Part One

By Anne Gooding

Summary: Mistakenly pregnant at 16, Joey decides to give the baby up for adoption. Little did she know how her choice would impact her life. Occurs sometime after Tamara’s Return. Rating: R

________________________________________________________________________

“It was a close one,” Pacey said to Dawson. They were walking across the schoolyard, in no hurry to get inside the building to start another long treacherous Monday at Capeside High. It was such a beautiful day—bluebell blue sky, warm wind, the sea air inviting. Students around the place had already started to sneak off grounds with intent to hit the beach. Dawson felt the same way, which was kind of new to him, but he knew what he would much prefer to be doing today than Math. He smiled to himself as Pacey rattled on about Andie McPhee, who he so obviously liked but wasn’t going to admit it—Grade School Romance at its finest.

Speaking of McPhee’s, up ahead Dawson noticed the brother, Jack, who seemed okay—a little moody though, and he was talking to a hot brunette. The Brunette turned her head and Dawson did a double take; it was Joey. Lately she’d been wearing a far cry from what she wore last winter, that was for sure—nothing dramatic, just jeans and a tank top, but she still looked different. Well of course she did. She was different. And so was he, since last weekend.

“Well, hello, hello,” Pacey said when they reached the two of them. “Your…uh…kooky sister isn’t hiding anywhere around here, is she?”

Jack raised his eyebrow. “No. She’s in the library.” “The library eh?” Pacey rubbed his hands together and manically laughed. “I know a McPhee who’ll be getting annoyed this morning!” and he took off.

“I apologize for my friend’s immature obsession with your sister…’ Dawson frowned after Pacey.

“Oh, he’s good for her,” Jack said seriously. Joey smiled up at Dawson. “Hi.”

“Hey…’ he slipped an arm around her waist and Joey tensed. Dawson thought maybe it was because they were in front of Jack.

“Well, I really should be heading off, Jack suddenly blurted out, looking a bit uncomfortable at Dawson’s affectionate behavior. “Get back to me on that art festival, Joey…’ he smiled invitingly and walked off. “I will.” She called after him.

“Ah…so you and Jack have a date, do you?” Dawson teased her, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her to him for a kiss.

“Its not a date…’ Joey blushed.

“Hmm. I’m jealous anyway,” he gave her a long, passionate kiss, but she broke it off, embarrassed. “Dawson you know how I feel about PDA.”

“Oh. Okay, sorry,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “Lets take today off…” he then persuaded. “Just once. We can go to the beach, or the Ruins, or…back to my place…no one will be there…’ he kissed her neck.

Joey took one look back at school, sighed, and then grabbed his hand. “Okay. Lets go.”

****

They attempted to just watch movies, but it was so nice out they changed into their bathing suits and jumped in the creek for a quick swim. They played ‘tag’ but Dawson kept ‘tagging’ Joey and once or twice she almost lost her bikini top.

They then attempted to just sun bake out on the dock, sneaking away beer from Mitch’s garage fridge, but after a few steamy kisses and Dawson’s hand completely down Joey’s bikini bottoms, Joey just dragged him indoors. They made love on the floor of his bedroom, the sun filtering through the window warming them.

It was one of the most exhilarating times they had ever had. Afterwards, they put their bathing suits back on and went back down for a swim and a few more drinks until Dawson looked at his watch and exclaimed, “Shit! My dad should be here any minute.”

Giggling, feeling a bit drunk and ridiculous, Joey helped Dawson dispose of the bottles, and then, as Mitch’s car turned into the drive, she raced upstairs and threw away the condom wrappers and their clothes and opened the window to let air into the room. She then dressed back in her jeans and shirt and wandered downstairs, trying to look normal and innocent.

“Hey Joey…’ Mitch waved and walked past her, to turn on the TV.

“Hi Mitch.” Joey looked at Dawson quizzically, but he just shrugged. Usually, Mitch would have questioned them, checked the bedroom for ‘clues’ and even inspected Dawson’s eyes for dilated pupils—apparently a sign of sex. Joey hadn’t noticed Dawson’s pupils dilate during sex.

****

It started when Joey got sick. A common cold, Bessie diagnosed her, one days rest in bed. Joey gladly did so, feeling feverish and nauseous at the same time. Dawson visited her that afternoon, bringing with him Joey’s homework. She made him wait at the door before he could see her, while she quickly brushed her hair and applied some lipgloss.

“Oh…you read my mind,” Joey smiled affectionately. He knew her so well. It was one of Joey’s pet peeves to miss any homework. She was still working her ass off, despite her and

Dawson’s newest extra curricular. “And I brought you some soup. Well, my mom made it, but I brought it over…” Dawson proudly placed a small bowl on her bedside table.

“You’re so brave,” Joey said dryly.

“And some movies and books, depending on what you prefer…” Dawson placed a pile on her desk.

“Thanks Dawson…” Joey relaxed back against her pillows.

“No problem…” he sat down next to her. “I can stay if you want, but I know you want your space.’ He said thoughtfully, going off the argument they’d had several weeks earlier.

“That’s okay. I want you here,” Joey reached for his hand. He wheeled the TV in and spent the night there, snuggling in bed with Joey as they watched movies.

**** The nausea and fever went away after a few days, but then she began to feel wretchedly moody and

bloated. She didn’t want anyone touching her, especially Dawson, so she avoided him during school. She felt like blowing up whenever Andie came over to chat, and was even meaner to Jack or Pacey.

When she saw Jen around the place she’d completely avoid her altogether, sending her blank looks or going the other way. Jen actually looked a little hurt, since usually Joey tried to smile or something.

