He had made the appointment in the name of Mrs. Robertson, and tried his best to sound like his father on the phone, deepening his voice and trying to sound confident, despite trembling fingers. He had claimed to be Mr. Robertson when they'd asked, and said that they had just moved to Grinnell, after getting married, and his wife needed a checkup. And the nurse sounded as though she believed him.

“But what'll I say to him?” Maribeth looked at him in panic when he told her.

“Won't he know just by examining you? Do you have to tell him?” Tommy tried to sound more confident then he felt, and more knowledgeable than he was. He was still pretty sketchy on most of the fine points of her problem. All he knew of pregnancy was what he had seen of his mother in voluminous clothes, six years before, and could still remember, and what he'd seen of I love Lucy on TV the year before, when she announced that she was expecting.

“I mean …what'll I tell him about …about the baby's father …” She looked deeply worried, but she knew too that he was right. There was so much about her condition that she didn't know, and she needed to talk to a doctor.

“Just tell him what you told them at the restaurant, that he was killed in Korea.” They didn't know about the baby yet, but she had laid the groundwork with her story about being a widow.

And then she looked up at him with eyes full of tears, and stunned him with her next question. “Will you come with me?”

“Me? I …what …what if they recognize me?” He was blushing to the roots of his hair at the mere thought of it. What if they examined her in front of him, what if they expected him to know something he didn't? He had no idea what mysteries transpired in the offices of women's doctors. Worse yet, what if they told his parents? “I can't, Maribeth … I just couldn't …”

She nodded, without saying a word, as one lone tear rolled slowly down her cheek, and he felt his heart rip right out of his body. “Okay …okay …don't cry …I'll think of something …maybe I could just say you're my cousin …but then he'd be sure to tell my mom … I don't know, Maribeth, maybe we can just say we're friends, and I knew your husband, and I just drove you over.”

“Do you think he'll suspect anything? That I'm not married, I mean?” They were like two kids trying to figure out how to get themselves out of a mess they had unwittingly created. But it was a very big mess, and there was no getting out of this one.

“He won't know if you don't tell him anything,” Tommy said firmly, trying to show a calm he didn't feel. He was terrified of going to the doctor with her. But he didn't want to let her down, and once he had told her he would, he knew he had to.

They were both nervous wrecks on their way to the appointment that afternoon. They barely spoke, and he felt so sorry for her, he tried to reassure her as he helped her out of the truck, and followed her into the doctor's office, praying that he wasn't blushing.

“It'll be okay, Maribeth … I promise.” He whispered as they stepped inside, and she only nodded. Tommy had only met the man once outside the hospital where he had stood and waved with his dad after Annie was born. He was too young to go upstairs, and his mother had stood at the window of her room, waving at him, and proudly holding little Annie. Just thinking of it now brought tears to his eyes, and he squeezed Maribeth's hand, as much to encourage her as to comfort himself, as the head nurse looked up at them, over the rims of her glasses.

“Yes?” She couldn't imagine what they were doing there, except perhaps meeting their mother. They were both barely more than children. “May I help you?”

“I'm Maribeth Robertson …“ she whispered, as her voice trailed off inaudibly on her last name, unable to believe that Tommy had actually made her come here. “I have an appointment with the doctor.” The nurse frowned, looked down at her appointment book and then nodded.

“Mrs. Robertson?” She seemed surprised. Maybe the girl was a little older than she seemed. More than anything, she seemed extremely nervous.

“Yes.” It was barely more than a sigh on her lips, as the nurse told them to take a seat in the waiting room and smiled to herself, remembering his call. They were obviously newlyweds, and barely more than kids themselves. She couldn't help wondering if they had had to get married.

They sat in the waiting room, whispering, and trying not to look at some of the enormously pregnant women around them. Tommy had never seen so many of them in one room, and it was profoundly embarrassing, as they chatted about their husbands, their other kids, patted their tummies from time to time, and knitted. And it was a merciful relief for both of them when Dr. MacLean called them both into his office. He referred to them as Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, and Tommy found himself feeling paralyzed when he didn't correct him. But the doctor had no reason to suspect that he was anything but Maribeth's husband He asked them where they lived, where they were both from, and then finally how long they'd been married. And Maribeth looked at the doctor for a long moment and then shook her head.

