The air seemed to shimmer with humidity as Rylee walked across the hot, grassy field, dodging kids as they ran around the crowded gathering, shrieking with laughter. She shook her head in annoyance but kept going.

  This sucked. She wasn’t quite old enough to join the Ladies Committee yet but Mom still forced her to ‘unofficially’ take on leadership roles. After all, it was her family’s responsibility to set an example for the greater community. Rylee rolled her eyes. Of course, it was.

  Families with younger children meandered around the various attractions that had been set up, from the dunk tank currently featuring one of the preschool teachers, to the art pavilion that Rylee had just left, to the 35-foot-long water slide. Older kids were having lawn dart competitions, tossing bean bags at cornhole boards, and playing a dartboard game that used velcro-covered balls instead of darts.

  Rylee took another sip of the overly sweet lemonade. She grimaced and looked around for the nearest trash barrel. Obviously, one of the little rug rats had dumped a bunch of sugar into the dispenser when someone wasn’t looking. At least it wasn’t salt, she thought. After that Advent by Candlelight incident two years ago, she still couldn’t trust the hot chocolate at a congregation event.

  The crowd around her briefly parted and her mother waved at her from a distance. She was chatting with poor Pastor Chapman. That clipboard said it all. Her mom was undoubtedly going over how much the community had raised so far.

  She shook her head, then dumped her cup into the trash. It didn’t matter how much this event had brought in, the good pastor could always count on the Williams Family Foundation to match it, dollar for dollar. She could almost hear her dad repeat the family mantra about how it was for a good cause.

  Rylee finally spotted a few of her friends standing with a group near the community center entrance. Emma, Addison, Brianna, and Kayt. Finally! She headed over to join them.

  They’d all graduated from Weston Prep Academy this year. Brianna was the only other person that Rylee knew who was taking a gap year. The rest were headed to what Rylee’s mom called ‘second-tier’ colleges. “It’s probably the best that their families can afford,” her mom had commented with that fake, sad smile and a bit of a shrug. At least she hadn’t mentioned the dreaded ‘student loan’ issue.

  “Hey,” Rylee said as she joined the group. “This is getting pretty old. Anyone else wanna head out?”

  Emma nodded in agreement, her thin blond hair barely brushing her shoulders. “I still need to finish packing,” she told them. “I move to Marquette next weekend.” She looked down, smiling. “It’s a cohort-style dorm, so everyone is in my academic program and the freshmen share the same floor.”

  Rylee gave her an overly cheerful smile. “That’s great, Emma,” she said, hoping that she sounded more enthusiastic than she felt. She looked around, not sure what to say. The problem was that her usual partner-in-crime, Kathryn, was missing, and she could always be counted on to interject with an amusing remark.

  She sighed. She still didn’t understand why certain congregation members got their undies in a bundle over the LGBTQIA+ thing that forced Kathryn to leave the congregation. It was pretty shady for people to insist that Jesus had died for our sins while still insisting that homosexuality was a crime because it said so in Leviticus. Didn’t St. Paul teach that Jesus was the New Covenant and that the old laws didn’t apply anymore?

  “Sam!” someone yelled, startling her. She looked over and saw Lucas standing near the dining tent that had been set up in the overflow parking lot. He was waving his arm overhead.

  “What?” Sam yelled back.

  Rylee spun around and caught sight of him walking through the crowd of players leaving the temporary volleyball field. He was wearing his standard ‘Wimbledon Whites’: open-collar tennis shirt, pristine shorts, and of course, his ever-present perfectly white shoes. His dark auburn hair was slick with sweat from the game.

  Most of the players joined the group, laughing about something that had happened during the game. Rylee backed away to give them room as they grabbed sodas from the coolers set up against the community center doors.

  She found herself staring at Sam as he jogged by, completely oblivious to her. Unbelievable. It was as if she didn’t even exist.

