The Gift

by Danielle Steel

  She was only two weeks late, but she was throwing up constantly, and her whole body felt different. Her breasts seemed suddenly huge and were excruciatingly tender, her waist seemed to expand overnight, and at every moment of the day, she was overwhelmingly nauseous. She could hardly believe that her body could change so much so quickly. But every morning as she lay on the bathroom floor after throwing up, praying that no one had overheard her, she knew that she couldn't hide it forever.

  She didn't know what to do, or who to tell, or where to turn, and she didn't want to tell Paul. But finally at the end of May, she went to her mother's doctor and begged him not to tell her parents. She cried so much that he agreed, reluctantly, and confirmed that she was pregnant. She was, predictably, exactly two months pregnant. And Paul had been wrong, she very emphatically could get pregnant from “just one time.” She wondered if he'd been intentionally lying to her, or simply stupid, when he told her he didn't think it could happen. Maybe both. It was certainly beginner's luck, in any case, and she sat on the examining table, clutching the drape, with tears rolling down her cheeks, as the doctor asked her what she was going to do about it.

  “Do you know who the baby's father is?” he asked, and Maribeth looked shocked and even more mortified at the question.

  Of course,” she said, looking humiliated and grief-stricken. There was no easy way out of this dilemma.

  “Will he many you?” She shook her head, her red hair looking like flame, her eyes like green oceans. The full impact of it hadn't even hit her yet, though the prospect of forcing Paul to marry her, even if she could, was very tempting.

  “He's engaged to someone else,” she said hoarsely, and the doctor nodded.

  “He might change his plans, under the circumstances. Men do that.” He smiled sadly. He was sorry for her. She was a sweet girl, and it was inevitable that this would change her life forever.

  “He won't change his plans,” Maribeth said softly. She was the classic one-night stand, a girl he didn't even know, though he had told her he'd be around if she needed him. Well, she did now. But that didn't mean he would marry her just because he had gotten her pregnant.

  “What are you going to tell your parents, Maribeth?” he asked soberly, and she closed her eyes, overwhelmed with the terror of it, just thinking about telling her father.

  “I don't know yet.”

  “Would you like me to talk to them with you?” It was a kind offer, but she couldn't imagine letting him tell them for her. She knew that sooner or later she would have to do it.

  “What about …about getting rid of it?” she asked bravely. She wasn't even completely sure how one did that, except that she knew that some women “got rid” of babies. She'd heard her mother and aunt discussing it once, and the word they had whispered was “abortion.” Her mother had said that the woman almost died, but Maribeth knew that would be better than facing her father.

  But the doctor frowned at her immediately. “That's costly, dangerous, and illegal. And I don't want to hear another word from you about it, young lady. At your age, the simplest solution is to have the baby and give it up for adoption. That's what most girls your age do. The baby is due in December. You could go to the Sisters of Charity the moment it showed, and stay there until you have the baby.”

  “You mean give it away?” He made it sound so simple, and somehow she suspected that it was more complicated than that, that there was more he wasn't saying about the process.

  “That's right,” he said, feeling sorry for her. She was so young, and so naive. But she had the body of a full-blown woman, and it had gotten her into trouble. “You wouldn't have to go into hiding for a while. It probably won't start to show until July or August, maybe even later than that. But you need to tell your parents.” Maribeth nodded, feeling numb, but what could she tell them? That she'd made love to a boy she didn't know on the front seat of his car the night of the prom, and he wouldn't many her? Maybe her mother would even want to keep the baby. She couldn't imagine any of it, or saying it to them as she put her clothes back on and left his office. He had promised not to say anything to them, until she did, and she believed him.

  She sought Paul out at school that afternoon. Graduation was in two weeks, and she knew it was wrong to put any pressure on him. It was as much her fault as his, or so she thought, but she couldn't forget what he'd told her.

  She let him walk her slowly around the grounds of school, and they wound up on the bench behind the gym, where they had first met the night of the dance and then she told him.

