Free Cause For Alarm by Erica Spindler Page B

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 wasn’t 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 didn’t have to keep it.
    So here she sat, in Citywide Charities’ 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 wouldn’t tell her the truth, of course. Not the whole truth, anyway. She wouldn’t 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 didn’t know who the father was; she had no one to turn to for support and didn’t want to be a mother. Period.
    â€œHi. You must be Julianna Starr.”
    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.
    â€œI’m Ellen Ewing, Citywide’s director.”
    â€œHi.” Julianna stood.
    â€œWhy don’t we go to my office and chat?” She motioned toward the hallway directly across from them. “Madeline,” she said to the receptionist, “hold my calls, will you?”
    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.
    â€œJuice? Soft drink? Bottled water?”
    â€œOrange juice?”
    â€œGot it.” 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. “I’m addicted to Diet Cokes. I drink them all day, I’m afraid. With this figure, you’d think I was drinking the sugared variety.” She sighed. “It sometimes seems that the less I eat, the bigger I get.”
    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 Ellen’s 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. “Those are my kids.”
    â€œYour kids?”
    â€œIn a manner of speaking.” Ellen took her seat. “They’re all Citywide adoptees.”
    â€œAll of them?” Julianna moved her gaze over the wall, amazed. “There are so many.”
    Ellen smiled, skimming her own gaze over the wall of smiling faces. “They’re all special to me. Almost as if they’re part mine.” She turned back to Julianna. “We take great pride in our maternity and adoption program, Julianna. Bringing families together is a special and completely rewarding endeavor.”
    She popped open her can of soda. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. We don’t just place children and babies for adoption here. Bringing families together also means helping women decide if they want to parent. If that’s what you decide to do, we won’t be angry or disappointed. We won’t pull our support. Quite the contrary, we will do whatever we can to help you in your decision. We only ask that every