After snitching at Pacey about something completely ludicrous, he complained to Dawson. “You need to keep your girl in line, man,” he grumbled after school. “She just growled at me for nothing. And it wasn’t even her usual, it was just mean.” Dawson shrugged. “She hasn’t been well lately. Give her a break. You know as I do Joey’s never like this.”

****

Bessie had been cleaning in Joey’s room, something she rarely did but Joey had been so messy lately Bessie couldn’t stand it, and while Alex was asleep she snuck in and started vacuuming and dusting.

She picked up some books and opened Joey’s bedside drawer to shove them in when her eye caught something Bessie wished she hadn’t seen. A small, rectangular box of condoms. Opened. Half of them gone.

Grimly, Bessie sat down heavily on Joey’s bed. Joey came in the door just as she did so, and her face paled when she realized what Bessie was holding.

“What are you doing in here?” she said hotly.

“Cleaning…’ Bessie said dangerously, standing up and flickering her brow.

“And look what I found.”

Joey went bright red. She threw her book bag on the floor and crossed her arms, defiant.

“So?”

“So? Why didn’t you tell me you and Dawson were having sex?” Bessie yelled.

“Because its none of your business.”

“Joey…yes it is. I could have…I mean, given you advice, or something, and…” she stuttered. Well. Maybe it wasn’t any of her business. “Look, as someone who started having sex young, I know that…”

“Spare me.” Joey rolled her eyes. She stomped out and then ran as fast as she could towards the woodsy area near their house. When she sat down, by a tree, she realized she was crying, hot, salty tears. Shaking, she pulled out the Confirm Pregnancy Kit she’d taken at school today. She’d never felt more scared in her life.

To Be Continued. How you’ve Grown Part two By Anne Gooding Rating: NC-17 Summary: Joey explains. Lyrics by Natalie Merchant. _______________________________________________________________________

'My, how you've grown.'
I remember that phrase from my childhood days too.
'Just wait and see.'
I remember those words and how they chided me,
when patient was the hardest thing to be.
Because we can't make up for the time that we've lost,
I must let these memories provide.

****

When Dawson and I started dating back in spring in Tenth Grade, I was a whirlwind of walking on air. For so long, this was all I wanted, and in the blink of an eye, in the moment of a kiss it was what I had. The first few weeks were a bit rusty. Climbing into his window usually ended with me in a compromising position on the bed with him. We didn’t watch *one* movie from beginning to end, and our conversations were limited to say the least. And going to the movie theatre on a date? Forget it. We would waste $8 sitting in a dark corner *not* watching the movie.

We went further in those few weeks then I had with anyone. (Well duh, Dawson being the second guy I’d kissed my entire life) It was both exciting and nerve wracking. But then we both settled comfortably into our roles as boyfriend and girlfriend. We started talking more like we used too.

He would walk me home every night. We went to the movies and actually *watched* the movie and laughed about it afterwards at a burger joint. We studied together. I helped him with Literature, he helped me with Math. We tried to set up Andie and Pacey (to no avail) and yet we grew more intimate in private. The more comfortable we were in our relationship outdoors, the more we seemed to do indoors. Sex popped up more than once in conversations but I happily skirted around the issue. I wasn’t ready. Dawson was fine with this. After all, we were settled on second base. But then Jack came along.

It wasn’t as if I stopped loving Dawson, or that I wanted to start dating Jack, it was more of a crush really, a tiny one because… Jack was…*different*. He was new. He was exciting. He liked everything I did—the same books, art, vagrants. We had discussions about things I had never talked about with anyone.

He wasn’t Dawson. He was mysterious. And cute. I hated myself for this. HATED myself. Now, I look back and laugh, especially thinking about known Jack ended up being quite, quite gay. (Explained a few things)

Guilt transcended into me making up for it in the bedroom. Its not like I didn’t want too. My body said, yes, yes, YES! But my mind said…I’m not sure.

Mitch and Dawson started planning for their annual fishing camping trip to the cape with Pacey. Somehow, I ended up coming along. I’d stopped joining them in the fifth grade, when I realized I couldn’t swim naked in the lake or share a tent with the boys without feeling a bit funny. This time, as Mitch reassured me, I’d have my own space.

The morning we set off in the jeep was one of the happiest mornings I could remember. Mitch and Pacey sat in front, oblivious, singing along to Jon Bon Jovi. Dawson and I were in the back, in our own little world. Dawson had whispered jokingly in my ear, “Maybe I can sneak into your tent sometime…”

“You guys aren’t going to…make out the entire time, are you? Coz if you do you’ll make me yak,” Pacey exclaimed from the front. Mitch just gave us a warning look in the rearview mirror.

We promised we wouldn’t. I was quite happy to leave it like it used to be, the four of us, hiking, fishing, telling stories around the fire, Mitch covering my ears at the scary bits, making s’mores, and later on, the two hooligan boys would come up with some kind of brilliant plan (usually Dawson’s) to spook me outside the tent with shadows and strange hooting noises. But I also knew this time would be a little different.

**** No little girl can stop her world to wait for me.
I should have known.
At your age, in a string of days
the year is gone.
But in that space of time,
it takes so long.

****

There was a fire, we did go swimming (clothed) we did tell stories and this time Dawson toned down any scary ones. (I am SUCH a ‘fraidy cat’ as he calls me) we made S’more’s. After Pacey and Mitch retired to their tents, Dawson and I went for a walk in the woods. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I squeaked after hearing that damn yowling noise for the third time—god, what was it?

“Jo, we’re in Massachusetts. No one ever got mauled by a bear or a coyote in Massachusetts,” Dawson chuckled. I blushed.

“If there is anything scary out there…well, I’ll protect you.’ He leaned down and kissed me. We’d been waiting all day to be alone. Now, he backed me up against a pine tree as we kissed, his hands everywhere, mine all over him, our mouths meeting again and again as he kissed all my fears away.

