Becca's Baby

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Will listened intently, asking pertinent questions. Until that last bit. He looked a little skeptical when it came to Samuel’s second foray into love.

  “Samuel knew, even before he and Lizzie moved to Shelter Valley, that the town’s major enterprise was going to be a university that rivaled his beloved Harvard.”

  Will nodded. “He founded the university, of course,” he said. As the current president, he certainly knew the school’s history. “Inspired by those Indian tribes’ strengths, their values—though not their religions, per se—the university began with what, these days, we’d call a mission statement. The students at Montford were not only to learn knowledge and skills from textbooks and classes, but from the example of the people who taught them. They were to learn the importance of honor, of wisdom and strength, of acceptance and peace. The value in retaining an open mind…”

  Will had been reciting almost by rote, but his voice slowly faded.

  “I’d forgotten that,” he said softly, looking inward as his fingers tapped the kitchen table.

  Becca sent up a tiny silent prayer.

  “Did you know that he wrote that mission statement in memory of Clara and their lost son?” she asked him.

  Will shook his head.

  “And in honor of Lizzie and the children they had together. He wanted to change the world.”

  “I’ve never heard that.”

  “The best thing about all this…” Becca’s voice was passionate as she tried to communicate with her husband indirectly, since that was the only way she seemed to be able to reach him. “The best thing is, he really believed he could change the world. Even after all his disappointments, he didn’t give up.”

  Will nodded. His head still bent, he glanced up at her.

  Nervous to push any further, Becca sat back. “Did you know that most of his instructors were his scholarly companions from Boston?”

  “I didn’t,” Will said, his face relaxing into an interested smile. “It’s a shame so much of this information became lost or obscure.”

  Becca nodded. “I know, but Samuel was adamant about being remembered for his legacy, especially the university, and not for his private life. Besides, each generation is so caught up in its own concerns. It’s too easy to forget what previous generations achieved. History becomes simplified—like reading just the headlines, instead of getting the details.”

  Will nodded respectfully. “I agree. So what do we know about those friends of his?”

  “Apparently he wrote to them and was quite humbled by the numbers who were willing to leave their old lives behind and move west to help him with his venture.”

  “That was quite a sacrifice in those days.”

  “He paid them more than generously, of course,” Becca inserted. “He was nothing if not realistic.”

  “Still,” Will said, his elbows on the table, “it’s amazing that even now, more than a hundred years later, Samuel’s philosophy is maintained, not only by how rigorously we select our faculty, but by the meetings and retreats we attend before the beginning of every semester. Meetings that continue to instill Samuel’s values—even if we’ve forgotten exactly how we came by those values.”

  “And a code of ethics, for both students and faculty that’s still enforced.”

  “It’s kind of humbling to see what a huge impact one man can make,” Will murmured.

  “And encouraging to know that conviction and strength really do exist, and that sometimes they’re enough to conquer whatever the world hands out.”

  Will smiled at her and Becca’s insides melted. Taking a deep breath, she placed one hand over his on the table.

  “I want you to know, Will, that I’m glad I didn’t go through with the abortion.” Though difficult to say, those words were also the truth. “No matter what the cost.”

  He shook his head. “Not at the cost of your life.”

  He spoke with such vehemence Becca was left in no doubt that her life still meant something to him. But it would, because he was a compassionate man. It didn’t necessarily follow that he was still in love with her or wanted to stay married.

  “I’m grateful you told me that, though,” he continued.

  Peace settled over her. “I’m out of the doghouse, then? At least on that score?”

  “I have to be honest with you, Becca.” He pulled his hand away. “Because that’s one thing we’ve always been with each other…”

  Becca’s stomach started to hurt. She wished she’d never begun this conversation.

  “It isn’t the rightness or wrongness that eats at me. It’s the fact that I’ve always seen us as sharing the same life—one life—with the same goals and dreams—”

  “We do!”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure I ever knew your dreams, Bec,” he said sadly. “For that matter, I’m not sure I knew my own. This whole situation, with you not sure you even wanted a baby when I thought that was the one thing that mattered to you—it’s opened my eyes to the fact that I don’t really know you.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. Refused to cry. But she couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, Bec, you did nothing wrong,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. “This is my fault.”

  But she still lost.

  “Sometimes I wonder if maybe I just had this image in my mind of what my life was destined to be, of who you were, of what we wanted—but that’s all it was. An image. I never dug deep enough to find reality. Maybe even to know that it existed.”

  Scary as the thought was, Becca could understand what he was saying. “Kind of like that movie where everyone was living in a TV sitcom and didn’t know they weren’t real?”

  “Exactly.”

  Becca ached badly. For herself. For him, too. She could feel his struggle almost as well as she could feel her own. The confusion. And, on her part, the fear.

  “So where do we go from here?” she whispered.

  “I guess to bed, and then to tomorrow morning.”

  “One day at a time.”

  “Right.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know, Bec,” he said, his eyes sadder than she’d ever seen them. “I wish to God I did.”

