by Robyn Carr
“What's the problem?”
“I hardly know where to start. How about I'm pregnant?”
“That's a good start. How the hell did that happen?”
“Really, John, and you a doctor and everything.”
“Beverly, come on!”
“I wasn't prepared. Now, what I have to know is how to go about having an abortion, a nice safe one, not in a clinic, out of town maybe, without anyone—”
“Abortion? Beverly, are you crazy?”
“Will you lower your voice, please.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Simmer down. Really, John, I thought I could count on you to stay cool. I should have gone to Terry.”
“You should have gone to Joe.”
“Then you're certain the baby is Joe's?”
“Knock it off, Beverly!”
“For some reason I really wanted to try that out. Well, listen, I know perfectly well that Joe loves me and would like to marry me. But I do not want to get married right now, and I especially don't want to marry someone because I'm pregnant. I don't want anyone to know because I don't want any trouble.”
“You are out of your mind.”
“Well, that may be, but my mind is made up just the same.”
“And Joe has nothing to say about this?”
“Oh, sure, I should tell him and hear his side of the story. Do you think that's likely to do me any good? I already told you, he'll want to get married and have the baby, and that's not what I want to do. Joe is an idealist. He goes around believing everything will be all right all the time. Now, can you see me, the preacher's wife, pouring tea at the church socials? Joe doesn't need a wife who doesn't even believe it's real. He could go so far, John. I'm only going to slow him down, hold him back. And what would his nice little congregation think of the reason we got married?”
“Who's going to tell?”
“That sort of thing tends to get out. I'm not right for Joe. Not now, anyway. And I would be as miserable as he would, trying to be something I thought I should be... oh, John, I just can't handle all that now. Not yet. Maybe later, when I'm ready, if he still wants me. But now, this is the only way.”
“Beverly, I am sure that you are a very screwed-up woman.”
“Are you going to help me or should I go somewhere else? There are plenty of clinics.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Well, help me get to the right doctor, in a hospital. You never know how uninformed you are about a thing like this until you're in trouble. Well, John?”
“Yes, Beverly, I'm going to help you.”
“Whew. I hoped you would.”
“It just so happens that I have a friend who handles little things like this all the time. You won't even know you've done it.”
“Perfect.”
“Let me go see if I can get him on the phone. Want to go out for coffee, or wait here?”
“I'll just wait here.”
“All right, sit tight.”
John used the secretary's phone. Reverend Clark was not in the church office, but they thought he could be found at the gym. John asked the secretary to place the call, track him down, tell him it was urgent, and then put the call through to John in the inner office. She was not to say that it was Reverend Clark on the line, because the woman he was with was very disturbed and might bolt. He felt marvelously smart and sneaky. John the double agent.
The secretary had a coffeepot in her part of the office and John poured two cups, not knowing how long it might take to find Joe. He caught Beverly sniffing and it made him feel extremely good.
“What's the matter with you? Didn't I fix it for you?” Just because you felt good didn't mean you had to be nice.
“Simply because I know what I have to do doesn't make it easy, John. I don't know if I'll ever be the same.”
“Then put it off, Bev.”
“How long can you put off something like this? I'm about out of time.”
“I think you should talk to Joe. Give him a chance.”
“No, not this time. Ministers can't help when they're emotionally involved. He would get sloppy and beg.”
“Joe? Get sloppy? I don't think so.”
“John, forget it.”
“Well, you're not going to get any abortion today. It takes a few days. Why don't I go home with you and take the boys to the pool for the rest of the afternoon? You can take a nap and think this over.”
“That would be nice, John. Thanks.”
John tried to hide his wicked smile when he heard the buzzer on the phone. He knew Joe would understand his deceptive conversation, and, still pretending to talk to his doctor friend, that he could concoct a plan of action without Beverly guessing a thing. Shouldn't betrayal feel a little sickening? It didn't. Not a bit.
“Hiya, buddy, how are you? Good. Good. Yeah, I need a favor. It's my sister. She's pregnant and she'd like me to help her set up an abortion out of town. Yeah, yeah, I know, but you know how these things are, sometimes it just seems like the best thing to do. So, I told her I have a friend who handles things like this—No, no, her mind is definitely made up, but I'll ask her if you want me to... except that she'll probably only cry some more. Yeah, that's what I think too. Well, listen, I'm going to be out of the hospital the rest of the day. I'm going home with her and am taking her kids to the pool for the afternoon so she can take a breather. How about if I get back to you later and see if you came up with anything. Yeah, that sounds perfect. Great, great, that'll be good. So we're even? Good. Oh, and I really appreciate this. See ya.”
“Will he take care of me, John?”
“Oh, yes, Beverly. Come on, let's get you home so you can take a nap or something.”
“That sounds good.”
“Where's Joe today?”
“He's all tied up, why?”
“You're not planning to see him?”
“Not until late tonight. He has meetings.”
“Do you really think you're pulling this off without him knowing?”
“How would he know?”
“You don't think he might guess?”
She shrugged. “He doesn't know much about women.”
