[2016] Alone and Pregnant

by Christian Michael

  She hadn’t been awake when he came in for breakfast that morning, and he hadn’t wanted to wake her anyway. He wasn’t sure what was worse, knowing that he’d have to face her soon or wondering what her mood would be like when he did finally see her.

  He cringed. That made it sound like he wasn’t interested in her—which was the exact opposite of his feelings. But he couldn’t get a firm grasp on her. He knew he needed to be patient, realizing that she had picked up her entire life to come out West to marry some stranger, but he’d hoped the woman he married would have some interest in being…well, married.

  Maybe it was too soon to tell. Maybe he just needed to wait. Yes, that was likely it. He was rushing into things and expecting too much. He needed to love her just like the Good Book said.

  Finishing up with the horse, his stomach grumbled in response to his hunger. Despite his earlier hesitation with seeing Effie he knew one thing for certain, he was looking forward to her cooking! That had been the biggest surprise for him the day before—to walk back into his home and have her cooking supper for them both. He hadn’t expected a high society lady like her to know how to cook, let alone for it to be good, but it had been.

  He grinned now just thinking about it. Would she have made something tonight as well? As he drew nearer to the house he was certain she had. He could smell the spices of…was that chili?

  With a deep, fortifying breath for what state he would find his wife in tonight, he pushed open the door.

  Effie looked up at him and smiled. “Welcome home.”

  He forced a smile, taken aback by her cheerful attitude, and came inside. “Thanks. That sure smells good.”

  “It’s chili. I hope you like it.”

  “I’m sure I will,” he said, licking his lips.

  “Make sure you wash up first.”

  He halted, his hand on the back of his chair. Wash up? What was he? A child. “I'm not that dirty.”

  She turned toward him, giving him a hard stare. “You are.”

  He opened his mouth to argue with her but his earlier thought broke through his frustration. Love. He needed to love her.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said through gritted teeth.

  She hid a smile and turned back to the stove.

  This was going to be harder than he thought. Mack washed up at the water pump, grimacing at the dirt that came off of his hands. So maybe he had needed to clean up a bit. But still, it was the principle. Was she his wife or his mother?

  “Hope this’ll do,” he said, holding out his clean hands.

  It was partly a joke and partly meant as a jab, but she either ignored it or didn’t notice because all she said was, “Much better.”

  He sat down, about ready to dig into the meal when he felt her gaze on him. “Aren’t you going to pray over the meal?”

  Of course, he thought. He’d gotten so used to digging into his grub, having lived on his own for so long, that he’d almost forgot about the habit of blessing the food. It wasn’t that he wasn’t thankful, but he didn’t stop to do it.

  “Sure,” he said, closing his eyes. And, as he offered up thanks to the Lord for the meal and the hands that had prepared it, he also silently prayed for patience.

  ***

  Effie felt bad—but only slightly—for giving Mack a hard time. She couldn’t believe him though. His hands had been soiled with dirt, his clothes were wracked with dust, and she doubted he’d bathed in…well, she couldn’t guess when the last time was.

  They ate in silence for a while as she thought through something that she could bring up to talk with him about. Each time she thought of a topic she dismissed it, thinking surely he wouldn’t be interested.

  She didn't know how to relate to him. Didn’t know things that he would talk about, let alone things that he would understand.

  She blushed, dropping her gaze to her bowl of chili. She was being awful.

  “So,” he said, breaking into her mean thoughts, “What did you do today?”

  Swallowing, she looked up at him and then back at the chili. She had slept in much too late today and hardly done anything helpful. She’d mostly felt sick in the morning and had been unable to move, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “Oh, you know, woman things.” She bit her lip, looking away. It was the most ridiculous answer.

  “Um, right,” he said. Obviously he had no idea what those things were—then again, neither did she.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any books, would you?” She looked up and immediately felt foolish for asking. Of course he wouldn’t have any books. Did she see whom she was married to?

  “Sure,” he said, nodding slowly as he took a bite of the cornbread she’d made to accompany the chili. “What do you like to read?”

  She gaped at him. “Um, really?”

  He frowned. “What?”

  How could she put this delicately? Maybe she shouldn’t even try. “Never mind. I enjoy all sorts of things.”

  When he didn’t respond she looked up and caught his hard gaze. “I’m curious to know what you actually think about me.”

  “W-what do you mean?” His blunt words surprised her.

  “Clearly you think me uneducated and possibly childish for not washing before meals. What else have you decided about me without asking?”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. He had certainly called her out, and now she felt completely foolish for forcing him to wash up before the meal. But he’d been so dirty…

  “I—” she fought to find the right words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just your hands were dirty and…”

  “Look,” he said, putting down his fork and resting his elbows on the table in front of him. “We hardly know one another—I understand that—but let’s decide not to make up our minds about one another without the benefit of experience. I’m sure there are lot of things we haven’t told one another that will come out over time. We’ll just need to wait for that, but until then let’s treat each other with grace.”

