The Gift (13 page)

“No, it doesn't. I just don't like the part about the progression of people, coming and going in our lives. I'd like it better if people stayed. I wish Annie were still here, and I don't want 'someone else' after you, Maribeth. What's wrong with staying?”

“We can't always do that,” she said, “sometimes we have to move on. Like Annie. We're not always given a choice.” But she had a choice, she and her baby were bound to each other for the moment, but eventually Maribeth would move on, and the baby would go on to its own life, in its own world, with other parents. It seemed as though now, in all their lives, nothing was forever.

“I don't like that, Maribeth. At some point, people have to stay.”

“Some do. Some don't. Some can't. We just have to love them while we can, and learn whatever we're meant to from them.”

“What about us?” he asked, strangely serious for a sixteen-year-old boy. But she was a serious young woman. “Do you suppose we're meant to learn something from each other?”

“Maybe. Maybe we need each other right now,” she said wisely.

“You've already taught me a lot about Annie, about letting go, about loving her wherever she is now, and taking her with me.”

“You've helped me too,” Maribeth said warmly, but not explaining how, and he wondered. And as they drove toward the lake, she felt the baby move again. It had fluttered a number of times since the first time she'd felt it and it was getting to be a familiar and friendly feeling. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before and she liked it.

When they reached the lake, Tommy spread out a blanket he had brought, and Maribeth carried the picnic. She had made
egg
salad sandwiches, which he said he loved, and chocolate cake, and brought a bagful of fruit, a bottle of milk, which she seemed to drink a lot of these days, and some sodas. They were both hungry and decided to eat right away, and then they lay on the blanket and talked again for a long time, about school this time, and some of his friends, their parents, and their plans. Tommy said he had been to California once, with his dad, to look at produce there, and Florida for the same reason. She had never been anywhere, and said she'd love to see New York and Chicago. And both of them said they would love to see Europe, but Maribeth thought it unlikely she ever would. She had no way to get anywhere in her life, except here, and even this had been a great adventure for her.

They talked about the Korean war too, and the people they knew who had died. It seemed crazy to both of them that they were engaged in another war so soon after the last one. They both remembered when Pearl Harbor had been hit, they had been four. Tommy's father had been too old to enlist, but Maribeth's father had been at Iwo Jima. Her mother had worried the whole time he was gone, but eventually he had come home safely.

“What would you do if you were drafted to go to war?” she asked, and he looked confused by the question.

“Now, you mean? Or when I'm eighteen?” It was a possibility, and only two years away for him, if the police action in Korea wasn't settled.

“Whenever. Would you go?”

Of course. I'd have to.”

“I wouldn't, if I were a man. I don't believe in war,” she said firmly, while he smiled. Sometimes she was funny. She had such definite ideas, and some of them were pretty crazy.

“That's because you're a girl. Men don't have a choice.”

“Maybe they should. Or maybe they will one day. Quakers don't go to war. I think they're smarter than everyone.”

“Maybe they're just scared,” he said, accepting all the traditions he'd ever known, but Maribeth was not willing to accept them. She didn't accept many things, unless she truly believed them.

“I don't think they're scared. I think they're true to themselves and what they believe. I'd refuse to go to war if I were a man,” Maribeth said stubbornly. “War is stupid.”

“No, you wouldn't,” Tommy grinned. “You'd fight, like everyone else. You'd have to.”

“Maybe one day men won't just do what they 'have to.' Maybe they'll question it, and not just do what they're told to.”

“I doubt that. And if they did, it would be chaos. Why should some men go and not others? What would they do? Run away? Hide somewhere? It's impossible, Maribeth. Leave wars to guys. They know what they're doing.”

“That's the trouble. I don't think they do. They just get us into new wars every time they get bored. Look at this one. We just got out of the last one, and we're back in the soup again,” she said disapprovingly, and he laughed.

“Maybe you should run for president,” he teased, but he respected her ideas, and her willingness to be adventuresome in her thinking. There was something very courageous about her.