“He knows enough. You're pregnant.”
“That was my fault, John. Joe is a victim of circumstances.”
“Oh? And what are you?”
“Dumb. Just plain dumb.”
Chapter Fourteen
John had the boys in Beverly's car. He wouldn't get wet with them today, but he would take them out for a hamburger later so they brought along a change of clothes. He told her to calm down, get some rest, and think things through again. It wasn't too late to change her mind.
Chuck was hollering for Uncle John to hurry up, but John lingered. He really did love Beverly; he wasn't confused about that. He simply couldn't let her go on with this. Oh, if she was really in a jam and needed an abortion, he might help her with that. But this was different. She might never trust him again. She might hate him for a while. He hoped that someday she would thank him.
But not right now. Right now she was staring with wide, horrified eyes at the brown station wagon that was screaming up the street toward the house. She was too stunned to speak until she saw Joe jump out of the car and head toward her. He was wearing only jogging shorts and shoes, a towel around his neck, no shirt. He came from the gym on an urgent pastoral duty. Beverly.
“You sold me out,” she said to John.
“Yep,” he said, sprinting off toward her car with her keys in his hand.
Beverly wasn't having any of it. She whirled, ran into the house, slammed the door, and locked it. John watched for a minute. He kind of hated to miss this. Joe didn't look the least bit reasonable. He looked pretty steamed. But he had his own key. Foiled again, Beverly.
“Abortion?”
“Now, Joe, be reasonable—”
“Reasonable! This time you've gone too far, lady, too far!”
“I've done a lot
of thinking, Joe, and it would be for the best if—”
“Just be quiet for once, and I really mean it. What can be going on in that head of yours? Are you crazy? That's my baby you want to kill. Mine! Don't you have any sense of decency?”
“I didn't want—”
“That's exactly what you wanted to do. Exactly. And I won't let you. I don't care what I have to do. I won't let you do it.”
“Joe, listen to me. It can't work out the way you want it too. I wish it could, but it can't. It won't.”
“Why?”
“I can't be a minister's wife.”
“Why?”
“You know why. Because I wouldn't do you honor, you wouldn't be proud of me. People should respect a minister's wife and they would wonder where in the world you'd found me. You know yourself that I'm not even sure I believe in God.”
“Well, I'm very sorry about that, Beverly, and I'll help you with that as much as you want, but that is not the issue here. The issue is the baby, and it's mine, and I want it even if you don't.”
“But I don't want to get married!”
“Well, I'm sorry about that, too, because we're a little short on alternatives.”
“What do you mean?”
“I made that baby, Beverly, and I can't make you marry me, but I won't let you get rid of it. I'll stay right here, night and day, and I won't leave. It's mine too!”
“Calm down. Jeez, it's not that dramatic. It was an accident, Joe. We were just fooling around and had an—”
“You were just fooling around maybe, not me! That's the difference between us, baby. You can ignore life's obligations if they get to be a little tough. Did you really think I set aside everything I believe in, everything I am, when I crawled in here late at night to make love to you? Maybe you thought I left it on your doorstep and then picked everything up when I was sneaking out before the sun came up. You can do that, maybe. Not me. I'm stuck with what I am and I have to live with myself.”
“Ignore life's obligations? You bastard! How can you say that to me? Here is my little fatherless family, Mommy bearing all the responsibilities alone, the whole damn mess alone, and I try to spare you and—”
“Alone! Quit acting like a child, dammit, and grow up. Alone!”
Joe's face was very red. He slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand. She suspected he really did want to belt her.
“You haven't been alone. Who's been cutting the damn grass, going to the damn T-ball games, tightening all the loose screws around here? If I could only get my hands on that loose screw in your head. Beverly, I've been here for months. Months! What the hell do I have to do?”
“You're really making me sorry I taught you how to yell.”
“Well, you've taught me a few things, but that wasn't one of them.”
“Stop yelling. I want to talk. Like we used to.”
“I don't know if I can.” He sat on the sofa and put his head in his hands. Then he was on his feet again, in the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards. “Where is the booze?”
“I don't have any.”
“When did you stop having any?”
“I don't know.”
“Well, when are you going to clean those cupboards. They're a mess. Everything is a mess! You're a mess!”
“Oh, stop it, my cupboards don't have anything to do with anything. How can we talk if you're so overwrought?”
“It makes a guy a little overwrought to get a phone call like I got. God, what would have happened if I hadn't told John you were pregnant? What if he hadn't been ready for you? Oh, God, I hate even to think—”
“Wait a minute. When did you tell John I was pregnant?”
“Over a week ago. I know you think I'm just a simpleminded preacher, but do you honestly think I'm too dumb to know how long I've been stopping at the damn drugstore? Don't you think I know what you have been waiting for? Don't you think I noticed that what you're waiting for hasn't come for over two months now? Beverly, where is your brain?”
At this moment she had absolutely no idea.
“Wait a minute. If you knew you didn't have to, why did you keep using those things?”
