The fatherhood mandate, p.1
The Fatherhood Mandate, page 1
The Fatherhood Mandate
The Unborn Child Protection Act
M.E. Wright
Merrywidow Publishing LLC
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are the products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead in the narrative is entirely coincidence.
©2023 M.E. Wright. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
ISBN 979-8-9883566-1-5 (ebook)
ISBN 979-8-9883566-0-8 (paperback)
ISBN 979-8-9883566-3-9 (hardcover)
To Ruth Bader Ginsburg
You taught us that real change,
something that will endure,
happens one step at a time.
Contents
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Epilogue
Author’s Notes
Acknowledgments
About Author
Chapter One
Sam stood on the rocky beach, watching the small waves lap against the monochrome shoreline. It was late August, but the wind coming off Lake Michigan was a bit chilly. Probably should have brought a jacket, he thought as he shoved his hands deep into his front pockets.
He kicked at the pebbles that littered the beach, then pulled his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. 8:10 am. It was too early for this shit.
Sam shaded his eyes as the sun momentarily poked through the somber clouds, then slid the phone back into his pocket and glared at the horizon. Of course, Rylee was late. She was always late.
He sighed. Rylee was the kind of girl that you could love one minute and hate the next. Bright blue eyes that just drew you in. Long black hair and a saucy smile. Curves in all the right places. She knew what to say, when to say it, and what it took to get her way.
And that was the problem. Rylee always got her way.
Not this time, Sam thought as he kicked at the sandy pebbles at his feet. No more meaningless late-night texts. No more screaming fights over some imagined insult. No more scheduling and rescheduling his life around her ever-changing wants and needs. It was over. Done.
He heard her cuss as she stumbled across the damp rocks and pieces of driftwood that littered the beach, her complaints almost lost in the mindless hiss of the surf as she slowly made her way across the deserted beach. He ignored her.
“Sam, I’m cold,” Rylee said when she finally reached him. That telltale whine warned him she was already in a mood. “Can’t we go someplace else?”
Sam felt her tentatively reach for him. He pulled away and shoved his hands into his front pockets again. “Just tell me what you want, Rylee,” he said, eyeing the darkening clouds that threatened rain out over the lake. “We broke up. It’s over. There’s nothing more to say.”
“It’s really chilly out here,” she whimpered. “I can’t talk when I’m freezing to death!”
She sniffed as if she was holding back tears. He turned and one look was enough. Melodramatic expression. Bloodshot eyes. Blotchy skin from crying.
That was the last thing he needed that morning. “Let’s go,” he muttered. He grabbed her arm and forced her to walk toward the trail that threaded its way through the woods surrounding the beach behind them.
Sam felt her stumble over a small piece of driftwood and glanced down. Soft leather flats peeked out beneath a long dress that were more at home on a riverboat cruise than on sandy terrain. No matter how many times they’d been to Tietjen Beach, she just couldn’t take the hint and wear sensible clothes.
He released her arm as they slowly made their way through the overgrown trail to the stairs. Wild grapevines, goldenrod, and assorted weeds crowded the entrance to the limestone steps and made it almost impossible to reach the rough, wooden handrails as they climbed.
They approached the top of the bluff. Sam headed for one of the benches that used to overlook the beach below. Now, trees and small brush huddled against the hill, creating an almost impenetrable view.
He sat down. “Tell me what’s going on,” he asked as gently as he could. Sometimes it was easier to just go with it.
Rylee slumped onto a nearby bench. Almost on cue, tears started rolling down her cheeks. “We can’t break up, Sam,” she whispered. She brushed her long, black hair away from her face. “I need you.”
Sam turned away, staring at the clouds that randomly filtered through the foliage around him. It was definitely going to rain. He could smell it in the air.
“Rylee, it’s over.” Sam ducked his head, staring at the sandy ground. “You broke up with me. We’re done.”
“No!” Rylee stood, fists clenched, as she screamed at him. “You don’t understand. We made a mistake!”
Sam leaned back and wearily looked up at her. “How many times do we need to break up before you finally accept that it’s over, Rylee?” he asked, lightly mocking her. “Two more times? Five?” He searched her face for any bit of understanding. “Breaking up was your idea.” He paused for emphasis. “Both times!”
Rylee screwed her eyes shut and turned her face to the sky. “I was wrong,” she whispered. She opened her eyes and wiped her face with both hands. “Things have changed, Sam.”
“What things?” Sam demanded. “I’m really tired of this, Rylee! Tell me what’s going on!”
She sat down and slumped against the bench, covering her eyes with one hand. “It doesn’t matter, Sam,” she told him. “I’m probably worried about nothing.”
Sam sighed as he stood up. “Fine,” he growled. And, with that, he walked away, trying to ignore the quiet sobs behind him. He had better things to do than to deal with the drama queen.
Chapter Two
The next day, Sam was back in the zone. One last afternoon with his crew and then it was time to start packing up for his move back to campus.
