Tempted

by Robyn Carr

  “What is it you're doing?” she asked.

  “I was going to save your life.” He sighed, sitting down on the toilet seat beside the tub. “Why didn't you answer me?”

  “I didn't want to.” Not scared or suicidal, just stubborn and downright bitchy at times.

  “You're a real pain in the ass, Beverly.”

  Sniff. Sniff. “So are you.”

  Joe put a foot on the edge of the tub and leaned an elbow on his raised knee. He wondered if God was holding his sides by now.

  “Okay, Beverly, level with me for once and tell me what you're scared of. Give it to me straight.”

  “You wouldn't understand.”

  “Why don't you try me?”

  “Okay. It's bad enough when something unexpected screws up your life. But if I have the chance to protect myself and the boys, I'm going to do it. I couldn't bear it if we got married and it failed. It would hurt the boys too. It would be the end.”

  “I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “Yep. But I don't understand why you think I'm so naive. I think if we're both scared that it might not work, but we love each other a lot, we'll make it work. Most of it already works. And I think you'd make a damn good minister's wife, because you're not spiritual, boring, or dull. I wouldn't drag you out to California just to break your heart. Besides, I wouldn't get mixed up with any church that turned people away, preacher's wives or regular heathens, and I think you already know that. And risk hurting the boys? You know I wouldn't.”

  “And what if I get used to loving you and fighting with you and sleeping with you, and then you die on me or something? I'll be in a padded cell for the rest of my life.”

  “Better to never love than to love and suffer loss? What are you going to do? You're close to a padded cell right now, going it alone. Look at yourself. You're a wreck.”

  “I'm not going to stay alone forever. Only until I can face the risk again.”

  “Look, it hurts when you think you're calling all the shots and some disaster comes along and screws everything up. Beverly, you're going to have to deal with it.”

  “I'm too scared.”

  “Well, tough, so am I. If I let myself think I might lose you and the boys, I don't know if I could live through it either. And what about the boys? If something happened to you, where would they be? Wouldn't you want them to be with me?”

  “You'd just be stuck again.”

  “Oh, knock it off, Beverly, you know I love them as much as I love you. You can't fool me, you know it.”

  “How am I going to get over this fear?”

  “A little bit at a time.”

  “With you?”

  “I can't think it would be better alone.”

  “Well, you might think you want to have a baby, but—”

  “Beverly, if you do anything to that baby, something inside of me is going to die. How am I going to get over that fear?”

  “I don't think I could have gone through with it. I get a little irrational when I'm pregnant.”

  “So I've noticed.”

  “Well, it's no picnic living with a pregnant woman. And I'm not sure I'll be at all happy with a man who would give up his entire lifelong dream just to stick it out with the widow he knocked up. I bet you were planning a Christian home for unwed mothers, weren't you?”

  “I wrote the letter. I didn't exactly mail it.”

  “Joseph! Isn't that kind of sneakiness a sin or something?”

  “Are you going to marry me?”

  “Are you going to make a pest out of yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I don't think your little congregation is going to be very impressed with me as a preacher's wife, but it's your funeral.” She smiled sheepishly. “I couldn't have done it, you know.”

  “What?”

  “The abortion. That was probably one of my tough acts. And I might have told you to go without me, but if you had—”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “Great. Get out of the tub. You're starting to pucker.”

  “I better get dressed. John will be bringing the boys home pretty soon.”

  “Uh-uh, he'll call first, to make sure we have things settled here. He'd keep them for a month if it took that long. But it won't.”

  “What?”

  “I want to practice the consummation. Come on.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Beverly was often emotional, and when she was pregnant she was emotional all the time. She wouldn't have a church wedding and she was decided about that. A civil ceremony at her mother's house was as much as she would agree to, and she said when she was sure about the God thing she would say the vows with Joe in his own church; his Santa Monita Church.

  That was Beverly. She wouldn't give in, but she said “when” not “if” and so Joe just smiled and said okay. He wasn't as dumb as she thought.

  Beverly was as nervous as a cat all the way to California. She worried about everything. “So what are you going to tell the people if they ask when we got married?”

  “Last summer. We're newlyweds.”

  “Swell.”

  “Beverly, they won't ask how new. Relax.”

  “So what are you going to say if they ask you when and how you asked me to marry you? Are you going to say, 'Well, she was in the bathtub and I was sitting on the toilet,' huh?”

  The people at Santa Monita didn't ask any of those questions. They liked Beverly. They accepted her honesty, her humor, and even her doubts. Beverly just couldn't keep her mouth shut. But she loosened things up a lot and told them she didn't think a church should be boring or dull. She found out there were plenty of people with doubts of their own. Of course, they all loved Joe. Who wouldn't?

  And Beverly learned something about people who struggled with their faith. It was very disconcerting to think of yourself as the only person who wasn't sure, but Joe, in one of his very first sermons, said that those who knew everything, who had no questions of their own, had no more mortal work to do. Unless, maybe in their perfection, their mortal work was to tolerate the questions of others and help them find their way. But he wasn't one of those, he said. He still had a lot of work to do. Leave it to Joe to say, diplomatically, that doubts and fears were little more than mortal work, or else go ahead to heaven. And he proved it by being wild about his wife, who considered herself a mess.

