaurant in Dallas’s Turtle Creek area, nothing goes according to plan. She’d negotiated the city’s freeway, then fought a tangle of traffic to get to a maze of municipal buildings, finally found a place to park, only to be told that there was a glitch in the getalong with Jason’s paperwork, but they’d have it worked out by 2:00 p.m. She’d wished for a later departure time, so the glitch wasn’t a total lost cause. She called the practice, found out where Ted had reservations for lunch and decided to take a chance that she’d be able to join him and the interviewee they were considering. Rachel didn’t feel she’d be intruding. She’d been Ted’s office manager when the practice was just getting started and had left after several years in the practice only when her responsibilities there began to encroach on her responsibilities at home. She’d replaced herself with a hot-shot MBA type and then looked around for another venue for her skills and found it as the guidance counselor at Rose Hill High. There she had the same hours and holidays as her children. That had been eight years ago, and she truly enjoyed her job now. In spite of the fact that her “clients” were teenagers and their hormones were raging, she loved the challenge. Sadly, as happened with Ashley today, too many of the kids she saw were dealing with stress beyond their ability or experience to cope.
Ted, she was told by the receptionist