  Oh shit. You're not.” He let out a long, slow sigh, and looked desperately unhappy.

  “I am. I'm sorry, Paul. I don't even know why I told you. I just thought you should know.” He nodded, unable to say much of anything for the moment.

  “I'm getting married in six weeks. Debbie would kill me if she knew. I told her everything she heard about you were lies and rumors.”

  “What did she hear?” Maribeth looked curious, intrigued that Debbie had heard anything about her.

  “That I went out with you that night. Everyone we saw at Willie's told her. We had broken up. It was reasonable. I just told her it was no big deal, and it didn't mean anything.” But it hurt anyway to hear him say it. Debbie was the one who mattered to him. She wasn't.

  “And did it mean anything?” Maribeth asked pointedly. She wanted to know. She had a right to know now. She was having his baby.

  He looked at her thoughtfully for a time, and then nodded. “It meant something then. Maybe not as much as it should have, but it did. I thought you were terrific. But then Debbie hounded me all weekend, and she cried. She said I was treating her like dirt and cheating on her, and I owed her more than that after three years, so I said I'd marry her after graduation.”

  “Is that what you want?” Maribeth asked, staring at him, wondering who he was, and what he really wanted. She didn't really think Debbie was it for him, and wondered if he knew that.

  “I don't know what I want. But I do know I don't want a baby.”

  “Neither do I.” She was sure of it. She wasn't sure she'd ever want one, but surely not now, and not with him. No matter how handsome he was, it was obvious to her as they sat there that he didn't love her. She didn't want to be forced into marriage with him, even if he agreed to it, which she was sure he wouldn't. But she didn't want a man who would lie about her, or pretend he had never gone out with her, or cared about her. She wanted someone, eventually, who would be proud to love her, and have her baby. Not somebody who had to be railroaded into a shotgun wedding.

  “Why don't you get rid of it?” he asked softly, and Maribeth looked at him sadly.

  “You mean, give it away?” That was what she was planning to do, and what the doctor had suggested.

  “No. I mean have an abortion. I know a senior who did last year. I could ask around. Maybe I could scrounge up some money. It's really expensive.”

  “No, I don't want to, Paul.” The doctor had discouraged her from exploring that avenue any further. And she was uncomfortable too, no matter how little she knew, that getting rid of it might be murder.

  “Are you going to keep it?” he asked, sounding panicked. What was Debbie going to say? She'd kill him.

  “No. I'm going to give it away,” she said. She had thought about it a lot. And it seemed like the only solution. The doctor says I can live with the nuns once it shows, and then give it to them, and they'll put it up for adoption.” And then she turned, and asked him a strange question. “Would you want to see it?” But he shook his head, and then turned away. He hated how she made him feel, inadequate and frightened, and angry. He knew that he was being less than he should to her. But he didn't have the guts to take this on with her. And he didn't want to lose Debbie.

  “I'm sorry, Maribeth. I feel like such an S.O.B.” She Wanted to tell him that he was, but she couldn't. She wanted to say she understood, but she couldn't do that either, because she didn't. She didn't understand anything. What had
happened to them, why they had done it, why she had gotten pregnant, and why he was going to be marrying Debbie instead of her, while she hid with the nuns and had his baby. It was all so out of control.

  They sat in silence for a little while after that, and then he left, and she knew she'd never speak to him again. She only saw him once, the day before graduation, and he didn't say anything to her. He just looked at her, and then turned away, and she walked back across the campus alone, with tears streaming down her face, not wanting to have his baby. It was all so unfair, and she was feeling sicker every day.

  The week after school let out, she was kneeling over the toilet one day, puking her brains out, and she had forgotten to lock the door, when her brother came in and saw her.

  “Sorry, Sis …oh my God … are you sick?” Ryan looked instantly sorry for her, and then just as quickly a light dawned, and he stared as she vomited again and he understood. “Shit, you're pregnant.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She lay there, with her head resting on the toilet for a long time, and then finally she stood up, and he was still staring at her, his face devoid of sympathy, only filled with accusation. “Dad's going to kill you.”

