Husband Borrowed My Womb for Ex-Wife, I Booked Abortion

Six years married, and my husband never once let me touch so much as a hairdryer.

He liked to hold me close and murmur against my ear:

Reese, let's have a girl.

Our little girl. She'll grow up as pretty and sweet as you.

He'd heard the old wives' tale that sour cravings mean a boy and spicy cravings mean a girl.

So for two whole years he wouldn't let me near anything sour. Only spicy.

But in six years of marriage, there was one exception.

Every New Year, he couldn't spend it with me. He went back to his hometown alone, to keep his lonely mother company.

I wanted to go with him. Clay always talked me out of it, said the long trip would wear me down.

This year he'd barely left when I found out I was pregnant. I decided to cross the thousand miles home and surprise him.

Instead I walked in on a family dinner.

He had his son on his lap, gently picking out food for his ex-wife.

"You've always been sorry you never had a daughter, haven't you?"

"These two years, I've had Theresa Pruitt eating hot sauce every single day. Not one sour candy."

"When she has the girl, I'll tell her the baby died."

"Then I'll bring her here for you to raise. So you'll finally have both, a boy and a girl."

My mother-in-law held her former daughter-in-law's hand and sighed with a smile.

"See that. You can't have children, and Clay still found a way to get you a daughter."

"Divorced or not, he still loves you."

Watching the whole happy little family, something in me turned to ice, and right there I booked the abortion.

Clay Henson.

He wasn't going to get his complete little set after all.

"Ma'am, are you going in?"

The driver had watched me stand there in silence, and finally asked, careful about it.

"No."

I turned and got back in the car. "Take me back the way we came."

The driver hesitated.

"You're sure? Back the way we came?"

"That's over a thousand miles..."

Disbelief all over his voice.

Yes. Over a thousand miles.

It had still been morning when I learned I was pregnant.

All I'd wanted was to tell Clay in person, first thing, this good news that I was pregnant.

So I hadn't spared myself the trouble. I'd had the driver take me all the way home.

And this was what I found.

"I'm sure."

I closed my eyes. "The holiday counts as overtime. Triple the bonus."

The driver's foot hit the gas at once. "You got it!"

The car had barely turned around when a message came in.

From Clay.

"Be good and stay home, okay? I'm at my mom's now. She made a ton of hometown specialties, I'll bring them all back for you."

"Look, we're already sitting down to our holiday dinner."

A photo came right after.

In the frame, only Clay and his mother, beaming.

I clenched my fist. Six years married, every year the same.

The same routine. The same report.

The same photo of just him and his mother.

If I hadn't come all this way and seen his ex-wife and their son Oscar with my own eyes, I really might have simply believed it.

I typed back.

"That's so much food. Can two people finish all of it?"

Clay replied instantly. "A few neighbors and some other relatives are here too. Everyone gathers, it's lively."

I pressed him. "Who else?"

A few seconds of silence on his end.

"You wouldn't know them anyway, just neighbors from around. Oh, Reese."

"Don't you love hot sauce?"

"My mom heard you love it, so she made a big batch just for you. Told me to bring it back."

"See? Even when you don't come home, my mom's thinking of you."

I stared at those messages and felt sick.

When I still didn't answer.

Clay's messages filled with worry.

"Reese, are you asleep? Why aren't you answering?"

"I haven't seen you all day. I miss you. Send me a photo, okay?"

I turned my face away.

Out in the thick dark, the scenery kept sliding backward past the window.

Did he really miss me, or was it a guilty conscience.

"I'm going to sleep."

"Okay. Get some rest, then. Love you."

The car kept jolting, and a faint ache started low in my belly.

I laid a hand over it and drifted off, half-asleep.

By the time I reached the house in Bayport, the sky had gone light.

I walked into the home I'd lived in for six years.

The first thing I did was throw out every jar of hot sauce packed into the fridge.

These past two years, Clay had brought up wanting a daughter more and more often.

And the number of times hot sauce showed up in front of me.

kept pace right along with it.

My morning sandwich had to be dipped in hot sauce.

My salad at lunch got peppers in it too.

Even my low-cal dinner, Clay said, wasn't worth eating without heat.

I hated it, and one day I said, frowning,

"Clay, if I keep eating this I'm going to throw up. Can we drop the peppers?"

He just gave me that doting look.

"Come on, sweetheart, this is all so we can meet our little princess sooner."

"The old folks say it works. Sour cravings mean a boy, spicy means a girl."

"Keep at it a while, and who knows, maybe one day we really will have a daughter."

People who saw us like this would sigh with envy.

"Theresa, you really found yourself a good husband."

"They always say a small-town guy who's made good tends to want sons over daughters,"

"but yours doesn't have that ugly habit at all. He actually wants a girl."

Back then I thought he was being silly.

A grown man, believing in folk remedies like that.

But I wanted a daughter too, so even though I don't like spicy food, I went along with it eagerly.

I wouldn't touch anything sour, ate only sweet fruit.

But looking back now.

