another doctor, or going to an abortion clinic and lying about the date of her last period. She figured it would be hard for them to tell, after all she wasnât that far past twenty-four weeks.
She had driven by one of the clinics, had seen the protesters out front, waving signs and holding up posters. Ones with pictures of mangled baby parts, pictures of bloody appendages and torn, mutilated flesh. The images had made her feel ill. They had frightened her. She had heard horror stories about botched abortions.
She had to have this baby.
But she didnât have to keep it.
So here she sat, in Citywide Charitiesâ comfortable waiting room, hands clenched in her lap, silently rehearsing what she would say to the social worker she had spoken with on the phone.
She wouldnât tell her the truth, of course. Not the whole truth, anyway. She wouldnât tell her about John, or about planning to get pregnant, or about her mother.
No, her story would be a familiar one, one the woman had probably heard dozens of times before. She had slipped up and gotten pregnant; she didnât know who the father was; she had no one to turn to for support and didnât want to be a mother. Period.
âHi. You must be Julianna Starr.â
Julianna looked up. The woman crossing the room had a perky, if not pretty face and she wore a welcoming smile. Slightly plump and motherly looking, her appearance instantly reassured Julianna.
âIâm Ellen Ewing, Citywideâs director.â
âHi.â Julianna stood.
âWhy donât we go to my office and chat?â She motioned toward the hallway directly across from them. âMadeline,â she said to the receptionist, âhold my calls, will you?â
Ellen made small talk, mostly about the weather, as they made their way down the hall. They reached her office, a peach-and-teal affair, and she motioned Julianna to one of the comfy-looking chairs in front of the desk.
âJuice? Soft drink? Bottled water?â
âOrange juice?â
âGot it.â Ellen picked up the phone, buzzed Madeline and asked her to bring an OJ and a Diet Coke, then turned back to Kate. She laughed, only slightly self-consciously. âIâm addicted to Diet Cokes. I drink them all day, Iâm afraid. With this figure, youâd think I was drinking the sugared variety.â She sighed. âIt sometimes seems that the less I eat, the bigger I get.â
Madeline appeared at the door with the refreshments. While Ellen retrieved them, Julianna looked over the office. It was pretty, soothing and very feminine. The right side of Ellenâs desk was heaped high with manila folders, the left with books. By the lamp sat a cut crystal vase filled with a bouquet of cheery flowers. Behind the desk, covering the entire wall, were pictures of children, from infants to school-age.
Ellen handed Julianna her juice, and smiled, following her gaze. âThose are my kids.â
âYour kids?â
âIn a manner of speaking.â Ellen took her seat. âTheyâre all Citywide adoptees.â
âAll of them?â Julianna moved her gaze over the wall, amazed. âThere are so many.â
Ellen smiled, skimming her own gaze over the wall of smiling faces. âTheyâre all special to me. Almost as if theyâre part mine.â She turned back to Julianna. âWe take great pride in our maternity and adoption program, Julianna. Bringing families together is a special and completely rewarding endeavor.â
She popped open her can of soda. âI donât want you to feel pressured. We donât just place children and babies for adoption here. Bringing families together also means helping women decide if they want to parent. If thatâs what you decide to do, we wonât be angry or disappointed. We wonât pull our support. Quite the contrary, we will do whatever we can to help you in your decision. We only ask that every