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 the 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?”
“I … no … I … gee, Mom … I don't know … I didn't …well … oh God …,” he agonized as he ran a hand through his hair and looked panicked. “I can explain. It's not what it looks like.”
“She's just fat?” his father asked hopefully, and Tommy looked rueful.
“Not exactly.”
“Oh my God,” his mother whispered.
“You'd better sit down,” John said to him, and Tommy sank into a chair, as Liz continued to stand and stare at him in horror.
“I can't believe this,” she said, in anguished tones. “She's pregnant …Tommy, what have you been doing?”
“I haven't been doing anything. We're just friends.
I … all right …we're more than that …but … oh Mom …you'd like her.”
Oh my God' his mother said again, and this time she sat down. “Who is she? And how did this happen?”
“The usual way, I guess,” Tommy added, looking bleak. “Her name is Maribeth. I met her this summer.”
“Why didn't you tell us?” But how could he tell them anything? They never talked to him anymore, or each other. Their family life had ended when Annie died, now they just drifted, like flotsam on a lonely ocean. “How pregnant is she?” his mother asked, as though that would make a difference.
“Six and a half months,” he said calmly. Maybe it was better that they knew after all. He had wanted to ask his mother to help her for a long time, and he had always thought she would like her. But now Liz looked even more horrified.
“When did what start?” Tommy looked confused. “I told you, I met her this summer. She only moved here in June. She works at a restaurant I go to.”
“When do you go to a restaurant?” His father looked even more confused than his mother.
“Lots of times. Mom never cooks anymore. She hasn't in months. I use some of my paper money to pay for dinner.”
“That's nice,” his father said tartly, glaring at his wife reproachfully, and then at his son again, in confusion. “How old is this girl?”
“Sixteen.”
“I don't understand,” his mother interrupted. “She moved here in June, and she's six and a half months pregnant …that means she got pregnant in March, or somewhere around then. You got her pregnant somewhere else, and she moved here? Where were you?” He hadn't gone anywhere that they knew of. But they also didn't know that he frequently went out to dinner, nor that he had a pregnant girlfriend. Six and a half months made the baby imminent. Liz trembled as she thought of it. What were they thinking of, and why hadn't he told them? But as she thought about it, she began to understand. They had all been so distant and so lost since Annie died, particularly she and John, no wonder Tommy had gotten himself into trouble. No one had been paying attention.
But Tommy had finally understood the nature of their questions. “I didn't get her pregnant, Mom. She got pregnant back home, in Onawa, and her father made her leave until after the baby. She went to live in a convent