  She licked dry lips, feeling the pressure of tears again. If only he knew what she was hiding. But no, she couldn’t tell him, not yet, and she also couldn’t dissolve into a fit of tears again. “I agree.” Her voice cracked and she took in a breath.

  “I’m sorry I—”

  “No, it’s all right. I…” she chocked on emotion and pushed back from the table. “I’m sorry.” Then she ran back into the bedroom, trying to cover the sound of her tears. She felt so foolish but her emotions had been unpredictable, likely from the baby, and she couldn't explain that to him either.

  Lying down on the bed once again, she squeezed her eyes shut, tears flooding out, and tried to calm down. Eventually she’d have to have a full conversation with the man she’d married. Tears couldn’t always be her escape, no matter what happened.

  Chapter 4

  Mack kicked his horse into a trot, anxious to get back home. It had been a week of marriage but it had felt more like a year and not in a good way. He hated that that was the truth, but it felt as if he was fighting every day not to set Effie off.

  In the mornings she looked sick, in the afternoons she was exhausted, and by suppertime she was irritable. There was really no good time, but he’d continued to feel the tug from the Lord to love her—no matter what. That’s why he was rushing back today. He had a gift for her that he hoped would make her happy.

  Skidding to a stop outside, he smoothed down the shirt she had mended for him, happy to see that he hadn’t gotten to dirty on the ride back. He’d tried to be more careful with bathing and he’d noticed the appreciative glances he’d caught from her when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  He smiled, knowing that, despite her frustrations about living in the West and a myriad of other things she’d mentioned, she was attracted to him, just as he was attracted to her. The frustrating part was everything else that stood in their way. Like the fact that it seemed she couldn’t stand him sometimes. He let out a sigh.

&
nbsp; Gingerly, he opened the door and pushed it inside. Maybe he should play to the attraction? The thoughts halted him momentarily and he stood in the doorway. Could he do that?

  Unsure of what that would look like he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Effie looked up from her seat near the window to the side and offered him a small smile.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Good morning,” she said, putting down the mending she’d been working on.

  “I brought you something.”

  Her eyebrows rose in surprise, and she offered a small expectant smile. He crossed the room and handed her a package wrapped in brown paper. The wrinkles on her brow hinted at her curiosity and she quickly tore into the package, gasping when she got through the paper.

  “Oh my goodness!”

  He grinned, happy to see she was pleased. “I though you may like that.”

  “It’s a copy of Little Women, my favorite book.”

  His smile grew. “You’d mentioned it in one of our letters and I didn’t think you’d brought it with you. I ordered it from the general store which is why it took a while to get here.”

  She rose from the chair coming to stand in front of him. “Thank you,” she said. This was the first spark of true gratitude he’d seen from her.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, noticing how close she stood to him. Maybe this was his opportunity. “If you ever want anything—let me know.” He reached out, slowly so as not to shock her, and rested his hand on her arm. “I want to provide for you. To make you happy.”

  He willed her to see the truth in his eyes.

  She took in a breath. “T-thank you.”

  They stood there for a moment, staring into one another’s eyes, then so slowly even he had trouble believing he was moving, his head bent down toward her. He felt hyper-aware, knowing at any moment she could pull back and he would step away immediately. He wasn’t going to force himself on her, but if he read her correctly, she wanted to feel his kiss as much as he wanted to bestow it on her.

  The world slowed as her eyes closed. Her upturned lips beckoning him. His pulse hammered in his ears but he willed himself to focus on the moment. On the woman in front of him. He barely understood her, but he was drawn to her and—

  The book dropped from her hands and she slumped forward. Shocked, he caught her, easing her to the ground.

  “Effie?” he shouted, “Effie what’s wrong?”

  But she didn’t move.

  The doctor had been in with her for too long now. Mack wanted to know what was wrong. What had caused her to faint? He’d been so shocked but, after resting her in his bed, he’d run out and sent a hand off to fetch the doctor. He wasn’t willing to risk her heath and would spare nothing to help her.

  Now he paced outside as the doctor examined her. He ran a hand through his hair for the thousandth time and fought back the urge to curse out loud. This wasn’t like him, but he was worried.

  The door to the house opened and he nearly jumped on the doctor as the man emerged.

  “How is she?”

  “Oh she’s fine,” the older man said with a sparkle in his eye. “I’d say she isn’t used to the exertion life in the West has proved to be. But not to worry, the baby is fine.”

  Mack opened his mouth to reply but closed it again. Had the doctor just said baby?

  “Uh,” the doctor’s eyes narrowed. “You did know about the baby?”

  A hundred thoughts ran through Mack’s mind at once. Effie was pregnant. His mind repeated this over and over again on a loop for a few seconds before the truth sunk in. The second was the reality that the child was most certainly not his. The third thing was the fact that she had to have known when she came out West. He couldn’t be certain until he talked with her, but it seemed unlikely she hadn’t known.

  Lastly, if not most importantly, he realized that if he admitted to the fact he didn’t know about the baby it was possible the doctor would think ill of his wife. Maybe, just maybe, he would think she hadn’t told him yet, but Mack didn’t want to risk that.