“She did what?” Lucas snickered as he unwrapped his burger to set it on his tray. “After all the hell she put you through, she wants you back now?”
Sam clasped his hand against his chest, fingers spread as he looked at Lucas. “We made a mistake,” he whined in a mocking imitation of Rylee. “I need you!”
Mason laughed. “Yeah, she needs you to stroke her ego!”
“That’s crazy, bro!” Colby said with a snort.
“Nah,” Lucas drawled. “That’s Rylee!”
Everyone cracked up, even Sam. He took a bite of his burger, savoring the flavor and the company. For a moment, he sat back and listened to the easy banter. He had to admit that yesterday morning had been kinda crazy, even for Rylee.
They’d broken up twice already. Once because the college tennis season started up in January and he couldn’t come home to visit on demand. The next time it was because he hadn’t made a bigger deal about Rylee getting accepted into Wellesley College. Yeah, they’d done away with the whole ‘automatic legacy admittance’ policy, but her parents had made sure that her entire high school experience had been tailored specifically for Wellesley. Of course, she’d been accepted. It didn’t seem like a big deal—until it was.
A woman in the booth across from them shot Sam a dirty look as she unwrapped a burger for her toddler. He nodded. The restaurant was almost completely empty, and they were probably making too much noise. Time to rein it in.
“So, Lucas,” Sam cut in, “you’re going to mentor the Mega Hawks this build season?” Robotics was always a safe topic. They’d spent all four years working in the Weston Prep School’s robotics lab for high school students. He’d known Lucas the longest. They’d met in kindergarten and had each other’s back ever since. Ryan, Colby, and Mason came later, after he’d joined the team.
Lucas nodded. “Yeah,” he drawled, grabbing a few fries. “Looks good on the resume and, if the design team is able to work its magic, we might be able to get to the global championship this season.”
Ryan elbowed him. “So, getting back-to-back Autonomous Awards while we were on the team isn’t good enough for you?” he joked. “Or do you just miss the twelve-hour days during build season?” Build season kicked off every January. It was six grueling weeks of designing, programming, and building a robot for competition.
“Nah,” Lucas responded, a goofy grin on his face. “Just trying to avoid going home on the weekends.”
Mason laughed. “Dude. We go to the Milwaukee School of Engineering. It’s only twenty minutes home, door-to-door!”
Lucas picked up his soda. “And?” he asked, an innocent grin on his face. He shook the cup and slurped the last of it.
Mason shook his head, laughing.
Lucas turned to Sam. “When are you hea ded back to campus?” he asked.
“Next weekend,” Sam told him. Unlike the others, he attended an out-of-state college. “I am so ready. We scored a sweet condo just a few miles from campus.” Four bedrooms. Right on the campus shuttle route. He couldn’t wait to get the keys and settle in.
Sam’s phone buzzed. He dug it out of his back pocket to check the caller ID. Not Rylee.
“Wendy,” he mouthed to the group before he answered. “Hey, Mom—”
“Don’t you ‘hey, Mom’ me, young man!” she snarled.
That didn’t sound good. “What’s wrong?” Sam asked, taken aback.
“I can’t even—” his mom stuttered, her rage reducing her to a few simple sentences. “You get home right now!”
“Okay . . . ”
“That effing whore!” The line went dead.
Sam looked down at his phone, confused. What the hell? he thought. Effing whore?
Lucas smirked, swirling a handful of fries around the splatter of ketchup on his wrapper. “Rylee?” he asked, then crammed them into his mouth.
Sam sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d better get going.” He started to clean up the remnants of his lunch. The longer it took for him to get home, the worse it would be.
“I hope Rylee didn’t throw a temper-tantrum at church,” Colby said with a grin. “Before you know it, the ladies’ Bible study group will have you back together again and planning your wedding!”
Sam snorted. “Not likely,” he told the group. “Wendy can’t stand Rylee. The last thing she’d want is for us to get married.” He clutched at his fake pearls, then stood up. “I mean, what would the congregation say?!”
He grabbed his tray to dump it out before heading for the door, ignoring the laughter behind him. He could only imagine what Rylee had done to get his mom all riled up.
Sam told himself that it couldn’t be that bad as he pulled up to the house. No sign of Rylee. Dad wasn’t home. Just some strange car parked on the street in front of their house.
His mom appeared in the front window and beckoned to him. She looked pissed. He hurried across the driveway and let himself in. A nondescript blond stood in the vestibule, wearing a dark blue windbreaker with white ‘Process Now’ lettering near the shoulder. His mother glared at him, her hazel eyes almost bulging with outrage.
Sam looked from one to the other in rapid succession, frantically trying to figure out just how badly he’d screwed up. What did this Process Now person have to do with Rylee pissing off his mom? “What’s going on?” he asked.
The woman eyed him. “Samuel Maxwell?” she said, the grave tone making it less of a question and more of a statement.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Sam said, hesitantly. Just the sound of her voice made his stomach churn.