“We're not …I am …that is …Tommy is just a friend …my husband died in Korea,” and then, regretting the lie the moment it was said, she looked at him honestly, with tears in her eyes. “I'm not married, Doctor. I'm five months pregnant …and Tommy thought I should come to see you.” He admired her for protecting the boy, and thought it unusually noble.

“I see.” He looked sobered by everything she had said to him, and looked at Tommy for a long moment, thinking that he looked vaguely familiar. He wondered if he was the son of one of his patients. He knew he had seen him somewhere. In fact, he had gone to Annie's funeral and seen him there, but at the moment he couldn't remember where he'd seen him.

“And are you planning to get married soon?” He looked at both of them, sorry for them. He was always sorry for kids in their situation. But they both shook their heads, looking chagrined, as though they were afraid he was going to throw them both out of his office, and suddenly Tommy was sorry he had ever suggested that she go there.

“We're just friends,” Maribeth said firmly. “This wasn't Tommy's fault, ft was all mine.” She had started to cry, and Tommy reached out and touched her hand as the doctor watched them.

“I think that's beside the point now,” he said kindly. “Why don't you and I have a little chat alone for a while, and then we'll take a look at you, and your …friend,” he smiled at the word, amused that they would think he wouldn't know what had happened, “your friend can come back and talk to us after that. How does that sound?” He wanted to examine her, and talk to her about what was happening, how her parents had reacted to her pregnancy, what her real plans were, and if she was going to keep the baby. They seemed very much in love to him, and he imagined they'd get married eventually, particularly since they'd come this far together. But their families were probably giving them a hard time, and he wanted to help them as much as he could. Maybe all they needed was a push in the right direction.

The doctor stood up then, and escorted Tommy from the room. And it was even more terrifying this time, sitting in a waiting room filled with pregnant women, without her. He just prayed that no one his mother knew would walk in and see him.

It seemed hours before the nurse beckoned to him, and led him back to the doctor's office.

“I thought you might like to come in with your friend and talk about things now,” the doctor said warmly as he walked in. Maribeth was smiling at him, and she looked shy, but relieved. The doctor had listened to the baby's heart, and said it looked like it was going to be a big, healthy baby. She had told him too that she was probably going to be putting it up for adoption, and if he knew of anyone who would be right for it, she'd like to know about it. He had promised to think, but had said no more than that. And he seemed far more interested in sharing most of the information he'd told her with Tommy, about the baby's size and health, about what Maribeth could expect over the next few months, the vitamins she'd have to take, the naps she should take if her work schedule allowed. He told them all of it, as though Tommy were the baby's father, and then Tommy realized what was happening. Dr. MacLean thought that they were hiding from him the fact that Tommy was the father. And no matter how much Maribeth had insisted they were just friends, it was obvious that he didn't believe them. It was much too obvious to him how much Tommy cared about her, and how much he loved her.

And as he looked at them both, and explained about his fees, something stirred in his memory, and suddenly he realized who the boy was, and he was pleased that he had brought Maribeth to him.

“You're Tommy Whittaker, aren't you, son?” he asked gently. He didn't want to frighten him, he was willing to share their secret with them, as long as neither of them got hurt by it, and he didn't have a compelling reason to tell his parents.

“Yes, I am,” Tommy said honestly.

“Do your parents know about this?”

Tommy shook his head, blushing terribly. It was impossible to explain that he had stolen his mother's address book to get the number. “They haven't met Maribeth.” He would have liked to introduce her to them, but he couldn't under the circumstances, and things were just too difficult with his parents now anyway.

“Maybe it's time you introduced them,” Dr. MacLean said wisely. “You can't wait forever. Christmas will be here before you know it.” It was only four months until her due date. “Think about it, your parents are pretty understanding people. They've been through an awful lot recently, and I'm sure this would come as a shock to them, but at least they could help you.” Maribeth had told him that she was estranged from her family, and the only friend she had in the world was Tommy. “This is a mighty big burden for you to be carrying alone on those young shoulders.”