The Gift (22 page)

“Yes, they would,” she said firmly. “Parents know everything.”

“That's what my mom thinks,” he grinned. “Come on, Maribeth. We won't get another chance. They go away about once every five years.”

“I don't think your mom would want us sleeping in her bed,” she said primly.

Okay, then sleep in mine. It's bigger than this,” he complained, rolling toward the floor for the tenth time, while she giggled. They didn't have to sleep together at all, but they both wanted to. It was so cozy being together.

“All right.” She followed him into his room, and they snuggled up in his bed, in her nightgown and his pajamas, with their arms around each other, giggling and talking, like two kids, and then he kissed her, long and slow and hard, and they both got aroused, but two weeks before her baby was due, there was very little they could do about it. He kissed her breasts and she moaned, and she fondled him, and he was so hard and stiff that he was actually in pain as she held him. And she kept reminding herself that what they were doing was wrong, except that they didn't really think so. It didn't feel wrong to be with him, it felt like the only place she ever wanted to be, for the rest of time, and as she lay there with him, feeling her belly between them, she wondered for the first time if one day they would really be together.

“This is how I want it to be,” he said, as he held her in his arms, and they both started to get sleepy. They had stayed aroused for as long as they could stand, and had finally agreed that they had to calm down and stop playing. All their antics had even started to give her contractions. “I just want to be with you for the rest of my life,” he said sleepily, “and one day the baby in your belly will be ours, Maribeth …that's what I want …”

“So do I …” She meant it but she wanted other things too, just as his mother had, before she married his father.

“I can wait for you. My dad waited for my mom. Not too long though,” he said, thinking of how good it felt when she held him. “Like a year or two,” he grinned at her, and then kissed her. “We could get married and go to college together.”

“And live on what?”

“We could live here,” he said. “We could go to college right here and live with my parents.” But she didn't like that idea, no matter how much she loved his parents.

“When we get married, if we do,” she said sternly as she yawned, “I want us to be grown-ups, to take care of our own responsibilities, our own kids, however old we have to be to do it.”

“Yeah, like maybe sixty,” he said, yawning too, as he grinned at her and then kissed her. “I just want you to know, I'm going to many you one day, Maribeth Robertson. Get used to it. That's all there is to it.”

She didn't object, she only smiled, as she lay in his arms, and drifted off to sleep, thinking of Annie, and Tommy, and her baby.

Chapter Ten

They got up early the next day and went to buy the tree, and Tommy bought a little, smaller tree too, a tiny one, that he put in the truck with the big one. He got the decorations out when they got home, and they spent most of the afternoon putting them on the tree. Some of them brought tears to his eyes when he looked at them, mostly the ones that his mother had made with Annie.

“Do you think we should leave them put away?” Maribeth said thoughtfully, and they debated. Seeing them might really upset his mom, but knowing they weren't there would make everyone sad too. There was no easy solution. In the end, they decided to put them up anyway, because leaving them put away would be like denying Annie. She had been there with them, they all shared memories of her. It was better to acknowledge them than to try to pretend they had never existed. And by three o'clock they both agreed that the tree looked good, and it was finished.

She had made him tuna sandwiches for lunch, and as they put the rest of the decorations away, Tommy kept a small box out, and he looked up at Maribeth strangely.

“Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. She could see he was thinking about something. “No. I've got to go somewhere. Want to come, or are you too tired?”

I'm okay. What is it?”

“You'll see.” He got out their coats, and it was starting to snow as they went out to his truck, and he took the small box of decorations. The tiny tree was still in the back of the truck, and he put the box in beside it. She wasn't sure what he was doing at first, but as soon as they got there, she knew what he had come to do. They were at the cemetery, and he had wanted to bring a little tree to Annie.

He took the tree out of the back of the truck, and she carried the box of decorations. They were the smallest ones, the ones Annie had loved, with little teddy bears, and toy soldiers blowing horns, and tiny angels. There was a string of beads, and a length of silver tinsel. And solemnly, he stood the tree on the ground next to her, in a little wooden stand, and one by one they took turns putting on the decorations. It was a heart-wrenching ritual and it only took a few minutes to complete it, and they stood looking at it, as he remembered how much she had loved Christmas. Annie had loved everything about it. He had told Maribeth about it before, but this time he couldn't say anything. He just stood there, with tears rolling down his cheeks, remembering how much he had loved her, and how much it hurt when he lost her.

He looked up at Maribeth then, from across the tree, her huge belly swathed in her coat, her eyes so gentle, her bright hair peeking out of the wool scarf she wore. He had never loved her more than at this moment.

“Maribeth,” he said softly, knowing that Annie would approve of what he was doing. It was right to do it here. She would have wanted to be part of his life, and his future. “Marry me …please … I love you …”

“I love you too,” she said, coming closer to him, and taking his hand in her own as she looked at him, “but I can't …not now …don't ask me to do that …”

“I don't want to lose you …” He looked down at the small grave where his sister lay, just beneath them, next to the Christmas tree they had brought for her, “I lost her … I don't want to lose you …please, let's get married.”

“Not yet,” she said softly, wanting to give him everything, yet afraid to hurt him if she failed him. She was wiser than her years, and in some ways, wiser than he was.

“Will you promise to many me later?”

“I promise you solemnly on this day, Thomas Whittaker, that I will love you forever.” And she meant every word as she said it. She knew she would never forget what he had been to her ever since the first moment she'd met him. But what that meant, where their lives would lead, no one could promise that, or know now. She wanted to be part of his life forever, but who knew where life would take them?

“Will you promise to marry me?”

“If it's right, if it's what we both want.” She was always honest.

“I'll always be there for you,” he said solemnly, and she knew he meant it.

