Twilight Child (19 page)

 In those
early days the only time that Chuck and she were apart was when his father took
him on their male-only hunting and fishing trips. Molly told her it was
something she had better get used to. Unfortunately, she never had. It was
after one of those hunting trips that Chuck had made the suggestion that she
abort the baby. That had certainly turned out to be a reliable clue to the
future. By then, of course, she was trapped.

 “Isn't it a
little ahead of schedule?” he had said. “I was hoping we might be a little
better set before we had a kid.” He had a point, of course. He was not yet
twenty-one. And she had just turned eighteen. “Maybe we should fix it.”

 “Fix it?”

 “You know.”

 The idea had
frightened her.

 “It'll bring
us luck,” she had said. “You'll see.”

 “We're too
damned young.”

 “It's not
like I did it by myself.”

 “But you
promised.”

 “So did you.”

 “The timing
is no good, baby. That's all I'm saying. Hell, we're still kids ourselves. We
hardly make enough to pay for everything now.”

 “I'll be
working right up until I deliver.”

 “You could
have at least been more careful.”

 “I don't
think I should take all the blame.”

 “I suppose
not,” he had muttered.

 “It will be
great, Chuck, you'll see. I promise.”

 “I was just
trying to be practical.”

 “Practical?
You're asking that we do away with our baby.” She paused and inspected him.
“Are you sure this is your own idea?”

 “Whose,
then?”

 “Like your
father's.”

 “His! Hell,
he's the one who warned me in the first place. He'd be the last person I'd
tell.”

 “I don't care
whose suggestion it is,” she said firmly. “I will not give up my baby. Never.
And you should be ashamed of yourself for suggesting it.”

 “Maybe I'm
just not ready for responsibilities. Maybe that's it.”

 “We have no
choice, Chuck.”

 “Actually, we
do. It's a simple deal—doesn't hurt, they tell me.”

 “They? Who is
they?”

 “I mean I
read about it, heard talk.”

 He hadn't yet
looked her in the eye, and she spent the conversation angling herself to
confront him.

 “You're
talking about our baby. We're married. It's not like I'm in trouble or
something.”

 “I mean,
there's got to be plenty more where that one came from.”

 All her life
people had accused Frances of being too stubborn. She never could see their
point. It wasn't even a question of principles. She just couldn't bring herself
to do things she didn't believe in. Not that she didn't do things against her
will. She had hated living with Uncle Walter and working in the store, but that
seemed more of a debt to him for being nice to her mother and her when her
father had been killed. Some things she had to do for different reasons.

 “You can't
mean what you're saying.”

 “Then let's
just forget it.”

 “I'm going to
have this baby, no matter what.”

 “Let's just
drop it.”

 “The thought
that you even mentioned it is terrible. Can't you understand that this is not
just my baby? It's yours, too.”

 She wondered
if he ever truly understood that.

 “I'm really
sorry,” he said finally, ending the discussion. It never came up again between
them. Of course, she had never really accepted the apology. Nor had she
forgotten the conversation.

 Then one day,
Chuck came home to tell her had landed a job working the oil rigs offshore in
the North Sea off Scotland. He hadn't told her that he had even applied for the
job.

 “Are you
serious?” she had asked, dumbfounded.

 “The pay is
fabulous,” he had countered. “And with the baby coming, we sure could use it.”

 “But I'll be
alone.”

 “Just for a
few months at a time. No big deal.”

 “I don't
think that's fair.”

 “It's not a
question of fair, baby. It's necessary. You can quit your job and really rest
until the kid comes. And when he's born, you won't have to work. In fact, I
don't want you to work. The old man thinks it's a damned good idea.”

 “He knows?”

 “Sure he
knows. He's my father.”

 “And I'm your
wife.”

 “What's that
got to do with it?”

 She had
wanted to say that if he truly loved her he wouldn't be doing this, but she had
held back. She had become afraid—afraid for herself, afraid for her baby.

 “I don't know
what to do,” she confessed to Molly. She had met her in the coffee shop across
from the school, the day after Chuck had broken the news. Molly, of course, had
already been informed by Charlie.

 “You mustn't
let him go,” Molly said firmly. “You're his wife. You've got to be firm about
it.”

 “You're his
mother.”

 “Unfortunately,
that hasn't counted for much.”

 “You let
Charlie influence him too much.”

 “That's an
old story. He is very attached to Chuck.”

 “With a heavy
chain.”

 “Fathers and
sons. They baffle me.”

 “He says it's
because of the baby, and that his father thinks it's a good idea.” She remembered
that she had tried to hide her animosity.

 “He's
thinking of the money. Men think like that, like hunter providers.”

 “I'm thinking
of my marriage. Of lonely nights and a baby coming.”

 “Then put
your foot down,” Molly said. “Can't you say something?”

 “I have.”

 “Try harder.”

 “He wouldn't
do this if he really loved me.”

 Molly had
hesitated, and Frances could see that she was trying to frame a careful
response.

 “I'm sure
it's not that, Frances. But who knows about a man's psyche? Maybe he feels
inadequate to the responsibility. Maybe by proving himself, earning big money,
facing danger . . .”

 “Danger?”

 “I don't want
to be an alarmist. He is my only child, dear. There have been accidents on
those offshore platforms.”

 It surprised
Frances to see what Molly's priorities really were. For her part, she was less
worried about the danger. She had seen the grace and caution of his climb.
Molly must have also understood the different ways they looked at things, and
she tried to quickly bridge the gap.

