[2016] Widowed and Pregnant

by Christian Michael

  He realized now though that if he wanted to get Becca then he would need to turn his life around. The first step for that was to go to Texas and confront his family. Greg booked the ticket online and confirmed it for the same day. Then he sent a message to Becca that he was going to go to Texas to see his family but he would be back the next week and he would like to see her then.

  Greg landed in Dallas a few hours later and rented a car and made his way to his bank. He realized that his family would never accept what he was about to do so he needed to make a living will and set it in motion first so that they could not contest him in anyway.

  He talked to his attorney and had a will drawn up. In it he settled a half million dollars each on his parents, aunt and uncle and their son and daughter. They were free to use the money however they wished. However, once the money was finished, it was finished. There would be no more for them. He had letters made out to each person informing them of his decision. He made it clear that he would support them emotionally and he wanted to be a part of their lives if they would allow him to be, but he would no longer be their personal bank. Each person would be notified of the contents of the will and letters the same week.

  After Greg left his lawyer, he stopped at an upscale bistro for lunch. There he ran into his old school buddy Devin and was invited out for drinks and a party at a new club which Devin was opening that night. He agreed to go, thinking he would make an appearance and then would leave. He had no desire to mix in with the party scene anymore.

  The party was already in full swing once he arrived. Greg accepted a bottle of beer from one of the circulating trays and headed to the VIP lounge to meet Devin. There he ran into several others from high school and some he had known in college who had all become successful in their chosen fields.

  “Well if it isn’t my man Greg.” A familiar voice said as a hand thumped his back. “Where have you been bro? It’s been a while since we hung out and lived it up.”

  “Henry,” Greg said icily, “it has been a long time.”

  Greg fought to keep his sudden temper in check. Just seeing the man brought Becca and her tale to mind. What I wouldn’t give to pummel the jerk right here. But I won’t do anything to even hint at Becca. For the rest of the night he tried to avoid Henry but the man kept popping up out of nowhere.

  As the night wore on and Greg accepted one drink after another, he forgot about his resolve to not get involved in the party scene. When someone bought the cocaine out, he cheered with the others and took a hit or three right alongside them. The combination of drugs and alcohol weakened him and loosened up his tongue. Soon he was telling the guys about the Ugly Duckling in Bend, Oregon, who had become a swan and crowing about his luck in finding her and how he was falling for her as she had once fallen for him.

  Greg had quite forgotten all about Henry but the man was listening to Greg’s story with a thundering rage inside of him. She thinks she can humiliate me with the golden boy? Over. My. Dead. Body. Greg had carelessly tossed his phone onto the table in front of him and didn’t notice anything when Henry picked it up. Henry scrolled through it and found Becca’s information, including her address, and texted it to his phone. He was shaking in rage when he read the last text Becca sent to Greg: “I am here if you need me. I am glad we got to spend some time together last night.” She’s going to pay for this. Who does she think she is to two-time me? No one crosses Henry Miller.

  Henry tossed the phone back on the table and left. He was on the next flight out to Oregon the next morning and standing in front of Becca’s house within a matter of hours. This time he didn’t bother with subterfuge. He knocked on the door.

  Becca opened the door with a smile to greet Esther. Sometimes the old dear would come over in the morning to talk when she didn’t have much to do and Becca always accommodated her. Her smile turned to fear when she realized that it was Henry standing on her threshold, not Esther.

  “Hello, Becca.”

  “Henry? What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  “Your boyfriend sends his regards.”

  She didn’t have to ask who he was referring to. Only one person outside of Bend knew where she was. “Greg?” she whispered. “But he promised he wouldn’t”

  Henry laughed dryly as he stalked her into the house. “Oh he didn’t know. He was too high in the clouds to care about his tongue. He bragged he was falling for you. I took your information off his phone.”

  “Please,” Becca begged. “Please just leave. There’s nothing going on between me and Greg. I’ve never done anything to you.”

