“It'll be okay, Maribeth … I promise.” He whispered as they stepped inside, and she only nodded. Tommy had only met the man once outside the hospital where he had stood and waved with his dad after Annie was born. He was too young to go upstairs, and his mother had stood at the window of her room, waving at him, and proudly holding little Annie. Just thinking of it now brought tears to his eyes, and he squeezed Maribeth's hand, as much to encourage her as to comfort himself, as the head nurse looked up at them, over the rims of her glasses.
“Yes?” She couldn't imagine what they were doing there, except perhaps meeting their mother. They were both barely more than children. “May I help you?”
“I'm Maribeth Robertson …“ she whispered, as her voice trailed off inaudibly on her last name, unable to believe that Tommy had actually made her come here. “I have an appointment with the doctor.” The nurse frowned, looked down at her appointment book and then nodded.
“Mrs. Robertson?” She seemed surprised. Maybe the girl was a little older than she seemed. More than anything, she seemed extremely nervous.
“Yes.” It was barely more than a sigh on her lips, as the nurse told them to take a seat in the waiting room and smiled to herself, remembering his call. They were obviously newlyweds, and barely more than kids themselves. She couldn't help wondering if they had had to get married.
They sat in the waiting room, whispering, and trying not to look at some of the enormously pregnant women around them. Tommy had never seen so many of them in one room, and it was profoundly embarrassing, as they chatted about their husbands, their other kids, patted their tummies from time to time, and knitted. And it was a merciful relief for both of them when Dr. MacLean called them both into his office. He referred to them as Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, and Tommy found himself feeling paralyzed when he didn't correct him. But the doctor had no reason to suspect that he was anything but Maribeth's husband He asked them where they lived, where they were both from, and then finally how long they'd been married. And Maribeth looked at the doctor for a long moment and then shook her head.
“We're not …I am …that is …Tommy is just a friend …my husband died in Korea,” and then, regretting the lie the moment it was said, she looked at him honestly, with tears in her eyes. “I'm not married, Doctor. I'm five months pregnant …and Tommy thought I should come to see you.” He admired her for protecting the boy, and thought it unusually noble.
“I see.” He looked sobered by everything she had said to him, and looked at Tommy for a long moment, thinking that he looked vaguely familiar. He wondered if he was the son of one of his patients. He knew he had seen him somewhere. In fact, he had gone to Annie's funeral and seen him there, but at the moment he couldn't remember where he'd seen him.
“And are you planning to get married soon?” He looked at both of them, sorry for them. He was always sorry for kids in their situation. But they both shook their heads, looking chagrined, as though they were afraid he was going to throw them both out of his office, and suddenly Tommy was sorry he had ever suggested that she go there.
“We're just friends,” Maribeth said firmly. “This wasn't Tommy's fault, ft was all mine.” She had started to cry, and Tommy reached out and touched her hand as the doctor watched them.
“I think that's beside the point now,” he said kindly. “Why don't you and I have a little chat alone for a while, and then we'll take a look at you, and your …friend,” he smiled at the word, amused that they would think he wouldn't know what had happened, “your friend can come back and talk to us after that. How does that sound?” He wanted to examine her, and talk to her about what was happening, how her parents had reacted to her pregnancy, what her real plans were, and if she was going to keep the baby. They seemed very much in love to him, and he imagined they'd get married eventually, particularly since they'd come this far together. But their families were probably giving them a hard time, and he wanted to help them as much as he could. Maybe all they needed was a push in the right direction.
The doctor stood up then, and escorted Tommy from the room. And it was even more terrifying this time, sitting in a waiting room filled with pregnant women, without her. He just prayed that no one his mother knew would walk in and see him.
It seemed hours before the nurse beckoned to him, and led him back to the doctor's office.
“I thought you might like to come in with your friend and talk about things now,” the doctor said warmly as he walked in. Maribeth was smiling at him, and she looked shy, but relieved. The doctor had listened to the baby's heart, and said it looked like it was going to be a big, healthy baby. She had told him too that she was probably going to be putting it up for adoption, and if he knew of anyone who would be right for it, she'd like to know about it. He had promised to think, but had said no more than that. And he seemed far more interested in sharing most of the information he'd told her with Tommy, about the baby's size and health, about what Maribeth could expect over the next few months, the vitamins she'd have to take, the naps she should take if her work schedule allowed. He told them all of it, as though Tommy were the baby's father, and then Tommy realized what was happening. Dr. MacLean thought that they were hiding from him the fact that Tommy was the father. And no matter how much Maribeth had insisted they were just friends, it was obvious that he didn't believe them. It was much too obvious to him how much Tommy cared about her, and how much he loved her.
And as he looked at them both, and explained about his fees, something stirred in his memory, and suddenly he realized who the boy was, and he was pleased that he had brought Maribeth to him.
“You're Tommy Whittaker, aren't you, son?” he asked gently. He didn't want to frighten him, he was willing to share their secret with them, as long as neither of them got hurt by it, and he didn't have a compelling reason to tell his parents.
“Yes, I am,” Tommy said honestly.
“Do your parents know about this?”
