At hearing her fateful words, Don lowered his head in both hands. He said nothing.
Worried by his reaction, Alisha asked him, “Did you hear what I said?”
He shook his head in disbelief.
“I heard you, but it can’t be true. I used protection.”
“Not the last time at the motel.”
He slapped his hand on his desk and glared at her, his voice rising in anger. “That damn motel! I should never have gone there! Damn! Are you sure?”
Wordlessly, she pulled up her blouse. He saw the tell-tale bump.
“See?” she said.
His face flushed, but his voice was as cold as ice. “Get rid of it.”
“I can’t. Not now.”
“Why not?”
“I’m in my second trimester.”
“You have to do something!”
“What? Why should I? This is your child! You knew I was a virgin. And I swear to God, I’ve never slept with any other man but you!”
She reached into her handbag for a tissue to wipe her tear-filled eyes.
“You have to marry me and do right by our child,” she demanded.
“Alisha, I’m already married with two adult children…”
“That’s your problem,” she interrupted, “not mine, or our child’s. He or she has a right to have a father.”
“Do you know what you’re asking me to do?”
“I can’t help it! I love you, Don. You’ve got to know that.” She starting to reach for him.
He pushed away in his chair, out of her reach. “Don’t…don’t touch me! You don’t know what love is.”
“Yes I do, I do! I truly love you, Don. You are the only man I’ve ever loved.”
Don shook his head in denial, distraught with guilt, remorse, and stunned when in the back of his mind Mr. Morton’s warning echoed, Don’t ever hurt my daughter, and his promise, made with all sincerity, never to do so. Now this.
“This is a shock to me, Alisha, and you’d better go. I need to think. Go, please. Just go!”
He knew very well that she did not want to leave without some type of commitment from him, but his medical training had taught him never to rush to judgment.
“I’ll get back to you.”
“I’m living in a new condo,” she told him. “Here’s my card. Call me soon,” and she added, “Please.”
“I’ve got to consider my options.”
“What do you mean, options?”
“Talk to my lawyer, for one thing. If this is truly my child…” His voice trailed off as the realization struck him.
“It is your child, and you know it!”
Again, tears welled up in her eyes, pleading for him to understand, to accept what she had told him. But denial was the truth he clung to. This situation could not be happening to him. God, at fifty I’m too old to be a new father.
* * *
Frank Jones greeted Don cordially when he appeared at the lawyer’s office.
“Hi, Doc!” He extended a firm handshake to his friend. “How’s it going?”
His observation of Don’s haggard, hollow-eyed appearance made him question, “Looks like you haven’t been sleeping well lately. What’s up?”
Wearily Don accepted the chair that the lawyer indicated, sighed deeply, wiping his wet forehead with a limp white handkerchief he pulled from his trouser pocket.
“Man, as a matter of fact, haven’t slept well for the past week.”
“How can I help?”
“That’s it, Frank. I don’t know. I’m in a hell of a mess!”
“You! What’s happened? Leanne? The kids?”
“No, no, they’re fine.”
“Well, what is it? A malpractice suit?”
“God, I wish to hell it was.”
Frank heard the angst on his friend’s voice and knew the man was in deep distress.
“Tell me, Don,” he urged in a quiet tone of voice. “Start at the beginning.”
Don found it impossible to look at his friend. With his right hand rubbing his forehead as if to mitigate his tale of woe, he spoke slowly.
“I…I met this girl…”
“No, Don, you didn’t!”
“I did. I…we, had a couple of dates. I knew it was wrong, but this girl…Frank, I’m happy in my marriage to Leanne, believe me. But this…well, she was a nurse in my office. She’s not a girl, she’s thirty. Frank, I swear I didn’t know it would come to this…”
“She’s pregnant,” Frank interrupted.
Don’s face flushed, shame written all over it as he nodded in acknowledgment.
“Now, what does she want from you?”
“Marriage. She wants me to divorce Leanne and marry her! Frank, I never expected this. The effect she had on me, the sex…I was so attracted, I felt like a young stud. I’ve never experienced anything like it!”
The lawyer leaned back in his chair, his hands formed in a steeple pattern before his face. For a few moments he made no comment.
Then, reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a legal pad and a pen.
“She knows that you are married?’
“Says it’s my problem.”
“Right, and she wants you to divorce Leanne and marry her?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to? Divorce Leanne?”
“No, no, no! My God, Frank, no!”
“How do you know it’s your child?”
“She was a virgin.”
Frank Jones said, “That’s what she told you and…you believed her?”
“Wasn’t thinking, Frank, just responding to the moment.”
“You know,” the lawyer said, “even if you don’t marry the girl, the bastardy law makes her able to demand child support for the child’s welfare. Case law,” he added, “that is to say common law, stipulates that.”
“God, Frank, I’m doomed.”
“Not yet. We’ll see what we can do. For one thing, if you do consider marriage, you might insist on a pre-nuptial agreement.”
“I’m not sure I want to marry her. How can a marriage be only about sex? So far, that’s all we share.”
