“We're okay,” he said bravely, compounding the problem, and convincing the doctor again that the baby was his, no matter how much Maribeth denied it. It was sweet the way she protected him from any blame, and it impressed the doctor about her. He was impressed by both of them, and glad they had come to him. And he made another appointment for her the following month, and handed them a very simple book before they left, explaining to them what to expect over the next four months, and at the delivery. There were no photographs, just a few simple drawings, and neither of them had ever seen a book like it. It assumed a certain amount of knowledge that neither of them had, and many of the terms used were completely unfamiliar. But it also told Maribeth how to take care of herself, what to do, and what not to do, and danger signals along the way that would warrant calling the doctor. They both thought it was pretty impressive.

Dr. MacLean had told Maribeth he would charge two hundred and fifty dollars for all her prenatal care, and to deliver her, and the hospital charges would be another three hundred, which fortunately she still had set aside from the money her father had originally given her for the convent. So she had enough to pay for it. But they were both more than a little concerned that he thought Tommy was the baby's father.

“What if he tells your mom?” she asked, terrified. She didn't want to create a problem for him. And Tommy was worried too, but he had somehow gotten the impression that the doctor wouldn't betray them. He was a decent man, and he just didn't think Dr. MacLean would tell his parents. And despite the misunderstanding over who the baby's father was, he was glad he had taken Maribeth to see him.

“I don't think he will,” he reassured her. “I really think he wants to help us.” Tommy trusted him and he felt certain he was right to do so.

“He's nice,” she said, and then they went out for milkshakes. They talked in whispers about the book he'd given her, about the trimester she was in, and some of the things the doctor had said about labor and delivery. “It sounds pretty scary,” Maribeth said nervously. “He said he could give me some stuff to make me sleepy … I think I'd like that.” She wasn't sure about the whole thing. It was a lot to go through at sixteen, for a baby she wouldn't keep and would never see again. It was a lot to ask, for half an hour in the front seat of a Chevy with Paul Browne. Sometimes she still couldn't believe it was happening. But seeing the doctor made it more real. As did Tommy's concern, and the fact that suddenly the baby seemed to be growing daily.

Tommy came to see her at the restaurant almost every day, or else he showed up at her house after work and took her out for a soda, or a walk, or a movie. But on the first of September, he went back to school, and after that everything was harder. He had classes till three in the afternoon, and then sports, and his paper route. By the time he got to see her in the early evening, he was exhausted. But he was always concerned about her, and whenever they were alone, he held her in his arms and kissed her. And sometimes it felt as though they were already married, as they chatted about the day, her job, his school, and their problems. The passion between them felt married too, except that neither of them ever let it go further than it should. It never went beyond kissing and holding and touching.

“I don't want to get pregnant,” she said hoarsely one night, as his hands wandered over her slowly swelling breasts, and they both laughed. She didn't want to make love with him, not now, with Paul's baby in her …and afterwards, she wanted it to be different. She didn't want this to happen again, until she wanted it to, long years from now, after she went back to school, and college, and married the right man, then she'd want his babies. She didn't want to do it with Tommy too soon, and spoil everything, but he understood that, although it drove him crazy sometimes because he wanted her so badly.

Sometimes he did his homework at her place, or at the restaurant, in a back corner, while she brought him milkshakes and hamburgers, and sometimes she even helped him. And when her landlady was out, and her door was locked they stretched out on her bed sometimes, and he read to her, or she did his chemistry for him, or his algebra or trig. They were an even match academically, and it was two weeks after school had begun for him that it suddenly dawned on him that they could do all the work together. He was going to copy the curriculum for her, and lend her his books, and that way she could stay abreast of the work she was missing in her own school, and continue her education.

“You can ask them to take an exam when you go back, and you won't have to miss the semester.” But that was something he didn't like to think about, her going back to Iowa and her parents. He wanted her to stay with him, but neither of them knew yet exactly what would happen after she had the baby.

But for the moment, his plan was working extremely well. They met every night after school, and work when she could, and both of them did the homework. She kept the papers she did, and she did all the same assignments. In effect, she was continuing school, and working at Jimmy's too, and Tommy was very impressed with the quality of the school-work she was doing. And in spite of his good grades, he realized within days that she was actually an even stronger student than he was.

“You're good,” Tommy said admiringly, correcting some algebra for her, from the sheet they'd given him at school. She'd had an A+ on both quizzes he'd passed on to her that week, and he thought her history paper about the Civil War was the best he'd ever read. He wished his history teacher could see it.

The only problem for them was that he was getting home at midnight every night, and by the end of the first month of school, his mother was getting suspicious. He explained to her that he had sports practice every day, and was tutoring a friend who was having a lot of trouble with math, but with his mother working at the school, it wasn't easy convincing her that he was justified in coming home at midnight.

But he loved being with Maribeth. They talked for hours sometimes after they finished their work, about their dreams and ideals, the issues their assignments brought out about values and goals and ethics, and inevitably they talked about the baby, about what she hoped for it, the kind of life she wanted it to have. She wanted it to have so much more than she had. She wanted it to have the best education it could get, and parents who wanted to help it move ahead into the world, not back into positions forged by the fears or ignorance of past generations. Maribeth knew what kind of fight she herself was going to have trying to get to college one day. Her parents thought it was frivolous and unnecessary, and they would never understand it. But she didn't want to be confined to a job like the one she had now. She knew she could do so much more with her life, if she could just get an education.

Her teachers had always tried to tell her parents that she could go far, but they just didn't understand it. And now her father would say that she was just like her aunts, and had managed to get herself knocked up out of wedlock. She knew she would never live that down, and even without the baby in her arms, they would never let her forget it.

“Then why don't you keep it?” Tommy said to her more than once, but she would shake her head at that. She knew that that wasn't the answer either. No matter how far along she got, or how sweet the feelings were, she knew she couldn't take care of it, and in some part of herself, she knew she didn't want to.

By early October, she had to admit to the girls at work that she was pregnant. They had figured it out for themselves by then too, and they were excited for her, imagining that it was a last gift from her dead husband, a wonderful way of holding on to his memory forever. They had no way of knowing that it was Paul Browne's memory, someone whose eighteen-year-old wife was probably already pregnant by then too, and didn't care about this baby.

She couldn't tell them that she wanted to give the baby up, and they brought small gifts in to work for her, which always made her feel terribly guilty. She set them aside in a drawer in her room, and tried not to think about the baby that would wear them.

She also went to see Dr. MacLean again, and he was very pleased with her, and always asked about Tommy.

“Such a fine boy' he smiled, talking to her, sure that their mistake would have a happy outcome. They were both nice kids. She was a lovely girl, and he was sure that the Whittakers would adjust to it, and accept her once they knew about the baby. And it was mid-October when by sheer coincidence Liz Whittaker came in from school one day for her checkup. And then, before she left, he remembered to tell her what a fine boy her son was.

“Tommy?” She looked startled that he remembered him. The last time he had seen the boy was six years before when Annie was born, and he had stood outside the hospital and waved up at her window. “He is a good boy,” she agreed, sounding puzzled.

“You should be very proud,” he said knowingly, wanting to say more about the two young people who had impressed him so much, but he knew he couldn't. He had promised both of them he wouldn't.

“I am proud of him,” she said, distracted by her rush to get back to school, but on her way home later she thought about his comment again, and wondered if he'd run into Tommy somewhere. Maybe he had taught a class at school, or had a child in Tommy's class, and then she forgot about it.

But the following week, one of her colleagues said they had seen Tommy with a remarkably pretty girl, and casually mentioned that the girl looked extremely pregnant.