Tommy shook his head, blushing terribly. It was impossible to explain that he had stolen his mother's address book to get the number. “They haven't met Maribeth.” He would have liked to introduce her to them, but he couldn't under the circumstances, and things were just too difficult with his parents now anyway.
“Maybe it's time you introduced them,” Dr. MacLean said wisely. “You can't wait forever. Christmas will be here before you know it.” It was only four months until her due date. “Think about it, your parents are pretty understanding people. They've been through an awful lot recently, and I'm sure this would come as a shock to them, but at least they could help you.” Maribeth had told him that she was estranged from her family, and the only friend she had in the world was Tommy. “This is a mighty big burden for you to be carrying alone on those young shoulders.”
“We're okay,” he said bravely, compounding the problem, and convincing the doctor again that the baby was his, no matter how much Maribeth denied it. It was sweet the way she protected him from any blame, and it impressed the doctor about her. He was impressed by both of them, and glad they had come to him. And he made another appointment for her the following month, and handed them a very simple book before they left, explaining to them what to expect over the next four months, and at the delivery. There were no photographs, just a few simple drawings, and neither of them had ever seen a book like it. It assumed a certain amount of knowledge that neither of them had, and many of the terms used were completely unfamiliar. But it also told Maribeth how to take care of herself, what to do, and what not to do, and danger signals along the way that would warrant calling the doctor. They both thought it was pretty impressive.
Dr. MacLean had told Maribeth he would charge two hundred and fifty dollars for all her prenatal care, and to deliver her, and the hospital charges would be another three hundred, which fortunately she still had set aside from the money her father had originally given her for the convent. So she had enough to pay for it. But they were both more than a little concerned that he thought Tommy was the baby's father.
“What if he tells your mom?” she asked, terrified. She didn't want to create a problem for him. And Tommy was worried too, but he had somehow gotten the impression that the doctor wouldn't betray them. He was a decent man, and he just didn't think Dr. MacLean would tell his parents. And despite the misunderstanding over who the baby's father was, he was glad he had taken Maribeth to see him.
“I don't think he will,” he reassured her. “I really think he wants to help us.” Tommy trusted him and he felt certain he was right to do so.
“He's nice,” she said, and then they went out for milkshakes. They talked in whispers about the book he'd given her, about the trimester she was in, and some of the things the doctor had said about labor and delivery. “It sounds pretty scary,” Maribeth said nervously. “He said he could give me some stuff to make me sleepy … I think I'd like that.” She wasn't sure about the whole thing. It was a lot to go through at sixteen, for a baby she wouldn't keep and would never see again. It was a lot to ask, for half an hour in the front seat of a Chevy with Paul Browne. Sometimes she still couldn't believe it was happening. But seeing the doctor made it more real. As did Tommy's concern, and the fact that suddenly the baby seemed to be growing daily.
Tommy came to see her at the restaurant almost every day, or else he showed up at her house after work and took her out for a soda, or a walk, or a movie. But on the first of September, he went back to school, and after that everything was harder. He had classes till three in the afternoon, and then sports, and his paper route. By the time he got to see her in the early evening, he was exhausted. But he was always concerned about her, and whenever they were alone, he held her in his arms and kissed her. And sometimes it felt as though they were already married, as they chatted about the day, her job, his school, and their problems. The passion between them felt married too, except that neither of them ever let it go further than it should. It never went beyond kissing and holding and touching.
“I don't want to get pregnant,” she said hoarsely one night, as his hands wandered over her slowly swelling breasts, and they both laughed. She didn't want to make love with him, not now, with Paul's baby in her …and afterwards, she wanted it to be different. She didn't want this to happen again, until she wanted it to, long years from now, after she went back to school, and college, and married the right man, then she'd want his babies. She didn't want to do it with Tommy too soon, and spoil everything, but he understood that, although it drove him crazy sometimes because he wanted her so badly.
Sometimes he did his homework at her place, or at the restaurant, in a back corner, while she brought him milkshakes and hamburgers, and sometimes she even helped him. And when her landlady was out, and her door was locked they stretched out on her bed sometimes, and he read to her, or she did his chemistry for him, or his algebra or trig. They were an even match academically, and it was two weeks after school had begun for him that it suddenly dawned on him that they could do all the work together. He was going to copy the curriculum for her, and lend her his books, and that way she could stay abreast of the work she was missing in her own school, and continue her education.
“You can ask them to take an exam when you go back, and you won't have to miss the semester.” But that was something he didn't like to think about, her going back to Iowa and her parents. He wanted her to stay with him, but neither of them knew yet exactly what would happen after she had the baby.
But for the moment, his plan was working extremely well. They met every night after school, and work when she could, and both of them did the homework. She kept the papers she did, and she did all the same assignments. In effect, she was continuing school, and working at Jimmy's too, and Tommy was very impressed with the quality of the school-work she was doing. And in spite of his good grades, he realized within days that she was actually an even stronger student than he was.
“You're good,” Tommy said admiringly, correcting some algebra for her, from the sheet they'd given him at school. She'd had an A+ on both quizzes he'd passed on to her that week, and he thought her history paper about the Civil War was the best he'd ever read. He wished his history teacher could see it.
