The Gift

“I wasn't now,” she confirmed. Maybe if the baby had been Tommy's, it would have been different. But it would have seemed so odd to hang on to Paul's child, and start out so wrong. She wondered if she ever could have managed it. But she didn't have to think about it now. All she had to do was let go, and leave. That was the hard part. The thought of leaving Tommy was excruciating, and leaving John and Liz was almost as painful, not to mention the baby.

She cried a lot of the time, at almost anything, and Tommy took her out every day after school. They went for long walks, and drove to the lake, and they laughed remembering when he had pushed her in and discovered she was pregnant. They went back to take down Annie's Christmas tree. They went everywhere as though to engrave every moment, every place, every day on their memories forever.

“I'll be back, you know,” she promised him, and he looked at her, wishing that he could either move time ahead or back, but away from the agonizing present.

I'll follow you, if you don't. It's not over, Maribeth. It never will be with us.” They both believed that in their souls. Theirs was a love that would bridge the past and the future. All they needed was time to grow up now. “I don't want you to leave,” he said, as he looked into her eyes.

“I don't want to leave you either,” she whispered. “I'll apply to college here.” And other places too. She still wasn't sure what it would be like to be so close to the baby. But she didn't want to lose Tommy either. It was hard to know what the future would hold for them, right now all they knew for certain was what had already come to them, and it was very precious.

“I'll visit,” he swore.

“Me too,” she said, fighting back tears for the thousandth time.

But the inexorable day was upon them in a moment. Her parents arrived in a new car her father had been working on in his shop. Noelle was there too, hysterical and fourteen with brand-new braces, and Maribeth cried and held her tight when she saw her. The two sisters clung to each other, relieved that they had found each other again, and in spite of all the things that had changed, to them, nothing seemed different.

The Whittakers invited them to stay for lunch, but her parents said they had to get back, and Margaret stood looking at her daughter with eyes filled with sorrow and regret for all she'd been unable to give her. She hadn't had the courage, and now she was ashamed that someone else had been there.

“You're all right?” she asked cautiously, almost as though she was afraid to touch her.

I'm fine, Mom.” Maribeth looked beautiful, and suddenly much older. She looked more like eighteen than sixteen. She'd grown up. She was no longer a little girl, she was a mother. “How are you?” she asked, and her mother burst into tears, it was an emotional moment, and she asked if she could see the baby. And she cried again when she saw it. She said it looked just like Maribeth when she was a baby.

They loaded Maribeth's things into the car, and she stood there, feeling a rock in her stomach. She went back inside, and into Liz's room and picked up Kate and held her close to her as the baby slept, unaware of what was happening, and that someone important was about to slip out of her life, never to return in exactly the same way again, if ever. Maribeth knew that there were no guarantees in life, only promises and whispers.

“I'm leaving you now,” she whispered to the sleeping angel. “Don't ever forget how much I love you,” she said, as the baby opened her eyes and stared at her as though she were concentrating on what Maribeth was saying. I won't be your mommy anymore when I come back here … I'm not even your mommy now … be a good girl …take care of Tommy for me,” she said, kissing her, and squeezing her eyes shut. It didn't matter what she had said about not being able to give her anything, or the life she deserved. In her gut, in her heart, this would always be her baby, and she would always love her, and to her very core she understood that. “I'll always love you,” she whispered into the soft hair, and then set her down again, looking at her for a last time, knowing that she would never see her that way again, or be as close to her. This was their final moment as mother and daughter. “I love you,” she said, and collided with Tommy as she turned away. He had been there, watching her, and crying silently for her sorrow.

“You don't have to give her away,” he said through his tears. “I wanted to many you. I still do.”

“So do I. I love you. But it's better this way, and you know it. It's so good for them … we have a whole life ahead of us,” she said, clinging to him, holding him, shaking as he held her. Oh God, how I love you. I love her too, but they deserve some happiness. And what can I do for Kate?”

“You're a wonderful person' he said, holding her with all his strength, wanting to shield her from everything that had happened and hold on to her forever.