 “I don't
really understand it, Frances. Sometimes I think that the gulf that separates
men and women is too mammoth to understand.” She had reached out and taken
Frances's hand in hers. “I would not like to be a young pregnant bride waiting
for her baby alone. I mean, you know that Charlie and I will stand by you. If
you need anything, you know we'll be there. I want you also to know that I
think it's wrong for Chuck to do this and I feel awful about it. But I haven't
been able to stop it, I'm afraid.”

 “And Charlie
won't.”

 “It's not
that he won't. He thinks it's self-sacrificing and courageous for Chuck to do
this. They just don't see it our way. Look, we were married just before Charlie
went overseas, and I didn't see him again for three years. Three long years.”

 “But there
was a war.”

 “Maybe that's
the problem with young men like Chuck. There's no war for them. They need the
adventure. Something like that. I don't understand it. There are lots of things
I don't understand about men.”

 “I won't ever
forgive him.”

 Molly seemed
alarmed. Perhaps, she thought, she had gone too far in her confidence.

 “I don't
think you should overreact. Just try your best to get him to stay.”

 “I don't mean
Chuck.”

 “Not Chuck?”

 “Charlie. I
won't ever forgive Charlie.”

 They had
parted that day with hugs and embraces. But no amount of persuasion, tears, or
vehement protest by either her or Molly could stop Chuck from leaving.

 In a last
ditch effort, she had made an attempt to get Charlie to intervene. She had gone
over to speak to him. It galled her now to remember how humbled she had felt,
unable to hide her desperation.

 “I don't care
about the money. I just want my husband near me.”

 She knew he
felt awkward and uncomfortable. And in his own mind, she was sure he was being
sympathetic and understanding, even compassionate.

 “I know it's
hard, Frances, and I really feel for you. I hope you believe me about that. But
I really think you're exaggerating my influence. I've always taught him to be
his own man.”

 “But you
agree with his decision,” she had protested. “He listens to you.”

 “Where did
you get that idea? I wasn't exactly thrilled about your getting married so
young. He didn't listen to me then. You can't blame me for your getting
pregnant and putting this kind of pressure on the boy. Can you, Frances?
Listen, I'm all for both you kids. I want to see you happy and secure. Like any
other father. But you've got to look at it from his point of view, too.”

 “And the
baby's.”

 “Sure, the
baby. You don't know what it costs to raise a baby nowadays. And there'll be
more. At least, I hope so. You'll be making up for those we never had. I'm with
you, Frances. As long as we're around, you don't have to worry about a thing.
But Chuck's got to do what he's got to do. You don't understand that about men.
He'll draw big money and that will be great for his confidence. And he'll be
learning a helluva skill. Better than being caught in these construction
slumps.”

 “But I'll be
alone. And he might not even be here when the baby is born.”

 “We'll be
there. Molly and I will be there. You can bet on that.”

 “I want Chuck
to be there. He's the father.”

 At that
point, she couldn't hold back and began to cry. He had taken her in his arms
and patted her back.

 “You must
understand. A man's got to do what he's got to do. Chuck is only thinking about
you and the baby. I can vouch for that. You think it's going to be easy for him
to be away from the people he loves? I was away for three years, facing hell
itself, never knowing if I was ever going to get back. At least nobody will be
shooting at Chuck. He'll make enough to tide you over, then maybe stay home.”

 “It's wrong.”

 “You'll get
over it, Frances. I know you will. You're not going to stay blubbery and depressed.
You've got to think of the baby. He's not going to want to come into this world
into the arms of an unhappy mother. You'll be fine. I know you will. Him, too.”

 “But it will
hurt so much to be alone,” she had said, humbled and despairing.

 “I don't
think Chuck would like to hear that,” Charlie had said, gripping her shoulders
and holding her at arm's length, looking into her eyes. “That certainly won't
make it easy for him. Why don't you try telling him that it's a great idea?
Hell, he's doing it for you and the baby. It won't be a bed of roses, you know.
It's stormy as hell and he'll be living mostly with a bunch of tough older
guys. He's got his own problems ahead of him.”

 The futility
of her pleading had finally dawned on her. They were simply talking different
languages.

 Still, she
had not given up and made her last appeal directly to Chuck. They had gone to
Haussners, a German restaurant noted for its floor-to-ceiling art. It was
Chuck's idea, a farewell dinner. For them, it was enormously expensive.

 “It's gonna
be nice to have a few bucks for a change,” Chuck had said, ordering a bottle of
white wine.

 “I don't care
about the money,” she had muttered. It had become her principal refrain by
then.

 “You're not
going to ruin things on my last night, are you, Frances?”

 “Don't go,
Chuck,” she pleaded. “There's still time.”

 “I've signed
the papers. You can't expect me to go back on my word.”

 “I don't care
about that.”

 “Well, I do.
A man's word is everything. Besides, I know it's best, you'll see.”

 “I love you,
Chuck. I can't bear to think about being alone. We've only been married four
months. Doesn't it bother you to leave me?”

 “Of course it
does. You just don't understand.” She saw him shift inwardly, saw his mood
change. She had remembered his father's words.

 “A man's got
to do what he's got to do,” she mimicked.

 “Now you've
got it.” He had failed to see the sarcasm. “I need to do this.”

 “Would you
have done it if I had gotten rid of the baby?”

 “That's bad
talk, Frances,” he said with growing impatience. “It's all set. You just handle
it. I'll be back before you can blink your eyes.”

 The memory
disintegrated. She had been prescient, had seen a glimpse of the future. Even
then she had known that he had left her forever. His death had merely been the
signature on the writ of separation. But the old anger returned. He had
deserted her. He hadn't been there when Tray was born. And his contribution to
his son's welfare had been an occasional toy. As for the big money that foreign
employment had promised, she had seen precious little of that, as well.