Our gracious host, Rochelle, encourages us
to be creative by writing a story in 100 words
or less using the photo prompt below. This is
Friday Fictioneers. Here’s where the photo took me.
Tag: Pregnancy
Ooh, Baby!
In response to a prompt from Carrot Ranch,
write a 99 word story (no more, no less)
about an awkward situation.
When I was newly married, my husband and I lived in an apartment building. It was a nice place, quiet, and we only saw the people who lived on our floor.
I’d run into Meg by the elevator every so often; she was extremely pregnant.
This one particular day I saw Meg and realized it had been a while since our last elevator meeting. Noticing her protruding belly, I said “You must be getting close now, eh?”
She stared at me and bluntly responded “I had the baby three weeks ago.”
Eyes darting, mumbling “Congratulations”, I fled the scene!
NAR©2024
99 Words
https://carrotranch.com/2024/03/05/march-5-story-challenge-in-99-words/
This is Brenda Lee with “Baby Face”
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
SAVING GRACE
There aren’t too many people who know about this part of my life; that’s about to change.
It was 1943 and I was crazy about Pvt. Roy Holmes at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Every night for two weeks I snuck out my bedroom window to be with him. Then he stopped coming around and I found out he’d been deployed. I was heartbroken. Just one short month later I learned he’d been killed. Another month later I realized I was pregnant.
Mama and daddy would never understand; what’s worse, they’d never forgive me. I packed some clothes and snuck out one last time. I caught a north-bound bus, getting off at the aptly named city of Hope, Ohio. Eyeing a pretty white church, I headed straight for it and rang the bell. I was surprised when a young handsome pastor answered; he was even more surprised when I fainted in the doorway. When I came to I was on a sofa with the pastor and two women standing over me.
“Better now?” asked the pastor and I gave a little nod of my head. “Maybe if you tell us what’s wrong we’ll be able to help” he suggested.
“Yes, what wrong, dear? Maybe we can help?” the two kindly women asked in unison.
Speaking softly, I slowly made up my story as I went along: “My name is Grace Holmes. My husband of five months was killed in the war. I have no family, no money and I’m pregnant.” I started to cry tears of sorrow and shame. Handing me a tissue the pastor quietly said “There now. You’ve been through an awful ordeal. Please stay the night here in the parish house and in the morning we’ll sort it all
out.”
I gratefully accepted the pastor’s kind offer; the two women led me upstairs and helped me get settled in a lovely guest room. The room was small but well-appointed with a twin bed, nightstand, dresser and rocking chair in the corner. It even had its own bathroom with a bathtub! There was a beautiful view of a pond behind the church and I knew this was where I was meant to be. Still, I felt very guilty about my lies. I decided I would stay a day or two until I figured out what I would do, then I’d move on. I couldn’t take advantage of these kind people.
The next morning I found everyone in the kitchen preparing breakfast. The pastor rushed over to offer me a chair. “Good morning, Grace! These are the two ladies who were here last night when you arrived … our cook, Anna, and Peggy, our housekeeper. I’m Richard Clark, the pastor” he said, absentmindedly touching his collar. Everyone was so welcoming!
I remembered the two women as the ones who brought me to the guest room and I thanked them again for their hospitality. We made small talk during breakfast – the weather, what was on sale at the grocery store, a new recipe Anna couldn’t wait to try out. One topic everyone was careful not to mention was the war, obviously for my sake. I refrained from saying too much, afraid of turning my lie into a giant web from which I’d never free myself.
Life at the parish house was surprisingly busier that I thought. People stopped by to discuss weddings, funerals, baptisms, the church bazaar. Some inquired about joining the choir and others invited Pastor Richard for dinner. It was comfortable while being lively and I liked helping Anna in the kitchen, even though she insisted I should be resting in my “delicate condition”. Soon I would have to leave before I wore out my welcome.
One night after dinner, Pastor Richard asked me to join him in his office. He offered me a chair and then sat behind his desk. “Grace, I believe things happen for a reason. I’ve been thinking about this since you arrived the other night. There’s a way we can help each other. You see, my secretary recently retired and I haven’t been able to find anyone to take her place. I’d like to offer you the job. It’s not very demanding – taking phone calls, answering the door, keeping track of appointments, things like that. The salary is decent and room and board are included. Would you consider taking the job? I believe you’d be a real asset here.”
“Pastor Richard, I wasn’t prepared for this and I don’t know what to say. What about my condition?” I responded.
“Grace, you’re pregnant; you don’t need to ring a bell and declare ‘Unclean! Unclean!’ wherever you go. Celebrate the new life growing inside you! Do me a favor; sleep on what we discussed and let me know tomorrow. And Grace, please call me Richard.”