I was the fool. Completely.

When I handed all the hot sauce over to the driver, his face went slack with shock.

"Ma'am, all of this is for me?"

"Take it. If you can't finish it, throw it out, that's fine too."

The driver thanked me over and over, but by then I had nothing left, and I sank onto the couch.

After I got in touch with the realtor through my best friend,

I called the hospital and booked the abortion.

By the time it was all done, my stomach had started to ache with hunger, and I realized it was already afternoon.

I was just about to head to the kitchen for something to eat.

When someone called out behind me.

"Theresa!"

Clay pushed the door open and came in, then turned to say over his shoulder,

"Come on in. Say hi to Theresa."

I followed his gaze.

And it cut into me on the spot.

Coming in behind him were Clay's ex-wife, Mary Fletcher, and their son, Oscar Henson.

They had bags and suitcases in their hands.

I froze. "What is this?"

Clay explained, wearing a pained expression.

"Reese, I know Mary and I are divorced, but her situation right now is a little unusual."

"Everything she'd saved got swindled out of her."

"She wants to come to Bayport for work, and she's got nowhere to stay yet. She needs me to help her find something."

"She's got the kid with her, too, which makes it hard. Let them stay at our place for now, okay?"

I actually laughed from the anger.

"Clay, do you still remember whose house this is?"

He frowned.

"Of course I know it's yours. But Reese, aren't we husband and wife?"

I turned to look at Mary.

She stood there awkwardly, holding Oscar's hand.

"I don't know if we'd be in your way."

I said coldly,

"I don't like strangers moving into my home."

But Clay's face went cold at me.

"Strangers? What strangers?"

"One of them is my ex-wife, the other is my son."

"We may be divorced, but the family feeling is still there."

"You're my wife now. Can you not be so petty?"

What a fine piece of moral blackmail.

I didn't give an inch.

"If she moves in, then I move out."

I stared into Clay's eyes and said coldly,

"You figure it out."

Clay stared at me for a long moment, and in the end he backed down.

"You're impossible."

He snatched the suitcase out of Mary's hand and pushed past me up the stairs.

"Come up with me."

Mary glanced back at me timidly.

"Clay, your wife seems upset. Isn't this a bit much?"

"She's a spoiled rich girl with a temper. I'll smooth her over later. Don't worry about it."

Clay scooped Oscar up. "Is Daddy's new house big? You like living here?"

Oscar nodded happily. "I like it!"

As if Clay were the master of the place, moving his wife and child into a new home.

In that moment, my heart went as cold as it could go.

I went straight to the bedroom to pack a suitcase.

I was going to stay at my best friend's place.

And just as I turned to leave.

Clay suddenly spotted the pregnancy report in the bedroom.

He came charging down from upstairs, and said, worked up:

"Honey, you're pregnant?"

Clay had rarely been this worked up.

Even the hand gripping the pregnancy report was trembling.

Reese, answer me. Are you pregnant?

I turned to look at him, and it struck me as almost funny.

Two days ago, the moment I found out I was pregnant, I was too thrilled to sleep.

I decided then and there to take a car more than six hundred miles to his hometown, to find him.

I wanted Clay to be the first to hear the good news.

Instead it turned into a horror.

So it turned out that for six years, when he whispered in my ear that he wanted a daughter, a little girl to dote on, it had nothing to do with how much he loved the idea.

It was only because his ex-wife could no longer bear children, and he wanted to give her a matched pair, a son and a daughter.

Even divorcing Mary hadn't been because their feelings had died.

It was only because he had no choice but to marry me.

If I really am pregnant, what will you do?

I stared into Clay's eyes.

Are you still going to move your ex-wife and her kid in here?

You could see the excitement come over him.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and, ever so carefully, touched the slight swell of my belly.

Of course not.

Clay's voice left no room for doubt.

Nothing matters more than you right now.

You stay home and take care of yourself. As for them, I'll go arrange somewhere else for them right now.

Clay explained the situation to his ex-wife.

It took only a few minutes.

Mary had already dragged her suitcase upstairs.

Now she took the child and hauled the suitcase back down.

Her face was all apology.

I'm so sorry, we've been such a bother. We didn't know you were expecting.

The two of us will go right away.

Her son, hearing that they couldn't stay in the big house, suddenly kicked me hard in the shin.

You bad woman.

You stole my daddy, you took over my home!

Grandma says you're just a shameless bad woman

His mother clapped a hand over his mouth at once.

I'm sorry, he's little, he doesn't understand.

Clay's brow tightened too, and he smacked the boy's bottom.

How could you raise your hand to Auntie?

Auntie has your little sister in her belly. Come on, Daddy will find you two another place to stay.

He scooped Oscar up, and the boy kicked his legs hard, bawling.

No! I want to live in Daddy's new house!

Mary said she wouldn't intrude.

Yet before long she was settled into the apartment Clay had arranged.

For half a month straight, Clay came home half an hour late every day after work.

Miss Pruitt, you guessed right.

The private investigator tossed the photos down in front of me.