They decided to go for a walk around the lake then, and on the way back, he asked her if she wanted to go swimming. But she declined again, and he was curious why she never wanted to join him. There was a raft far out in the lake, and he wanted her to swim to it with him, but she just didn't want to do it.

“Come on, tell the truth,” he said finally, “are you afraid of the water? It's no shame if you are. Just say it.”

“I'm not. I just don't want to swim.” She was a good swimmer, but there was no way she was going to take her father's shirt off.

“Then come on in.” It was blazing hot, and she would have liked a cool dip with him, but she knew she couldn't. She was fully four and a half months pregnant. “Just walk into the water with me. It feels great.” She agreed to do that, but go no farther. And the lake was shallow for a long time, so they were fairly far out when it began to drop off sharply. She stopped on a sandy ledge, and he swam out past her toward the raft and then back again, with long, smooth strokes. He had long, powerful arms and legs, and he was a great swimmer. He was back in minutes, and stood up beside her, where she waited.

“You're a great swimmer,” she said admiringly.

“I was on the team at school last year, but the captain was a jerk. I'm not going to swim with the team this year.” He was eyeing her with mischievous interest as they started to walk back toward shore and he splashed her. “You're a real chicken, you know. You probably swim as well as I do.”

“No, I don't,” she said, trying to duck his splashes. But he was playful with her, and she couldn't resist splashing him, and a moment later, they were like two children, throwing armfuls of water at each other. She was soaking wet, and she lost her footing as she ducked him, and sat down hard in the water. She looked surprised at first, and then she realized she was soaking wet, and there would be no way of getting out of the water without his seeing her protruding stomach. It was too late to salvage the situation, and so she tripped him, and he wound up in the water next to her, and then she swam away from him speedily, but he caught up to her with ease, and they were both spluttering and laughing.

She didn't swim out to the raft with him, but they swam together for a while, as she tried to figure out how to get out of the water gracefully, without having him see her stomach, but she just couldn't figure out how to do it. And then, finally, she told him she was cold, which she wasn't, and asked if he'd go and get her towel. He looked a little surprised, in the warm water and the heat of the afternoon sun, but he went to get it, and held it out to her. But she still had to get out of the water and walk toward him. She wanted to tell him to turn around, but she didn't dare, she just lay in the water looking worried.

“Is something wrong?” She didn't know what to say to him, and finally, reluctantly, she nodded. She hadn't wanted to tell him yet, and didn't know what she would say to him when she did. But she was trapped now. “Can I help?” He looked baffled.

“Not really.”

“Look, just come out, Maribeth. Whatever it is, we'll work it out. Come on, I'll help you.” He held a hand out to her, and the gesture brought tears to her eyes, and then he walked through the water toward her, and gently lifted her up, until she stood in front of him. She let him pull her clear of the water, and she didn't resist him as tears filled her eyes, and he had no idea why she was crying. He put the towel gently around her, and then as he looked down, he saw it, it was an undeniable bulge, still small, but very firm and very round, and very obviously a baby. He still remembered how his own mother had looked when she was expecting Annie, and Maribeth was too thin for it to be anything else, and he looked back at her again in amazement.

“I didn't want you to know' she said miserably. “I didn't want to tell you.” They were standing up to their knees in the lake, and neither of them moved toward shore as they stood there. He looked as though he had been struck by lightning, and she looked as though someone had died.

“Come on,” he said quietly, pulling her closer to him and putting an arm around her shoulders, “let's go sit down.” They walked silently back to the beach and the place where they had spread out their blanket. She took off the towel and then unbuttoned her father's shirt. She had a bathing suit and shorts under it, there was no point wearing it all now. Her secret was out in the open. “How did that happen?” he said finally, trying not to stare at the very obvious bulge as she sat there, but still amazed by it, and she smiled ruefully at his question.

“The usual way, I guess, not that I know much about it.”

“You had a boyfriend? You
have
a boyfriend?” he corrected, as he felt his heart squeeze, but she shook her head and looked away and then back at him again.

