"The first thing we have to do," he said gently, "is make a doctor's appointment for you. I'm sure Doc Hanson will be able to see you first thing Monday morning. I'll give him a call myself."
Hannah nodded. Unwilling to face the truth, she'd delayed contacting a physician longer than she should have. Doc Hanson was a friend of the family and could be trusted to be discreet.
"Then," Hannah told him, drawing in a deep sigh, "we'll need to decide where I should go."
"Go?" Her father's dear face darkened, the age lines becoming even more pronounced.
"I won't be able to continue living here," she said, her tone weary. She wasn't thinking of herself, but of her father and of Jerry's memory.
"But why, Hannah?"
She inhaled deeply. "Everyone will assume the child is Jerry's." With everything in her heart she wished her fiancé had fathered her child, but she had to deal with the cold, harsh facts. Riley Murdock – a stranger from the Seattle waterfront – was the father. Although it was tempting, very tempting, to allow her church family and friends to believe she carried Jerry's child, she couldn't have lived with the lie. Not when he'd always been so morally upright.
"We'll simply explain to everyone that the child isn't Jerry's," her father stated with one hard nod of his head, as if that alone would set everything right.
"Do you honestly think the congregation will believe me?" she asked him, the words tight in her throat. "I have to leave, Dad," she said firmly, unwilling to compromise.
For her father's sake she must leave Seattle. He'd been such a loving and kind parent, and there were sure to be those in the church who would malign him for her wrongdoings. There would be an equal number who would stand beside them both with loving support, but Hannah couldn't bear to see her father suffer because of her mistakes.
"I'll go live with Aunt Helen until after the baby's born…."
"And then what?" her father demanded, sounding uncharacteristically alarmed.
"I… don't know. I'll cross that bridge when I reach it." So many questions and concerns were coming at her, like a spray of rocks from a speeding car. Hannah didn't feel capable of fending off a single one, at least not now.
"We don't need to decide anything yet," he assured her after a moment. But he wore a thoughtful frown as they walked back to the house, where Hannah had left dinner simmering.
The frown didn't seem to leave her father's features from that moment forward. Hannah had been in to see Doc Hanson, who confirmed what she already knew. He ran a series of tests and prescribed iron tablets and vitamins because she was anemic. He'd been gentle and kind and didn't ply her with questions, for which she was grateful.