“Joey…oh Jo…’ he mumbled, sliding his hand up my stomach, then back down again. My brain was in overdrive, scolding myself, telling myself that it was too soon, that we’d regret it, that I’d regret it, but I didn’t care. Not really. Something about the sea air must have made my judgment cloud. “Dawson…I’m ready,” I whispered. It was the only way I knew how to tell him I wanted to have sex.

He stopped kissing my neck and stared at me. “Are you sure?” I nodded quickly, and started to undo his belt buckle.

“Here?” He laughed softly, putting a strong hand over mine, stilling my movements. Well, the pine tree bark was kind of prickly. “Do you have any condoms?” I asked, as he took my hand and guided me back through the woods to our campsite.

“Some.” Dawson looked a little sheepish. I was glad he at least had remembered. We managed to quietly shift my tent over towards the trees, and we snuck in together, making sure everyone was asleep first.

As soon as I unzipped my sleeping bag, we started to take our clothes off and kiss, our kisses becoming more and more urgent and heated with every second. I touched and kissed every part of his skin and he mine, and then we were both completely naked, and I lay down in the sleeping bag and pulled him down on top of me.

I liked this bit the best…the ‘foreplay.’ He touched and kissed and nuzzled my breasts and my stomach, and then he parted my thighs and touched me there. He’d never done that before and it was a strange feeling, but a nice strange feeling. A good one. He wasn’t exactly sure how to touch me but he just experimented and I smiled encouragingly at him. It felt very, very, very good when he kissed me down there, so good in fact I came for the first time. I can still remember my first orgasm very clearly, and how I stroked his hair. After sliding the condom on over what felt like a large erection, Dawson kissed me passionately and I opened my legs wider, letting him nudge in.

“Just…push in,” I whispered, knowing it would hurt and wanting it to be over quickly. He guided himself in, and with a quick shove of his hips he was in and I felt myself tear. It was sore, and I bit my bottom lip to stop from gasping out loud. Dawson didn’t move. He stroked my hair and looked worried down at me. “Just tell me to stop if it hurts,” he said gently.

“Okay.” After a few moments of just kissing, I urged him to move and he did. It was a weird sensation, having Dawson inside me. I can’t say it was enjoyable, either. But he seemed to be feeling good and I just kissed him, smiling, liking that he was enjoying himself. It was towards the end that I felt a warm tingling start in my abdomen, and I was surprised—wow. It was starting to feel nice. But before I could explore that feeling further, Dawson came with a shudder and a groan, and I held onto him tight, smiling to myself. Oh well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered afterwards, when we had put our clothes back on and were snuggled together in the sleeping bag.

“About what?” I said in confusion.

“About you…not…liking it.” Dawson sounded embarrassed. He looked kind of hurt, too.

“Dawson.” I said, getting up on my elbows. “No girl likes it her first time. It hurts. But I did like it. I liked making love to you, the whole thing. Don’t worry…” I stroked his hair. He smiled and kissed me again. “I love you.”

I stared at him.

“I…Love you too,” I whispered back. And we fell asleep shortly after. Mitch was oblivious, but Pacey looked at us curiously for the rest of the camping trip.

****

The sex did get better for me. We experimented a lot, usually on the floor of his bedroom so the bed wouldn’t move. I still preferred foreplay, though. We became so wrapped up in each other we forgot about everyone else. I didn’t even think about Jack again. Jen, Pacey and Andie were aliens to me. Bessie’s voice came from far away. Dawson and our new activity was all I could think about.

Were we stupid to be doing it that young? Probably. I neglected my studies. Sometimes we’d start to do it forgetting about protection and remember halfway through. We became selfish and jealous. We started arguing about silly things, like other ‘threats.’ I got irritated with him about being so cloying, and then, after a few months, about wanting so much sex. We were sixteen! I wished it were as simple as holding hands and making out again. I loved making out. Sex was suddenly not such a big deal to me. After a while, I stopped liking it so much.

And then, my periods stopped. And our lives changed forever.

****

I’d read about women not knowing they were pregnant in magazines and had always scoffed—how could you *not* know? When the female doctor at the clinic had told me gently I was almost five months, I had almost fainted. That meant I would have gotten pregnant…well…early on. Oh fuck!

It was Bessie who had dragged me to the clinic, after I had broken down and admitted my suspicions. She’d held my hand the entire time, but her face was a mask. Inside, Bessie had been thinking—‘not again. Not the both of us’ she’d always envisioned me going to college, marrying someone well-to-do…and *then* having children. Not now. Not at sixteen. It wasn’t fair. She told me this years later.

“Technically its not too late to…terminate the pregnancy,” the doctor had told us, looking kind of uncomfortable. I guessed she hadn’t done too many teenage pregnancies—she was nearly my age herself. “But I think you should think about it,” She’d given us a card with a bunch of numbers on it—councilors and such. I was in shock, so Bessie tucked it in her jeans pocket.

“Okay kid,” Bessie said grimly when we got into the truck. She made a left turn off Main, towards Dawson’s house. “We’re going to have a little talk with the father of this baby.” Baby? I clutched my stomach. And I just thought I had gained weight. I just thought I was sick.

“Oh no, Bessie…’ I had begged. “Lets just go home. Or to a…a clinic.” But Bessie kept on driving. I was silent after a while, knowing it was the right thing to do anyway. I was already starting to regret not telling Dawson straight away. He would be so angry, so hurt. He’d said once that our relationship would never…could never hurt our life long friendship, and I agreed. What a lie.

Dawson looked so happy to see me. But his happiness faded away when I hesitantly told him I was almost five months pregnant. Gale was shocked. She hadn’t even known her son was…well, ‘hitting it’ with her surrogate daughter. Mitch looked so angry he could hardly speak. Dawson had dropped his head into his hands, and I remember my heart just falling down, down…I can’t remember clearly the rest of that day, except Gale’s oddly sharp tone, telling the two shame-faced teenagers that there was no way in hell we could keep this baby.