  “What makes you so sure I'm pregnant?” She tried to sound flip with him, but he knew her better.

  ”Who's the guy?”

  “None of your business,” she said, feeling a wave of nausea sweep over her again, more out of nerves and terror.

  “You'd better tell him to get out his good suit, or start running. Dad'll have his ass if he doesn't do right by you.

  “Thanks for the advice' she said, and walked slowly out of the bathroom. But she knew now that her days were numbered. And she was right.

  Ryan told her father that afternoon, and he came home in a rage and nearly tore off the door to her bedroom. She was lying there on the bed, while Noelle listened to records and did her nails. And he pulled Maribeth into the living room and shouted for her mother. Maribeth had been trying to think about how she was going to tell them, but now she didn't have to. Ryan had done it for her.

  Her mother was already crying by the time she came out of her room, and Ryan looked grim, as though she had wronged him too. Her father had told Noelle to stay in their room. And he was like a raging bull as he stormed around the living room, telling Maribeth how she was just like her aunts, and had behaved like a whore, and dishonored them all. And then he demanded to know who had gotten her pregnant. But she was prepared for that. She didn't care what they did to her. She wasn't going to tell them.

  She had thought Paul was dazzling and exciting, and she would have loved to fall in love with him, and have him want her. But he wasn't in love with her, and he was marrying someone else. She didn't want to start her life out like that, at sixteen, and ruin it completely. She'd rather have the baby, and give it away. And they couldn't force her to tell them.

  “Who is he?” her father shouted at her again and again. I'm not letting you out of this room until you tell me.”

  “Then we'll be here for a long time,” she said quietly. She had done so much thinking since she'd found out that even her father didn't scare her. Besides, the worst had happened now. She was pregnant. They knew. What more could they do to her?

  “Why won't you tell us who he is? Is it a teacher? A kid? A married man? A priest? One of your brother's friends? Who is it?”

  “It doesn't matter. He's not going to marry me,” she said calmly, surprised at her own strength in the eye of the hurricane that was her father.

  “Why not?” he raged on.

  “Because he doesn't love me, and I don't love him. It's as simple as that.”

  “It doesn't sound simple to me,” her father said, sounding even angrier, while her mother cried and wrung her hands. Maribeth felt terrible as she looked at her. She hated hurting her mother. “It sounds like you were sleeping with some guy, and didn't even love him. That's about as rotten as you get. Even your aunts loved the men they slept with. They married them. They had decent lives, and legitimate children. And what are you going to do with this baby?”

  “I don't know, Dad. I thought I'd put it up for adoption, unless …”

  “Unless what? You think you're going to keep it here, and disgrace yourself and us? Over my dead body, and your mother's.” Her mother looked imploringly at her, begging her to undo this disaster, but there was no way for her to do that.

  “I don't want to keep the baby, Dad,” she said sadly, as tears came to her eyes at last. “I'm sixteen, I can't give it anything, and I want a life too. I don't want to give up my life because I can't do anything for it. We both have a right to more than that.”

  “How noble of you,” he said, furious with her beyond words. “It would have been nice if you could have been a little more noble before you took your pants off. Look at your brother, he plays around with lots of girls. He's never gotten anyone pregnant. Look at you, sixteen and your damn life is down the toilet.”

  “It doesn't have to be that way, Dad. I can go to school with the nuns while I stay with them, and then go back to school in December, after I have the baby. I could go back after Christmas vacation. We could say I've been sick.”

  “Really? And just who do you think would believe that? You think people won't talk? Everyone will know. You'll be a disgrace, and so will we. You'll be a disgrace to this whole family.”

