My father rounds the sofa and sits himself down in his wingback chair. “Talk.”
I don’t even know what to say. I had avoided thinking about how I was going to do this for a few days now, but earlier today, Clay and I had talked about it. Now, I have forgotten everything we’d decided to say. “I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, my eyes glued on my father’s.
Before I know what’s happening, my father is out of the chair, and Clay’s flying across the room from the force of his punch. “You son of a bitch,” he roars.
Clay is on the floor, looking up at my father, the back of his hand pressed to his bloody nose. My father moves to hit him again, but I jump in front of him. “Daddy, no! Stop!”
My mother runs over and presses against my father’s chest, holding him back as best she can, while I help Clay up from the floor. I pay no attention to them as I look him over. His nose is bleeding, but doesn’t appear to be broken. “I’m so sorry,” I say, tears sliding down my cheeks in rivers of sorrow and regret.
He smiles tightly and squeezes my hand, his eyes focused on my father who stands behind my mother, his furious gaze locked on Clay. “Get out of my house.”
“No!” I cry.
Clay pulls me to him and whispers in my ear. “It’s fine, Soph. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
“But—”
“Maybe he’ll be easier to deal with if I’m not here.”
Choking out a sob, I nod and squeeze his hand as he turns to leave. He looks back at me and gives me a sad smile, just as he exits the room.
Furious, I turn to my father. “Why would you do that?”
“I knew that boy was bad news when she started seeing him,” my father growls, his finger pointing at my mother. “I knew it, but you insisted that Sophie was a good girl, that she knew right from wrong. Now look at her.” His eyes comb over me, his face twisted with disappointment and anger. “Pregnant at seventeen. Do you have any idea the kind of shame you have brought down on this family, young lady?”
More tears flow down my face as I move and slump down on the couch beside my mother, who instantly pulls me into her arms and hugs me tightly to her side. My father paces from one side of the room to the other, talking to himself as I cry into her shoulder.
“Okay, we need to come up with a story. We can send her to live with your sister in Missouri, until the baby is born. We can tell people that she went there on some sort of ministry program for Christian youth. Then, while she’s pregnant, we can find an adoption agency willing to take the baby of a teenage mother.”
My head pops up and my tears stop instantly. “Adoption? I’m not giving this baby up for adoption.”
He spins and rushes over to me, his finger in my face. “You most certainly are, young lady.”
“No,” I say from between clenched teeth as I stand and meet his angry glare. “I’m not. I’m keeping this baby, and Clay and I have our own plan.”
“Oh you do, do you?” he sneers. “Let’s hear what kind of plan you and Clay came up with.” He says Clay’s name in the most condescending tone I’ve ever heard, and my anger reaches a near boiling point.
“I’m going to continue going to school for as long as I can, and Clay is going to get a second job. We’re going to save all our money and get our own place before the baby comes. Once he or she is born, I’ll leave the baby with his mother during the day while I go back to school. We’ve got it all worked out with her, and they even know where there is a cute little house we can get at a good price.”
I’m proud of our plan. It was a feasible one that meant I didn’t have to sacrifice my school work for too long, and would still be able to graduate on time. It also meant that Clay and I could take care of our baby on our own, without my parents having to support us in any way.
“Like hell,” my father roared. “You are seventeen years old, young lady, and you are not keeping that baby.” His eyes pin me in place. “Did you really think that I’d allow you to go off and play house with that…hoodlum?”
“I’m keeping my baby,” I whisper.
My father’s open hand meets my cheek in a flash, and my head whips to the side. Slowly, I turn my face back to his, my heart breaking as I see that he won’t budge on this. My father had never struck me before. My mother seems just as shocked as I am as I take a step back, but I say nothing. I just hold my father’s glare, making it clear that I won’t change my mind.
“Get out,” he whispers.
I feel the blood drain from my face as I see the emotion leave his eyes, being replaced with absolutely nothing. His face is void of anger, disappointment, and even love. He’s cold. Unfeeling.
Sobbing, I turn to flee from the room. “Don’t you ever come back to this house, Sophie. This is a Christian home, and you’re not welcome here.”
Without grabbing any of my belongings, or risking a glance at my mother, I leave my parents’ house, and step into the waiting arms of the boy I love.
Chapter 6