Unalienable Rights
Chapter 47

Copyright© 2012 by Robert McKay

Cecelia went inside with me, but sat in the waiting room. I wondered what she'd do there – the reading material probably wouldn't interest her any more than it had interested me. I told the receptionist, who wasn't Davey, nor anywhere near as pretty with his scruffy whiskers, that I had a report for Dr. Bernard, and after getting my name and checking with her he sent me back.

Dr. Bernard shook my hand and sat down, waving me to a chair in front of her desk. "I understand you have a report for me," she said.

"Yeah. The short version is that we got the guy."

She smiled, the first expression I'd seen on her face that didn't seem to be the product of years of training and rehearsal. "That is good news, Mr. Carpenter. I am so glad to hear that."

"Me too. I don't much care for people doing what this guy was doing."

"I presume that's the report in the folder?"

"Yeah." I handed her the manila folder, and she flipped it open and scanned it quickly. She took her time on the last sentence, which said simply, "He will no longer bother you."

"Thank you very much," she said, looking up from the report. "I presume you also have a bill?"

"Yeah, I got that too." I took the folded paper from my shirt pocket and handed it over.

She unfolded it, looked it over, and returned her gaze to me. "This is a substantial amount."

"You'll find that I've itemized it – hourly charges, expenses, all the stuff the contract covered. I haven't inflated the rate either – the contract had it as boilerplate, not written in."

"It's still a large sum of money, Mr. Carpenter."

"Yeah, I know." I leaned forward. "I know something else too – places like this always have money. There's plenty of cash behind the abortion business. Where you won't find a lot of ready money is on the other side of the equation. I bet you can find the money to pay that bill, but I know half a dozen anti-abortion ministries in this state who would have to go bankrupt because they couldn't pay half of it." I leaned back in my chair. "I do have an alternative to that bill."

"What alternative is that?"

"It won't cost you a dime. In lieu of paying the bill, you send your people to an anti-abortion ministry I'll designate, and have them take a tour of the place, talk to the people who work there, maybe talk to a few women who've had abortions and regretted it."

"I will do no such thing!"

I smiled, and it felt on my face like the smile a lion might have on its face just before pouncing. "You remind me of something William F. Buckley said: 'Liberals claim to want to give a hearing to other views, but then are shocked and offended to discover that there are other views.' You claim to be 'pro-choice, ' but how many choices do you promote here? How much choice are you going to give your employees? You refuse to allow them to hear the other views on the subject of abortion; you're offended that I would want them to do so."

"I am offended that you would try to ram your ideas down my throat, and down the throats of my employees."

"You knew when we started where I stood, Dr. Bernard. I can't believe you didn't understand that I would try to persuade people to my point of view – just as you no doubt work at persuading people to your viewpoint."

"Get out."

I stood up. "Sure. That bill is payable in full, immediately."

I had my hand on the doorknob when she spoke. "Wait!"

I turned back to face her. "Yeah?"

"Let me think about it."

"What's to think about? You say you're pro-choice, and I just want your employees to be able to make an informed choice. If, after they take the tour and talk to a few people, they want to keep working here, I won't stand in their way. But they have a right to information. They have a right to an informed decision. I'm just working toward that, while at the same time offering you a way to save money."

"You're asking me to violate my principles."

I looked at her for a moment. "You didn't seem to think all that much of my principles when you hired me. Why should I think much of yours?" I held up a hand to forestall her. "But in fact I do. I think they're repellant. I think they're the principles of a mass murderer. But I'm willing hear your side of it, and in fact I have, more than once, and not just from you. But you're not willing to give my views the respect and tolerance you demand for yours." I pointed at the paper she still held in her hand. "I'll expect a call by close of business tomorrow, telling me whether you're sending a check or sending your people." I grinned suddenly. "I'm pro-choice on this one, Dr. Bernard – I'm letting you decide which it'll be."


It was time for a late lunch when we left the clinic, and Cecelia drove us the Applebee's on San Mateo at Academy. For some reason I always get it mixed up with Chili's, even though the two are different chains. Our first sort-of date had been at a Chili's restaurant, though it was a different one. Our first real date had been at her house, where for the first time I'd tasted her cooking. If I'd been smart I've had decided right then that I had to marry her, for I'd never tasted such good food in my life. Of course if I'd proposed right then she'd probably have picked me up and tossed me into the park across the street.

We ate slowly, not saying much, but looking at each other a lot. I knew what it was with me – I'd come within a few inches of dying, and I had a brand new and sharp appreciation for life, and particularly for the woman who was my life. I suspected that with Cecelia it was a similar thing. When Charnock had been shooting at me, he'd been shooting at her husband, and I imagined that she had a new appreciation of life and of me ... not that I've got a lot about me to appreciate. I'm middling intelligent, middling good looking, middling strong, middling tough ... I'm pretty much middling all the way around, and another way to say middling is mediocre.

Of course I'm not about to run Cecelia off on the ground that she thinks more highly of me than she has any business doing. I'd as soon run off the oxygen I breath, and I could live about as long without Cecelia as I could without oxygen. But I know better than she does just how average I am. She's the one with the brains and the toughness and the beauty and the muscle; I'm just the guy what follows along behind her.

 
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