Dawson stared at his mother, contemplating this threat. But I, to my surprise and Dawson’s chagrin, just nodded, agreeing. “We can…adopt it out,” I said softly. Dawson turned to look at me, his eyes unreadable. He swallowed. “Sure. Its your body.” Oh why, why didn’t he talk me out of it? Why hadn’t he argued with me, told me his true feelings?

****

Ten years later…

Joey’s kitten heels made little clicks on the marble tiles of the foyer as she made her way outside into the brilliant sunshine and people and cabs on a warm August afternoon on Lexington.

The receptionist, Linda, waved at her, smiling slyly. Joey was taking the afternoon off; she felt she had earned it after working her guts out over the Masters Account for six months straight.

She’d gotten the promotion—creative editor at Doubleday Publishing, and was thinking of going apartment hunting with her friend and ex-college roommate, Audrey that weekend now that she could afford a higher monthly rate. She didn’t want to admit to even herself she just wanted out of the apartment she’d shared for two years with her ex-boyfriend, Christopher. Everything reminded her of him and she hated it.

He’d gotten married last weekend, to some Californian girl. They’d broken up, mainly, as he put it, because she was a ‘workaholic.’ “So are you,” she’d retorted. “Yeah, but I still have time for the people I love,” he’d sneered. So he found a woman who didn’t even have a real job, she was on various charity committees. Well, good luck to them. Joey had worked hard to get to where she was and she wasn’t going to sacrifice it.

She unbelted her silk lined knee length trench coat and slung it over her arm. She shook her hair out and contemplated going to the park, or maybe to do some shopping. She decided on shopping, and wandered around Bloomingdale’s for a solid hour, picking up a new leather brown belt, Sass and Bide jeans and lipstick.

She bypassed the lingerie, telling herself crossly she didn’t have anyone to see her in any of it, and found herself in the infant clothing department. Tiny jumpsuits, overalls and dresses hung from hundreds of racks, and various mommy’s and nanny’s and strollers were dotted around, one mother holding up a Burberry jacket to a cross looking four year old. A strong wave of sadness hit Joey so hard she felt she would faint; Joey leaned back against a solid column, her palm pressed against the cool plaster.

“Are you alright?” a saleswoman passing by stopped and asked concerned. “Do you need to sit down?”

“I’m…fine,” Joey replied quickly, embarrassed. She picked up her bags and rushed out, managing to get in the elevator and outside onto the street. Once she got home, she collapsed onto the couch with a heavy sigh and switched on the TV. But nothing would take her mind off the thought that her child would be ten years old today.

****

“I don’t believe it.”

Dawson turned from where he was standing on the porch of what was once his house, to see Jen standing in the doorway frame.

“Is it me or do you look…taller?” she grinned, holding out her arms. “You look smaller,’ Dawson replied, grabbing her in a big hug.

“You can’t be eating!”

“Its called running around after a two year old,” Jen said wryly, and on cue, her little girl Amy was carried out onto the back porch by a delighted Gale.

“Jen, she’s *gorgeous*” Gale gushed, passing Amy to Dawson who held his hands out.

“And she knows it,” Jen twigged her daughters nose. Amy was three, with blonde curls and big brown eyes. Her father, Capeside playboy and wealthy Drue Valentine, adored her, and spoilt her rotten whenever Jen let him have access to Amy. Jen fretted he was a bad influence. Drue was still trying to win back Jen’s heart. Dawson just thought that was funny.

“If only she was yours,” Jen had sighed to Dawson more than once. Amy could have been. Jen and Dawson had had an intense two- year relationship senior year high school and first year college. They broke up when he went to L.A. Dawson was now directing a few TV shows for ABC and was producing, and was writing a few scripts for shows—he co wrote a popular political drama which had earned him last year an Emmy—he’d given it to Gale who proudly displayed it in the front hall—his success was steadily rising in Hollywood, especially since he had been offered the chance to direct a high profile drama, set in Toronto. He was flying off on Saturday, but was going to spend the week in Capeside, for his mom’s wedding.

A lot had happened since tenth grade.

He’d become a father, lost his father and was about to get a stepfather.

**** Because we can't make up for the time
that we've lost,
I must let those memories provide.
No little girl can stop her world to wait for me.
Every time we say goodbye
you're frozen in my mind
as the child that you never will be,
you never will be again.
I'll never be more to you
than a stranger could be.
Every time we say goodbye
you're frozen in my mind as a child that
you never will be, will be again.

****

To Be continued. I love the time and in between
the calm inside me
in the space where I can breathe
I believe there is a
distance I have wandered
to touch upon the years of
reaching out and reaching in
holding out holding in

*****

I couldn’t remember being so nervous…except for maybe the moment *she* was born. Gale had begged me to come to her wedding, and I had to go—I just had too, despite the nagging in my brain not too. I wanted to see everyone—Jen, Pacey, Jack—who had come out during eleventh grade and was now, to my surprise, best friends with Jen; god, even Andie. And especially Dawson.

Even though I had to bite the inside of my mouth every time I thought about it, I desperately wanted to see Dawson again. It had been close to five years—in fact—the last time I saw him had been my graduation…no, it was a few months later, at Pacey’s birthday party. We’d danced. Once. It had been kind of awkward, but a nice awkward. It had actually been kind of sweet. We hadn’t even danced at prom. We laughed and talked about menial things, as though we were really adults with no painful memories or past. We talked about Pacey’s burgeoning romance with the delightful Andrea McPhee: Dawson told me he had always thought they’d hook up and was surprised it took so long but not surprised it happened. I agreed with him, somewhat reluctantly.