“And I for you. I'll always be your friend, Tommy …I'll always love you.” And if they were lucky, she would be his wife one day. She wanted that too, now, at sixteen, but she was wise enough to know that one day things might be different. Or maybe not, perhaps their love would grow in time, and one day be stronger than ever. Or perhaps like leaves, life's winds would blow them to the far corners of the earth and scatter them forever, but she hoped not.

“Ill be ready to many you, whenever you want,” he affirmed.

“Thank you,” she said, and reached up to kiss him. He kissed her, wishing she would promise him everything, but satisfied that she had given him what she could at the moment.

They stood silently, looking at the small Christmas tree then, and thinking about his sister. “I think she loves you too' he said quietly. “I wish she could be here and then he tucked Maribeth's hand into his arm, and led her back to the truck. It had grown colder since they had first come out, and they were both very quiet on the drive back to his house. There was something very peaceful between them now, something very strong and very clean, and very honest. And they both knew that they might be together one day, or they might not. They would try, they would be there for each other for as long as they could. At sixteen, that was a lot, more than some people had after a lifetime. They had hope, and promise, and dreams. It was a good way to start out. It was a gift they had given each other.

They sat talking quietly in the living room, looking at old albums, and laughing at baby pictures of him, and Annie. And Maribeth had dinner waiting when his parents came home from their trip. His parents were happy to be home and pleased to see them, and excited to see the Christmas tree, and Liz stopped and looked at it long and hard when she saw the familiar decorations, and then she looked at her son and smiled.

“I'm glad you put those on. I would have missed them if they weren't there.” It would have been like trying to forget she had ever existed, and Liz didn't want to forget that.

Thanks, Mom.” He was glad they had done the right thing, and they all went into the kitchen to have dinner. Maribeth asked about their trip, and Liz said it had gone well. She didn't look thrilled, but John nodded agreement. It had gone as well as it could have, given the circumstances. But they seemed pleased, and there was a festive atmosphere between them for the rest of the evening. Liz noticed something different about them though. They seemed more serious than they ever had before, and quieter, and they looked at each other with an even stronger bond than Liz had ever noticed between them.

“You don't suppose they did anything while we were gone, do you, John?” she asked him that night, in their room, and he looked amused.

“If you mean what I think you mean, even a sixteen-year-old boy couldn't overcome an obstacle like that one. I'd say your fears are definitely unfounded.”

“You don't think they got married, do you?”

“They'd need our permission to do that. Why?”

“They just look different to me. Closer somehow, more like one than two, the way married people are, or are supposed to be.” The trip had been good for them too. Being alone in a hotel room had brought them closer than they'd been in years, and he'd taken her out for a very nice dinner. And they had accomplished more or less what they wanted before that.

“I think they're just very much in love. We have to accept that' John said calmly.

“Do you suppose they really will get married one day?”

“It wouldn't be the worst thing for either of them. And they've already been through a lot together. It may prove to be too much for them, in the end, or it might be the making of them. Only time will tell. They're both good kids, I hope they do stay together.”

“She wants to wait though,” Liz said, understanding that well, and he smiled ruefully.

“I know about that kind of woman.” But it was a good kind, as time had proven to him. Not always an easy kind, but a good one. “If it's meant to be, they'll find a way to make it work eventually. If not, they'll have had something most people never have in a whole lifetime. In some ways, I envy them.” There was something about starting out again that appealed to him, about having a new life and a clean slate. He would have loved to start fresh with Liz. But for them, in some ways, it was too late now.

“I don't envy her what she'll have to go through,” Liz said sadly.

“You mean the delivery?” He sounded surprised, Liz had never complained much about childbirth.

“No, I mean giving the baby up. That won't be easy.” He nodded, sorry for her. Sorry for both of them for the pains they would have to go through, growing up, yet still envying them what they shared and had to look forward to, separately or together.

Liz lay close to John that night, as he slept, and Maribeth and Tommy sat and talked for hours in the living room.

They felt exactly what his mother had seen, closer, and more one than two. They were each more than they had ever been. And for the first time in her life, Maribeth felt as though she had a future.

The alarm woke everyone up the next day, and Maribeth showered and dressed in time to help Liz serve breakfast. Liz had arranged for Maribeth to take a special exam to skip the first half of her senior year. And Tommy had finals that day too. They talked about their exams back and forth over the table. The school was letting her take them in a special room, in the administration building, where none of the students would see her, and Liz was going to meet her there for the tests that morning. The school had been incredibly decent to her, they were doing everything they could to help her, thanks to Liz going to bat for her. And when they left each other outside the school, Tommy wished her luck, and then hurried off to his classes.

The rest of the week seemed to fly by, and the next weekend was the last before Christmas. Liz finished her Christmas shopping, and on her way home, she hesitated for a moment, and then turned around and decided to go and see Annie. She had been postponing it for months, because it was too painful for her, and yet today, she felt that she had to.

She drove through the gates of the cemetery, and found the place where they had left her and as she approached, she stopped and gasped when she saw it. She saw the little tree, listing slightly to one side, the ornaments tinkling in the wind, just as they had left them. She walked slowly up to it, and straightened it, tucking the tinsel in again, looking at the familiar ornaments Annie had hung on their tree only the year before. Her little hands had so carefully put them just where she wanted, and now her mother remembered every word, every sound, every moment, every silent agony of the past year, and yet suddenly it was a bittersweet kind of pain as she felt the floodgates open and engulf her. She stood there silently for a long time, crying for her little girl, and looking at the tree Maribeth and Tommy had brought her. She touched the prickly branches then, like a little friend, and whispered her name …just the sound of it touched her heart like baby fingers.

“I love you, little girl … I always will …sweet, sweet Annie …” She couldn't say goodbye to her, knew she never would again, and she went home feeling sad, and yet strangely peaceful.