Read Online The Baby Agenda by Janice Kay Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: Janice Kay Johnson
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disposed of it, although now he wasnât sure heâd even really looked. Heâd been wishing he had another condom, wishing he wasnât leaving his redhead to awaken alone in the hotel room.
Will sent the email, figuring heâd write shorter, more personal ones to each of them individually tomorrow. Then he read Moiraâs one more time, as incredulous and confused as he was the first time. Finally he closed the internet and turned off the computer.
What was he going to say to her?
Â
I T WAS FIFTEEN DAYS AFTER sheâd made herself write that hideous email and send it before she saw a reply in her in-box from Will Becker. The first week, Moira had compulsively checked her personal account at least twice a day while she was at work, something she rarely did, then a couple more times at home. When there was nothing from him, sheâdâ¦not given up, relaxed. A better choice of words. Since then, sheâd gone back to reading personal email in the evening at home. Tonight, sheâd sat at the computer while leftover casserole was heating in the microwave. At the sight of his address, her heart took an unpleasant bump and her hand was actually shaking when she reached for the mouse.
She distantly heard the microwave beep and ignored it.
Â
Moira,
Iâm sorrier than I can say that youâve had to deal with this on your own. I should have told you that night why the one night was all I could offer. I suspect that, despite my denial, you still worried I might be married, engaged, whatever. It wasnât anything like that. I had just accepted a job from a nonprofit committed to build schools and medical clinics in sub-Saharan Africa. Iâve been in Zimbabwe for nearly four months now, and have made a two-year commitment. I often have no access to email for weeks at a time. I just read yours last night.
It would never have crossed my mind to think youâd tell me the baby was mine if it wasnât. Maybe you believe I donât know you, but I thought I did. Well enough to be sure youâre honest, and that your invitation to mewas out of the ordinary for you. I hope you know me well enough to guess what Iâm going to say now.
No child of mine is going to grow up not knowing his father. I canât do much to help you right now, although I am more than willing to offer financial support if you find you canât continue to work all the way through your pregnancy. I ask that you stay in touch and let me know how youâre doing. Iâll be back in the states every few months, and we can talk the first time I am. Come up with a plan. But fair warning: I will be involved.
Â
He gave her the website address of the foundation he worked for in case she was interested, and repeated that he wanted to hear from her. He closed by asking what she did for a living. Tell me about yourself, he said. Please.
Moira cried for the first time in months, and she didnât even know why. She didnât need him. She kept remembering the intense note in his voice when he told her about his worst nightmare. âBeing trapped. Spending my life doing what I have to do.â There was more, but sheâd known what he meant.
This was what heâd been trying to say. Getting stuck with an obligation he hadnât willingly, wholeheartedly made. Having to accept responsibility for helping raise a child he couldnât possibly want.
Her email, she thought wretchedly, was his worst nightmare.
Â
T WO DAYS LATER, MOIRA REPLIED .
Â
Will,
Now I think Iâm sorry I told you. I remember that yousaid your worst nightmare was to get stuck, to spend your life fulfilling obligations. I donât want to be your nightmare. And please, please donât feel you have to be involved if youâll resent it. That would have to be awful for a kid, donât you think? I barely remember my fatherâdid I tell you that?âbut even though I often wished that he was
Will sent the email, figuring heâd write shorter, more personal ones to each of them individually tomorrow. Then he read Moiraâs one more time, as incredulous and confused as he was the first time. Finally he closed the internet and turned off the computer.
What was he going to say to her?
Â
I T WAS FIFTEEN DAYS AFTER sheâd made herself write that hideous email and send it before she saw a reply in her in-box from Will Becker. The first week, Moira had compulsively checked her personal account at least twice a day while she was at work, something she rarely did, then a couple more times at home. When there was nothing from him, sheâdâ¦not given up, relaxed. A better choice of words. Since then, sheâd gone back to reading personal email in the evening at home. Tonight, sheâd sat at the computer while leftover casserole was heating in the microwave. At the sight of his address, her heart took an unpleasant bump and her hand was actually shaking when she reached for the mouse.
She distantly heard the microwave beep and ignored it.
Â
Moira,
Iâm sorrier than I can say that youâve had to deal with this on your own. I should have told you that night why the one night was all I could offer. I suspect that, despite my denial, you still worried I might be married, engaged, whatever. It wasnât anything like that. I had just accepted a job from a nonprofit committed to build schools and medical clinics in sub-Saharan Africa. Iâve been in Zimbabwe for nearly four months now, and have made a two-year commitment. I often have no access to email for weeks at a time. I just read yours last night.
It would never have crossed my mind to think youâd tell me the baby was mine if it wasnât. Maybe you believe I donât know you, but I thought I did. Well enough to be sure youâre honest, and that your invitation to mewas out of the ordinary for you. I hope you know me well enough to guess what Iâm going to say now.
No child of mine is going to grow up not knowing his father. I canât do much to help you right now, although I am more than willing to offer financial support if you find you canât continue to work all the way through your pregnancy. I ask that you stay in touch and let me know how youâre doing. Iâll be back in the states every few months, and we can talk the first time I am. Come up with a plan. But fair warning: I will be involved.
Â
He gave her the website address of the foundation he worked for in case she was interested, and repeated that he wanted to hear from her. He closed by asking what she did for a living. Tell me about yourself, he said. Please.
Moira cried for the first time in months, and she didnât even know why. She didnât need him. She kept remembering the intense note in his voice when he told her about his worst nightmare. âBeing trapped. Spending my life doing what I have to do.â There was more, but sheâd known what he meant.
This was what heâd been trying to say. Getting stuck with an obligation he hadnât willingly, wholeheartedly made. Having to accept responsibility for helping raise a child he couldnât possibly want.
Her email, she thought wretchedly, was his worst nightmare.
Â
T WO DAYS LATER, MOIRA REPLIED .
Â
Will,
Now I think Iâm sorry I told you. I remember that yousaid your worst nightmare was to get stuck, to spend your life fulfilling obligations. I donât want to be your nightmare. And please, please donât feel you have to be involved if youâll resent it. That would have to be awful for a kid, donât you think? I barely remember my fatherâdid I tell you that?âbut even though I often wished that he was
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