Mother To Be

by Cheryl Reavis

  She would, of course, because she knew him now. Intimately. She knew that everything she'd always suspected about him was true; that for all his taciturn nature, he was a complex and intriguing man. And she knew that she cared more for him than she would ever let him know. She had promised him no complications, and she meant to keep that promise. She would not delude herself into thinking that there was anything between them except an intense physical need. She knew firsthand how much he hadn't wanted lo give in to it. He had loved his wife, and his vulnerability after her death was the only reason he'd ever become involved with Lillian Singer. She could see that, if he couldn't.

  Surprisingly, she was in a much improved frame of mind the latter part of the week. She had a productive meeting With Stuart on Thursday morning. He seemed to be feeling bitter, and for once he was satisfied with her advice regarding the disposition of certain stocks. She even managed to get all the way through to the lunch hour with only one mild episode of nausea. In the afternoon, she went off confidently to the municipal court building for a repeatedly postponed case – a teenage girl who couldn't seem to keep from speeding, sideswiping parked cars and rear-ending other drivers. Her father was already paying a fortune in car insurance to keep her on the road – for reasons that totally escaped Lillian. It was her considered opinion that it would be far better to let the girl's driver's license be legally revoked than to let her continue to menace everybody who was even remotely in her path. But Lillian's job was not to reason why. Her job was to present the defense, and hopefully she was going to be able to do it this time because the case would finally be called and because it had been scheduled in the afternoon instead of in the middle of, her worst spells of morning nausea.

  The back wall of the courtroom was almost entirely glass, as was the far wall of the outer corridor. It was possible for anyone facing in that direction to see straight through the building to the out-of-doors as well as whoever might be standing or milling around in the hallway. She liked the openness of the design, but she'd always found it distracting that people who weren't actually in the courtroom were still able to watch the proceedings. It took a-great deal of effort on her part to ignore it, and she almost never looked to see how many kibitzers there were. ,

  But she did today, just as she stood to begin a nonexistent defense for this rich young girl who shouldn't be allowed even to ride a bicycle. She saw Becenti immediately. He was in uniform and official looking, standing near the outside windows, arms folded. She faltered when she recognized him, and it took her a moment to recover. She, eventually continued, but it was all she could do not to keep glancing over her shoulder. It wasn't a coincidence that he was out there. Of that she was certain. She recognized his purposeful look, and her only hope was that it had nothing to do with her.

  The case ended much as she'd expected – the girl and her father both lectured, a heavy fine, traffic school. Lillian had no choice now but to leave and no way out except past where Becenti was standing. She took her time gathering up papers and directing her client's father to where he would go to pay yet another fine, as if he didn't already know. But when she turned to leave, Becenti was no longer in the hallway. She didn't see him anywhere, even after she stepped outside.

  She didn't waste time trying to locate him. She walked briskly down the corridor. Apparently, he hadn't come to see her after all. She was both relieved and disappointed. As she approached the elevators, she looked through the glass wall to the sidewalk below. Becenti was standing near the street, talking to someone. Lillian moved closer to get a better view. He was talking to J.B. Greenleigh – no, he was listening to her. J.B. was telling him something in that earnest way she had. Lillian stood for a moment, watching. Becenti was about to walk away, but J.B. caught his arm. And whatever she said next made him stay.

  But, as much as Lillian might want to stay out of his way, she refused to hide in the courthouse. She hadn't seen or talked to J.B. since that fateful weekend J.B. had delegated herself Lillian's nurse. She felt sorry for the girl, but she had no wish to renew their acquaintance, either. It was much too exhausting. She had no doubt now that J.B. loved Stuart, and he was still insisting on "protecting" her. She wondered if Stuart had ever seen J. B. Greenleigh as strong as she was that night Lillian had tried to refuse her services as a post-head-injury baby-sitter.

  Lillian walked to the elevators and waited impatiently for the doors to open, finally giving up and taking the stairs. She didn't see Becenti or J.B. as she came out of the building, but she took time to visually search the area around her before she went to the car.

  No Becenti.

  "Looking for me?" he asked mildly as she opened her car door.

  She jumped violently, nearly dropping her briefcase.

