The Gift

“I'll bet I would.” And then she looked at him curiously. “Would she like me? Moms are usually pretty suspicious of the girls their sons like,” especially her, in a few months. No, there would be no way she could meet Mrs. Whittaker. In another month she wouldn't be able to hide it anymore, and she wouldn't even want to see Tommy. She hadn't figured out what she would tell him yet, but she would have to tell him something eventually, even if he just came into the restaurant and saw her. She'd have to tell him the story about a young husband dying in Korea, except that now it sounded so stupid. She would have liked to tell him the truth, but she knew she couldn't. It was too terrible, too irresponsible, and much too shocking. She was sure he'd never want to see her again. She'd just have to stop seeing him in a few weeks, and tell him she was seeing someone else. And then he'd be going back to school, and he'd be busy anyway, and he'd probably fall for some high school junior, a cheerleader probably, some perfect girl that his parents knew …

“Hey …what were you thinking about then?” he interrupted her. She had been a million miles away, thinking of all the cheerleaders he was going to fall in love with. “You looked so sad, Maribeth. Is something wrong?” He knew she had something on her mind, but he had no way of knowing what it was, after they'd known each other for such a short time, but he would have liked to help her.

She had made him feel better about Annie for the first time in months, and he would have liked to return the favor.

“Nothing …just daydreaming, I guess …there's nothing special …”Just a baby growing inside me, that's all, no biggie.

“Want to go for a walk?” They walked halfway around the lake, sometimes balancing on rocks, sometimes walking through the water, and sometimes across sandy beaches. It was a pretty little lake, and he challenged her to a race on the way back, once they hit a long stretch of beach, but even with her long, graceful legs, she couldn't keep up with him. And they finally collapsed side by side on the sand, and lay there, looking up at the sky, trying to catch their breath and grinning.

“You're pretty good,” he conceded, and she laughed. For her, in some ways, it was just like being with a brother.

“I almost caught up with you, except I stumbled on that rock.”

“You did not …you were miles behind …”

“Yeah, and you started before I did by about eight feet …you practically cheated …” She was laughing, and their faces were inches apart, as he looked at her, and admired every single thing about her.

“I did not!” he defended himself, wanting desperately to kiss her.

“Did too …I'll beat you next time …”

“Yeah …sure …I'll bet you can't even swim …” He loved teasing her, lying next to her, being with her. He often thought of what it would be like to make love to a woman. He would have liked to know … to find out with her …but she seemed so womanly and so innocent at the same time that he was afraid to touch her. Instead, he rolled over and lay on his stomach on the sand, so she wouldn't see how much he liked her. And she lay next to him, on her back, and suddenly she got an odd expression. She had felt a twinge, just the oddest feeling, like butterfly wings flapping inside her. The feeling was entirely unfamiliar, but within an instant she knew what it was …the first signs of life … it was her baby …

“You okay?” He was looking down at her, concerned, for a moment she had such a funny look, as though she had been startled, and was distracted.

“Tine,” she said softly, suddenly stunned at what had happened as she lay there. It brought it all home to her again, how real the baby was, how alive, how time was moving forward, whether she wanted it to or not. She had thought about going to a doctor to make sure everything was all right, but she didn't know one here, and she couldn't really afford it.

“Sometimes you look a million miles away,” he said, wondering what she thought about, when she looked like that. He would have liked to know everything about her.

“Sometimes I just think about things …like my folks … or my sister …”

“Do you talk to them?” He was intrigued, there were still so many little mysteries about her. Everything was new and so exciting.

“I write. It works better that way. My dad still gets kind of mad when I call.”

“You must have really made him mad at you.”

“It's a long story. I'll tell you one day. Maybe next time.” Assuming that there was one.

“When's your next day off?” He couldn't wait to go out with her again. He loved being with her, the scent of her hair, the look in her eyes, the feel of her skin when he held her hand or accidentally touched her, the things she said to him, the ideas they shared. He loved everything about her.

“I've got a couple of hours off on Sunday afternoon. But after that I'm not off again till Wednesday.”