The Gift
Page 9
Maribeth laughed at the thought, wishing she could have met her. But then maybe she wouldn't have met him. He wouldn't have been going to the restaurant to eat three or four times a week, he'd have been home with his family, having dinner.
“What would she have said about us?” Maribeth teased, liking the game, liking him, comfortable sitting on the sand near him. She had learned some hard lessons in the past few months about who to trust, and who not to, and she had sworn she would never trust anyone again, but she knew to the bottom of her very soul that Tommy Whittaker was different.
“She'd have said I like you.” He grinned, looking sheepish, and she noticed freckles on the bridge of his nose for the first time. They were tiny and almost golden in the bright sunlight. “She'd have been right too. Usually she wasn't.” But Annie would have sensed immediately how much he liked her. Maribeth was more mature than the girls he knew at school, and the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. “I think she would really have liked you.” He smiled gently, and lay back on the sand, looking at Maribeth with unconcealed admiration. “What about you? You have a boyfriend back home?” He decided to ask her now so he'd know where things stood, and she hesitated for a moment. She thought about telling him the fiction of the young husband in the Korean war, but she just couldn't. She'd explain it to him later on, if she still had to.
“Nope. Not really.”
“But sort of?”
She shook her head firmly this time in answer. “I went out with one guy I thought I liked, but I was wrong. And anyway, he just got married.”
He looked intrigued. An older man. “Do you care? That he's married, I mean?”
“Not really.” All she cared about was that he had left her with a baby. A baby she couldn't keep, and didn't really want. She cared about that a lot, but said nothing about it to Tommy.
“How old are you, by the way?”
“Sixteen,” and then they discovered that their birthdays were only weeks apart. They were exactly the same age, but their situations were very different. However useless to him they were at the moment, he was still part of a family, he had a home, he was going back to school in the fall. She had none of those things anymore, and in less than five months she was having a baby, the baby of a man who had never loved her. It was overwhelmingly scary.
He walked out into the lake after a little while, and she went with him. They stood together while he fished, and when he finally got bored, he walked back to the shore and left his fishing pole, and dived into the water, but she didn't join him. She waited for him on the sand, and when he came out, he asked her why she hadn't gone swimming. It was a hot sunny day and the cool water felt good on his flesh. She would have loved to swim with him, but she didn't want him to see her bulging belly. She kept her father's shirt on the entire time, and only slipped her jeans off while they stood in the water.
“Can you swim?” he asked, and she laughed, feeling silly.
“Yeah, I just didn't feel like it today. I always feel a little creepy swimming in lakes, you never know what's in the water with you.”
“That's dumb. Why don't you go in? There aren't even any fish, you saw I couldn't catch one.”
“Maybe next time,” she said, drawing designs in the sand with her fingers. They ate lunch sitting in the shade of an enormous tree, and talked about their families and their childhoods. She told him about Ryan and Noelle, and how her father thought that sons should get everything, and girls didn't need to do anything except get married and have kids. She told him about how she wanted to be something one day, like a teacher or a lawyer, or a writer, how she didn't want to just get married and have kids straight out of high school.
“You sound just like my mom,” he smiled. “She made my dad wait for six years after she finished high school. She went to college and got her degree, and then she taught for two years, and after that they got married. And then it took her seven years to have me, and another ten to have Annie. I think they had a really hard time having kids. But education is really important to my mom. She says the only valuable things you've got are your mind, and your education.”
“I wish my mom felt like that. She does everything my dad tells her to. She thinks girls don't need to go to college. My parents don't want me to go. They would have let Ryan, probably, if he'd wanted to, but he just wanted to work in the shop with my dad. He'd have gone to Korea, except he was 4-F, but Dad says he's a great mechanic. You know,” she tried to explain things to him she had never said to anyone before, “I always felt different from them. I've always wanted things no one else in my family cares about. I want to go to school, I want to learn a lot of things, I want to be really smart. I don't just want to catch some guy, and have a bunch of kids. I want to make something of myself. Everyone I know just thinks I'm crazy.” But he didn't, and she sensed that, he came from a family that felt exactly the way she did. It was as though she had been dropped off at the wrong place when she was born, and had been doomed to a lifetime of misunderstandings. “I think my sister will do what they want in the end. She complains, but she's a good kid. She's thirteen, but she's already boy crazy.” On the other hand, Noelle hadn't gotten pregnant by Paul Browne in the front seat of his car, so Maribeth felt she was in no position to cast aspersions.
“You really ought to talk to my mom sometime, Maribeth. I think you'd like her.”
