Not My Daughter

Chapter 11

The Zaganack town hall, a wide brick building with white trim, shared the south end of Main Street with the library, the police station, and the Congregational church. On its second floor were the offices of the school superintendent. His windows overlooked the church graveyard, which overlooked the tail end of the harbor. This late in the season, there were few pleasure boats in the water, but those that remained-sailboats with masts rising and canvas battened down, as well as the occasional fishing boat coming or going-softened the view of the cemetery.

In the past, Susan had stood at the window watching the water and expressing envy. How do you get anything done, Phil? If this was my office, I'd be too distracted to work. A far cry from the Great Plains, this view embodied much of what she had come to Zaganack to find.

Today she barely saw it. From the minute she entered the office, her eyes were on Phil.

When she was done explaining, he remained silent, elbows on the desk, chin propped on his fists. Finally, eyes sad, he dropped his hands. "Have you known about the other two all along?"

Susan had expected the question, but that didn't ease her guilt. "At first I thought it was only Lily. When I learned about the others, it was…" Stunning? Infuriating? Devastating? Unable to choose the right word, she said, "This is a nightmare. I've been dealing with it on a personal level, and it hasn't been easy. I'd have told you everything before Thanksgiving, but at that point, no one at school knew about Mary Kate and Jess. Their families are my closest friends, and they're going through the same personal trauma I am. I begged them to let me tell you. One of them outright refused."

"That would be Sunny Barros."

Sunny often ran school fund-raisers and was known for discipline. Along with her husband's reputation as a law-and-order guy, stacked against easygoing Kate and Will, it was easy for Phil to guess.

His mouth remained tight. "Well, we can't call it a pact. That's an incendiary word."

"But it is a pact. We have to address it head-on."

"Not using that word, please," he ordered and suddenly lost his temper. "Insecure girls, I can understand. Girls with no future, I can buy. Girls with no love, fine. But these girls? What is this about?"

"I've asked my daughter that a dozen times," said Susan. "She feels she has valid reasons-they all believe they do-and they gave each other courage. That's the thing about pact mentality-"

"Bah." He cut her off. "Forget pact mentality. Why are so many teenagers getting pregnant? Is it Hollywood?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Open any of those magazines and there's a 'bump alert.' A bump alert-what a pathetic phrase. A bump sits and does nothing. A baby does not. Do these girls understand the reality of being a parent? Popular culture gives them the wrong idea, and apparently we've done nothing to change that."

"Actually, we have," Susan cautioned. If he wanted to attack her parenting skills, fine; she could find fault with them herself, in light of what her own daughter had done. But attacking her as a school administrator was unfair. "Drugs, drinking, sex-we discuss them at every grade level, and we use what's happening in the news as an opening. We directly address these issues, Phil. The clinic nurse is always meeting with small groups to talk about things like safe sex and the pitfalls of early pregnancy."

He seemed not to hear. "So, was this a pact to imitate celebrities?"

"Don't I wish. That would give us something to talk about. But it isn't that in this case. These girls are close. They grew up supporting each other. They grew up seeing their mothers support each other. They decided that together they could do this."

"They're too young to make that decision."

"True. But we ask them to make other decisions. They drive; that involves making adult decisions. And these girls will be eighteen when their babies are born. At eighteen, they can serve in the army, carry guns, kill people."

"Bad analogy, Susan. A soldier acts out of necessity."

"But like soldiers, these girls adopted a group mentality. I'm not saying it's right, Phil. I'm just saying that's how it was. They were operating under a mind-set that made this doable."

"And that's what I'm saying," he shot back. "It's what they see on TV. Who is making it okay to be single and pregnant?"

There it was. Susan raised her chin. "I was single and pregnant."

"See, that's a problem." He waved a dismissive hand. "Another is the fathers. We need them to come forward. That would give it a semblance of morality."

"Talk about incendiary words," Susan said, vaguely offended. "Isn't responsibility a better one?"

"Call it what you want. I want the fathers to speak up."

"The girls don't want them involved."

"And the girls' families are okay with that?"

"No," Susan said, feeling personally attacked, but she hadn't gotten to where she was by cowering. Her mother was right; she did have a fuchsia heart. When she was provoked, her high color came out. "The girls' families are not okay with this. The girls' families are trying to decide what is the most responsible thing to do. Our girls made a pact. Part of the pact was that the fathers wouldn't be involved. No, I am not okay with it," she said with rising anger, "and I've told my daughter that, but would you have them drag those boys in front of us? Force them to be fathers, and you'll end up with teenage moms who are stuck in bad marriages and children who are resented from day one. I've been down this road, Phil. I could have married Lily's father, but it would have made for resentment. I don't want that for my daughter, or for her child."