“You forget the child.”
“I can hardly put my mind around having a child. My God, I’ll be an old man by the time he or she starts driving a car!”
“Another thing,” Frank said, “you’ve got to provide for your other children, too.”
“I know that. And Leanne as well.”
“Right. She may want alimony. After all, you are the offender in this situation.”
“Don’t I know that.”
“Then you have to consider your pension plan, any annuities, IRA—how those options are to be evaluated and considered.”
“And, Frank, my practice…”
“Well, that’s a valuable asset, too, that has to be considered. How much money you can expect to earn before retirement. Now,” Frank tore off the top sheet of the legal pad, “I would advise you to continue to pay for your children’s education.”
“Curtis graduates this year, and Jane will be in her third year.”
“Seeing that Curtis is over twenty-one, your legal responsibility for him has ended. Jane you may want to see finish school even though she is an adult, over eighteen.”
“Frank, I feel trapped, looking for a way out. I don’t love Alisha, but I feel that I owe her and the child. Especially the child. Don’t think it’s a good basis for marriage, but…I see no alternative. Leanne won’t want me when she finds out that I have been unfaithful, and…I can’t blame her.”
“So, when are you going to tell her?”
“Tonight. I’ve made arrangements to move into the residents’ quarters at the hospital until I can find an apartment.”
“It’s just as well that you tell her soon. She’ll need her own lawyer, so tell her that I will be happy to meet with her and her lawyer anytime that’s convenient. All together we’ll try to sort this out to everyone’s satisfaction.”
“Fran
k,” Don asked, “if Leanne agrees to the divorce, how long will it take? Alisha wants us to marry before the child…”
“That may be what she wants, but she may not be able to insist on it. The courts have their own calendars, but we’ll see.”
CHAPTER 17
Don was awarded a final decree of divorce, with the various lawyers’ combined efforts that disposed of all matters of contention between Leanne and Don, and he became free to marry Alisha. She did not know when that would take place. The lawyers had arranged it so that it was not necessary for Don or Leanne to appear in court, since the divorce had been agreed upon.
She had told Alan Spencer, “I cannot look at Don without having bitter thoughts about his unfaithfulness. Never in my life did I think he would betray me.”
“Your feeling is understandable, Leanne. And because we have settled all the contingencies, the sale of the house, the trust fund for each child, the Cape house deeded to you, your refusal of alimony…but you will be able to make such a request if…”
“No, Alan, I don’t want any money from him, only that he pay for the children’s education and a trust fund for each one when they reach twenty-five. I’m able to support myself. And with the sale of our house,” her voice quavered, “I…I expect to be able to buy a three-bedroom, two-bath home so that the children have a place to call home.”
“You’ll let me know when everything is over? I expect to be at the Cape.” She reached into her handbag and gave him her card. “Thank you, Alan, for everything. Your mediation group worked so hard to help me get through these uncharted waters.”
“Leanne, it was our pleasure, believe me.” He walked her to the door of his office, shaking her hand.
“Stay well, and call if you need me for anything.”
Since the children were away, Curtis studying for the LSAT exam, living in an apartment in Roxbury, and Jane now a junior at Simmons College, Leanne was glad that they were continuing with their own lives. She was proud of them, even though Curtis could hardly manage his anger at his father.
“He’s not worth calling a father!” he declared to his mother. On the other hand, Jane mourned for her father as if he were dead.
* * *
Six months after the divorce was final, Alisha insisted that the wedding take place in Pittsburgh. Although her mother’s mental state had not changed, she seemed to understand that her daughter was getting married and that she would soon become a grandmother.
Frank Jones agreed to be Don’s best man, and Alisha’s lifelong friend, Julie Donner, was her maid of honor.
Mr. Morton was not too happy over what he thought was a “shotgun” wedding. Nonetheless, he approved of Don “doing right” by his only child.
“I’m right glad that you are a man of honor,” he told Don.
“I always try to be, sir,” Don told him.
Everyone was on the patio, waiting for the service to begin. About six of the older couple’s closest relatives were there, seated before a table with an array of flowers on it.
The officiating minister, a Rev. Otis Evans, came onto the patio, Bible in hand. Mr. Morton introduced Don, then said, “I’m going to get Alisha, and we can start the ceremony.”
When Alisha walked through the patio doors on her father’s arm, Don gasped. She looked lovely. Her pixie-like dark hair was covered with a pearl seeded cap and she wore a white satin suit with an A-line skirt that fell to her knees. The jacket crossed over the front and was anchored on the left side with one large gold button. She wore white sandals and carried a bouquet of roses and baby’s breath.
After the brief ceremony, the wedding party and guests moved into the dining room, where Mrs. Morton’s church ladies served a meal of roast beef, gravy, peas and rice, string beans, salad, coffee, and slices of a small wedding cake.
Frank offered a champagne toast and Don rose from his seat to thank everyone for coming and for their good wishes. He toasted his smiling bride and kissed her, to the delight of all, especially the bride.