That night in my room I thought about the job and living at the parish house. I had to admit I felt at home here and it would be an answer to my prayers. The next morning I told Richard I wanted to take the job on a 3-week trial basis if that was alright with him. He was so happy with my news, he gave me an unexpected hug that lifted me off my feet.
Working at the parish house was wonderful; I was always a quick study and I became entrenched in my new job in no time. Of course, Richard was a huge part of the reason I was so happy. Over the period of just a few weeks we became much closer to each other. We spent many hours together, our friendship growing stronger until it was undeniable – we were falling in love.
When I announced to Richard that the 3-week trial was over, he walked over to me and said softly “Grace, please stay. I couldn’t bear it if you left.”
I reached up and put my arms around his neck. “I’m not going anywhere, Richard. I’ve fallen in love with you.” And we kissed for the first time.
From that moment on we were inseparable. As our relationship became obvious to those around us, so did my pregnancy. Richard asked me to marry him and I said yes. We were both thrilled but my lies haunted me. I knew I had to confess before I could marry Richard. I took him by the hand and led him to the sofa in his office.
“Darling, I have something to tell you. The night I arrived here, I lied to everyone about my past. I‘m not a war widow; I was never married. I became pregnant by my boyfriend who was drafted and left without even saying goodbye to me. One month after that, he was killed and soon after I discovered I was pregnant. My parents would never understand so I ran away from home. I got off the bus here when I heard the bus driver announce the city of Hope. I believe this is where I was meant to be.”
I sighed deeply and waited for Richard to say something. Finally, when he spoke, his words shocked me.
“Oh, Grace. I’ve been waiting all this time for you to tell me, to unburden yourself. How awful it must have been to be living with that lie day after day. You see, darling, I’ve always known or at least surmised the truth.”
I was stunned. “But how? How could you know?”
“No wedding ring, no pictures of your ‘husband’, no mention of your childhood, your family. You said nothing about your life at all. I figured it out and I didn’t care. I love you and I’m so happy you trusted me enough to tell me the truth. I want to be your husband and a father to your baby more than anything in the world. That’s all that matters.” And then he kissed me.
“We’re going to have to call your parents and let them know you’re safe. Don’t worry, darling; it will all be ok. But first we have to tell Anna and Peggy we’re getting married; I’ll never hear the end of it if they’re not the first to know!”
I made another decision that night: if our baby is a girl, her name will be Hope.
NAR © 2023
I’m looking forward to
having you join me today
At The Movies.
https://rhythmsection.blog
EVENING IN PARIS
Grandma Lila and I always had a closeness few people get to experience in their lives.
My mother Zoey learned she was pregnant with me when she was 14 years old – too young to drive and too old to play with dolls. The boy she said was the father did what any teenager would do in that situation; he denied everything and bailed on her.
Abortion was not open for discussion. Grandma Lila told my mother in no uncertain terms that getting pregnant was irresponsible but ending a baby’s life was unforgivable. As far as Grandma was concerned Zoey had two choices: she could stay home and help earn money by doing work with her – sewing pearls and little bows on ladies panties – or go back to school until it was time for her baby to be born. She’d rather die than be seen in her condition so Zoey opted to say home with Grandma.
Even though it was the lesser of two evils, as far as my mother was concerned staying home was like being in prison. She and Grandma Lila sewed for hours while watching soap operas, cleaned the house and cooked meals. Zoey didn’t go out and never saw her friends. She got bigger and more uncomfortable with each passing month and couldn’t wait for the pregnancy to be over. Finally on a chilly November morning just before Thanksgiving Zoey’s water broke and Grandma Lila brought her to the hospital. Zoey was in labor for almost two days when the doctor finally decided to do a C-section. Then the unthinkable happened: there were “complications” and my mother bled out. She died in the delivery room.
Grandma Lila was devastated at the loss of her only child. My mother never had the chance to see me, hold me or delight in that new baby scent. When I was placed in my Grandma’s arms, she swore to protect me for the rest of her days. She took me home and held me tight as she settled in her rocking chair, her soft woolen shawl draped over us both. That’s where our bond began, wrapped in a shawl delicately fragranced by the hint of gardenias from Grandma Lila’s perfume, Evening in Paris.
From day one Grandma Lila was my champion. It was she who fed and bathed me, watched me take my first steps and sat up with me all night when I had scarlet fever. We baked cookies, played in the backyard sprinkler and laughed together watching I Love Lucy. Grandma put me on the school bus in the morning and greeted me every afternoon when I got home. She took me to piano lessons, Girl Scouts and soccer practice. Grandma was there for every concert, spelling bee and sports event. As I got older she sweetly explained the “birds and bees”, careful to answer only the questions I asked and not overwhelm me with too much information.
