Free Up at Butternut Lake: A Novel by Mary McNear

it was out in the open, they could get this over with.
    “You think I came up here to break up with you?” she asked, incredulously. And a bright red spot suddenly appeared on each of her pale cheeks.
    “Didn’t you?” he asked. So much for this not being awkward.
    She shook her head. “Not even close, Walker.”
    He frowned. What was not even close to breaking up? But she didn’t give him time to contemplate that question.
    “I came to tell you that I’m pregnant,” she said bluntly.
    He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. He was too shocked to put a whole sentence together. And when he finally did, he didn’t choose his words carefully. He said the first thing that came into his mind.
    “How did this happen?” he asked.
    Whatever Caitlin had hoped to hear from him, this wasn’t it. She rolled her eyes. “How do you think it happened, Walker? You took sex education in high school, didn’t you? Or were you absent the day they covered the part about the sperm fertilizing the egg?”
    Sarcasm, Walker thought. He’d never known Caitlin to be sarcastic before. But who was he kidding? He’d never really known her at all before. He knew enough about her now, though, to know she was annoyed by his apparent stupidity. So he rephrased the question.
    “I know how it happened. What I meant was, you told me you were using birth control, so I assumed it couldn’t happen.”
    “I was using birth control,” she said, defensively. “But even the most effective birth control isn’t one hundred percent effective.”
    He nodded, dumbly. They’d covered that in sex education, too. Then a thought occurred to him. Actually, it was more of a hope. A tiny hope. Like reaching for a life vest right before you’re engulfed in a tidal wave.
    “Are you sure it’s . . .” He stopped. He knew he was crossing a minefield here. But there was really no tactful way to phrase this question. “Are you sure it’s mine? Could it be somebody else’s?” He braced himself for her response.
    But when she answered him, it was with more hurt than anger. “Of course not,” she said. And then, “How many people do you think I’m having intimate relationships with right now, Walker?”
    “I, I don’t know . . .” he said, honestly. It was the wrong thing to say.
    “Walker, for God’s sake,” she snapped. “I hope you know me well enough to know that you’re the only one.”
    Walker didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His brain was going into shut-down mode again. So they lapsed into another silence. An intensely uncomfortable silence.
    “Look,” she said finally, her tone softening. “I’m as surprised as you are. I almost fainted when I saw the results of the pregnancy test. But I’m not here to discuss how it happened. I’m here to discuss something else. I’m here to discuss what we’re going to do about it.”
    “Okay,” Walker said. His brain still wasn’t working very well. But it was working well enough to realize that Caitlin had just said more at one time than he’d ever heard her say before. “Go on, Caitlin.”
    She took a deep breath, and Walker had the feeling that she’d rehearsed whatever she was going to say next. “I’m going to have the baby, Walker. And I’m going to raise it—I mean him, or her—by myself. But I’m going to need your help. Financially, I mean. As you know, right now I’m a receptionist. I can’t do this by myself. Not on my salary. If anything changes for me, well, then, obviously, whatever financial arrangement we make would change, too. I mean, I don’t want to be a receptionist forever. And I still want to get married some day, even though this”—here she gestured at her still perfectly flat stomach—“might make it more difficult. And Walker?” she continued. “I know I was irritated when you asked if it was yours. But I agree that we should have a paternity test done when the baby’s born. If only for your peace of mind.”
    Peace of mind,