The woman handed him a large manila envelope. “You’ve been summoned to Milwaukee County Children’s Court to discuss financial support for your embryo. The initial court date has been assigned for next Monday.”
“Wh-what?” he stammered, the envelope almost falling out of his hands. He heard the words, but they didn’t make any sense. “Court date? Embryo?” What the absolute hell?
She held out a stylus and tablet. “It’s all in the documents. Sign here, please.”
In a daze, Sam juggled the oversized envelope and the tablet while he tried to scrawl something semi-recognizable with the stylus. Then, the process server pushed the tablet at his mom. “As the defendant is under the age of twenty-one, I’ll need you to sign as well.”
Wendy pursed her lips and looked like she was going to refuse, then shook her head and signed.
“Thank you,” the process server said with a tight smile. “Have a good weekend.” And then she let herself out, striding across the lawn to her car.
“I can’t believe you got that whore pregnant,” Mom snarled, the flush on her face almost matching her dark, copper hair. “How many times did we tell you to use protection!”
Sam turned to his mom. “I don’t understand, Mom,” he said. “She broke up with me. It’s over. Rylee can’t be pregnant.” He stopped and thought back to yesterday morning. Rylee had insisted that she needed him. That things had changed.
Almost in a fog, he slowly walked into the living room and sat down, the envelope forgotten for the moment. Why hadn’t she told him that she was pregnant? And why sue him for financial support? Her family lived in River Hills. They had money!
He looked up. “Okay,” he said, giving his head a quick shake. “Let’s just say Rylee is pregnant. Not a big deal, right? I mean, yeah, if it’s mine, at some point I’ll have to pay child support. But I’m still in college and don’t have a job, so there’s not a lot she can do to me. It’s not like she needs the money!”
Wendy ripped the court documents out of Sam’s hands. “Idiot child!” she hissed. “That new law was just upheld by the Supreme Court. If that baby is yours, your life is over. Don’t you understand that?”
“How? And what does the Supreme Court have to do with it?” he demanded.
Wendy looked at him for a long moment and then turned away in disgust. “Just wait until your father gets home. At least he listens to me!”
A few hours later, Sam studied his dad’s face as he methodically went through the documents. Andrew Maxwell was an intellectual property attorney, but had always prided himself on being a fast learner.
“Well,” Dad said in that slow, melodic tone he used when he was trying to keep the peace. “The documentation seems to be rather straightforward. From what I can tell, Rylee went to the Faith and Prayers pregnancy crisis center to confirm an at-home pregnancy test. Once she’d tested positive, the center was required by law to notify Child Protective Services and she was taken into custody.”
“Wh-what?” Sam leaned forward, digging his fists into the couch cushions on either side of him. “Why? Why would they do that?”
His dad shuffled through the papers on the coffee table until he found what he was looking for. “Well, Rylee is not legally married,” he told Sam. “This new law requires pregnant women that are either unmarried, or in the process of getting a divorce, to be held in a medical detention center until their court date to prevent them from harming themselves or their embryo.” He held up a hand to stop Sam from interrupting. “There’s a psych evaluation, I believe, and the hearing is required to be held within three business days of detention.”
He placed the document back on the coffee table in front of him and looked up at Sam’s mother. “I’m not sure what to say, Wendy,” he admitted.
Both men watched as she paced the living room as if she was a caged animal, arms crossed like it was the only thing keeping her from throwing something. “This should not be happening,” she snarled. “The Governor and I talked about this law during his election campaign. He repeatedly assured me that holding fathers equally responsible for their unborn child’s welfare would have minimal impact on our community!”
Sam stared at his mom. Equally responsible? What did that even mean, he wondered.
“I know, Wendy,” his dad told her. “But this is what you voted for, unintended consequences and all.” He cleared his throat and looked down at the pile of papers on the coffee table. “I’m fairly confident that we’ll know more when we get to court,” he said, his voice soft.
“Dad, I don’t understand,” Sam said as he leaned forward to peer at the paperwork. “I know it’s bad, but I don’t get why this is bad . . . bad.”
Wendy stopped and planted herself in front of them. Her dark auburn hair seemed to reflect the rage in her hazel eyes. “Abortion is illegal in the state of Wisconsin,” she told him. “You know that, right?” She waited for him to nod. “Well, it’s also illegal for that whore to travel to another state to get an abortion.”
Sam pursed his lips, trying to ignore the name-calling. “Why is it anyone’s business if she gets an abortion?” He thought about it. The last time they’d had sex was mid-July, so Rylee couldn’t be more than a few weeks pregnant, right? Which meant that taking a trip down to Illinois to get her flushed out shouldn’t be a big deal.
Wendy started to answer, but his dad interjected. “Son, according to this, the clinic detected a heartbeat.” He shrugged. “Well, not really a heartbeat. Right now, it's just a cluster of cells that have started to emit an electrical signal that was detected by ultrasound. But the law says it’s a heartbeat and, as such, the embryo just became a ward of the state.”
