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Driving home through the hot hazy July afternoon, raven-haired June Wright felt a returning wave of nausea sweep over her and was forced to pull over to the side of the road to rest for a moment. As she sat there alone in the peace and quiet of the gently rolling Maryland farmlands, breathing in the familiar scents of sunbaked fields and dry hay mixed with the heavy sweet aroma of honeysuckle that grew wild along both sides of the narrow winding country road, she reassured herself for the hundredth time that day that she wasn’t pregnant.
It just wasn’t possible … even if old Mr. Chisolm, the owner of the Chisolm Realty Company where both she and Cliff Farrow worked, obviously thought it was. There had been a knowing leer in the old man’s eyes when she told him she wasn’t feeling well and asked for the rest of the day off. He’d wanted to know when she and Cliff were going to “set the date” and had clucked disapprovingly when she replied vaguely, “Oh sometime in the fall …”
There wasn’t any hurry or reason to worry, and she was acting like a silly nincompoop, she told herself severely. After she had decided to let Cliff sleep with her … and it had been a deliberate decision on her part because she considered herself a modern woman, and, after all, they were officially engaged … she had consulted a doctor and had been on the pills for over two weeks before she actually let IT happen.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.