Idlewild. Treasure Hernandez
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said he wanted to be with her no matter what. Desiree hadn’t ever thought about pregnancy, their family names, and Tyson’s future or her own while she was wrapped up in their teenage love. She had been young, dumb, and in love for the first time. Desiree had become the talk of Idlewild, and she knew it.
As she lay on her bed, she realized that it wouldn’t be long before the news traveled home to Chicago, where her family would head once the summer ended and everyone closed up their Idlewild hideaways and went back to their high-priced stone mansions on the edge of Lake Michigan. The thought of what people in Chicago would say about her caused Desiree to shudder and gag. Loose girl, slut, unworthy were only some of the monikers Desiree imagined people would call her after her pregnancy was revealed.
She had ignored a bunch of calls from friends and family members who had heard about everything through the Idlewild grapevine. Desiree had ignored every single call. Especially since not one call had come from Tyson himself. After Mrs. Blackwell had all but called Desiree a future-ruining slut, Tyson had locked eyes with Desiree and mouthed that he was sorry, but Desiree didn’t believe him. She had seen the look on his face when his mother had called her a slut. His eyes had gotten glassy, and his mouth had turned downward. But still, he hadn’t spoken up. In that moment he had reminded Desiree of a scared little boy, not the man he’d always promised her he would be.
And Desiree had noticed the pain and conflict in his eyes. She’d gotten a funny feeling that maybe this wasn’t the first time Tyson had done something like this. Desiree was devastated by the thought that she was nothing more than another one of his conquests. She had known all along that she was playing with fire by messing with a gorgeous and popular guy like Tyson, but the attraction she had felt for him was so magnetic that she’d lost sight of the consequences. Now, safely ensconced in her bedroom, she tried to erase all thoughts of Tyson, but it was useless. It was all too much to deal with. She wanted to bury her head and never come back out, but then something suddenly got her attention.
A knock on her bedroom door drew Desiree up off her bed. She padded over to the door, barely wanting to pick up her feet. Her usually vibrant face was drained of color. Her always perfectly coiffed hair had turned into a tangled bird’s nest atop her head, her eyes were red from crying, and she could surely use a shower. Wrapped in a soft pink chenille robe, she swallowed hard and exhaled as she put her face close to the door.
“Who is it?” Desiree called out from behind the locked door. She was silently praying it wasn’t her mother again.
Carolyn had been driving Desiree crazy with her efforts to cheer her up and get her out of bed. Carolyn had even offered her a day at the spa, car shopping, and shoe shopping, which Carolyn knew were some of Desiree’s favorite pastimes. Desiree had refused all her mother’s offers. She couldn’t imagine going out in public right now. The thought made her cringe and feel nauseous. There was no way Desiree could deal with her mother right now.
“It’s me, Rebecca,” a soft, melodic voice whispered in return. Desiree could tell from the muffled sound of her voice that Rebecca had her face up against the door.
Desiree’s shoulders slumped with relief. She was glad it wasn’t her mother, for a change. She unlocked the door and twisted the doorknob. She opened the door a crack and looked out in the hallway suspiciously. Then Desiree grabbed Rebecca’s arm and pulled her through the doorway and closed the door again. Desiree locked the door behind them. Though she was nervous as hell, she was glad to see Rebecca.
“Thanks for not bringing my mother with you, Rebecca,” Desiree said, on the brink of tears for the fifth time that day.
Rebecca’s eyes were wide with fear, like she’d committed a crime. She swiped sweat from her forehead and let out a long, pained sigh. Rebecca had prayed all the way to Desiree’s room. Desiree could tell something was off. One thing Rebecca was not was a good liar.
“I need to tell you something, Desi,” Rebecca said. “First, let me just say, they love you . . . no matter what they’re feeling right now.” She wiped at invisible sweat again. “I’m sure they just want what is best for you, Desi. I’m sure,” she added, fanning at her face.
“Just say whatever else you have to say,” Desiree snapped, feeling as if she might throw up.
“They . . . they want you to go to your mother’s private doctor and take care of it,” Rebecca said, shame making her cheeks flame.
“No,” Desiree rasped, feeling as if the word had lit her mouth on fire as she uttered it.
“Listen, Desi—” Rebecca began, putting her hands up in front of her, but Desiree cut her off.
“No!” she barked. “It’s my body and my baby! I won’t do it!” Desiree brushed past Rebecca, stormed out of her room, and stalked toward her parents’ suite. Rebecca was hot on her heels, but she couldn’t catch up, because Desiree was moving so fast.
Carolyn jumped and turned on the balls of her feet when Desiree barged into her bedroom suite. Ernest looked over his wife’s shoulder at his daughter.
“I’m not getting an abortion,” Desiree blurted, and she immediately felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. She would never be able to live with herself if she didn’t at least get that off her chest. Desiree believed the life of her baby was sacred. She believed that the baby deserved to live, and whatever she had to endure, alone or not, she would endure.
Carolyn shook her head and looked at Rebecca for help. Rebecca shrugged; she had never believed in abortions herself. She had suffered the loss of her only child before she started working for the Johnsons. Rebecca had also seen the psychological pain Carolyn had suffered when she miscarried at least four times between the births of her three children.
Ernest stepped forward. “You think you can have a baby out of wedlock with a boy who doesn’t want anything to do with you?” he asked in the serious, businesslike, unloving way he sometimes spoke to his children.
Desiree swallowed hard and swayed on her feet when she registered the disgust in her father’s tone.
“No one wants to see you in pain and hurt. And the child . . . What type of life would the child have with no father?” Carolyn said, continuing where her husband had left off, not caring to choose her words wisely.
“You can’t stay here with a baby out of wedlock, and that’s final,” Ernest said sternly and dismissively all at the same time. “We have the family name to consider, and we’ve worked hard to maintain it. This is not what we do.”
“So, you’d throw me on the street?” Desiree asked indignantly, scared to death of her father’s response.
“Why can’t we all sleep on this and talk about it tomorrow?” Rebecca interjected, as if this was her last chance to keep the peace.
“There will be no more discussion about this after today. Either she does what we have asked or she leaves. Period,” her father said without blinking or flinching.
Carolyn gasped and looked between her husband and her daughter, pain evident on everyone’s faces.
Desiree felt her chest swelling and heat rising to her face. Her cheeks flamed red as she bit her bottom lip, drawing her own blood, before she spoke.
“You have made your choice! That’s how it is?” she muttered. She put her hands on her face, in mock surprise. “Oh, no, not the precious Johnson name. There is no way I can have this baby and bring shame to my family, right?” she mocked through her tears. Then her tone turned serious, and she narrowed her eyes into slits. “I guess what people think is more important than me and what I want. I get it!”
Her father didn’t budge, his arms folded across his chest and his face stoic. Her mother sobbed but didn’t take up for her.
“My mother won’t even stand up for me,” Desiree growled through clenched teeth as she gave Carolyn an evil look. Then she turned toward Rebecca. “I guess you’re the only person who truly cares about me!” Desiree screamed.
Rebecca shook