“I'll bet I would.” And then she looked at him curiously. “Would she like me? Moms are usually pretty suspicious of the girls their sons like,” especially her, in a few months. No, there would be no way she could meet Mrs. Whittaker. In another month she wouldn't be able to hide it anymore, and she wouldn't even want to see Tommy. She hadn't figured out what she would tell him yet, but she would have to tell him something eventually, even if he just came into the restaurant and saw her. She'd have to tell him the story about a young husband dying in Korea, except that now it sounded so stupid. She would have liked to tell him the truth, but she knew she couldn't. It was too terrible, too irresponsible, and much too shocking. She was sure he'd never want to see her again. She'd just have to stop seeing him in a few weeks, and tell him she was seeing someone else. And then he'd be going back to school, and he'd be busy anyway, and he'd probably fall for some high school junior, a cheerleader probably, some perfect girl that his parents knew …
“Hey …what were you thinking about then?” he interrupted her. She had been a million miles away, thinking of all the cheerleaders he was going to fall in love with. “You looked so sad, Maribeth. Is something wrong?” He knew she had something on her mind, but he had no way of knowing what it was, after they'd known each other for such a short time, but he would have liked to help her.
She had made him feel better about Annie for the first time in months, and he would have liked to return the favor.
“Nothing …just daydreaming, I guess …there's nothing special …”Just a baby growing inside me, that's all, no biggie.
“Want to go for a walk?” They walked halfway around the lake, sometimes balancing on rocks, sometimes walking through the water, and sometimes across sandy beaches. It was a pretty little lake, and he challenged her to a race on the way back, once they hit a long stretch of beach, but even with her long, graceful legs, she couldn't keep up with him. And they finally collapsed side by side on the sand, and lay there, looking up at the sky, trying to catch their breath and grinning.
“You're pretty good,” he conceded, and she laughed. For her, in some ways, it was just like being with a brother.
“I almost caught up with you, except I stumbled on that rock.”
“You did not …you were miles behind …”
“Yeah, and you started before I did by about eight feet …you practically cheated …” She was laughing, and their faces were inches apart, as he looked at her, and admired every single thing about her.
“I did not!” he defended himself, wanting desperately to kiss her.
“Did too …I'll beat you next time …”
“You okay?” He was looking down at her, concerned, for a moment she had such a funny look, as though she had been startled, and was distracted.
“Tine,” she said softly, suddenly stunned at what had happened as she lay there. It brought it all home to her again, how real the baby was, how alive, how time was moving forward, whether she wanted it to or not. She had thought about going to a doctor to make sure everything was all right, but she didn't know one here, and she couldn't really afford it.
“Sometimes you look a million miles away,” he said, wondering what she thought about, when she looked like that. He would have liked to know everything about her.
“Sometimes I just think about things …like my folks … or my sister …”
“Do you talk to them?” He was intrigued, there were still so many little mysteries about her. Everything was new and so exciting.
“I write. It works better that way. My dad still gets kind of mad when I call.”
“You must have really made him mad at you.”
“It's a long story. I'll tell you one day. Maybe next time.” Assuming that there was one.
“When's your next day off?” He couldn't wait to go out with her again. He loved being with her, the scent of her hair, the look in her eyes, the feel of her skin when he held her hand or accidentally touched her, the things she said to him, the ideas they shared. He loved everything about her.
“I've got a couple of hours off on Sunday afternoon. But after that I'm not off again till Wednesday.”
“Want to go to a movie Sunday night?” he asked hopefully, and she smiled. No one had ever taken her out like that. Most of the boys at school had no interest in her, except creeps like David O'Connor. She had never really dated anyone …not even Paul …this was all new to her and she loved it.
“I'd love it.”
“I'll pick you up at the restaurant, if that's okay with you. And if you want, Wednesday we could come back here, or we could do something else if you d rather.”
“I love it here' she said, looking around, and then at him, and meant it.
They didn't leave until after six o'clock when the sun started to sink a little lower in the sky, and they drove slowly back to town. He would have liked to take her out to dinner, but he had promised he would help his mother install a new bookcase. And she had insisted she was going to cook dinner, which was rare these days. He had said he would be home by seven.
At twenty to, he was at the little house where Maribeth lived, and she got out of the truck regretfully. She hated to leave him.
“Thanks for a great time.” It was the happiest afternoon she'd had in years, and he was the best friend she had ever had. It seemed like providence that he had come into her life now. “I really loved it.”
“So did I,” he smiled, standing next to her and looking into her shining green eyes. There was a luminous quality about her that mesmerized him. He was dying to kiss her as he stood there. “I'll come by the restaurant tomorrow night for dinner. What time do you get off?”
“Not till midnight,” she said regretfully. She would have liked to be free to go everywhere with him, at least for the rest of the summer. After that, everything would change anyway. But just now she could still pretend that it wouldn't. Although, after feeling the baby move that afternoon, she knew that those days were numbered.
I'll drive you home tomorrow night after work.” His parents didn't mind his going out, and he could tell them he was going to a late movie.
