Free Worth the Risk by Anne Lange Page A

speech was raspy.
    “I blamed myself.”
    “It wasn’t your fault.” His voice wobbled. She fixated on the sand. She couldn’t stand to seethe betrayal she anticipated would be plain as day on his face, in his eyes.
    “I believed it was. We were in our last year of university. I had my part-time job at the paper, and I was trying to land that full-time position. I wasn’t sleeping. I stressed about exams and the holidays, and I wasn’t eating right. I figured all that worked against me.”
    “You can’t really believe that.”
    “At the time, I did. And nobody could convince me otherwise. More importantly, I didn’t want anybody to try. I was heartbroken. I’d lost our baby.”
    Tanner didn’t say a word for about twenty minutes. In the silence of the night, the softness of his voice, when he spoke, made her jolt. “I don’t like it, but, I guess I can understand. What I still don’t get, though, is why you broke up with me. Even if you had decided never to tell me about the baby, why end our relationship?”
    She shifted to face him straight on. “I didn’t want to tie you down with a wife who might not be able to give you children.” A sob burned the back of her throat. Tears pooled in her eyes.
    “Not give me children? I’m confused.”
    “The doctor said I’d had a molar pregnancy.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It’s when an incorrect number of chromosomes are transferred to the baby.” In a voice as detached as possible, she reiterated what the doctor had told her. Ten years later and she could still hear his exact words. “In a normal pregnancy an equal number of chromosomes are transferred. In some cases, the fetus will still develop, but without the proper genetic makeup, it won’t survive. After the miscarriage, they did a D and C—a dilatation and curettage—to confirm the diagnosis and to remove any remaining tissue from my uterus. Apparently, sometimes there can be further complications, even the possibility of cancer. I had to go through monthly blood tests for a year to confirm everything was all right, and I couldn’t risk getting pregnant again until my hormone levels were back to normal.”
    “How are you now?” Concern lay heavy in his question.
    “I’m fine. As far as I know anyway.”
    “What does that mean? Did the doctor tell you that you couldn’t have other children?”
    “No.”
    “Can this happen again?”
    “The doctor said that it was possible, but the risk of it happening was minimal.”
    “So if he said the chances are slim, what’s the problem?” His snap of frustration came through loud and clear.
    “What if I can’t have other babies? What if I get pregnant and it happens again? I can’t go through that, not again.” She paused, her voice a bare whisper when she continued. “You’ll be a great father someday. You deserve a family. I’m just not sure I’m the one who can give it to you.”
    “Life is full of risks.”
    “I know. When I found out I was going to have your baby…God, Tanner…I was so happy. I couldn’t wait to tell you.” He reached to put his arm around her, pulling her tight against him. She snuggled into his side.
    “Even though my parents and the doctor told me everything would be fine, told me it was nothing I did, and not to worry I’d probably have other children, I truly believed I must have done something wrong or my body was in some way defective.”
    “How did I not notice what you were going through? We were together all the time. Fuck, we went to school together. We lived together.”
    “I purposely stayed away from you over the holidays, and when we got back to the city, we were caught up in the new term and graduation. I didn’t say much, but I was physically there.”
    She peeked up to see him fixed on something out across the water. Tears tracked down his cheeks. She reached a tentative hand up to wipe them away, but stopped halfway there, unsure.
    His free hand snagged hers before she reached his