  Well, two could play at that game, she thought as she minced through the crowd looking for a potential flirt-mate. She gave the players a knowing smile as she approached. She might be wearing last season’s white Capri pants that one of the rug rats had splattered with finger paint, but she knew that her dark blue short-sleeved cotton shirt gave her just a touch of sophistication that might be lost on some of the boys.

  “Hey, guys,” she said, with just the right touch of flirt as the group looked her over. She singled out the tall, muscular basketball player who stood at the back of the group. “Looked like a great game, Logan,” she told him.

  He smiled, then took a quick gulp of soda. “Thanks, Rylee,” he said. “How’s it going?”

  Rylee gave him a coy smile, the one she used so successfully to score monetary donations for the robotics team. “Pretty good,” she told him as she casually flipped her braid over one shoulder. “I’m taking a gap year so I’ll be joining the Canton Home Mission next month.”

  She flicked a glance over his shoulder at Sam. He was facing her direction but didn't even glance her way as he continued to have an animated conversation with Lucas.

  He took another long gulp of soda. “Sounds like fun,” he said. “I haven’t gone on one yet.” There was a shout from across the field and he nudged one of his teammates. “We should probably see about taking down the net and getting stuff put away.” He looked down at her with a smile before tossing his empty can in the trash. “See you later!”

  Rylee blinked. “Bye, Logan.”

  Most of the group nodded and headed back to the field. Rylee took a deep breath and looked over the remainder for someone interesting to talk to. Greg caught her eye. He had been the lead on the robotics drive team this year.

  She slowly walked over, keeping an eye on Sam as she moved closer to Greg. He was so lanky that he always looked like he was still growing into his clothes. “So, Greg, did you have a chance to check out the band?” she asked. “I heard that they were pretty good.”

  Greg shrugged. “I wasn’t overly impressed,” he told her. “Nothing new and nothing that would headline at the New Vision Festival.” He frowned, looking down at her.

  Rylee cocked her head and tried to dazzle him with a pouty smile. “How so?” she asked as she gazed into his dark brown eyes.

  “I don’t care how great the guitar work was, Amazing Grace is still something only our grandparents would enjoy!” he told her with a slightly puzzled smile.

  Rylee laughed. “Well, now I’m not sorry that I missed it!” she told him. She moved a bit closer. “Are you going to New Vision this year? I heard they have a great line-up.”

  Greg looked away for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah,” he told her. “It’s in Memphis this year and I can’t afford to travel down there for just the weekend.”

  She nodded. “That’s too bad,” she told him. “I was hoping we could meet up for one of the concerts.”

  Greg licked his lips, looking a bit confused. “Aren’t you still dating Sam?” he asked. He glanced over his shoulder.

  Rylee gave him a slight shrug of her shoulder. “We broke up,” she told him, trading her signature smile for a frowny pout.

  He looked away, obviously looking for a way to end the conversation. She looked down for a moment, then took a half-step back. “It’s okay, Greg,” she told him, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “I know you have stuff to do.”

  “It was nice seeing you again, Rylee,” he said as he looked over the crowd. “We should catch up sometime.” And then he wandered away.

  The afternoon dragged on as she chatted with her friends, making jokes in an attempt to draw Sam's attention. He continued to ignore her as he first helped break down the volleyball field and set up for the three-legged race. Asshole!, she thought as she tossed her braid over her shoulder.

  A wave of dizziness washed over her. She reached out to steady herself, and Emma grabbed her hand. “Are you okay?” she asked. She stepped closer, concerned.

  “Yeah,” Rylee replied. “Probably too much sun.”

  Her friends exchanged concerned looks. “You should sit down out of the sun,” Brianna told her. “You look a bit pale.”

  Rylee sighed and let them lead her to a nearby bench under the willow tree. Kayt snagged her a bottle of water and then kept an eye on her until she’d taken a few sips.

  “I’m fine,” she told them with a tired smile. “Just a bit of a headache. It’s been quite the day.”

  Allison got up off the grass and brushed some stray dead grass from her legs. “Lemme go find your parents,” she said. “You probably need to lie down.”

