The Gift

“You're not. You're pregnant. You're supposed to be like that. And just because you don't want the baby, you don't have to kill it.” She started to cry when he said that, and by the time they reached Dr. MacLean's, they were both upset, and Maribeth was still crying, while Tommy apologized and then yelled at her again for going skating.

“What happened? What happened? Good heavens, what's going on here?” The doctor couldn't make head or tail of it as they argued. All he could make out was that Maribeth had hit her head and tried to kill the baby. And then she started crying again, and finally she confessed, and explained that she had taken a spill on the ice when they'd gone skating.

“Skating?” He looked surprised. None of his other patients had tried that one. But they weren't sixteen years old, and both Tommy and Maribeth looked seriously mollified when he gave them a brief lecture. No horseback riding, no ice-skating, no bicycling now, in case she fell off, especially on icy roads, and no skiing. “And no football,” he added with a small smile, and Tommy chuckled. “You have to behave yourselves,” he said, and then added another sport they were not supposed to indulge in. “And no intercourse again until after the baby.” Neither of them explained that they never had, nor that Tommy was a virgin.

“Can I trust you not to go ice-skating again?” The doctor looked at her pointedly, and she looked sheepish.

“I promise.” And when Tommy left to get the car, she reminded him again that she was not planning to keep the baby, and she wanted him to find a family to adopt it.

“You're serious about that?” He seemed surprised.

The Whittaker boy was so obviously devoted to her. He would have married her in a moment. “Are you sure, Maribeth?”

“I am … I think so …” she said, trying to sound grown up. “I just can't take care of a baby.”

“Wouldn't his family help?” He knew that Liz Whittaker had wanted another baby. But maybe they didn't approve of his son having one so young, and out of wedlock. True to his promise to the kids, he'd never asked them.

But Maribeth's ideas were firm on the subject. “I wouldn't want them to do that. It's not right. This baby has a right to real parents, not children taking care of it. How can I take care of it and go to school? How can I feed it? My parents won't even let me come home, unless I come home without it.” She had tears in her eyes as she explained her situation, and by then Tommy had come back again, and the doctor patted her hand, sorry for her. She was too young to shoulder such burdens.

I'll see what I can do,” he said quietly, and then told Tommy to put her to bed for two days. No work, no fun, no sex, no skating.

“Yes, sir,” he said, helping her to the car, and holding her tight so she didn't slip on any icy patches. He asked her then what she and the doctor had been talking about. They had both looked very serious when he came back to get her.

“He said he'd help me find a family for the baby.” She didn't say anything else to him, and she was startled to realize that he was driving her to his house, not her own. “Where are we going?” she said, still looking upset. It wasn't a happy thought, giving up her baby, even if she knew it was the right thing. She knew it was going to be very painful.

“I called Mom,” he explained. “The doctor said you can only get up for meals. Otherwise you have to stay in bed. So I asked Mom if you could spend the weekend.”

“Oh no …you can't do that … I couldn't …where would I …” She seemed distraught, not wanting to impose on them, but it was all arranged, and his mother hadn't hesitated for a second. Though she had been horrified by how foolish they had been to go skating.

“It's all right, Maribeth,” Tommy said calmly. “She said you can stay in Annie's room.” There was the faintest catch in his voice as he said it. No one had been in that room in eleven months, but his mother had offered it, and when they arrived, the bed was made, the sheets were fresh, and his mother had a steaming cup of hot chocolate ready.

“Are you all right?” she asked, deeply concerned. Having had several miscarriages, she didn't want anything like that to happen to Maribeth, particularly at this stage. “How could you be so foolhardy? You're lucky she didn't lose the baby,” she scolded Tommy. But they were both young, and as she scolded them, they looked like children.

And in the pink nightgown Liz loaned her, in the narrow bed in Annie's room, Maribeth looked more like a little girl than ever. Her bright red hair hung in long braids, and all of Annie's dolls sat gazing at her from around the room. She slept for hours that afternoon, until Liz came to check on her, and ran a hand across her cheek to make sure she didn't have a fever. Liz had called Dr. MacLean herself and been reassured to hear that he didn't think she'd done any harm to the baby.