Your husband, Clay Henson, does go to Mary Fletcher and her son's apartment every day after work.

He doesn't leave until after dinner.

In the photos, the two of them were all over each other.

Clay even let his ex-wife throw herself into his arms.

He didn't push her away.

I thought of before, how flatly he'd told me he had cut things off with his ex-wife long ago.

That I was the only one for him.

Six years of marriage, after all.

Seeing that Clay was willing to send them off elsewhere for the sake of my child, I had even tried hard to talk myself into it, into giving him one more chance.

But watching this, I found it absurd.

I lifted a hand to my belly.

Baby, we can't have a liar for a father, can we?

So don't blame Mommy.

I closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, I told the driver.

Turn back.

The night before my abortion came before I knew it.

I'd reminded Clay ahead of time.

"Come home early today. There are things we need to settle."

Selling the house. And the divorce.

My best friend had already found a suitable, interested buyer.

My lawyer had already drawn up the divorce agreement.

All it needed was a signature.

Clay agreed over the phone. "Whatever my wife commands, I obey."

"I'll turn down all the overtime today. I'll come straight home the second I'm off work, okay?"

But by eight that evening,

Clay still hadn't come back.

He sent me a voice message, full of apology.

"This overtime dinner really can't be gotten out of, Reese. Can the important stuff wait until tomorrow?"

"We've got all the time in the world anyway."

I said, "It's fine. I'll wait for you."

I waited all night.

It wasn't until five in the morning that Clay sent a message.

He claimed he'd been working late at the office and hadn't finished until one.

Said he didn't want to disturb my rest by coming home so late, so he'd just make do at the office for the night.

And go straight to work the next day.

But when he typed out that message,

he'd clearly just stepped out of the apartment, his ex-wife still doing up his tie for him.

I lifted my head and watched Clay through the car window, waving goodbye to Mary Fletcher.

I didn't call out his lie.

"Sure. Get some good rest."

Clay came home first thing in the morning with the lobster bisque I loved.

Said he'd run all over several streets to find it, from the place whose flavor I liked best.

I took one bite. It tasted like wax.

"So do you have time today to come with me to the hospital for the prenatal checkup?"

He launched into an excited explanation, all about how much he wanted to come with me.

But in the end he still said, apologetic,

"Honey, today's just the busiest day."

"Can we do another day? Tomorrow, or the day after. I'll definitely come with you."

Of course he had no time today.

Because I'd heard the news the private investigator brought me.

His ex-wife had a job interview today.

Clay was worried, afraid a country woman on her own would get taken advantage of, so he was personally taking her around to every company.

And in the afternoon he had to help get that boy set up for his school placement test.

He was very busy.

I gave a knowing little smile.

"Fine. Then I'll go by myself."

Clay got agitated.

"A prenatal checkup is a big deal. Can't it just be moved to another day?"

"Theresa, I really want to be there with you for something like this."

I calmly drew my hand out of his.

"The appointment's already booked."

Clay, brimming with regret, gave me a long list of reminders before reluctantly heading out the door.

And I lifted my head and took a cab straight to the hospital.

The doctor looked up, surprised to see me.

"How is it you?"

"Weren't you so happy just a few days ago to find out you were pregnant? You said you wanted a child."

She looked over my ultrasound. "Six weeks and some. Still very small."

"You're sure you want to end it?"

I nodded.

"I'm sure."

She was quiet for a moment.

"It's a good age to have a child. Why don't you two young ones think it over a bit more?"

I said there was nothing to think over.

She didn't say anything else, wrote up the slip, and told me to go pay.

"There may be some pain after the procedure. Bleeding for about a week. No intercourse for a month."

"Come to the hospital anytime if anything feels wrong."

I nodded, took the slip, and went out.

In the operating room, I closed my eyes.

The last thought before I lost consciousness was:

Clay, you won't be getting the daughter to complete your set.

When I woke again, I was already in the recovery room.

A dull ache in my lower belly, like a period, but heavier.

The nurse beside me asked, "Awake? Does it hurt?"

I shook my head.

"Rest half an hour and you can go. Keep warm when you get home, stay away from cold water."

She handed me a heat pack and told me to hold it against my stomach.

Really something, isn't it.

By the time I left, my belly was already flat.

My phone rang again.

Clay had sent a string of messages, saying once he finished up today, he'd cook for me himself.

He'd bought me spicy hot pot, and tomorrow he'd make me spicy stir-fry when he got home.

He said I liked spicy food, so I was sure to have a daughter.

I just listened in silence.

But he'd forgotten. I don't like spicy food at all.

He was the one who said sour cravings mean a boy and spicy cravings mean a girl.

Set on having a daughter.

Watching the hope in his eyes, I couldn't bring myself to break it.

So I'd forced down all that spicy food.

But now, I didn't have to humor his moods anymore. I didn't have to keep playing along.

"There's no need, Clay."

"No need for what?"

Clay was lost. "Don't forget, the baby in your belly is"

"The baby's gone."