“Can I talk to you about something?”
“Sure,” he said with a broad smile.
“It’s a personal thing.”
“Whatever you say inside this church stays with me.”
Suddenly the urge to vomit spiraled through her. The double dose of Pepto-Bismol she’d taken that morning clearly wasn’t working. She willed herself not to make a mess of the Reverend. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
He took her by the elbow, led her to one of the pews, and brought her water. They sat silently, the only sound coming from the sudden rain shower that pattered against the window. Finally, the nausea subsided.
“Did you ever have the feeling something inside of you isn’t right?” she asked.
“Often,” he laughed. “Every time we go to my mother-in-law’s and she cooks her scalloped sweet potato casserole, I eat way too much. For days after I feel like there’s a boulder in my stomach and the darn thing won’t move.”
“Not like that,” said Emilia Mae. “I mean something different than food, something that really doesn’t belong in there. My body doesn’t feel like it’s mine anymore.”
Reverend Klepper rubbed his neck and looked down at her stomach. “Have you been with a man? I mean, have you had relations with a man?”
She reddened at the thought of him knowing what had gone on between her and John and decided to play the innocent.
“Just a little.”
“You do understand what happens when a girl and a boy have relations?” He glanced at her belly.
“Sort of.” She stared out the window.
Reverend Klepper continued, trying to find common ground. “When two people love each other very much, they come together in the way the Lord intended them to, and they create a child. You know that, right? Do you love this man with whom you’ve had relations?”
“Oh no, I don’t even know his last name. I’m not sure that’s what this is. It could be something else, you know.”
“No, Emilia Mae. Pregnant women can feel the baby moving around months before it comes out.”
“Maybe there’s something inside me, not a baby, but the devil’s work, something that ought not to be there. We need to come up with a way to get it out.”
“Listen, Emilia Mae. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m certain what you have inside you is the most precious kind of love there is. Trust me, the first time you hold that newborn child in your arms, you will know a love like no other.”
“This isn’t about love,” she insisted. “It’s about something bad that’s not meant to be. I really hope you can help me get rid of it.”
Reverend Klepper’s face turned somber. “Even if I had the power to help you get rid of this child—and I don’t—I wouldn’t. By getting rid of it, you mean having an abortion. That would not only be a sacrilege, but you’d be putting yourself in serious danger. Do you understand that you could die from an abortion?”
“If I am pregnant, I can’t have this baby. I’m too young, plus I have no idea how to raise a child.”
Reverend Klepper shook his head. “Here’s how I can help you. I can help you see your way spiritually through this time. I can help by suggesting that you tell your parents to take you to see Dr. Rogan as soon as possible. That’s what I’m qualified to do.”
Emilia Mae shook her head. “I don’t need Dr. Rogan. I need…” Reverend Klepper interrupted her and raised his voice to sermon level. “Emilia Mae, you need to see Dr. Rogan. You need to talk to your parents. You’re going to have a baby. That baby needs attention, and so do you.”
“I don’t want attention.” She tried to keep her voice calm. “I just don’t want to have this baby.”
“I understand that. Do me one favor, talk to your parents. After that, we’ll talk again.”
Emilia Mae allowed herself the thought of her mother as a grandmother. What if she liked this child? What if she was kind to it the way she was kind to the kids at the bakery? Emilia Mae had to smile at the thought of her mother calling this child “sweetheart.” If her mother loved this child, maybe she’d love her for giving birth to it. The thought hung in the air for a few moments before reality butted in. Her mother would be shamed by having a daughter pregnant out of wedlock, maybe never speak to her again. Then another thought interceded. What if this wasn’t about her mother at all? What if this was a way for Emilia Mae to have a little family of her own? A child who loved her, whom she would love back. The thought came and went, sometimes as a fantasy to indulge, other times as a concept too frightening to contemplate.
That night, Aloysius told his wife, Cora, about Emilia Mae. “She’s pregnant and wants an abortion. I’m not sure why, but she latched on to me to help her. I know this is an uncharitable thing to say, but I wish she hadn’t.”
“The young and unfortunate always latch on to you, Ally,” said Cora. “You’re a compassionate man, and you have God’s ear. Why wouldn’t they pick you?”
“This one’s different. She’s stubborn and inflexible. Nothing I say reaches her. All she wants is for me to find her an abortionist. What am I supposed to do with that?”
Cora rolled her startling green eyes skyward in an exaggerated manner.
“Very funny, Cora. God’s not a referral service.”
“Then seriously, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
Every Sunday for the next few weeks, Emilia Mae and Reverend Klepper had the same conversation. She’d plead with him to help her find an abortionist in the city, because that was the only path she could see clearly, and he’d tell her she had to tell her parents and see Dr. Rogan.
After a particularly infuriating session, Klepper walked into his house, threw off his coat, and flopped down on the couch. “That girl has really gotten under my skin,” he said to his wife. “If God is testing me, he’s sent me one worthy opponent.”
Cora pulled off his size thirteen shoes—each as large as a planter—and brought him a cup of tea with a shot of rum. “Ally, you got into this business knowing it would be more than bake sales and christenings. Isn’t that your job, to tend to the lost sheep and all that kind of stuff?”
He had to laugh at her unsentimental view of his job. As she was fond of telling him, being a minister’s wife was never what she’d had in mind: “The Lord led you here. I simply tagged along.” Still she did her best, showing up for as many funerals, baptisms, and services as she could tolerate, but never without reminding him that there was still time, he could always go into her family’s flower business.
“This one’s different. She’s hardly a lost sheep. She doesn’t want any tending from me. She just wants me to help her get rid of this child.”
“So, find her one of those homes for unwed mothers.”
“God, no, I could never do that. Those places are filthy and crowded. Besides, she’s so far along now, no one would have her.”
“What about talking to her parents?”