“Neither one. I did something really stupid.” She decided to make a clean breast of it with him. She wanted no secrets from him. “I did it once. With someone I hardly knew. I wasn't even out on a date with him. He took me home from a dance where my date got drunk, and he was kind of the senior hero. I guess I was flattered he'd even talk to me, and he was a lot smoother than I bargained for. He made a big fuss over me, and took me out for a hamburger with his friends, and I thought it was great, and then he stopped somewhere to park on the way home. I didn't want to go, but I didn't want to make a big deal about it either, and he gave me a sip of gin, and then …” she looked down at her protruding belly “…you can figure out the rest. He said he didn't think I could get pregnant. He'd broken up with his girlfriend that weekend, or so he said, and on Monday he went back to her, and I had made a total fool of myself. Better than that, I'd destroyed my life for a guy I didn't even know, and who would never care about me. It took me a while to figure out what had happened, and by the time I did, he was engaged. They got married right after graduation.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Yeah, I did. He said he wanted to marry her, and she'd be really pissed if she knew … I didn't want to ruin his life … or my own. I wouldn't tell my parents who he was, because I didn't want my father forcing him to marry me. I don't want to be married to someone who doesn't love me. I'm sixteen. My life would be over. But on the other hand,” she sighed as she sat, looking despondent, “my life may be over anyway. This hasn't exactly been a brilliant move on my part.”

“What did your parents say?” He was overwhelmed by what she was telling him, the insensitivity of the guy, and her courage at not doing what she didn't want to, in the face of disaster.

“My father said I had to move out. He took me to the Sisters of Charity, and I was supposed to live with them until I had it. But I just couldn't do it. I stayed for a few weeks, and it was so depressing, I figured I'd rather starve, so I left and got on a bus, and came here. I bought a ticket to Chicago, and figured I'd try to get a job there, but we stopped here for dinner and I saw the sign in Jimmy's window. They gave me the job, and I got off the bus, and here I am.” She looked vulnerable and incredibly young, and very beautiful as he watched her, overcome with tenderness and admiration. “My dad says I can come home after Christmas,
after
I have the baby. I'll go back to school then,” she said weakly, trying to make it sound okay, but even to her own ears, it sounded dismal.

“What are you going to do with the baby?” he asked, still amazed at what had happened to her.

“Give it away …put it up for adoption. I want to find good people to take it. I can't take care of it. I'm sixteen. I can't take care of a baby … I have nothing to give it … I don't know what to do for it. I want to go back to school … I want to go to college … if I keep the baby, I'll be stuck forever …and more than that, I'd have nothing to give it. I want to find a family that really wants it. The nuns said they'd help me, but that was back home … I haven't done anything about it here.” She looked nervous as she talked to him about it, and he was stunned by all that she was saying.

“Are you sure you don't want to keep it?” He couldn't imagine giving a baby away. Even to him, it sounded awful.

“I don't know.” She could feel the baby moving as she said it, as though it were fighting for some small voice in the decision. “I just don't see how I could take care of it. My parents wouldn't help me. I can't make enough money to support it … it wouldn't be fair to the baby. And I don't want a baby now. Is that really awful?” Her eyes filled with tears and she looked at him in despair. It was terrible admitting she didn't want this baby, but she didn't. She didn't love Paul, and she didn't want to have a child, or be responsible for someone else's life. She could hardly manage her own, let alone someone else's. She was only sixteen.

“Wow, Maribeth. You've got your hands full.” He moved closer to her, and put an arm around her again, and pulled her close to him. “Why didn't you say anything? You could have told me.”

“Oh yeah, sure … hi, my name is Maribeth, I'm knocked up by a guy who married someone else, and my parents threw me out …how about taking me to dinner?” He laughed at what she said, and she smiled through her tears, and then suddenly she was in his arms and crying with terror and shame, and relief that she had told him. The sobs that racked her drained her of all energy, and he held her until she stopped. He felt desperately sorry for her, and the baby.

“When's it due?” he asked when she had calmed down again.

“Not till the end of December.” But that was only four months away, and they both knew it would come very quickly.