  But Henry was too fast for her. He advanced on her and struck her cheek. Becca fell against the side table in the living room with a cry of pain. Henry grabbed her hair.

  “Get up, Becca” he said, “I am not done with you yet.”

  “Yes, you are” a new voice interjected.

  Henry whipped around, pulling Becca by the hair with him, even as she whimpered with pain.

  “You!” Henry stared in shock at Greg. “What are you doing here?”

  “I followed you this morning. When I woke up and checked my phone, I saw that I had sent a message to you last night. Only, I know that I didn’t. You sent a message to yourself with Becca’s information. I knew you were coming after her so I followed you. Let her go, you’ve done enough damage.”

  But Henry wasn’t done yet. His face mottled in rage as Greg spoke. From his pocket he pulled out a gun and pointed it at Greg. “You are not going to get her. You’ll die first.”

  “I don’t think you want to do that, Son” someone said from behind Greg.

  “Who said that?” Henry demanded.

  “Police,” said the man who was now stepping over the threshold next to Greg with his weapon drawn. “Put the gun down, son, nice and slow.”

  But Henry just stared at the man with his mouth agape. Greg took advantage of his distraction to rush him. But Henry snapped back to attention when he saw the movement and fired his gun. Greg dodged to the side and felt the bullet whiz past him. At the same time he heard another shot go off and he watched Becca fall.

  “No!” he cried and dove to catch her.

  Greg checked Becca for wounds and discovered none but she was paralyzed with shock. He looked behind her and saw Henry lying in a pool of blood, the gun useless by his side. He realized that the policeman had shot Henry in the shoulder of his gun arm to disarm him and was now radioing for an ambulance.

  Greg gathered Becca in his arms and rocked her against his chest. Esther and Jeb came rushing in to see what the commotion was about. The police took them outside, leading a cuffed Henry, and explained what had happened as he placed Henry in the cruiser.

  Esther came back in and clucked over Becca like a mother hen. She quickly made some tea and pushed it into the girl’s hands. Greg looked around the room and his eyes fell on the pool of blood that was still staining the hardwood floors, He got up and made room for Esther to comfort Becca while he found the officer and was granted permission to clean up the blood spill.

  He explained to Esther that he was going to clean the floor and asked her to look after Becca. The elderly lady called her husband and together they walked Becca over to their house. Greg went to the Joe’s and bought some cleaning supplies; he didn’t want to use Becca’s because he didn’t want anything in her house to remind her of the trauma of the morning. He planned to throw away whatever supplies he used that day.

  When he got back to Becca’s house, he scrubbed the floors till they were clean and polished them. Then he set the furniture aright and washed the dishes. By the time he finished, Becca had returned.

  He greeted her with a warm and concerned smile. “Are you alright?”

  She nodded but remained stiff when he tried to hug her.

  “What wrong, Becca?”

  “You told me that you would never tell anyone where I was but you got so high last night that Henry knew you had found me and was able to locate me himself through y
ou. I am sorry Greg, but I can’t do this.”

  “Becca,” Greg whispered. “Becca don’t do this. I am falling in love with you and I think I have always been in love with you.”

  “Don’t Greg. I can’t fall in love with you, not when you willingly allow yourself to be ruled by drugs and alcohol. If you want me as someone more than a friend, then you have got to give it up somehow. Please leave now. I would like to be alone.”

  She didn’t give him an opportunity to respond, Becca just went to her room and shut the door.

  Greg stared at that door for a long time before he walked out of the house. Becca was right. He knew what he had to do.

  ***

  A Little over One Year Later

  The stadium roared to life as the football sailed into the air. Both sides cheered their team on in the rush to capture the ball. The Chief’s fans groaned when the Bronco’s wide receiver caught the pass. Becca Fields was on her feet jumping up and down, screaming her head off as she cheered Billy Gail, the rookie, towards the goal. The crowd went wild when he scored the touchdown and the final whistle was blown. The game had been tough. Neither side had scored against the other all through the match until Billy ran the pass. He would be the man of the hour tonight.