  CHRISTINE EVANS called Will on Friday. They’d already had several conversations by phone.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Parsons,” she said as soon as Freda put her through.

  “It’s no bother,” Will said, feeling an unusual fondness for the woman. “We’re expecting you here in another couple of weeks.”

  He paused, but when Christine remained silent, continued. “Have you got all your arrangements made, or is there something we can help you with?” he asked. Christine’s arrival on campus was something he figured he could handle. Something he could control in a life that had become very difficult.

  “That’s what I’m calling about,” she said hesitantly. Almost as though she was planning to back out.

  He hoped not. Christine Evans was perfect for Montford. She was a breath of fresh air, a trip to younger days, easier times. She was his twenty-year-old idealized memory of Becca personified.

  “I’m afraid I’ve been held up longer than I’d anticipated,” Christine went on.

  “So you still intend to come?” Will asked, getting right to the point.

  “Oh, yes, Dr. Parsons,” she said. There was no mistaking her enthusiasm—a reaction he hadn’t heard from her previously. She’d been so contained it was almost intimidating. “This position is the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. It’s just that I have some family obligations this summer, and I’m not sure how long they’re going to take.”

  “Your sister?”

  “How’d you know?” Her voice was sharp.

  “In your interviews you stated that your only family was a sister.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Yes, I forgot that.”

  “Is she having some sort of problem?” Will asked, although he
knew he probably shouldn’t. But if someone in Shelter Valley could help her, he’d be remiss not to find that out.

  “Nothing that won’t take care of itself,” she assured him vaguely. “Is there anything you need me to do from here?” she asked. “Any reading, other than the school manual you’ve already given me, any paperwork, lesson plans, whatever? You’ll let me know?”

  Will chuckled, appreciating her work ethic, happy that she was still so committed to joining them. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare psychology professor hanging around, would you?”

  He’d been reading résumés for Todd’s possible replacement all morning. So far, all he’d gained was a headache.

  And he had a Rotary luncheon to attend in Phoenix, fund-raising for Montford.

  “If you’re serious, I might have,” she said, surprising him.

  “Well, if you might have, I’m serious.” And suddenly he was. Very serious. Todd Moore was going to be difficult to replace. No matter what other faults he had, Todd was a gifted teacher.

  “Let me talk to a friend of mine, see if she’s interested,” Christine said.

  “Is she at Boston College with you?”

  “Yes.”

  Will had a flash of Becca, sitting at their kitchen table the other night, her maternity clothes spread around her, telling him how Samuel Montford’s friends had stood beside him, coming en masse from the East Coast to support his effort. Which reminded him—he’d have to commission an official history of Montford’s life for the university.

  “I’d like to have your friend’s name, if I may,” he said. “I’ll pass it along to Freda so she’ll be sure to put her through if she calls.”

  “It’s Phyllis. Dr. Phyllis Langford.”

  Christine’s voice warmed as she said the name.

  “She’s a good friend?”

  “Yes, she is.”

  Remembering the shadows in Christine’s eyes, Will was glad to know that his reserved new English professor had a friend.

  He was interested in speaking with this Dr. Phyllis Langford. She must be a very special person.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MARTHA TOOK the news of her husband’s infidelity far better than Becca would have. The two women were having coffee at the diner on Friday of the following week—the meeting place at Martha’s request—while they went over the list of kids who’d already signed up for theater in Save the Youth’s summer session. They were doing things a little backward, assigning parts before the script was written, but Martha wanted to make the parts fit the people who were playing them.

  Some read well. Some didn’t. Some memorized well. Some didn’t. She could write the script accordingly. And the kids came away feeling good about themselves and their abilities.

  “Mother gave her Montford report to Betty during lunch on Wednesday,” Becca told Martha. “She worked on the descendants, and her report was the last one. Betty said to tell you she’d have everything to you by Sunday.”

  Martha nodded. “That gives me a couple of weeks before the kids are out of school and ready to—”

  Mary Blount, the town librarian, stopped at their table, interrupting Martha. “I was so sorry to hear about you and Todd.”

  “I know,” Martha said, her unlined face still youthful looking.

  “What about you and the kids? Is there anything we can do?”

  “We’ll be fine,” she said, smiling sadly, “but thanks.”

  As Mary left—and other curious friends and acquaintances continued to send surreptitious glances their way—Martha didn’t fall apart. She didn’t shake with rage. She merely returned to the pages in front of her.

  While Becca admired Martha’s stiff upper lip, she hurt for her, too. Martha didn’t deserve this.

  Dressed in her usual jeans and blouse, her friend looked just as she had the million other times they’d met in town. Even after four kids, Martha still had a decent figure, wore her makeup tastefully, kept her short hair fashionably styled, although the color did tend to change every year or so.

  “We can go somewhere else if you’d like,” Becca offered. “My house would be good. Will’s out—he’s meeting with the architect for the new building today.”

  Martha shook her head. “I intend to stay right here and get this over with,” she said. “Besides, it actually kind of helps—knowing that everyone cares, I mean. I’ve never been more glad than I am right now that I live in Shelter Valley.” A tear lingered on Martha’s lashes before she brushed it away.