  “Yes, of course. Good.” He turned away on the pretense of going back inside. “Thanks again, Doc,” he tossed over his shoulder.

  “Make sure she rests, and when her time comes, come and fetch me. It looks to be several more months away though.”

  Mack tossed up a hand and pushed through the door, unwilling to meet the gaze of the doctor. Sock didn't come close to describing how he felt. Effie was pregnant. Pregnant. She was going to have a baby and—he gulped down air. She was going to have a baby in a few months!

  He wasn’t ready for this. He hadn’t even kissed his wife yet, let alone thought about having children. What was more, she had lied to him.

  Turning toward the back of the house he strode forward, determined. Yanking back the blanket that separated the rooms, he opened his mouth to have it out with her when he saw her lying on the bed, eyes closed in sleep. Her hand lay across her abdomen and, now that he knew what to look for, he could see the roundness there.

  How had he missed it all this time?

  He wanted to wake her up, to demand an answer from her, but he couldn’t. She laid there, delicate and fragile, skin pale against the blankets, and all he could feel was helplessness and a deep well of love for her. If she hadn’t told him, she had her reasons. She also wouldn’t have been able to hide it much longer so she had to have some sort of plan.

  Stepping back, he let the blanket drop back into place. He’d let her rest for now, praying over their later conversation and his reaction to what she would say to him.

  Chapter 5

  Effie awoke with a start, wondering where she was and why she was lying in bed when the sun rode low on the horizon. Her hand rested against her stomach, feeling the slight bulge there, and she licked dry lips. She’d fainted. Then she’d awoken to a doctor poking and prodding her.

  Closing her eyes for a moment she fought down the panic that threatened her. Mack had to know about the baby now. The doctor had told her things seemed to be all right, but she knew the moment he walked out of her room that he would say something to Mack. She’d almost asked him not to, but his suspicions would have been roused.

  She raised and hand and ran it over her face. What would Mack think?

  She heard movement in the other room and decided it was better to face things head on now than to wait. Pushing herself up from the bed, she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and walked into the other room. Mack stopped what he was doing, staring at her.

  “You’re up,” he finally said.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice just yet.

  “You…feeling all right?” he asked.

  It was just a courtesy, something to fill the space. Her courage faltered. “Yes.”

  “The doctor,” Mack took a step toward her, the pot of coffee he had been making now forgotten. “He—he told me…”

  “About the baby,” she supplied.

  Mack nodded, lips pursed.

  “I'm sorry.” She felt overwhelmed and near tears but this time she would stay. Even if they fell, she wouldn’t run away from him. “I should have told you. I was just…I was so scared and I didn’t know what to do and…I—I’m sorry.”

  He was shaking his head. “So you did know. Before you came.”

  The hurt in his eyes was almost her undoing. “I did.”

  “Why? Why didn’t you say something?”

  “How could I?” She looked at him in disbelief. “I was left at the alter by my fiancé. He—I…we spent one night together—a mistake—and then he left me standing there. All alone.” Her voice cracked. “I had to get out of Boston. My parents would have disowned me and I would have been left destitute.”

  Tears fell down her cheeks now, running in parallel lines and dripping onto her dress. She felt helpless and an edge of fear crept into her heart. Would Mack send her away? He could have grounds for divorce. The thought terrified her but not in a way she would have expected. She was sca
red for her child, this little life inside of her who hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “P-please,” she said, reverting to begging. “I know I’m not the wife you wanted. I…I’m not a lot of things you expected, but please don’t send us away.”

  He looked at her but she couldn’t decipher the emotion she saw on his face. She could tell her words surprised him though. Would he send them away?

  “I’m not going to send you away,” he said, his eyes staying focused on her. “But I want to talk. I want you to tell me about…well, everything.”

  She gasped, her hand absentmindedly resting on her abdomen. Then, her head began to nod slowly.

  “All right, I’ll start at the beginning.”

  Effie told Mack about everything—her life growing up in a well-off home, the pressure of her parents to marry a rich husband, Ronald and all of his seemingly good qualities that combined to create a selfish, awful man.

  “He didn't say anything when he left,” she finally admitted. “He let me go so far as to make it to the alter before I found out that he had left me.”

  “How could he do that?” Mack asked.

  His question made sense, but she still laughed, thinking now about all of the things she knew about Ronald. “I should have known, really. He got what he wanted…a night with me,” she said, blushing, “And then he was done with his commitment. For a time, I decided to look past his flaws. The selfishness with which he treated me and the arrogance that characterized him but it was just that—an illusion I created. I should have known better.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Mack’s words drew her gaze to him, seeking out if he truly meant what he was saying.

  “It’s true. I think you blame yourself for his actions. He left you and that was his wrong choice. Not yours.”

  Mack’s words acted like a balm on her heart. This whole time she’d been angry—at Ronald, at her situation, at the world—and it had come out in anger against Mack, but now she could see that he didn’t deserve any of it. He was kind, generous, and understanding, likely to a fault.