  She might not be holy enough to be a minister's wife, but she certainly was pregnant enough, Bev thought. The time flew and she blossomed in her pregnancy and was very busy with her new husband and her new friends. And the boys thrived. They started to sound more like Joe every day.

  The nice thing about being the chief reverend is not the pay, but that there is always a doctor or dentist or veterinarian in the congregation. There happened to be a friendly neighborhood ob-gyn whom Beverly liked almost as much as she did Carl. Except that he wouldn't put up with as much as Carl. Tom was tough and strict.

  He said warm and understanding things like: “I don't care if you're trying to cut out the salt, you are obviously not trying hard enough. Now, would you like to go home and start really trying, or would you like to try hospital food?”

  “Don't get ugly, Tom. Be nice now or I'll call the preacher in here to straighten you out.”

  “Call him. He had his chance last Sunday.”

  “Are you saying the reverend hasn't reached you?”

  “He reached you and that's all I care about. He gets to put it in there and I have to take it out. And you're not making my job any easier.”

  Why did Beverly get herself mixed up with crabby obstetricians? Because she was wild about them. Because she was sassy and liked a good fight better than anything. If she could ever get her spirit straightened out, she would probably do some good fighting for the cause. But until then she would just fight with Tom, every week now. Beverly was ready to pop.

  Bev's first really good friend was Val, the crabby ob's wife.
Val wasn't any more secure than Bev, so they talked over lunch, over coffee, and, occasionally, though more rarely due to pregnancy, over a drink. The medicinal kind, scotch.

  “Is Tom sure?” Bev asked.

  “Yep. He says in his business the only thing he's sure of is that there is a God.”

  While Beverly doubted, she learned from Joe because he talked to her and never made her feel foolish. She did think it was kind of silly that the minister claimed to be learning right along with her. He should have a better handle on things. But she couldn't help falling more deeply in love with him. Deeper and stronger than she ever thought she could.

  There was one night when Joe was feeling the baby move that he asked her if she would tell him some things about Bob. She couldn't understand why he would be interested. She thought he would want her to forget. It seemed he might get jealous hearing about this perfect, superhuman man whom she had adored.

  “Jealous? I don't think you should try so hard to forget him. I mean, I think I should know a few things so when I talk to the boys, we can talk about their dad. Wouldn't it be great if Mark had inherited some special talent, like a good pitching arm, that was from Bob? I'd hate to think they'd forget him, even though they were pretty young. We can keep him alive a little. I think a father is a really good thing. I think if you could have two, you should.”

  Beverly found him remarkable. More together than any other man she had ever known. Tender, loving, warm, patient, sensible, and logical. Until the night the baby came.

  “This has been hell for you, hasn't it, Joe? Admit it, you hate pregnant women.”

  “I love pregnant women. Come here.”

  “Why should I 'go there'? I can't do anything. Didn't Tom tell you I can't do anything? This baby is due, really due. I feel like shi—”

  “Beverly! Not in front of your stomach!”

  “I do. And my back hurts and my feet are as big as yours, and I have to go to the bathroom every two minutes. Look at me. I'm a mess.”

  “You're beautiful. Come here. I want to feel your belly. Now, could this big belly be anything but a miracle.”

  “It's a biologically natural thing.”

  “Yeah, sure, and we're all glad you didn't work out all the details; you're not nearly original enough. I'll rub your back if you'd like.”

  “No, I feel awful.”

  “You're okay, aren't you, baby? I mean, I know you're uncomfortable, but you're—”

  “No,” she snapped. “Ohhhhhhh,” she groaned. She had been having little ones all day, but that was the first really good contraction. “Oh! Jeez!”

  “What? What? Beverly! What?”

  “Oh, calm down. Didn't you learn anything in those classes? Don't panic. I'm in labor.”

  Joe wasn't one to panic, only when he thought Beverly was going to kill herself or have a baby. He called Tom right away. Tom said, “That's nice,” when he heard that Beverly had had one whole contraction. What kind of a doctor says something like that? One with a lot of experience, that's what kind.

  Tom was cool. He said to relax and call him when the pains were five minutes apart. Then they would all meet at the hospital. There was plenty of time.

  But it was nighttime. That happened occasionally. Every single day in fact. Joe would have to call somebody to stay with the boys and he would have to get Beverly into the car. What if the baby came in the car and it was dark? He would hurry up and pray, but first he would have a drink.

  “Oh, no, you don't. I'm not going anywhere with you if you have a drink. You know you can't hold your liquor. Now, shape up or I'll have this baby on the couch.”

  “Aren't you in pain or something?”

  “I'm going to be in a minute. Now, are you going to get your act together or do I call Tom and have him send Val over?”

  “I'm a little nervous.”

  “I could tell. I'm very perceptive. I don't want to have to drive myself to the hospital. Are you going to be the coach, or are you already out?”

  He got it together. Men. You'd think having a baby was some kind of sideshow.

  “Okay, breathe… two... three… doing great. Relax a little more and don't tighten up.”