"You condone it, then?" he asked in dismay.

"No. I'm beside myself. I'm just trying to make the best of a bad situation."

Phil was quiet, sitting back in his chair, studying her. Finally, he said, "I'm disappointed."

"So am I," she shot back fiercely. "I'm disappointed in Lily. I'm disappointed in Mary Kate and Jess. I'm disappointed in those boys for not using condoms despite what the girls might have said. And yes, Phil, I'm disappointed in myself, because a better mother might be able to read her child's mind, even when that child is seventeen. But if you're disappointed in me as principal, that's unfair. I've done a good job for you in the past two years, and there have been other crises. We've dealt with one student playing pharmacist in school, another hacking into his teacher's computer to steal exams. We've even had a teacher sending lewd e-mail to a coed. So this is a new challenge. I can handle it."

"You were an unwed mother at seventeen."

"And what about all I've achieved since then? Doesn't any of it count?"

He held up a conciliatory hand. "What you've done since is remarkable. I'm just telling you what people will see."

"Then we have to make them see something else."

"How."

Susan repeated what she had told Sunny and Kate. "If we get accurate information to the adult community, they can pass it on to students. I'll be happy to run a draft of the parent e-mail past you."

"Send an e-mail, and the Gazette will see it."

"You know the editor. Can you pull strings?"

Phil snorted. "To do what-hold him off? This is big news. The paper's out today, which means he has plenty of time to put a story together for next week's edition."

"Can you soft-pedal what he prints?"

"Possibly." Susan might have felt an inkling of relief if he hadn't added, "What about the school board?"

Her stomach clenched. "Well, they'll find out through Pam Perry," she said, realizing that she would have to handle that, too. "What if I ask her to set up a meeting so that I can tell them myself?"

"They'll skewer you."

Oh, they would, and several of the most ornery members would take pleasure in it. "But that's the best way to handle this, don't you think?"

The school board issue was a big one, but that wasn't why, as soon as Susan cleared the town hall steps, she called Pam. She wanted to tell her firsthand what was going on, not for political reasons, but because they were friends. Kate was right; Pam felt a special connection to Susan. But the connection went both ways. Pam had come from the same kind of constrictive home as Susan-they talked about it often, just the two of them-and while marriage to Tanner had helped, Pam hadn't yet found the self-confidence Susan had.

"Where are you now?" she asked when Pam answered.

"Tanner's office. Something's wrong. I hear it in your voice."

"Can I meet you there?"

"What is it, Susan?"

"I'm just leaving Town Hall. Give me five minutes?"

With nervous energy quickening her step, it took only three. The administrative offices of Perry & Cass were at the opposite end of the harbor, in a pristine house painted a seashore gray, with decks directly overlooking the pier and seagulls screeching in the cold. Like Phil's, Tanner's office was on the second floor, but that was where the similarity ended. The room was filled with rich mahogany, fine Berber, and the light that poured from a wall of windows. Pam had been sitting in that light, but dropped her knitting and rose the instant Susan appeared.

Tanner was on the phone, his back to the door, his tall, lanky frame stooped.

Grabbing her hand, Pam pulled her to the corner farthest from him. "Tell me."

"Have you talked with Abby?"

"Not since this morning. What is it?"

"Not good," Susan warned and told her about Jessica and Mary Kate.

Pam opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"I wanted you to hear it from me. I don't blame Abby. It would have come out anyway. But now there's no hiding it."

"Three pregnant?" Pam asked in disbelief. "A pact? Jessica I can buy, but Mary Kate is as improbable as Lily. This is crazy. How could Abby not tell me?" Once started, the questions kept coming. "Who are the boys? You don't know or aren't telling? One has to be Jacob, but what about Lily? I didn't know she even had a boyfriend. And what does Sunny say? Omigod, she must be ready to strangle Jess. I would kill Abby if she did this."

Susan was hoping it wouldn't come to that, when Pam rushed on. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Okay, I know you're in a bind being principal, but couldn't Kate or Sunny have called? We're friends. And we work together. Why am I always the last to know?"

"You're not. The only other parents who know may be ones whose kids heard the rumor. That's why I'm here. I wanted to tell you myself. I came as soon as I could."

Pam looked lost. "Why am I always left out of the loop?"

Susan tried to be sympathetic, but, bottom line, this wasn't about Pam. "We're dealing with our daughters. Trust me, we've barely talked with each other." She was thinking it was especially true with Sunny, when Tanner hung up the phone.