They’d been sparring for god—years and years. If it wasn’t for me I bet they would have gotten together sooner. They’re engaged now. But yes, the last time I saw Dawson…he hugged me before he left the party, telling me, “You gotta come visit me in California.”

“I will. I’ll try,” I promised. I never went. We talked occasionally but it was…hard. It was strange. Because it was an open adoption, I got pictures once a year, and a small letter, from Michael and Amanda Hudson in Asheboro, South Carolina. I sent them on to Dawson who always sent them back to me. Always. It hurt me, that he never acknowledged our daughter. I see now that he was hurting as much as I was, but didn’t know how to express it.

We’d always told each other everything, and now, it was lucky if he told me he got a haircut.

He hadn’t even told me his father was dead. Pacey had told me, had called me at college that morning, and had given me the details of the funeral. I had taken the first train to Capeside and had stayed for the week, mainly looking after Lily who stared about in confusion as relatives and friends filled the gloomy house. Dawson cooked dinner, answered phone calls and checked on his mom in a trance. Mitch had been killed in a car accident---his car had skidded into a tree during a rainstorm. I was devastated, he had been like my own father, but Dawson’s pain made me forget my own.

On my last night there, the day after the funeral, I had gone to Dawson’s room. He was still up, at midnight, long after everyone had left and his mom and sister were in bed. He was rifling through boxes.

“Dawson?” I creaked the door open. He had looked up in surprise. “Oh…I thought you left.”

“No, tomorrow morning.” I closed the door behind me and went to sit on his bed. Everything was still the same…even the bedspread. The walls were empty, though, and the room was cold. “Do you want some cocoa?” I had asked. “I’m making some.”

“No I’m fine,” he shut the box lapels and kicked it under his bed. I stared up at him, transfixed. When had he changed like this? When had he become this…man? This untrusting, closed-off man? Deep inside, I knew when. The moment he found out about *her*.

I had changed too, in those three years. I kept losing weight. I couldn’t eat like I used too. My hair was long, halfway down my back. My face had gotten angular, my lips constantly being bitten when waves of anxiousness washed over me, mostly late at night.

Dawson had put *on* weight. He was much bigger than Pacey now, but not in a fat way. I could see definition through his shirt, and under his collar and on his hands I saw tanned, smooth skin. I wondered who he was making love too now, who he was pleasuring, who he kissed, who he loved, who he satisfied himself with. Was she like me? It had been three months since Jen walked away, who had replaced her? He noticed me staring after a few moments and raised an eyebrow. “Do I look that bad?” he wiped a hand over his stubbled jaw.

“No.” I whispered truthfully.

He sighed and sat down next to me, rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves. He still hadn’t taken off his suit. I still hadn’t taken off my simple black dress. When he leaned near me I smelled whisky on his breath. For some reason, it turned me on. It was the most ludicrous moment of my life. But My mind was numb from pain, numb from feeling, numb from the memories of the man I would never see again, Dawson’s father, *her* grandfather. The gauze curtains billowed, and I could smell autumn. *She* had been born in autumn.

“How’s college going?” Dawson asked blithely, leaning back on his hands, not seeming to mind when his hip came into contact with mine.

“Fine, good…” I murmured, scratching my neck, thinking, maybe I should leave.

“What’s your major?”

“Oh…um, Literature.”

“Oh yeah.” It was then I realized the radio was on, sending soft airwaves our way. It was what used to be our favorite channel, old Motown. “These arms of mine” was playing and I felt my throat close up.

“Dawson…we don’t have to talk,” I said, turning to him, placing my hand on his arm.

“I know. Its stupid, isn’t it? Pretending to have a polite conversation, when all we want to do is scream at each other,” he said flatly.

“I don’t want to scream at you,” I said shakily. “But if you want to scream at me, you can…”

“Just stop.” Dawson choked up and he dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t do this.”

Throwing my conservation to the wind, I put my arms around him, and let him cry in my lap. “I still love you,” he whispered after some time. Now, The Beatles were singing “Michelle” one of my favorite songs. *I love you, I love you…that’s all I want to say…I’m trying to find a way…*

I can even sing it in French. I speak it quite well. After all, I lived in Paris for a year.

“Do you have a picture?” he asked, sitting up, his hair sticking up slightly.

My heart beat faster. “Of…her?” I paused.

He nodded. “I’ve never seen her. I don’t open your letters,” he added.

I walked downstairs in a daze and got the small picture out of my purse. I’ve only got three, and this one is my favorite. It’s a bit crumpled. It’s of her, at eighteen months, sitting on the sand, staring intently into a red bucket, a pink sunhat jammed onto blonde curls. I showed it to him, and he stared at it for what seemed like forever. It was agonizing. I bit my thumb.

“She looks like…” he hesitated. “You.”

I thought she looked like Dawson, but I didn’t say anything. He gave it back to me, and lay down on his bed. I spotted the half empty whisky bottle under the night table. All I can remember now is lying next to him, holding him, and waking up at sunrise and leaving.

****

I believe
this is heaven to no one else but me
and I'll defend it as long as I can be
left here to linger in silence
if I choose to
would you try to understand

I know this love is passing time
passing through like liquid
I am drunk in my desire...
but I love the way you smile at me
I love the way your hands reach out and hold me near...
I believe...

****

Michael and Amanda Hudson had been sending me a photo and a letter once a year since they adopted my daughter, Grace Lillian, at three weeks old. She would be ten years old now, and probably have a southern accent.

