Faith Wish by James Bennett

and besides, she was ashamed of shifting the focus from Eleanor to herself. It took nearly three minutes of tear-wiping and nose-blowing before she recovered enough composure to start answering Eleanor’s questions.
    â€œAre you sure?” Eleanor wanted to know.
    â€œI’m sure,” she said, with her head still nuzzled into Eleanor’s sweatshirt.
    â€œHow are you sure?”
    â€œI took one of those home pregnancy tests. I got it at the drugstore.” The Lord hates a liar, so why do I do it ?
    â€œNot good enough, Baby. Not reliable enough.”
    â€œBut it says so, right on the package.”
    â€œNot good enough. You need to go to a clinic for a real examination.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œI said, home pregnancy tests won’t cut it. You need to visit a clinic.”
    â€œI know I probably should.”
    â€œAnd not just to confirm that you’re pregnant, either. You need to get a complete examination if you are.”
    â€œI know I should,” Anne-Marie said again.
    â€œWhat do you plan to do about it?” Eleanor asked her.
    Anne-Marie looked up to meet her sister’s gray-green eyes. Nobody could listen like Eleanor, nobody ever could. “I don’t know. I just get confused.”
    â€œWe need to visit a place like Planned Parenthood or the Women’s Support Network. You need to know all your options and you need to understand all the health issues.”
    Anne-Marie nodded but didn’t answer. She buried her face again in the fresh lilac smell of her big sister’s arm. She knew Eleanor’s advice would be perfect.
    â€œA big part of the confusion comes from not having enough information,” Eleanor was explaining. “The more knowledge you have, the less scary the dilemma.” She was stroking Anne-Marie’s hair and pulling the wet strands out of her eyes.
    Anne-Marie had a fleeting thought of Brother Jackson, long enough to wish she could introduce him to Eleanor, but knowing all the same that she wouldn’t understand or appreciate him. It felt so sad when important parts of your life didn’t fit together.
    â€œI’ll help you,” Eleanor promised. “Tomorrow, we’ll do some networking until we can get the kind of help we need. Try not to worry too much; there are choices and options.”
    Eleanor’s advice couldn’t have been more appropriate or sincere, but Anne-Marie understood the relief it provided was dead-end. The perfection was the problem. She was the unworthy sinner, pregnant and confused, while her big sister was perfect.

June 4
    On Monday morning Anne-Marie found herself with an acute case of nerves before Eleanor even chose a space in the hot parking lot. The Planned Parenthood clinic was a long, single-story building of white brick, set at the end of a strip mall with a Papa John’s Pizza and a huge Walgreen’s. There were a few people on the corner, walking while holding large signs. One of the signs read:
    ABORTION IS MURDER !
    Another one read:
    A CHILD IS NOT A CHOICE !
    â€œEleanor, there’s no way I could go in here if they do abortions. I could never have an abortion.”
    â€œWe’re not here to get an abortion,” Eleanor replied. “We’re only here to get you some counseling.”
    â€œBecause the Lord would never condone an abortion. It’s a sin, it’s like a murder.”
    â€œIf you don’t want to have an abortion, no one is going to make you. Did you hear what I just said? We’re only here to get some counseling. Now don’t be silly; get out of the car.”
    The waiting room was air-conditioned and comfortable. The two sisters sat in padded chairs while waiting for a nurse named Mrs. Howard. There was a coffee table with stacks of literature and pamphlets dealing with pregnancy, prenatal care, assurances of confidentiality, and parenting.
    Together, they browsed through a red leaflet called, Am I Parent