Joy swallowed hard as the memory began to fade, silently thanking God for not allowing her to come home that day. She'd survived the incident with nothing more than a sore body from having her stomach pumped, and she spent the better part of the next decade going to therapy to reconnect with the optimistic girl she once was.
"There you are," Gloria, the director of the shelter, greeted when Joy arrived. "We have a new arrival tonight. An off duty cop found her hitchhiking up along some interstate. We don't know much yet, but she's beat up pretty badly. Oh, and she's pregnant too. Can you imagine that? Someone was beating on a pregnant fifteen-year-old..."
Joy stared at the woman at a loss for words. While she'd heard her fair share of horrific stories in her short time volunteering there, it never got any easier. Especially when there were children involved. "How far along is she?" she asked, removing her jacket.
"About six months from what I can tell," Gloria responded, handing over the girl's file. "I somehow doubt she's even been to a doctor yet though. I called a few practices to see if they had any openings, but you know how it is. None of em' can get her in for at least another week or two. Not on Medicaid, anyway."
Joy sighed. "I'll go talk to her," she said, making her way down the hall in search of the girl's room.
"Good luck," Gloria called after her. "We've been trying to get something out of her for hours. She won't talk. Im beginning to think she might be mute or something."
Or maybe she's just a scared teenager in over her head, Joy thought, rolling her eyes at her supervisors crass tongue.
Shrugging her off, Joy set her sights back down the hall and continued walking. She was confident in her ability to get troubled young girls to open up. It was the entire reason why she volunteered at the shelter to begin with. Its purpose wasn't just to give them a warm bed and a roof over their heads. At its core, it was a safe place where they could take the time to come to terms with whatever it was they were running from.
Joy stopped walking when she got to a door at the end of the hall with the girl's name on roster. "You must be Esther," she greeted upon entering, extending her hand to the glossy eyed black girl seated on the twin bed across from her. Even with a face covered in bruises, it was obvious that she was a natural beauty.
Esther stared down at Joy's hand for a moment before taking hold of it, but her grip was limp and she let go of it just as quickly. "Yeah, that's me," she mumbled, fidgeting with a loose strand of fabric hanging from her dress.
So much for her being mute, Joy thought, feeling glad to have already made more leeway with the girl than Gloria had.
"I'm Joy," Joy introduced, taking a seat beside her on the mattress. "I'm one of the head counselors here. I'm sure you're probably pretty tired after everything you've been through, but would you mind if we talked a bit?"
Esther hesitated. "I really don't know what you expect me to say," she said, rubbing her face. It was obvious that she was trying her hardest not to cry. "I shouldn't be here anyway."
Joy nodded. She was used to that sort of rhetoric from the girls who were admitted into the shelter, but they were always quick to change their tunes when she reminded them that it was either this or becoming a ward of the state. "I know," she said, reaching out to caress her hand. "But I promise I can help you if you let me. I have a friend who's a doctor. A good one. I'm sure she'd be willing to see you if you'd be up for it … "
Esther met Joy's gaze and frowned, obviously skeptical of her intentions. "I don't know … " she trailed off, resting a protective hand on her stomach. "I've never been to a doctor before … "
As much as Joy expected this, it disturbed her all the same. "Well it's important that we change that," she said, choosing her next words carefully. "You're in charge of another life now. We need to make sure you and your baby are in good health."
Esther was quiet as she contemplated the older woman's offer. "Alright," she agreed, giving in. It was clear that there was something she wasn't saying though.
"You don't have to tell her anything you're not comfortable with," Joy assured her. "It's just a check-up."
Relief settled over Esther's face all at once. Joy sat with her for another few minutes making small talk before leaving her to rest, grabbing her cell phone from her purse the minute she was back in the rec room.
"Yes, this is Joy Price," she spoke up when her call was answered. "I'm calling to speak with Doctor Blair Ramirez … "
***
Silas's life revolved around order. It had to. All his life he'd dealt with stressful situations through self-medication or avoidance, but he hadn't been able to do that when Joy revealed that she was pregnant with his child just a few months before they were set to graduate college. He couldn't ignore her changing body, and no amount of alcohol would make his fate any less imminent.
Supporting Joy and the baby quickly became Silas's number one priority. It didn't matter that it was unplanned, or that he was nowhere near ready to be a father, or that there was a small chance it might have been Dallas's. She wanted to keep it, and being that he loved her, he was determined to do the honorable thing and remain by her side.
Unfortunately, Silas's younger self completely underestimated just how difficult that would be. Exactly eight months into her pregnancy, Joy lost the baby, a tragedy that subsequently tore the young couple apart. There was no goodbye. No lengthy conversation. One day they just stopped being right for each other.
Or at least, that's what Silas told himself to numb the stinging.
Sighing inwardly, he pulled his attention from the stack of paperwork he was filling out to answer his cellphone when it vibrated. He was in the process of putting the finishing touches on his latest pitch in time for a large medical expo, but the end of it was proving less than easy to come up with. Not that it was his fault. Selling pharmaceuticals was nowhere near as easy as it'd been ten years ago. A damn good salesman and a solid pitch were needed to get the job done, and while he might have had the former covered, the latter was another matter entirely.
"Silas Sullivan," he greeted upon picking up, all business.
"It's me," Silas's fiancée Lara responded, speaking in a tone that made it clear that she was frazzled. "Look, my ovulation tracker just let me know that I'm cycling. Do you think you could come home for a quickie?"
Silas groaned and rubbed his face. He'd met Lara at his father's label. She was one of his many recording artists, and her presence was anything if not mesmerizing. Though she was no striking beauty, she held herself well, and her life goals aligned with his in a way that left him feeling comfortable enough to move forward with the relationship. It wasn't until she started bringing up wanting to have kids that the whole thing came crashing down on him.
"Can't it wait?" Silas responded, surveying the mess of paperwork spread across his desk. "I was just about to finalize the end of my pitch … "
Lara sighed heavily. "Silas, come on," she pleaded. "You know there's only a short window of time for us to do this. I promise it won't take long. You'll be back in the office before they can even miss you."
Silas let out a breath of defeat. He couldn't deny the fact that Lara had a point. They'd been trying for a baby for almost a year now with no success. Clearly doing things the old-fashioned way just wasn't going to cut it anymore. If Lara thought getting technical was worth a shot, then the least he could do was humor her. "Alright," he agreed, glancing down at his Rolex. "I'll be there in twenty."
Chapter 10
"I just realized that I never really thanked you," Esther spoke up from the passenger seat, studying Joy's profile as she drove them to Blair's practice. "It's real nice of you to do this for me."
Joy smiled at the girl, glancing away from the road for a moment to look at her. "Doctor Ramirez is great at what she does," she assured her. "She'll see to it that you and your baby are well taken care off."