When I started dating, Grandma Lila would give me a little wink if she approved of the boy or a rub of her nose if she didn’t but she never interfered. Then I met Steve and she told me he was “a real keeper”. Steve asked for Grandma’s blessing before he proposed to me and she walked me down the aisle on my wedding day. And she was the first to hold our daughter Jenna just hours after she was born.
Months turned into years and Grandma Lila started spending more time in her rocking chair wrapped in her beloved woolen shawl and looking out the window. She was old and frail now but the thought of putting her in a nursing home never crossed our minds. Steve and I took care of her until the very end, just as she took care of me for so many years. I began wrapping Grandma’s shawl around my shoulders as I sat on the sofa watching TV; it brought me comfort and sweet memories of my life with her.
It was right after Thanksgiving, just a few months after Grandma passed away, when I returned home from shopping and was struck by the familiar fragrance of gardenias wafting through the house. Maybe Steve surprised me with flowers but gardenias blossomed in spring and summer, not late fall. As I walked by the living room I saw Grandma’s shawl wasn’t on the sofa where I left it; I found it draped over her old rocking chair and neither Steve nor Jenna had moved it. I picked up the shawl and held it to my face, inhaling the fresh scent of Evening in Paris. Tears filled my eyes; I knew that Grandma Lila had visited us that day. I miss her so very much.
NAR © 2020
SAVING GRACE
There aren’t too many people who know about this part of my life; that’s about to change.
It was 1943 and I was crazy about Pvt. Roy Holmes at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Every night for two weeks I snuck out my bedroom window to be with him. Then he stopped meeting me and I found out he’d been deployed. I was heartbroken. Just one short month later I learned he was killed. Another month later I realized I was pregnant.
Mama and daddy would never understand; what’s’ worse, they’d never forgive me. I packed some clothes and snuck out one last time. I caught a north-bound bus, getting off at the aptly named city of Hope, Ohio. Eyeing a pretty white church, I headed straight for it and rang the bell. I was surprised when a young handsome pastor answered; he was even more surprised when I fainted in the doorway. When I came to I was on a sofa with the pastor and two woman standing over me.
“Better now?” asked the pastor and I gave a little nod of my head. “What’s wrong?” he inquired. “Maybe we can help.”
“Yes, what wrong, dear? Maybe we can help?” the two kindly women asked in unison.
Speaking softly, I slowly made up my story as I went along: “My name is Grace Holmes. My husband of five months was killed in the war. I have no family, no money and I’m pregnant.” I started to cry tears of sorrow and shame. Handing me a tissue the pastor quietly said “There now. You’ve been through an awful ordeal. Please stay the night here in the parish house and in the morning we’ll sort it all out.”
I gratefully accepted the pastor’s kind offer; the two women helped me upstairs and helped me get settled in a lovely guest room. The room was small but well appointed with a twin bed, nightstand, dresser and rocking chair in the corner. It even had its own bathroom with a bathtub! There was a beautiful view of a pond behind the church and I knew I was meant to be here. Still, I felt very guilty about my lies. I decided I would stay a day or two until I figured out what I would do, then I’d move on. I couldn’t take advantage of these kind people.
The next morning I found everyone in the kitchen preparing breakfast. “Good morning, Grace! Join us! This is our cook Anna and Peggy, our housekeeper, and I’m Richard Clark, the pastor.” Everyone was so welcoming!
After breakfast Richard asked me into his office. “Grace, I believe things happen for a reason. We can help each other. You see, my secretary recently retired and I’d like to offer you the job. It’s not very demanding, the salary is decent and room and board are included. Won’t you stay here with me … um, I mean with us?”
We both blushed. “But what about my condition? Won’t people talk?”
“Have faith, Grace. You’ll find the people here very understanding.”
“Then yes, I accept!” I replied happily. “I won’t let you down.”
Parish life was wonderful! Richard and I grew close, fell in love and he asked me to marry him. I was thrilled but haunted by my lies. “Richard, I love you but I have a confession. I was never married and I left home because of the pregnancy.”
“I was hoping you’d tell me, Grace. I’ve always known.”
I was stunned. “But how?”
“No wedding ring, no pictures of your ‘husband’, no mention of your childhood. I figured it out and it doesn’t matter. I love you and I want us to be a family.”
Richard and I got married that weekend and a few days later our baby girl was born.
“She’s beautiful, just like you, Grace. What shall we name her?”
“That’s easy, darling. Her name is Faith.”
NAR © 2019
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