Injustice for all

38

Hannah Mills laid the slim, elongated tube on a paper towel on the back of the toilet and began to pace around the house. She picked up Patches, the cocker spaniel-mix puppy she’d adopted from the animal shelter a couple of weeks earlier, and carried him along with her.

“It can’t be,” she kept saying to the pup. “It just can’t be.”

With all that had happened to her, Hannah had become an expert at putting things out of her mind, and that’s exactly what she’d done with the memory of her drunken night at the restaurant. What else could she do? Accuse Tanner of raping her? Perhaps, in her drunken state, she’d consented and simply didn’t remember.

Tanner had called the next afternoon to check on her and ask how she was feeling. She’d casually asked him how she got into bed, and he said he’d carried her into the house, laid her on the bed, removed her shoes, and tucked her in. Hannah couldn’t bring herself to believe otherwise.

The fatigue had started less than a week later. There were times when her legs felt as though they were made of concrete. She would suddenly find herself barely able to move, barely able to stay awake. There’d been several times when, out of nowhere, she’d felt like crying and would have to run off into the bathroom to sob. Last week, the waves of nausea had begun to wash over her in the mornings, even when her stomach was empty. Her breasts were tender. She urinated far more often than she ever had in the past. She’d missed her period.

Hannah walked back into the bathroom. The pregnancy test was sitting there, waiting. She knew what the result was going to be, but she had no idea what she was going to do. She held the puppy close to her chest with her left hand and reached down with her right…

Hannah decided to call Lee Mooney. Mr. Mooney had hired her, after all, and had treated her extremely well since she’d made the move from Knoxville. He also knew Tanner well and might be able to give her some advice in that regard. She’d thought about calling Joe and Caroline Dillard and asking their advice, but she found she was too embarrassed. She hadn’t told Mr. Mooney the problem over the phone, just that she needed to speak with him as soon as possible. He’d arrived at her house in less than half an hour and was sitting in a chair in her den.

“I hope you’re not going to tell me you’ve decided to leave,” Mooney said as Hannah handed him a glass of sweet iced tea.

“No, no, I’m not leaving,” Hannah said nervously. Actually, the thought of leaving suddenly appealed to her. “At least I’m not planning on leaving. Not any time soon, anyway.”

“That doesn’t sound too promising,” Mooney said.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that… It’s just that what I’m about to tell you is terribly difficult, not to mention embarrassing. You can’t tell a soul.”

Mooney twisted the end of his handlebar mustache with the fingers on his right hand.

“I’ve never really asked you about your family, Hannah,” he said. “If I remember correctly, I asked you a couple of things when I first met you at the conference, and it seemed to make you uncomfortable. Isn’t there anyone in your family you can talk to?”

“I don’t have any family. My parents and brothers and sister were killed. I’m all that’s left.”

“Do you want to tell me about what happened to them?”

“Thank you, but no.”

“All right. Well, I hope you know you can trust me,” he said.

“You’ve been good to me.”

“And it’s been my pleasure.”

Hannah took a sip of her tea. Her hand was shaking, so she set the tea on a coaster on the coffee table in front of her. She folded her hands and began to rock back and forth.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

Hannah fought to maintain her composure, but the shock of actually saying the words caused her to break down. She covered her face with her hands and began to sob quietly. A few seconds later, she felt Mr. Mooney’s presence beside her. He sat down on the couch and gently took her hands.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Hannah looked at him through watery eyes. He was smiling warmly. Both his touch and his voice were reassuring.

“Do you feel up to talking?”

Hannah calmed herself as best she could. Mr. Mooney handed her a handkerchief, and she tearfully recounted her symptoms of the past few weeks and the results of the pregnancy test.

“It had to happen the night I got so drunk,” she said tearfully. “It had to be Tanner.”

“You have no recollection of what happened after you got home that night?” he said.

“None. None whatsoever.”

“There are certainly ways to find out if Tanner’s the father,” Mr. Mooney said. “Paternity tests. You could ask him to take a paternity test.”

“I know. I’ve thought of that.”

“If he refuses, you could force him.”

“Yes, I know. But what then? What if he takes a test and I find out it’s his?”

“Then I suppose you have him arrested for rape.”

“I can’t be certain he raped me. Maybe I let him. Maybe I wanted him to.”

“Hannah,” Mr. Mooney said, “I was there that night. I saw how intoxicated you were. As a matter of fact, I felt guilty about my role in contributing to your condition. But sex is something that’s supposed to occur between two consenting adults, and there’s no way in the world you were capable of consenting. If Tanner had sex with you that night, it was a rape under the law. And if he raped you, he needs to face the consequences.”

“No,” Hannah said. “I can’t. I won’t. I’ve worked with dozens of rape victims in the past six or seven years, Mr. Mooney. I’ve seen what they go through. I can’t put myself through that.”

“I understand, Hannah. I truly do. The system can be harder on victims than criminals.”

Mr. Mooney rubbed Hannah’s hands gently. She found herself glad that she’d made the decision to call him. It was good to have someone to talk to, especially someone as experienced, not to mention as compassionate, as Mr. Mooney.

“Have you considered the alternative?” Mr. Mooney said.

Hannah looked at him and blinked, not quite sure what he meant.

“You could terminate the pregnancy. It happens more than you might think, especially in cases of rape.”

The thought of abortion hadn’t entered Hannah’s mind. It was out of the question. She wouldn’t-she couldn’t-even begin to entertain the notion of destroying the life she knew was growing inside her. Rape or no rape, abortion was not an option.

“No,” Hannah said quietly. “I could never do that.”

“Are you sure? It’s no sin, Hannah, especially considering what seems to have happened to you.”

“No,” she whispered. “No, Mr. Mooney. I won’t destroy my own child.”

“Of course you won’t. I hope you’ll forgive me for even bringing it up.”

Hannah was silent after that, lost in the maze of thought that surrounded her latest predicament. Mr. Mooney continued to rub her hands and softly reassure her, and she was content to let him do so. A half hour passed, maybe more. Mr. Mooney knelt in front of her and pushed back from her face the hair that had matted in the tears on her cheeks.

“It’s getting late, Hannah,” he said. “I have to go now. Why don’t we sleep on it for a day or two and then decide the best course of action? There’s no sense rushing into anything.”

Hannah nodded, and shortly thereafter, Mr. Mooney left.

When Hannah had decided to switch jobs, she’d sensed she was doing the right thing. She wasn’t so certain about the decision now, but at least she’d been right about one thing.

Mr. Mooney was a kind and decent man. If anyone could help her, it would be him.

She picked up Patches, who was whining at her feet, and began to rub his belly.

“I wonder if it’ll be a girl,” she said. “No, I hope it’ll be a girl.”