  “Very good, Joseph. Now, stay cool because this is something I like to take my time with, all right? And it's going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”

  “Okay, fine. Let's go now.”

  “No, it's too soon. I'd like a cup of coffee.”

  Oh, boy, Joe had heard all those stories about women who didn't think it was going to happen fast and they stopped for coffee and had their babies in diners. No diner or taxicab or subway birth for him. No sir.

  “Beverly, I'm begging, okay? I'm not very good at this kind of thing and I want to go to a place where there are all kinds of doctors and nurses hanging around. Please? Please, Beverly? I might never have another baby and I really don't want to screw this up. Please?”

  It was going to be a long night because the baby didn't care that Joe was in a hurry. It was going to take its old sweet time. And Tom wasn't going to come to the hospital until he had to, because Tom was smart. Joe wasn't. He was going to call Tom every few minutes to report their progress. Until Tom warned him, very nicely, that if he called again, he would leave that baby in there forever. Tom knew how to shut Joe up.

  Bright-eyed and well-rested, Tom strolled into the labor room the next morning. “Well, how are we doing?”

  “Oh, shut up,” in unison, no less.

  “Long night? Well, let's have a look here. Ah-ha. Doing fine. Just fine. Shouldn't be too much longer.”

  “I've been in labor forever. Whoever heard of such a thing for a third labor. What in the world is wrong with this baby? I've had it. I... oh... OH... ohhhhhhhh...”

  “Okay, honey, just relax, breathe, and go with it, don't fight it now... one... two...” The voice of Joe. Low and firm. Loving. The pulpit voice. There was another voice in a labor room once. Not such a perfect pulpit voice, but just as loving. Some women don't even get one and I get two? So how come, God? Just why?

  “Okay, honey, we're going to the delivery room and you can start to push when Tom is ready.”

  “Are you coming with me, Joe?”

  He wouldn't miss it for the world. He had been waiting his whole life for this. And he was praying, of all things. Out loud. He was using absolutely no discretion and praying out loud in front of the nurses. Tom wasn't praying; he was snipping. “Ready to push?”

  “No.”

  “You want to be pregnant forever?”

  “I'll be ready in a minute. I don't have to right now. I'll push when I have to.”

  “I'm ready when you are,” said the catcher.

  “Boy, am I ready,” said Joe.

  Beverly pushed once. Noble effort. She gave a second, a good hard one, and delivered the baby's head. Joe was all but climbing over her to see the baby's head. He was wild, begging them to hurry. She would have laughed at him, but the urge came and she let them have it.

  “Here you go, Preach,” Tom said. “Looks like a little girl. Nope, not little. Fat, as a matter of fact. Good for you, Bev.”

  Beverly looked up into the face of her husband. “God,” he whispered.

  Joe had real honest tears. Overwhelmed tears. “I never did anything in my whole stupid life to deserve this. Oh, Bev, I love you so much. Oh, Lord, thank You, thank You, thank You. Beverly, thank you. You've made me the happiest man in the whole world. I was praying for a baby girl before we were even married.”

  “Well, that explains a lot! You idiot! What were you doing praying for a baby then? With all the influence you have? From now on you will check all your prayers with me before you pray them, do you hear? Who knows what you'll ask for next.”

  “I love you. I'm so happy. The boys will love her.”

  “You really are crying, aren't you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  “I'm so happy. Aren't you happy, Bev?”

  No, very
sad, as a matter of fact. It sounded like another voice in a delivery room once, first with Mark, then with Chuckie. She couldn't block him out; he came right in. He was thrilled and in love, too, acting like Beverly was some kind of miracle herself. “Yes, Joe, very happy.” So what's a little lie? You didn't want to rain on the man's parade, now, did you?

  Beverly was very quiet. No one really noticed, least of all Joe. He was busy going crazy over the baby and Tom was putting in stitches. You were tired after having a baby, so you could be quiet too.

  Beverly was quiet the next day and the day after. Having a baby could do that to a woman, shut her up for once. She could hold the new little life, if she could get her away from Joe, and nurse the baby at her breast. Quiet time. A good time to think and feel. Time to contemplate love and life and miracles… and memories.

  Joe liked to watch her nurse the baby. He wished he could nurse the baby. She had never heard anything so ridiculous in her life—except when Bob had said the very same thing.

  Joe simmered down from wild excitement to a sort of plain brilliance. He was in love. He wanted to know if they could name the baby Allison May, in memory of his sister. She said maybe they could if he would promise not to call her “Al.” He wasn't sure he could promise, because the boys were already calling her that. They were already crazy about her too.

  Joe allowed Beverly to be quiet without worrying about her. He had a long talk with a really good Friend. He knew what was happening to Beverly; he hoped she wasn't going to change. He liked her sassy; he liked her irreverent. Beverly was made a certain way for a certain reason, and he loved her so much. He told his Friend, his Father, and asked if Beverly wasn't pretty terrific? Then he waited very patiently for an answer that he didn't quite need. He had never felt so good, so sure, in all his life. Those kind of answers were perfectly acceptable. Joe was not the burning-bush type.