Don had explained to Alisha that because of her advancing pregnancy, he decided they would drive back to Boston.
Becky had been planning with her husband, John, to vacation at their time-share condo in Aruba. She was very surprised when it turned out to be the week of Don’s wedding.
Already there was a certain amount of tension in the office with the startling news of the doctor’s divorce and impending marriage to Alisha Morton, their former colleague.
Becky herself was concerned when the doctor had gathered them all together in the conference room and told them of the changes in his life.
“I’m closing my office for the last week of this month. I’m getting married, and because I’ll be away, you will each have a paid vacation for that week.”
There were murmurs of shock and dismay, with comments ranging from “No need to pay us,” to “Hope all goes well,” to “Good luck.”
Becky saw tears glistening in the doctor’s eyes as he accepted hugs and good wishes from his staff. She was the last to leave and told Don, “You did not have to give paid vacations, Dr. Matthews.”
“I wanted to, Becky. I wanted to.”
For Becky the whole situation was worse because her fears had come true. She had recognized Alisha Morton’s manipulative behavior and was not surprised when she heard the news. She wished now that she had warned her boss, but how does one tell the boss what to do and whom to see? As a mere secretary you don’t, not to a board-certified internist who is responsible for the health and welfare of hundreds of patients.
She and John had honeymooned in Aruba and subsequently bought a time-share condominium on Palm Beach on the west coast of the island. The island’s soft, alluring winds, white sandy beaches, made it a favorite destination for them.
For herself, Becky looked forward to having quality time with her husband of ten years. Despite her deep concern for her boss, she determined that her first priority was to her husband and herself. However, she did discuss the doctor’s situation with John a few days before their departure.
“John?”
“Yes, what’s on your mind?” Her husband put down the newspaper he had been reading.
Becky had brought a laundry basket of clothes into the family room and was folding towels, sheets, shirts, socks and other assorted articles of clothing into piles.
“Tell me, John, how can a man like Donovan Matthews become so beguiled by a selfish, worthless woman that he can throw away his wife of twenty-five years as easily as changing his clothes from a business suit to…to sweatpants?”
“Don’t think it’s as easy as that, my dear.”
“It must be,” Becky protested, “or how could he do it? I knew Alisha was out to get him, but couldn’t he see that?”
As a certified public accountant and an auditor for the Internal Revenue Service, John dealt in reality, factual realities like tax laws and numbers. From his pragmatic, practical viewpoint, he tried to help his wife understand.
“To answer your question, Becky dear, she ‘put out,’ was a temptress, and your doctor responded. It’s all very simple…the woman offers and the man accepts. It’s in his nature to do so.”
“I don’t believe that!”
“Believe it. It is the way males and females were constructed. Sex always wins over the brain. If it were not for sex, none of us would be here.”
He raised his eyebrows at his wife.
“Well, maybe, since you put it like that. But it still seems to me that a well-educated, medically trained person would not be so easily affected by raging hormones, like some teenager.”
“Look, Becky.” Her husband folded his newspaper and placed it on the table beside his chair. He spoke to her in a serious tone. “I’m not a doctor, but I do remember there was this guy who said the women were driving him crazy. He could not deal with it. His folks had to come and take him home. He was eventually admitted to a psychiatric facility…was there for years, I heard.”
“Wome
n did that to him?”
“Evidently he couldn’t cope with the pressure so many females put on him. To meet the sexual demands of so many was more than he could take. It was easier to withdraw from real life and enter one in which he did not have to deal with the overwhelming, debilitating problem. Insanity was his defense mechanism.”
CHAPTER 18
Cornwallis Farley went out onto the balcony of her condo, which faced the beach. The ocean was a sparkling blue and the soft white sand beckoned to her, but she had work to do.
She was leaving the island the next morning and had yet to pack her bags. With a cup of morning coffee in her hand, she sat, taking a last look at the beautiful scene.
Relaxing in a comfortable lounge chair, she became aware of some movement on the balcony adjacent to hers. Looking over, she saw a brown-skinned young but matronly woman with a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other.
“Hello,” she said.
“Oh, hi,” Becky answered. “Didn’t see you at first.”
“Did you just get in?”
“Yes, last night. My husband and I arrived about nine. Hope we didn’t disturb you.”
“Not at all.”
Reaching across the divide, Wally offered her hand.
“I’m Cornwallis Farley. Most people call me Wally.”
“I’m Becky Long.”
After shaking hands with her new neighbor, Becky turned to the sliding door to the apartment.
“John, come out and meet our neighbor.”
Her husband came out smiling as Becky introduced him to Wally.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am. Where are you from?”
“Please, call me Wally. Boston, I’m from Boston.”
“So are we! Imagine that! Where do you live in Boston?”
“I’m up near Mass General Hospital. I’m a nurse educator.”
John smiled. “Must be nice, a short commute.”
“You bet! And you, where do you folks live?”
“We live in Milton. I work for the Internal Revenue Service.” He waved his hand at Becky. “She’s a secretary to a very fine internist.”
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