  Rylee tried to protest but Allison had already walked away. Great, she thought. Her mom was going to smother her with all kinds of unwanted attention.

  She suddenly felt so drained that she just wanted to lie down. Movement caught her eye. Allison was leading her mother over, her face awash with maternal concern. She could almost hear it now: Let’s get you to bed, pumpkin. You overdid it today.

  The worst part? For the first time in a long time, she agreed with her mom.

  Rylee walked through the long hallway of Kathryn's apartment, the faint scent of baked bread mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Kathryn’s place was a cozy but cluttered one-bedroom in the historic Third Ward. The mid-century exposed brick walls were adorned with small eclectic art pieces and her worn leather couch was littered with books, facing the entertainment center along the far wall. Some of the books were open. Others were haphazardly stacked in each corner, threatening to fall to the floor if one cushion was accidentally disturbed. Stacks of papers littered the floor. It was organized chaos.

  Kathryn led her deeper into the apartment, moving past the kitchen island and into the living room proper. She started to grab the books and move them to the floor. Rylee moved to help, carefully bookmarking the pages for the books that had been lying open.

  “I made some sticky buns,” Kathryn said as the last book was out of the way. “Would you like some?”

  “Sure,” Rylee answered. She wasn’t really hungry but Kathryn’s baking skills were legendary. She could pull out five or six ingredients at random and make the most heavenly desserts. Besides, maybe the mixture of cinnamon and sugar would help settle her stomach.

  Kathryn stepped into the open kitchen and grabbed some plates and coffee mugs. Before long, the two of them had settled down to eat. Rylee sat on the floor with her back up against the couch. She pulled a small piece of the warm sticky bun off with her fingers and took a tentative bite. The molten swirl of the cinnamon’s warmth almost overwhelmed the gooey, decadent sugar frosting, just the way she liked it.

  “Oh, my God,” she moaned. “This is incredible, Kathryn!” Her stomach seemed to approve so she took a larger bite, momentarily losing herself in the flavor.

  Kathryn licked her fingers and set her half-eaten sticky bun aside. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m trying a new recipe.”

  “Can you email it to me?” Rylee mumbled around another bite. “I’d love to make this at home!”

  “Sure,” Kathryn said, picking her coffee mug up off the floor. “Can we talk?”

  Something in her voice made Rylee stop eating and look up to study her friend. Kathryn’s faded band t-shirt and ragged jeans were dusted with flour. Her curly honey-blond hair, usually wild and free, was pulled back away from her face with simple barrettes. But it was her expression that caught Rylee’s attention. She was tense, an almost desperate look that screamed worry.

  Rylee set her plate down on the floor. “What’s wrong?” she asked, quickly licking her fingers. The last time she’d seen Kathryn this upset was when she’d been outed as gay to their congregation.

  “I’m not sure how to talk to you about this,” Kathryn told her, then repositioned herself on the floor next to her.

  “About what?” Kathryn hesitated, so Rylee leaned forward to touch her hand. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  Kathryn took a deep breath and looked down at her coffee mug. “When was your last period?” she replied quietly.

  Rylee leaned back in shock. “What?!” she asked with a half laugh, half growl. “Our periods are never going to sync up. Didn’t we already figure that out in middle school?”

  Kathryn shook her head. “There’s no good way to talk about this,” she said. She took a sip of coffee, then looked up. “You’ve been complaining about being sick in the morning for over a week now, right?” She searched Rylee’s eyes for a moment. “You’re tired all the time. Nauseated and complaining that some foods don’t taste right. And you look like you haven’t slept in a week!”

  “So?” Rylee snapped.

  “So, when was your last period?” Kathryn gently asked. “I know you don’t have them regularly, but you could be pregnant.”

  Rylee stood up so fast that she felt dizzy for a moment. She threw out her hands to help stabilize herself, then grabbed her plate and mug and fled into the kitchenette. With a quick flick of her wrist, she threw the half-eaten sticky bun into the trash. Then, she placed her plate and mug on the counter.