  “Then what do you want me to do, Dad?” she asked miserably, tears streaming down her face now. This was even harder than she'd thought it would be, and there were no easy solutions. “What do you want me to do? Die? I can't undo what I did. I don't know what to do. There's no way to make this better.” She was sobbing, but he looked unmoved. He looked icy.

  “You'll just have to have the baby and put it up for adoption.”

  “Do you want me to stay with the nuns?” she asked, hoping he would tell her she could stay at home. Living at the convent away from her family terrified her. But if he told her to leave, she had nowhere else to go.

  “You can't stay here,” her father said firmly, “and you can't keep the baby. Go to the Sisters of Charity, give up the baby, and then come home.” And then he dealt the final blow to her soul. “I don't want to see you until then. And I don't want you seeing your mother or your sister.” For a moment she thought his words would kill her. “What you've done is an insult to us, and to yourself. You've hurt your dignity, and ours. You've broken our trust. You've disgraced us, Maribeth, and yourself. Don't ever forget that.”

  “Why is what I did so terrible? I never lied to you. I never hurt you. I never betrayed you. I was very stupid. Once. And look what's happening to me for it. Isn't this enough? I can't get out of it. I'm going to have to live with it. I'm going to have to give up my baby. Isn't that enough for you? Just how much do I have to be punished?” She was sobbing and heartbroken, but he was relentless.

  “That's between you and God. I'm not punishing you. He is.”

  “You're my father. You're sending me away from here. You're telling me that you won't see me again until I give away the baby …you're forbidding me to see my sister and my mother.” And she knew her mother would never disobey him. She knew how weak her mother was, how unable to make her own decisions, how swayed she was by him. They were all closing the door on her, and Paul already had. She was totally alone now.

  “Your mother is free to do whatever she pleases,” he said unconvincingly.

  “The only one she pleases is you,” Maribeth said defiantly, making him angrier still, “and you know that.”

  “I only know that you've disgraced us all. Don't expect to yell at me, and do whatever you want, dishonor all of us, and bring your bastard here. Don't expect anything from me, Maribeth, until you pay for your sins, and clean up your own mess. If you won't marry this boy, and he won't marry you, then there's nothing I can do for you.” He turned then and walked out of the room and came back five minutes later. She hadn't even had the strength to go back to her own room yet. He had mad
e two calls, one to their doctor and the other to the convent. Eight hundred dollars would pay for room and board and her expenses for six months, as well as her delivery by the nuns. They assured Mr. Robertson that his daughter would be in good hands, her delivery would be handled right in their infirmary, by a doctor and a midwife. And the baby would be given to a loving family, and his own daughter would be returned to him a week after the baby's birth, providing there were no complications.

  He had already agreed to send her to them, and the money was in crisp bills in a white envelope, which he handed to her with a stony look on his face. Her mother had already retreated in tears to her own bedroom.

  “You've upset your mother terribly,” he said in a voice filled with accusation, denying any part he may have played in the upset. “I don't want you to say anything to Noelle. You're going away. That's all she needs to know. You'll be back in six months. I'll take you to the convent myself tomorrow morning. Pack your bags, Maribeth.” The tone of his voice told her he meant business, and she felt her blood run cold. For all her problems with him, this was home, this was her family, these were her parents, and now she was being banished from all of them. She would have no one to help her through this. She wondered suddenly if she should have made a bigger fuss with Paul, if maybe then he would have helped her … or maybe even married her instead of Debbie. But it was too late now. Her father was telling her to leave. He wanted her out by the next morning.

  “What'll I tell Noelle?” Maribeth could hardly squeeze the words out. She was breathless with the grief of leaving her little sister.

  “Tell her you're going away to school. Tell her anything but the truth. She's too young to know about this.” Maribeth nodded, numb finally, too grief-stricken even to answer.

  Maribeth went back to their bedroom then, and avoided Noelle's eyes as she got down her only bag. She only packed a few things, some shirts, some pants, a few dresses that would fit for a while. She hoped the nuns would give her something to wear. In a little while nothing would fit her.