The waitress delivers their lunch, plain white plates of blah-looking food. Lucy’s crab cake is more ball than cake and is a third the size of her bun. And her side order of pasta salad is more mayo than pasta. Presley’s grilled chicken breast is served over a bed of romaine lettuce, which would not have been her choice for a dish with an oriental flair.
Presley snaps several pics for Cecily. Lucy gives Presley half her sandwich, and Presley forks a portion of her salad onto Lucy’s plate.
Lucy, with an expression of skepticism, watches Presley take a tentative bite of salad. “How is it?”
Presley gives her a so-so hand motion. “I don’t understand the hype. What do you think of the sandwich?”
Lucy takes a bite. Her chewing slows down as a disgusted look crosses her face. “Agreed,” she says, and sets it down on her plate.
“Back to your story,” Presley says.
“Right. So, I had this huge crush on a guy at Chapel Hill. He was stud man on campus. Good-looking. Wealthy family. President of his fraternity.”
Presley nods. “I know the type well.”
“But he didn’t know I was alive. At least that’s what I thought. He shocked me by inviting me to his fraternity’s formal in November of my sophomore year.” Lucy toys with her pasta salad. “I’ve never been one to drink for the purpose of getting drunk. Even in college. But I remembered nothing that happened after dinner. It wasn’t until March, when my pants started getting tight and I found out I was pregnant, that I realized he’d date-raped me.”
Presley’s mouth falls open, and she drops her fork to the plate with a loud clatter. Several customers glance in her direction, but she ignores them. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard. I’m so sorry, Lucy.”
She stares down at her plate. “He stole my virginity. I never considered I might be pregnant. I had no morning sickness, and my period had always been irregular. In hindsight, my boobs were sore. By the time I took the test, it was too late to do anything about it. Not that I would have.”
“Did you report the boy to the police?”
“What was the point? I had no proof. His word against mine. My parents were amazing about the situation. They made certain I received the care I needed both physically and mentally. The baby was born a week before classes started in August. I refused to even hold it. I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. I gave it up for adoption. I just wanted to get on with my life.”
Presley pushes her salad away. “I don’t blame you.” Lucy’s story hits close to home. Did something similar happen to Rita? Is Presley the result of a rape? She gestures at Lucy’s barely touched sandwich. “Are you gonna finish that?”
“No! Let’s get out of here,” Lucy says and signals the waitress for the check.
The day is warm for this time of year with temperatures in the low seventies. As they start out on foot toward the inn, Presley asks, “When did you and Grant get back together?”
“Ten years later. I’d finished sommelier school and was working in California. I ran into Grant at a party one Christmas when I was home for the holidays. He’d finished medical school and had begun his residency at the local hospital here. We stepped back into our relationship as though we’d never been apart. Within six months, he asked me to marry him and I moved back to Hope Springs.”
“What kind of doctor is he?”
“An OB/GYN.”
“Oh. Wow. How’d he react when he found out you put your baby up for adoption?”
Behind tortoiseshell sunglasses, Presley can see the lines around Lucy’s eyes deepen. “I’ll get to that part of the story in a minute.”
Lucy pauses to look at an old-fashioned baby stroller in the window of an antique boutique. “Grant and I were eager to have children, but it took two years for us to get pregnant with Chris. Because it had taken so long the first time, we immediately started trying for another child. But I was never able to get pregnant again. Chris was eight years old when I was diagnosed with cervical cancer.”
Presley squeezes her arm. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” Lucy digs in her bag for a tissue to wipe her nose. “The truth is, I was fortunate. The doctor caught the cancer early. But, while I was spared from having to have chemo, the doctor recommended a full hysterectomy. Which meant no more children for me.”
“You’d come full circle,” Presley says. “You were on the opposite side of adoption.”
“And I would have adopted a baby in a heartbeat, but Grant wouldn’t consider it. He has nothing against adoption. He was simply content with our one child.”
They begin walking again. “Depression set in, and when I started obsessing about finding the baby I’d given away, I told Grant about the rape and subsequent unwanted pregnancy. He was adamantly opposed to me trying to find my child. He was worried I’d disrupt his or her life.”
Chill bumps break out on Presley’s skin. With roles reversed, Lucy’s story is so eerily familiar to her own. “How old would your child have been by then?”
“In college. An adult. Even so, Grant was right. I gave up my parental rights when I signed the adoption papers. I