  Becca clambered down the bleachers as fast as her rounded stomach could take her and waddled over to the sidelines to await her husband. Greg came over to her and picked her up and swung her around before kissing her soundly in front of his team, the coaches and the fans watching on site and from their couches. She smiled contently when Greg set her back down on the ground and whispered her congratulations to him.

  Greg was a changed man. After the incident with Henry, Greg had checked himself into a Christian rehab facility. Their program was a six months long. The first two months were intensive therapy and counseling. In the last four months the people were released into the “real world” with their mentors so they could face their challenges head on. Greg had placed his trust and faith in Jesus Christ in those first months. When he got out, he contacted Becca and explained that he was on “parole” so to speak for the next four months but he would love to see her as he adjusted to a new life as a Christian man and made every effort to leave his past behind.

  Becca was ecstatic that Greg had accepted the Lord and she flew out to see him every weekend in Denver where he trained, and later to his games. They had grown irrepressibly closer as the time passed and their faiths had deepened as they trusted in the Lord and their love for each other had grown and matured. The love was now founded deep in Jesus Christ on both sides and as they grew closer to the Lord in their personal walks, they grew closer to each other. On the last day of his therapy, Greg proposed to Becca, she accepted and they were married within the month. Three months later, they discovered that they were going to be parents. Now, four months in, both were excited to finally find out the gender of their firstborn.

  Henry Miller, in the meantime, had been tried and found guilty of harassment, assault and attempted murder and was now serving his very long sentence in jail without hope of parole. Greg’s family had attempted to contest the living will without success for several months but were now quiet. Becca had re-united with her family but she and Greg decided to settle in Bend.

  That night, as Becca reflected on all that had happened in their lives in the past year, all she could say was, “Thank you, Lord. You have been so good. So faithful. Thank you, Lord, I can’t ask for more.” Greg came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissed her neck and gazed up at the night sky. They both chuckled in amusement when they felt their little boy kick their joined hands from within his mother’s womb. “I think we have another football player in the family, Honey.” Greg whispered as he kissed his wife again.

  *****

  THE END.

  Desperate for Love

  Mail Order Bride

  CHRISTIAN MICHAEL

  Chapter One

  Laura was bent low before the fire, stirring the coals to coax whatever heat there might be left when a flurry of boots sounded on the broken step leading to her porch. She pulled her shawl more closely around herself and pushed her ebony-colored curls behind her ears. She had already taken her hair down for the night and was in her bed gown; it was much roomier for the child she carried. As she rose, she had to catch the edge of the mantle to steady herself. The baby was beginning to make her a bit dizzy if she rose quickly.

  Midnight blue eyes huge, she started toward the door as the pounding began, picking up a cheap metal picture frame of her wedding picture and secreting it behind her skirts.

  “Yes?” she called through the door.

  “You Laura Tyler?” came a gruff voice and she heard the rumble of other voices as well.

  “Yes, who are you?” she called back.

  “We got your husband, Wendel,” came the voice. “He’s dead, ma’am.”

  Laura’s knees went weak and she unlocked the door as she sank to the floor. The men pushed open the door around her and she saw her husband, Wendel, slumped on the porch, blood still wet and staining his vest. There was no mistaking it; he was dead.

  Tears rose to her eyes and she gasped, trying to absorb what was happening; a protective hand lying over her swelling belly. One of the men frowned and bent down to help her to her feet and then to lie back against the threadbare settee next to the fire. As she pulled her shawl up to cover her eyes, the man peeked into the only bedroom and said, “Put him on the bed, fellas,” and motioned them through the doorway.

  “What happened?” Laura managed to ask between sobs.