I started to show my pregnancy only at six months. Up until then, no one had a clue, except for Dawson, his parents, and Bessie. One morning, I just didn’t go to school. I did chores, read a lot of books and had my schoolwork sent home. Dawson came over everyday. Sometimes he would put his hand on my stomach to see if he could feel anything. He only felt something once, a quiet, ‘bomp-bomp…’ my baby was a very docile baby. I think in his mind, he thought I would keep it, and we’d be a happy family living by the creek, barefoot and rosy cheeked. That thought sent terror down my spine.

My ‘young mothers’ councilor at the clinic, Linda, had given me college pamphlets to Worthington and Columbia. She believed I could go to college. So did I.

She’d already complied a list of contacts for me for the baby. My preferences were, all couples, happily married. Can’t have kids because of biological disorder. Twelve applied, and when I met Michael and Amanda, I knew. They were real. Especially Amanda. Thirty-six, high school sweethearts, from South Carolina. And, the only couple who agreed to an open adoption. Dawson didn’t want to meet them. When he found out I’d signed papers, his eyes just looked so empty, so pained, I hadn’t known what to say or do.

I felt isolated in the last month. I was too tired to do anything, whilst my friends were heavily involved in eleventh grade. Pacey visited me a lot, which was odd but sweet, and probably a prelude to our involvement two years later.

Jen assured me hardly anyone knew about the baby—least of all Abby, that bitch. I cringed thinking of the time I tricked her into thinking I *was* pregnant. Ugh. Jen told me she had actually sworn to people I had glandular fever, which was the cover-up, and why I had gained weight and then ‘lost it’ after the baby was born.

Jen then told me, slightly amused, (for some reason we were now friendly) that Jack had come out of the closet, he, thanks to Pacey’s support, had admitted he was gay. I was in so much shock I thought I’d give birth right then and there, but I didn’t. I gave birth a few days later, via a caesarean because my hips were too small. It took me six months to regain my waistline after that one.

Gale and Bessie were there. Dawson came later. Grace was tiny and pink. She looked at me for a moment, I think, when they put her in my arms. She was so wrinkled and small, her features squashed. “I’m sorry,” I told her when she started to cry, as if she knew I was about to give her away. I was sleeping when Dawson visited. He saw Grace though, sleeping in her bassinet next to me. I was drugged up so I don’t remember much after that. And then, they came and took Grace away, and I left a day later, taking with me the scar on my abdomen that would stay with me forever.

I returned to school a few months later, much skinnier, and tired, and on anti-depressants, but sharp minded and determined. Jen, Jack, Andie, Pacey and Dawson were my cushions. They were at every corner of the school, supporting me, helping me. They were hurt, especially Dawson, when I signed up to go to Paris for a year shortly after returning. They didn’t understand that I had to get out. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone. Maybe, if I’d stayed, Dawson and I would have made up, would have gotten close like we were before all that mess. Maybe, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with the much happier Jen, and I, on my return, seeing their happiness, maybe I wouldn’t have decided to return Pacey’s affection for me. Maybe, senior year, we were with the wrong people? But what does it matter anymore, anyway?

The morning I set off to Capeside for the wedding, I got a phone call on my cell that startled me right back into reality.

**** Oh the quiet child awaits the day when she can break free Mother can't you see I've got
to live my life the way I feel is right for me
might not be right for you but it's right for me...
I believe

****

To Be Continued

I never used Trojans again, that’s for sure. The night after I found out I got Joey pregnant, I threw them all in the trash. I’ve been using Ansell ever since. We didn’t even *have* much sex. I can in fact, say, that we had sex a total of twelve times in those four months towards the end of tenth grade. (Maybe thirteen…) I still can’t believe Joey managed to get pregnant.

I guess I was just naïve. Now, speaking from experience, I have had so many condoms break on me I always make sure the woman I’m sleeping with is on *some* kind of birth control. Joey and I kind of lost contact after high school. Things were never really the same after the whole…*incident* as mom calls it.

The last time we were ‘close’ was at my dad’s funeral, when she slept in my arms. I can still remember how good she felt, how relieved I was she was there, even when she showed me a picture (at my request) of our little girl. Our child. I thought she looked like Joey—big, green-brown soulful eyes.

Even now, at twenty-six, getting ready in the bathroom to be best man at my mom’s wedding I can admit I’m still kind of in love with her. She was going to be there, today, and I was fucking nervous. I’d been going out on a couple of dates with Jasmine, a beautiful woman who also happened to be my lawyer. We’d made love once in my office. I didn’t know what to think about that. I didn’t want to be a prick. She was great. We had fun together. We’d even (back when we were just friends) gone to Mexico with some other friends and gone scuba diving and skydiving. She made me hot—very hot. I was curious how my reaction to seeing Joey would be.

Jen was slipping a pink frilly dress over Amy’s head in my room where they were staying, and I went over and sat on the bed, tugging at my tie. “Do I look stupid?” “You look gorgeous,” Jen assured me. She looked beautiful. Her golden ringlets were all over the place but it suited her, and she had on a silky lacy black dress. Amy stared up at me with big, soulful brown eyes. I was suddenly struck how similar she looked to…

“Hey guys, what are you doing hiding in here for?” Jack poked his head around my bedroom door, interrupting my train of thought. “Everyone’s out on the lawn.” I could distantly hear a band playing Gershwin.

Jack swung Amy up onto his shoulders and she squealed with delight, clutching onto his head. Jen followed, laughing. I stood up, straightened my tie and prepared to meet the music, tossing one last glance at a framed picture of my father.

****

I first saw her sitting among the guests in the flower-filled garden, her legs crossed, wavy long brown hair and a loose fitting summer dress gathered beneath her breasts.

She made me more than hot. She made my blood boil. I loosened my tie.

She was watching mom and Stanley intently. I hoped she would notice me. I angled my head higher and tried to make eye contact, but she seemed to just stare straight ahead. Finally, her eyes shifted and caught mine, and for a split second we stared at each other, not moving. But then everyone around started applauding and cheering and the moment was gone.

