She touched a hand to her abdomen and felt the flutter of butterfly wings. The adrenaline that had pulled her through the past twenty-four hours had abandoned her, and she was left with nothing but a sick, hollow feeling. The grief was still there, and the hurt, and the rage at the unfairness of it all. Her daughter had already been through so much, and she would still never feel the comfort of her mother’s touch or be cradled in her father’s arms. Some facts remain unchanged even if the world has been tipped on its axis.
Would she do it again? For her baby, yes. She would go through anything to save her from a life that not even the cruelest person would wish on another. So of course she would do it again. In a single fluttering heartbeat.
Rebecca braced her hands against the edge of the sink and leaned in toward the mirror. She locked eyes on herself, and for a while all she saw was pain and exhaustion, but then it came to her. It was just a glimmer, but she knew it was there, and she felt it flood back into her veins and knew that she had the strength to do what still needed to be done. Her daughter had given that to her, and she couldn’t betray her now.
There was still a fight to be won. She wasn’t done yet.
Steps of Lubbock County Courthouse, Lubbock, Texas
A swarm of reporters engulfed Rebecca as soon as she stepped outside into the fresh early-winter air. For a second, she stumbled back, but then she felt strong hands grip both of her arms and she regained her sure footing. She turned and saw her lawyer standing to her left, steely and confident in the face of the press, and Cait to her right, fearsome and protective.
“Are you okay?” Cait shouted over the din, and Rebecca nodded. It was true, she realized. She was okay. She had proved to herself that she was strong and that she could survive.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” her lawyer was saying now, “my client is not going to make a statement at this time, but we are happy that—”
Rebecca put a hand on Cathy’s arm and stepped forward. “Actually,” she said, her voice surprising her with its steadiness, “I’d like to say something.”
Her lawyer leaned in. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
She shook her head. “I know. I want to.”
Cathy moved aside, and Rebecca stepped forward into the throng. Reporters surged around her, thrusting cell phones and cameras in her face. She tilted her face up to the sun and looked out across the clear morning sky.
“The past few weeks have been the most difficult of my life. My husband and I both desperately wanted a child, and finding out that our baby was sick and would not survive was the cruelest blow I could have imagined. I don’t blame my husband for the actions he’s taken—his grief is as real and as pure as mine, and I know that he was acting out of love—but I am grateful that the laws of this country protect my rights as a woman and as a mother to decide what is best for my body and for my child. No woman should have to go through what I’ve gone through. No woman should have her judgment called into question over this most intimate and emotional decision. I stand before you today as one of millions of women who have been faced with this decision. The reasons that have brought us to this decision are as myriad as we are, and we don’t make the decision lightly, or without conscience, or without pain. But the one thing that unites us in our decision is that we make it because we believe it is what is best for our bodies and our lives and our futures, and that is something that only we can know.”
The reporters began shouting questions. “Mrs. McRae, can you tell us what you told your husband following the ruling?”
“I told him the truth, which is that I love him and that I love our child.”
Another microphone was thrust in her face. “Do you plan on filing for divorce?”
She was careful to keep her face neutral. They didn’t deserve to know everything that was in her heart. Especially when she herself was unsure what it held. “I’d like to ask for privacy for me and my husband at this time.”