The only problem for them was that he was getting home at midnight every night, and by the end of the first month of school, his mother was getting suspicious. He explained to her that he had sports practice every day, and was tutoring a friend who was having a lot of trouble with math, but with his mother working at the school, it wasn't easy convincing her that he was justified in coming home at midnight.
But he loved being with Maribeth. They talked for hours sometimes after they finished their work, about their dreams and ideals, the issues their assignments brought out about values and goals and ethics, and inevitably they talked about the baby, about what she hoped for it, the kind of life she wanted it to have. She wanted it to have so much more than she had. She wanted it to have the best education it could get, and parents who wanted to help it move ahead into the world, not back into positions forged by the fears or ignorance of past generations. Maribeth knew what kind of fight she herself was going to have trying to get to college one day. Her parents thought it was frivolous and unnecessary, and they would never understand it. But she didn't want to be confined to a job like the one she had now. She knew she could do so much more with her life, if she could just get an education.
Her teachers had always tried to tell her parents that she could go far, but they just didn't understand it. And now her father would say that she was just like her aunts, and had managed to get herself knocked up out of wedlock. She knew she would never live that down, and even without the baby in her arms, they would never let her forget it.
“Then why don't you keep it?” Tommy said to her more than once, but she would shake her head at that. She knew that that wasn't the answer either. No matter how far along she got, or how sweet the feelings were, she knew she couldn't take care of it, and in some part of herself, she knew she didn't want to.
By early October, she had to admit to the girls at work that she was pregnant. They had figured it out for themselves by then too, and they were excited for her, imagining that it was a last gift from her dead husband, a wonderful way of holding on to his memory forever. They had no way of knowing that it was Paul Browne's memory, someone whose eighteen-year-old wife was probably already pregnant by then too, and didn't care about this baby.
She couldn't tell them that she wanted to give the baby up, and they brought small gifts in to work for her, which always made her feel terribly guilty. She set them aside in a drawer in her room, and tried not to think about the baby that would wear them.
She also went to see Dr. MacLean again, and he was very pleased with her, and always asked about Tommy.
“Such a fine boy' he smiled, talking to her, sure that their mistake would have a happy outcome. They were both nice kids. She was a lovely girl, and he was sure that the Whittakers would adjust to it, and accept her once they knew about the baby. And it was mid-October when by sheer coincidence Liz Whittaker came in from school one day for her checkup. And then, before she left, he remembered to tell her what a fine boy her son was.
“Tommy?” She looked startled that he remembered him. The last time he had seen the boy was six years before when Annie was born, and he had stood outside the hospital and waved up at her window. “He is a good boy,” she agreed, sounding puzzled.
“You should be very proud,” he said knowingly, wanting to say more about the two young people who had impressed him so much, but he knew he couldn't. He had promised both of them he wouldn't.
“I am proud of him,” she said, distracted by her rush to get back to school, but on her way home later she thought about his comment again, and wondered if he'd run into Tommy somewhere. Maybe he had taught a class at school, or had a child in Tommy's class, and then she forgot about it.
But the following week, one of her colleagues said they had seen Tommy with a remarkably pretty girl, and casually mentioned that t
he girl looked extremely pregnant.
She was horrified when she heard about it, and then with a rush of terror, remembered Dr. MacLean's unexpected praise of Tommy. She thought about it all afternoon, and then decided to ask Tommy about it that night. But he didn't even come home until after midnight.
“Where have you been?” his mother asked in stern tones when he got in. She had been waiting up for him in the kitchen.
“Studying with some friends,” he answered, looking nervous.
“What friends?” She knew almost all of them, particularly now that she was teaching at the high school. “Who? I want to know their names.”
“Why?” Tommy suddenly looked very guarded, and when his father came into the room, he saw an odd look pass between his parents. The hostility between them had lessened a little bit since his mother had gone back to work, but the distance seemed greater than ever. Liz had said nothing to John about the girl someone had seen Tommy with, but he had heard them talking, and wondered what was going on. Lately, he had been increasingly aware of the fact that Tommy was literally never home, and coming home very late in the evening.
“What's up?” he asked Liz, not really looking worried. Tommy was a good boy, and he had never gotten into trouble. Maybe he had a girlfriend.
“I've been hearing some strange things about Tommy,” his mother said, looking concerned, “and I want to hear from him about it.” But as he looked at her, Tommy knew that she knew something.
'What kind of 'strange things?” John asked. It didn't sound like Tommy.
“Who's the girl you've been seeing?” his mother asked him bluntly, as his father sat down and watched them.
“Just a friend. No one special.” But it was a lie, and she sensed that. Maribeth was more than a friend to him. He was head over heels in love with her, trying to help her keep up with school, and deeply concerned about her baby.
But his mother didn't pull any punches. “Is she pregnant?” He looked as though she had leveled a blow to his diaphragm and his father looked as though he was going to fall out of his chair, as Liz stared at Tommy in the silence. “Well, is she?”
The Gift Page 12