Later, I took a deep breath as I prepared to walk up and casually say hi, when I realized she was going onto the dance floor with Pacey, laughing, her hair swinging back. Shit. He always seemed to get there before me these days, even if he was supposedly with Andie. The woman in question tapped me on the shoulder. “You’re the only handsome, eligible guy left here, so can I dance with you?” she said teasingly.

“Likewise,” I guided her onto the dance floor. “Getting ideas?” he asked casually. “About…my own impending nuptials?” Andie raised her brows. “Kind of.” She smiled over towards Pacey.

“Do you mind?’ I blurted out suddenly.

“Mind?’ Andie’s face was blank. She peeped over my shoulder to witness their friendly dance. She laughed wryly, “No. Not anymore. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did back when he didn’t even notice I was *alive*!”

Unrequited…how Joey felt about me for so long. I felt stupid every time I thought about it, about how blind I was. I’d always envisioned myself being honest, analytical and a great reader of other people. Bullshit. Now, when I look at Joey, I have had no clue what she was thinking. None. Her eyes shifted over Pacey’s shoulder and once more, they met with mine, but this time, she smiled, and I felt my heart pound.

****

After dancing with Pacey for a few songs, I excused myself and tactfully sent Dawson a quick look as I made my way over to the bar. He got the message and excused himself from Andie, who went looking for her fiancée. I loved Pacey, but too much time near him and I remembered why it didn’t work out in the first place.

“Two glasses of champagne,” I asked the bartender at the make-shift bar. It was a beautiful setting. Gale and her sister Gwen had really done a good job making the back yard into a wedding reception. Flowers and lights adorned trees and posts, and the afternoon sun warmed the crowd and cast a pink glow over everything. This was what made me remember why I loved it here so much…

And so did he.

Dawson didn’t disappoint. “Hey.” He joined me, taking the glass I offered him. He leaned down to kiss my cheek.

“How are you?” “Good.’ I smiled up at him. Silly question, silly answer. But I was good. The news I’d received that morning had been both terrifying and exciting. I was on a high. I’d also had three glasses of champagne.

“Can I just say…you look…fucking incredible?” he suddenly blurted out, and my stomach flipped over. It wasn’t fair. He could make me feel something from just looking at me. He reminded me, standing there, saying that, that I hadn’t made love to anyone in months. For the first time in a long time, I just…craved. I let myself crave something, anything, because at least craving sex, craving a man, was different to craving a child.

So I blushed, dropped my head, and then just laughed. When Dawson said what he really felt, the consequences were usually amusing. Dawson looked good; healthy, built, successful. He had ‘blossomed’ into a very attractive man. I wondered for a moment if he had a steady girlfriend back west. I knew he’d had one but they’d broken up last June…what about this lawyer woman Jen had told her about?

“So do you.” I tilted her head to look up at him squarely in the eyes. We wandered over to some chairs under a pine tree and sat down. “How are you really?” Dawson asked me sincerely, reaching over to boldly squeeze my hand. Was all forgiven? Was this the start of a new friendship? Could the past *really* be seen upon as that—the past? These thoughts streamed through my mind.

“I’m…okay.” Was all I could muster up. Just then, a little blonde girl came running up to the two of us, her mouth covered in chocolate. Not far behind, Jen, holding a face cloth. “Hello you little munchkin!” Dawson lifted Amy up into his lap and cuddled her. She shrieked with joy and Jen wrestled with the washcloth and her daughter in Dawson’s arms. “She is so…adorable,’ I said wistfully, winding a ringlet around my pinkie.

“She can be a devil,’ Jen shrugged, sitting down next to us and taking a gulp of wine. She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I’m exhausted.” “Go and have fun…we can look after this one,’ Dawson suggested. “Oh no, that’s okay,” Jen chuckled. “You’ve been so good with her lately, but I want *you* to have fun. Its your mom’s wedding!”

“Its fine, really,” I insisted, but Jen would have none of it. We eventually ended up on the dance floor. It soon became twilight and a cool wind blew up from the east. It was so lovely dancing with him, feeling him against me, as we swayed to jazz music. I loved dancing with him, flirting with him…was this love? I laughed to myself. I was hopeless. I completely forgot about what I was supposed to tell him. Once the celebrations subsided at midnight, a couple of us cleaned up (sparingly) and went inside to make coffee. Gale and Stan had left earlier for their plane to Florida. I was thrilled she’d found someone.

The poor woman had been so lonely, especially with Dawson in L.A. She’d had lots of friends and Bessie came around every Thursday night and they cooked together, but…well…she needed someone to love her the way Mitch did. And Stan, the family’s doctor, had been that man. I loved the romance of it all.

Me, a cynic? Not really. Jen put her daughter to bed, and then we sat around drinking coffee, listening to music and snacking on peanuts and marshmallows. I can’t really say it was like old times because all of us never really hung out that much in high school. We were kind of thrown together, and yet it had lasted, almost twelve years. Andie and Pacey left shortly after two am, kissing and whispering, obviously ready for some hot sex (not that I can ever, ever imagine Andie having sex, ever, she’s just so…prim. Maybe Pacey brings out her wild side. Gross) and Jen went up to the spare room. Jack crashed out on the couch. I was staying in the Creek Reed Inn, a boutique place downtown. Dawson walked me there.

****

Mother can’t you see I’ve got
To live my life the way I feel is right for me
It might not be right for you
But its right for me

****

I didn’t know what to expect—certainly not Joey kissing me outside her hotel room at 3am, and then pulling me in. I was all up for it, though. Nothing had changed. The passion, the spark that existed between us in high school, was still there, if maybe stronger—a lot stronger. We did things we didn’t even know about when we were sixteen—when the missionary position was still pretty exciting to us.