"Tanner," Pam said. "You have to hear Susan's news."

And so Susan repeated it. Grateful for small favors, she was glad that Pam was here at the office rather than at home alone. Tanner was a steadying force. Moreover, he was arguably more powerful in Zaganack than the mayor. If controlling the story was Susan's goal, he was an asset. He didn't panic. He was fair. He had led a privileged life, but he fully understood that. There was a kindness in him, a sense of charity.

Now, though, he was visibly disturbed. "A pregnancy pact. With Abby the messenger?"

"Inadvertently," Susan said.

Tanner looked at Pam. "Do we know that she isn't involved herself?"

"She isn't pregnant. She just had her period."

"That begs the question. If the plot was hatched last summer, she must have been aware of it. She was with the other girls every day, and she claims they're her closest friends. Talk with her, Pam," he ordered and eyed Susan. "This won't wear well in town."

"I'm not sure the girls realized that."

"Perry and Cass is about responsibility," he went on in his sensible way. "That's what makes the company work. Our employees know our name's on the line each time they seal up a package." He took a small breath, blew it out. "A pregnancy pact alone is bad, but involving three prominent girls?"

"The story will be contained," Susan assured him. "It won't hurt the company."

"What about PC Wool?" Pam asked her husband.

"It shouldn't be affected," he said, but he didn't sound convinced.

Susan was unsettled. "Beyond Zaganack, the people who buy our wool don't know the faces behind it. They'll have no way of knowing about this." When Tanner looked troubled, she said, "We're nipping the story in the bud by being up front here in town. That's the reason for my e-mail. Get it out quickly and move on." She faced Pam. "I want to talk with the school board. Can you set it up?"

"Absolutely," Pam said, as if the request were for almond bark from PC Sweets. "I'll get right on it. We'll hold an emergency meeting. When is best?"

"As soon as possible."

"I'll take care of it. How much should I tell them?"

"As little as possible," Susan said, unsure of what Pam would say. She loved a cause-poured herself into it quickly and fully. But her positions changed easily-which wasn't to say that Pam didn't feel loyalty to Susan, Kate, and Sunny, only that she was married to Tanner, and Tanner was worried about the company image. "I'd rather they hear it from me. Besides, with us being friends, you're in a delicate enough position."

"Actually," Pam said, "I'm not, since Abby isn't involved."

"Are you?" Pam asked her daughter a short time later, after finding her in the school gym watching basketball practice.

"No, I am not," Abby said without taking her eyes from the court.

"Even though the girls are your best friends?"

"Were. Getting pregnant was dumb."

"Did you know they were making a pact?"

"No."

"You didn't hear them talking about it this summer?"

"No. They were friends before I ever came along. They don't tell me everything."

"But you were the one who got them those jobs."

Abby turned to her. "I was just the first hired. Lily was the one who made the initial contact, not me." She turned back to the court.

"You told me-"

"I didn't," the girl insisted, digging her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket. "You assumed. You always assume things that aren't true-like my friendship with Lily, Mary Kate, and Jess. You want us to be BFFs, because you want their moms to be your BFFs, but wanting it doesn't make it happen."

"I do consider their moms my best friends," Pam said, though she was unsettled.

"Well, you're dreaming. Susan, Sunny, and Kate are a threesome, just like Lily, Mary Kate, and Jess. Why do you think they won't tell anyone who the fathers are? They don't want the boys to bust up their group."

Pam could empathize with her daughter's hurt. Hadn't she found her best friends at the barn, all knowing about the pact but none telling her? That said, she was certainly glad Abby had been left out. Getting pregnant at seventeen was totally irresponsible.

"Do you know the boys' names?" she asked.

"No."

"But you know Jacob fathered Mary Kate's baby?"

"Everyone knows that."

"What else does everyone know that maybe I don't?"

Abby stared at her. "Why does it matter? Why can't you just let it go?"

"Because I'm on the school board, which will be discussing this, so the more I know, the better. I'm also the only board member with children in the schools right now, and since you are best friends-were best friends with the girls involved, I can try and help work things out."

"Whatever I tell you, you'll tell the board."

"No. I won't. It'll just help me decide what to say."

Abby turned back to the court, grumbling, "I don't know anything more."

Pam studied her face. Not a happy one. She put an arm around her shoulders. "Well, I'm proud of you."

That seemed to upset the girl more. She whipped around a final time. "For what?"

"For separating from those girls. For knowing better."

Abby looked like she might cry-and Pam understood that, too. There was a trade-off to being on the fringe of a group. Not that Abby would want to hear that. She was only seventeen.