Free The Consequences by Colette Freedman Page B

slightly.
    â€œDid Mom tell you?”
    â€œYour mother has many wonderful gifts, but reticence is not one of them,” he murmured, “and don’t you dare tell her I said so.” He glanced sidelong at his daughter. “You will always be that seven-year-old girl running wild through this garden, chasing the skunk just to make it spray, because you were one of the few people in the world who loved the smell. You will be forever ten, coming to me with the injured cardinal cupped in your hand. I will always remember you in your Communion dress, and your prom dress, and your graduation gown. I will never be disappointed in you. You’ve always made me proud, sweetheart. Always.”
    Stephanie rested her head on her father’s shoulder and remained silent, unwilling to trust herself to speak.
    â€œDo you want to talk about it?”
    Stephanie drew in a deep lungful of the icy December air. “The father’s name is Robert Walker. He’s sixteen years older than I am and runs a small production company in Boston. And he’s married. With two children,” she added.
    â€œStill married?” Matt asked quietly.
    â€œStill married. I know this goes against everything you’ve taught us and everything you believe in, Dad. But I fell in love with him. I allowed myself to fall in love with him, because he told me—and, in his defense, he genuinely believed it at the time—that his wife was no longer interested in him.”
    â€œBut he didn’t leave his wife?”
    â€œNo. No, he didn’t.” She sighed. “Last weekend I told him he had to choose.” She shrugged. “And he chose me. Told me he’d leave his wife after Christmas, that we’d be together. There was about forty-eight hours, Dad, when I was never happier.”
    â€œLet me guess,” Matt said, not looking at her, squinting out at the snow-capped field, now losing definition as the world drifted into night. “The wife shows up?”
    â€œThe wife shows up.” She turned to look at her father. “How did you know?”
    â€œMust have been something fairly dramatic that drove you back home on Christmas Eve. I can’t think of anything more dramatic than that.”
    â€œShe showed up yesterday. And then Robert turned up a little later.”
    Matt Burroughs’s lips curled in a tight smile. “That must have been awkward.”
    â€œYou have no idea. I found out that she still loved him. And talking to her made me really understand what my future with Robert would be like. So . . . I made him go back to his wife.”
    â€œHow did he feel about that?”
    Stephanie blinked in surprise. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask him. I suppose I thought since they both know there’s a problem, surely they can work together to figure it out—get some counseling or something.”
    â€œAnd now?”
    â€œI don’t know what to do. If I’m pregnant, I’ll need to keep in touch with him.”
    â€œWhy?” Matt asked seriously.
    â€œBecause . . . ,” Stephanie began and then stopped. She’d no idea why. “It just seems right. For me, for him . . . and for the baby.”
    Matt nodded. Then he asked Stephanie what she had been asking herself for months. “Does he love you?”
    â€œI think so,” she said eventually.
    Matt stood up and fixed the blanket over his daughter’s shoulders again. Then he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “There are some questions that are like math problems. There should be no equivocation: only one answer—in the positive or the negative. So, I’ll ask you again: Does he love you?”
    The twilight cast long shadows on the snow, turning the pristine whiteness to gray. The familiar lines of the backyard were disappearing into the gloom. High and clear in the cold air, she heard a child’s voice, raised in delighted laughter, the sound pure