At one point, I rolled off the four- poster bed trying to give her head. Joey just giggled and helped me back up. The ‘stable’ looking four- poster bed started to make a rattling noise when Joey was riding me but I was so out of it I didn’t care until later when we were sleeping and whenever she tossed and turned it rattled. I hated cheap furniture.

Mid morning, when we finally stumbled out of bed, Joey coaxed me into the spa bath in the antique filled bathroom. Looking into her eyes, I knew that Jasmine, that L.A, that everything…was behind me now. All I could see was the future, and she was in it. She had to be.

****

“Remember our first date…when you suggested we check into a motel and go at it like porn stars?” Dawson murmured to me in the tub.

“I was so forward back then,” I joked, flicking water at him. Four glasses of champagne, two cups of coffee, six dances, three orgasms and a broken nail later, I felt the harsh sunlight on my back and I realized I had to tell him before this went any further.

Further than my legs wrapped around his head—I was surprised the police weren’t knocking at our door after the ridiculous noise we must have made. After the tame expeditions we had in high school his—and my-ability to even have sex like that pleasantly surprised me. I don’t think I ever have. Now, being sober and feeling the cool water on my skin that Dawson was washing me with a sponge, I felt a tiny bit of guilt and doubt creep up inside me.

“Did I…say anything to you last night?” I asked. I felt as though I’d said something about the call. “Um…that I had a big penis,’ Dawson laughed, scrubbing his arms with soap. “And that you felt like more coffee…and other stuff but nothing else…don’t worry, you’re cute when you’re a little tipsy.”

“Right. Haha.” I said dryly. I’d said he had a big penis??? Oh my god! I blushed. Well. It was true. But…oh stop. I need to concentrate. “Dawson, I…need to tell you something.”

“You’re not secretly married, are you?” he kissed my neck. “No, nothing like that.” I patted his hand. “I got this interesting phone call yesterday…” I sighed. “Um…” I didn’t know where to begin. So I just told him the whole story.

****

“Hello…” the woman’s voice was hesitant, and had a Southern lilt. “Is this Josephine Potter?” “Yes, it is,” Joey put the phone to her other ear and leaned away from the loud couple talking in the chairs behind her on the train.

“My name’s Melinda…I…” the woman swallowed. “I was Amanda Hudson’s sister, Grace’s aunt?” Joey gripped the phone until her knuckles went white. “You had Grace when you were sixteen, and…my sister adopted your baby.” As if Joey didn’t know.

“Of course,’ was all she could manage to say. “Mandy and Mike were killed in a car accident two weeks ago,” Melinda continued. “We’ve been looking after Grace, but today, the lawyers went over Mandy’s will, and…” Melinda sighed. “She’s requested that in the event of her death, Grace has the choice to go live with you, whom Mandy has been in contact with since Grace’s birth, if you so wish, and if you don’t, Grace will live with us…” she was obviously reading from the document. Joey was gob smacked. She knew

Amanda had liked Joey, and they’d spoken a few times—they’d always gotten along—but they’d never met up after Grace was taken away, and Joey had never seen Grace. Why would Amanda do this? It didn’t make sense—if Joey had given away her daughter, why would she want her? Joey felt tears welling up in her eyes and she dropped her head.

Because she did want her. She wanted her baby so much she could scarcely breathe sometimes. She just didn’t know how to tell anyone. Melinda continued to talk, sounding impatient. “Look, just say no if you don’t want too,” she finally snapped. “My husband and I will happily take her in. Grace is our niece.” “No…’ Joey found her voice. “Wait. I want to think about it. Can I…see her? Meet you both?” she asked shakily. “I don’t see why not,’ Melinda replied briskly. “I can bring her up to New York next weekend. We

can discuss everything then. But remember, Ms. Potter—Grace has lived her entire life in Asheboro. This is all she knows. New York will be a scary place for a little girl, and…” “What has Grace said about it?” Joey interrupted. “Nothing.’ Joey could almost hear Melinda shrugging. “She’s always been a quiet little girl. She misses her mom though. She’s still a little…perplexed.” “I’m sure,” Joey murmured. Grace was a person—a *whole* person. She had a personality—she was quiet! Joey felt her heart soar. “I can meet you at the airport,” she told Melinda. “Just tell me when.”

****

Dawson stopped my washing my arm and leaned back in the tub. He was quiet. I was afraid to look at him. “If I do decide to…look after her, I’m not going to force you to contribute anything,’ Joey said quietly. “And if you want too be in her life, I will let you be whatever you need to be. We can work this out.” “Her aunt is right, though,’ Dawson said gently. “Grace has only known one home her whole life.

One family. We may be her biological parents, but we haven’t been in her life. We’re not bad people, but…are we parent people?”

“I am.’ Joey hugged her knees. She wanted this child. “When I gave her away, it was to give not just myself opportunities, but to give you one. I didn’t want you to have something keeping you back from your dreams. We were too young. We never should have started having sex so early.’ She said wryly, leaning back and looking up at him. “I didn’t even enjoy it that much.”

“You didn’t?’ Dawson raised his eyebrows. “No…but I wanted to make you happy.”

“Oh Jo.’ Dawson nuzzled her neck. “You make me happy by just smiling at me. I don’t need sex for that.” “If I decide to keep her…will you be happy?” Joey asked softly. “Yeah,” Dawson nodded. “Because you will be.”

“Will you come with me to the airport?” “I don’t know.’ Dawson shook his head. “Will it be too much for Grace?” Joey bit her lip. “I’m not sure. It shouldn’t be.” “I’ll see.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Lets get out,’ he said after a few moments. “This bathwater is freezing.”

To Be Continued