  “Look, it’s just stress, okay?” she told Kathryn as she walked the few steps over to the kitchen island. “I have a lot going on right now.”

  Kathryn leaned up against the island and traced a soft finger across the tiled countertop. “Rylee, you need to take a pregnancy test, even if it’s just for peace of mind.”

  Rylee snorted. “Whose peace of mind?” she asked. “Yours?”

  “Ignoring this will not make it go away,” Kathryn told her. She bit her lip.

  Rylee opened up the dishwasher. “You know home pregnancy tests are unreliable,” she said as she put her dish and mug in. “Besides, it doesn’t matter when my last period was. I have long cycles. You know that!”

  “I also know that you stopped taking your birth control pills after you and Sam broke up the first time,” Kathryn reminded her.

  Rylee turned to her. Oh, my God, she thought, swallowing hard against her sudden rage. How dare Kathryn bring that up! “Kathryn, stop,” she growled. “My ovaries don’t work. I can’t get pregnant without help. You know this.”

  Kathryn nodded. “Just like your sisters,” she replied.

  “Just like my sisters,” Rylee slowly repeated. Her oldest sister, Chloe, had had several miscarriages and two rounds of IVF before successfully having Patrick. “So, can we drop it?”

  Kathryn nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you.”

  “Don’t be,” Rylee told her. “I’m fine.” She closed the dishwasher with a quick hand and walked back into the living room to grab her purse. “I’ve got to get going,” she told Kathryn, refusing to make eye contact. “Please send me the recipe when you have a moment.”

  And with that, she carefully walked down the hallway to the front door. Obviously, she was just coming down with something and needed to get more sleep.

  Rylee lay on her bed, tightly curled around her fluffy body pillow as tears slowly rolled down her face to soak into the fabric below. The only light in the room came from a single string of lights gracefully draped above her bed, creating a delicate dance of light and shadows against the mauve wall.

  Her bedroom had always been a sanctuary where she could escape from the world. Now, it felt more like a prison.

  She’d been so angry at Kathryn that she’d stopped at a pharmacy on her way home and bought a home pregnancy test. Simple, right? Take the damn test so that she could text Kathryn with the results just to shut her up.

  Except that two, very faint lines had formed in the results window. If she squinted just right, it looked like a blue plus sign.

  She’d tossed that pregnancy test in the garbage can with enough force that the bin had tipped over and thrown herself on her bed. She didn’t believe it—couldn’t believe it—and that test was just proof that home pregnancy tests should be taken off the market because they lied.

  Rylee rolled over the glare at the ceiling. Those blue lines were so faint. She couldn’t be pregnant. It wasn’t possible. The test was defective.

  She still remembered the day that she found out that she was infertile. It had been a painful conversation with her doctor, but not unexpected given that both of her sisters shared the same diagnosis. Her gynecologist had recommended a simple treatment plan: birth control pills and a sensible diet. The pills would give her a regular period and, well, everyone needed to eat better, right?

  Dr. Marrow had repeatedly reassured her that once she was finally ready to start a family, it would be as easy as taking a fertility pill that would force her ovaries to work. But Rylee knew that it could go the other way and she’d need a few rounds of IVF, just like Chloe.

  There was no way to know until she was ready. And at eighteen, she definitely wasn’t ready.

  Pregnant. She kept turning that word over in her mind, trying to make some sense of it. How was it even possible that she might be—

  Rylee sat up, clutching the pillow to her chest as if it were the only thing in her life that could protect her from the darkness. She found herself looking out the windows that lined the far end of her bedroom. She could see the lights of the family tennis court in the distance, even though she doubted that anyone was actually on the court at this hour.

  She closed her eyes as unwanted memories of meeting Sam for late-night matches came to mind. The floodlights were strategically positioned around the court to minimize shadows but that forced them to focus on the game, instead of each other. She wasn’t as good as Sam but that didn’t mean that she didn’t occasionally make him work for it. He might have a great forearm slice, but he was way too predictable. Lob a high-bouncing ball his way or make him work closer to the net and he was pretty much lost.

 

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