  “I could kill Todd,” Becca said, burning up for her friend.

  “It’s not all his fault.”

  “How can you say that?”

  Looking up, Martha didn’t blink as she said, “Twenty years with no magic is a really long time.”

  Becca didn’t know what to say.

  “I hate him for what he’s done, but I can almost understand how it happened,” Martha said. Becca’s heart went out to her anew as she met her friend’s devastated gaze.

  “We got married for the wrong reasons,” Martha said softly, curling the corner of one of the pages in front of her. “We did it because it was what everyone, including us, expected. You know how Shelter Valley is—you grow up knowing that your ultimate goal is marriage and children.”

  Becca nodded. It had taken her twenty years to grow out of that expectation. At least the children part of it.

  “My marriage to Todd was convenient, you know?” Martha said. “You and Will were getting married. Todd and I were great friends. It was easy, the next step in our life plan. We sort of…fell into marriage.”

  Becca’s nerves started to tense as she listened. Wasn’t this exactly what Will was telling her about their marriage?

  “But I still can’t believe Todd did this,” Martha said, shaking her head again. “He’s humiliated me, has the whole town thinking I’m not enough of a woman to keep my man. It’s not fair to the kids.” She stopped, took a sip of her coffee in a rather obvious attempt to compose herself. “We were best friends. I trusted him.”

  “You didn’t have any idea he was having an affair?”

  “None,” Martha said, tears brimming a second time. “That’s what hurts the most, you know? The lack of trust. If he’d only come to me, told me, instead of going to her behind my back…”

  “He doesn’t deserve your tears,” Becca snapped. She’d have liked about ten minutes with her pal Todd right then.

  “I know.”

  Martha looked up several moments later, her face more relaxed. She’d obviously won the battle with her emotions, for the time being, anyway. “You know,” she said, “all I wanted was what you and Will have always had, Bec, and I never had that with Todd. I wanted the fireworks, the stars. I wanted my heart to jump, my eyes to light up, just because someone walked into a room—the way yours do when Will comes in.”

  “My eyes don’t light up,” Becca said, embarrassed. And a little frightened, too. Was she really that far gone? She couldn’t be. Because if she was, she’d never survive when Will walked out of her life.

  “Yeah, they do,” Martha assured her. “They always have. His do, too, when he looks at you.”

  Becca pondered that, a part of her pleased, hopeful. But just a very small part. If Will’s eyes lit up, it must be out of habit. How could it be out of love when the man didn’t even know if he loved her?

  She couldn’t think about that now.

  If she and Martha stayed there much longer, Becca was going to have to order something to eat, even though she’d already had both breakfast and lunch. She seemed to be hungry all the time these days.

  “I’m also angry that Todd’s off having fun while I’m still home all day, taking care of his kids. The jerk.” She made an ugly face.

  Becca chuckled. “You got the kids. They’re life’s real reward.”

  “Yeah.” Martha’s face warmed, a bit of the light she’d described moments ago in her eyes. “And now you’re finally going to have one, too,” she said, loo
king down at the new plaid maternity jumper Becca was wearing. “I can’t tell you how happy I am for you, Bec.”

  A bit teary-eyed, Becca smiled at her friend. In spite of everything, she was happy, too. At least about the baby…

  Their waitress, a young woman neither of them knew, came to ask if they’d like refills on their beverages, and both women ordered desserts, as well. Martha figured she owed herself a treat.

  “Now that we’ve got the hard funding for Save the Youth, I’d like to plan on doing a play every Fourth of July as part of Shelter Valley’s annual celebration, and maybe a Christmas show, too, kind of an after-school thing,” Becca told Martha while they waited.

  “How’d you like to sign on as theater project director?”

  “I’d love to,” Martha said. She smiled, though her eyes were still dulled from the painful week she’d had. “Look at you, hitting up a poor girl when she’s low.”

  “I’ll be able to pay you,” Becca said. She knew Martha had to be a little concerned about money. The kids would be fine. Todd would support them, and Martha, too, for a while. But Martha, who’d quit college to have Todd’s baby, would eventually have to find a way to support herself. Unless she went to work in the cactus-jelly factory just outside town or waited tables, Shelter Valley had very little to offer.

  “Thank you,” Martha said softly, tears brimming in her eyes again.

  “Becca! Martha! I didn’t know you two were going to be here.”

  Becca turned, her heart jumping just like Martha said it did, when she recognized Will’s voice behind her. He was with someone Becca had never seen before. His new architect friend, she suspected.

  The two men joined them at the table, and Will introduced John Strickland. As the four of them passed two full hours sitting there in the diner talking and laughing, Becca wondered if maybe that wasn’t an appreciative glint she saw in Martha’s eyes. John Strickland was a very charming man. He was also sensitive, a man who’d suffered and known loss, who recognized it in others.

  Becca wanted to hug him for building up Martha’s self-confidence. Even if he didn’t know he was doing it.