“Because I was giving you time. Because I thought you would have the decency and presence of mind to talk to me about the baby we made. And because you said you loved me, and I thought that meant you trusted me and that we could talk to each other. I thought you might go to John if you wouldn't come to me, but I never thought you would do what you would have done. Never. Beverly, why?”
Beverly was going to cry. It wasn't nice to scream at a brainless, pregnant woman. It would be nice to fall into the assistant minister's arms, but there was no way he was saying “come here.” He was just going to stand there with his red face and glare at her. He wouldn't make a very understanding husband.
“Answer me!”
“I can't.”
“Why the hell not? Don't you know why you almost did what you almost did?”
“Only sort of.”
“Then sort of answer me!”
“Not until you stop yelling.”
“Not until you answer me!”
“Because I love you and I didn't want you to be stuck. And because I don't want to be the minister's wife at Santa Monita. I'm not holy enough to be a preacher's wife, and the nice little congregation would snicker and whisper when they found out you had to marry the widow you were screwing around with— that's why.”
“That's stupid.”
Well, he wasn't yelling. But he wasn't backing down either. Beverly was going to have to do something a little more dramatic to bring him around. Or irrational. She ran out of the room and threw herself on her bed to sob. Mistake number one.
“Really stupid.” He was following her. He sat on the end of the bed and muttered, “I have never heard anything so stupid.”
“Well, why do you want to marry me if I'm so stupid?”
“I don't know,” he said, completely exasperated.
“See.” Sniff. “It would have flopped.”
“Listen, the first rule is that the preacher gets to pick out his own wife. No one gets a vote. The congregation doesn't get a vote, the women's circle doesn't get a vote, and the youth council doesn't get a vote. Rule number two is they don't hire the preacher's wife; they hire the preacher. And rule number three is if they snicker, who gives a damn? Besides, I already wrote to Santa Monita and told them I couldn't come.”
“You did what?”
“You heard me.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you didn't want to go with me.”
“Joe. Are you crazy? The 'God trip,' remember? First before me and first before everything. What were you thinking of? I never asked you to give up anything for me.”
“Oh, no. Just the three most important people in my life and the only baby I ever made. You're real generous.”
“But the God thing, for gosh sakes.”
“Sometimes I think your head is full of marbles, Beverly. I didn't give up God. I can keep Him forever and do His work anywhere. Do you really think I would leave you now? And the boys? I know you believe you're a terrific father for them, but they think you stink as a father. They want a real one.”
“Well, if you still have all that almighty devotion, how come you were screwing around with me, huh?”
“Beverly, I made a commitment to you. Not a pretend one, a real one. I wanted to wait until you were committed back to me, but I goofed up.”
“Oh, good, I'm a goof-up. Well, did you say 'Please forgive me?' Did you?”
“Yes.”
“I knew you would! I knew it! Well, what did He say?”
“Oh, shit, Beverly, ask Him yourself.”
“You're yelling again. And you're swearing like crazy.”
“I am so damned mad, I can't see straight. I don't know when I have ever been this mad.”
“Joe, listen to me, please. Go to Santa Monita and preach. I made a big mistake and I don't want you to
pay for it with your career. They need you there.”
“Beverly, I have been talking to you for over eight months and I don't believe you have ever heard me. I did not write that letter because you're pregnant. Before the baby, before we made love, I was committed to you. You didn't commit back, but I still did make the commitment. It was not a half-assed decision, not some little thing I said to myself to make it seem right. It was an honest-to-God commitment. I just can't live any other way. I don't want to. Beverly, you are driving me crazy. Will you please just give up and marry me?”
“I can't. I'm too scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of everything. I'm going to take a long, hot bath.”
“Not now. Talk to me now. Take a bath later.”
“No, I'll have a good soak while you calm down, and then we'll talk.”
Women. Crazy. Crazy down to the very last one. So how do you stop her from taking a bath when the water is already running? And she's starting to undress? So even after all you've done together she locks the door? When she's already pregnant, she locks the door? What's she afraid of? That you might see her naked or something?
Joe fell back on the bed and started to laugh. This whole thing was getting plain ridiculous. Now, what kind of a woman would love you and refuse to marry you when she's pregnant? Beverly. Only Beverly. And run out of booze and stop smoking and help with the youth group and attend church and go to the church alone at night to pray for strength and courage and faith and still believe she couldn't believe? Beverly. Beverly the scared and confused and lonely. So why wouldn't she just marry him and not be alone anymore and let him help her with all the other stuff? Because, Joe, that would make too much sense.
“Come on, Beverly, that's enough bathing. We have to talk.”
No answer.
“Beverly?”
Nothing.
“Beverly, open this door. Right now. I mean it!”
No response.
No, God, no, she isn't that scared. Oh, God, please let her be okay. Okay, I'm begging now, please don't let Beverly be that stupid. Just this once. Please!
Joe, who was not given to panic, gave in to panic. He had had a very rough day. He jiggled the doorknob frantically and then started throwing himself against the bathroom door until the latch gave out and he went crashing into the sink. He was trying to remember how to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, when he saw Beverly trying to cover her breasts with the washcloth.