  “Your man palmed a card, ma’am. Joe Stevens doesn’t think too kindly of that and it cost your man a bullet. Sorry, ma’am…you bein’ with child and all,” he finished and tipped his hat as the men disappeared out the door, closing it gently behind themselves. A clatter of boots and they were gone.

  Laura sat for a bit on the sofa until she felt herself ready and then she went in to look at Wendel. How she had loved him when they first married. She realized she was still holding their wedding photo in her hand and lifted it to gaze upon it. He was so handsome she thought to herself. When did things begin to go so wrong? I know he wanted the baby…but we have so little money. That’s why he cheated, she concluded, but knew in her heart that her husband would not have needed an excuse to cheat at cards. He came by the habit quite naturally.

  Chapter Two

  After Wendel’s funeral, Laura had some hard decisions to make. Wendel hadn’t had a job for some time and what little money he had picked up here and there, he lost or drank away. He had disgraced himself and wasn’t welcome in any gentleman’s club or even in private homes. Laura had picked up a little money on the side herself, but she’d put it away for the baby’s needs. Babies weren’t cheap.

  She counted the bills and coins in the tin now and realized there wasn’t enough to keep things running much longer. She felt the baby kick just then, as if urging her to do something. What can I do? she thought to herself. She had no family and Wendel’s only sibling, a brother, lived somewhere in Texas and she had no idea how to even get a message to him about Wendel’s death.

  There really weren’t any jobs in town for a woman, much less a woman who was expecting. She wasn’t sleeping well; the worry was making her even more sickly than the strain of carrying a baby. She began to have a dreaded fear that if something didn’t change, and quickly, she’d lose the baby altogether.

  To raise her spirits, she got dressed and walked slowly down the street toward the café on the corner. There, she ordered a cup of coffee and watched the waitresses bustling about, their apron pockets jingling with the change from tips. The atmosphere was sparse; it was the sort of place meant for the working class. She was fairly sure that at one time or another, one of those ladies in aprons had known a similar dire set of circumstances.

  “Here you go,” came the cheery delivery of her coffee order. “Anythin’ else?” The woman’s face was kind, almost genial i
n a mothering sort of way.

  Laura took a chance. “Well, I know this is very unusual, but you see I’m in a bit of a fix,” she began, her hand inadvertently going to cover her tummy.

  “Ahhh, I see. Kiss and gone, eh?” said the waitress, nodding with a knowing look in her eye.

  “No, no…nothing like that. I’m widowed, you see,” Laura began. “My name is Laura Tyler and my husband was shot last week…” she continued.

  “Lidie’s my name,” said the waitress and looking back toward the kitchen, she pulled out the chair opposite Laura and sat down, the coffee pot still in her hand. She leaned forward, “I know who you are…I’m sorry. We all heard. A few of us even…even…” she blushed, “knew him,” she finished. Hurriedly she added, “He came in here a lot to drink coffee and sober up, if you know what I mean,” she went on.

  Laura nodded sadly. “Yes, I can imagine. But you see, he didn’t leave me with anything, in fact there’s a bit of debt. I have a baby coming,” she paused and touched her tummy again, “and I’m looking for work. Is there any chance someone here could use me? Maybe to wash dishes in the back, somewhere that I’d be out of sight?”

  Lidie frowned, pushing away a lock of dyed red hair that had fallen over her forehead. “No, honey, not a thing. We’re all scrappin’ here, if you know what I mean.” She felt sorry for Laura. At least the women here weren’t expecting. Suddenly she had an idea. “Look, wait right here!” she jumped up and soon returned with a newspaper. Opening it, she found what she was looking for and folded the paper in half, pointing to an ad in the classifieds section. “Read that, honey. It might be the only thing you can do.” With that she returned to the kitchen and Laura was left alone to read the classified for her fate.

  Chapter Three

  Two weeks later found Laura perched on the worn velvet seat of a train coach, bound for Colorado. In her hands was a crumpled newspaper, an ad circled and notes written in the margin.