“I'd like that,” she smiled at him, and she stood on the front steps and waved as he drove off with a huge smile. He was the happiest boy alive when he got home, and he was still grinning when he walked in the front door of his house at five to seven.
“What happened to you? Did you catch a whale at the lake today?” His mother smiled at him, as she finished setting the table. She had made roast beef, his father's favorite, and Tommy had the odd feeling that she was making a particular effort to please him.
“No … no fish …just some sun and sand, and a little swimming.” The house smelled wonderful, she had made popovers too, and mashed potatoes and sweet corn, everyone's favorites, even Annie's. But the familiar stab of pain at the thought of her seemed a little less acute tonight. Talking about her to Maribeth had helped, and he wished he could share that with his mother, but he knew he couldn't. “Where's Dad?”
“He said he'd be home at six. I guess he got delayed. He'll be home any minute. I told him dinner was at seven.” But an hour later, he still hadn't come home, there was no answer when she called him at work, and the roast was well done by then, and her mouth was set in a thin line of fury.
At eight-fifteen she and Tommy ate, and at nine, his father walked in, obviously having had a few too many drinks, but in very high spirits.
“Well, well, the little woman cooked dinner for a change!” he said jovially, trying to kiss her, but missing even her cheek by several inches. “What's the occasion?”
“You said you'd be home at six o'clock,” she said, looking grim, “and I told you I'd have dinner on the table at seven. I just thought it was time this family started having dinner together again.” Tommy panicked at her words, but it didn't look as though that was going to happen again anyway, at least not for a while, so he decided not to worry prematurely.
“I guess I forgot. It's been so long since you cooked, I didn't even remember.” He looked only mildly apologetic, and made an effort to seem more sober than he was as he sat down at the table. It was rare for him to come home drunk, but his life had been pretty bleak for the past seven months, and relief in the form of a whiskey or two hadn't seemed so bad when offered by two of his employees.
Liz served him up a plate, without saying another word to him, and he looked at it in surprise when she handed it to him.
“The meat's pretty well done, isn't it, dear? You know I like it rare.” She grabbed the plate from him then, and poured all the food on it into the garbage can, and then banged the empty plate in the sink with an expression of disappointment.
“Then try coming home before nine o'clock. It was rare two hours ago, John' she said through clenched teeth, and he sat back in his chair, looking deflated.
“Sorry, Liz.”
She turned around at the sink then and looked at him, even forgetting that Tommy was there. They always seemed to forget him. It was as though, in their minds, he had left with Annie. His needs no longer seemed to be of importance to anyone. They were too desperately distraught themselves to ever help him.
“I guess it doesn't matter anymore, does it, John? None of it does. None of the little niceties that used to seem so important. We've all given up.”
“We don't have to,” Tommy said softly. Maribeth had given him hope that afternoon, and if nothing else, he wanted to share it. “We're still here. And Annie would hate what's happened to us. Why don't we try and spend more time with each other again? It doesn't have to be every night, just sometimes.”
“Tell your father that,” Liz said coldly, and turned her back on them as she started to do the dishes.
“It's too late, Son.” His father patted his shoulder and then disappeared into their bedroom.
Liz finished the dishes, and then, tight-lipped, put up the new bookcase with Tommy. She needed it for her schoolbooks in the fall. But she s
aid very little to her son, except about the project they were working on, and then she thanked him and went to the bedroom. It was as though everything about her had changed in the past seven months, all the softness and warmth he had known had hardened to stone, and all he saw in her eyes now was despair, and pain, and sorrow. It was obvious that none of them were going to survive the death of Annie.
John was asleep on the bed with all his clothes on when she walked into the room, and she stood and looked at him for a long moment, and turned and closed the door behind her. Maybe it didn't matter anymore what happened between them. She'd been to the doctor several months before and he had told her there wouldn't be any more children. There wasn't any point even trying. There had been too much damage when Annie was born. And now she was forty-seven years old, and she had always had a hard time getting pregnant, even when she was younger. This time the doctor had admitted to her it was hopeless.
She had no relationship with her husband anymore. He hadn't touched her since the night before Annie died, the night they'd convinced each other all she had was a cold. They still blamed each other and themselves, and the thought of making love to him now repulsed her. She didn't want to make love to anyone, didn't want to be that close to anyone again, didn't want to care about anyone, or love that much, or hurt that much when she lost them. Even John, or Tommy. She was cut off from all of them, she had gone completely cold, and the iciness only masked her pain. John's pain was a lot more blatant. He was in agony. He desperately missed not only his beloved little girl, but his wife, and his son, and there was nowhere to go with what he was feeling, no one he could tell, no one to bring him comfort. He could have cheated on her but he didn't want sex with just anyone, he wanted what they had had before. He wanted the impossible, he wanted their life back.
He stirred as she walked around the room, putting away her things. She went into the bathroom, and put her nightgown on, and then woke him before she turned the lights off.