The two blue lines might as well have been made of neon tubing, lit up and fl ashing, “Pregnant! Pregnant!” She threw it into the sink with a frustrated groan and kicked the trash can because, unlike Pieter, the sugar bucket was there. Why did the truth, showing itself in plain light, always feel worse than when it remained in the shadows? But she knew. Now she knew. She bumped her head against the mirror. Again and again. No, no, no. This wasn’t in her plans. Not in her grand plans. And not even in the “just-settling” plans. Best just to get on with the day. One more thing to do, though. She grabbed a phone book, looked up the second listing in the yellow pages. Abortion Clinics. Well, no use being cryptic about it. Before it, Abortion Alternatives caught her eye. The first listing. No. There were no other options. She dialed the number. A warm voice assured her everything would be okay, and it would be, wouldn’t it? Women did this all the time and they survived. “Yes, we had a cancellation for Wednesday.