  "Where did you come from?" she said, more than a little annoyed that he'd managed to sneak up on her.

  "From right over there," he answered, indicating a shady spot that would give him a perfect vantage point to see anyone who approached her parking space. "So, are you looking for me or not?"

  "You, Johnny Becenti, are a very arrogant man," she said, trying to pull the door open. He put his hand on it to stop her.

  "You, Lillian Singer, are evading the question."

  "I'm a lawyer," she said, forcing herself to look at him. "What do you expect?"

  "Not much," he said. "Lawyer or not."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "It means I want us to talk."

  "No," she said, pulling the car door open in spite of his hand.

  "You have to let me say what I want to say, Lillian."

  She looked at him. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she didn't have to do anything, but she didn't. She was so tired suddenly. She didn't have the energy for this now.

  "Goodbye, Johnny," she said, again moving to get into the car.

  "What am I going to have to do, Lillian? Make an appointment? Or are you just going to send me something official on your letterhead? You'd have to type it yourself, though. You can't have everybody knowing you're pregnant and there's a remote possibility I just might be the father."

  "What?" she said, completely taken aback.

  "You heard me. Or maybe you're going to do like the white woman anthropologist did with your brother – just get rid of it and not tell me anything at all."

  "I don't – " She began the denial, the I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about, but she couldn't finish it. His remark about Lucas had wounded her to the quick. She didn't blame him for it, but it was all she could do not to cry. She took a deep breath and willed herself to stay in control. She had told him that she didn't lie, and she didn't. "Please," was all she could manage to say. "Please, Johnny."

  "We have to talk about this."

  "There's nothing to talk about. You don't have to worry about any – "

  "I don't have to worry?" he interrupted. "How the hell am I supposed to manage that?"

  She didn't say anything else, because several passersby had turned to stare.

  "I have to go," she said. "Take yourself back to Window Rock, Johnny. Where you belong."

  She left him standing there, and she managed not to cry at all on the way home. And she might have maintained her hard-won control – if J. B. Greenleigh's little black car hadn't been parked in her driveway.

  "I can't do this," she said out loud.

  J.B. was already out of the car and walking toward her. It was all Lillian could do to keep from backing down the drive and making a run for it.

  "Deal with it," she said under her breath. "Do what you've always done. Deal with it!"

  J.B. stopped and stood waiting.

  "Is it true?" she asked the minute Lillian opened the car door.

  Lillian didn't bother to answer. She walked briskly toward the front door. J.B. followed right on her heels.

  "Someone told me you were having morning sickness," J.B. said loudly. "Are you?"

  "What have you been doing – going around interrogating the
janitorial staff at the courthouse?" Lillian asked, because they were the only people who had ever seen her at her worst.

  "Only if I have to," J.B. said.

  "You don't have to."

  "I do if I'm going to find out the truth. Have you been having morning sickness or not? Answer me!"

  "Yes!" Lillian said.

  "It's Stuart's baby, isn't it?" J.B. asked, her voice trembling.

  "I am going to tell you this one more time," Lillian said. "And if you ever ask me again, I'm going to slap you silly. Stuart and I are not lovers!"

  "Then what are you doing pregnant!"

  "That is a very good question – one I have no desire to answer. Now, please. Go away. I'm really not up to this at all – "

  They both looked around at the sound of another car – a Navajo Tribal Police vehicle.

  "Oh, no," Lillian said. She began to scrounge in her purse for her ever-elusive house key.

  "It's Captain Becenti," J.B. said helpfully.

  Lillian gave her a look, but she made no comment.

  "Lillian?" J.B. said.

  "What!"

  "I wasn't – I didn't go asking around about you. This guy I know at the newspaper. He used to go elk hunting with my father. He told me that Stuart might be in some big trouble, but that's all he'd say. I thought if anybody would know the details, you would, so I went to your office – but Gracie said you had to go to municipal court again today. So I went there and I was looking up and down the halls for you, and this maid or whatever – she asked if she could help me. I said I was looking for you. She said you might be in the bathroom because you had morning sickness really bad, and sometimes it doesn't just happen in the morning. So I thought you and Stuart – Well, I guess you know what I thought."

  "J.B., why in this world did you have to tell Becenti?" Lillian asked, her eyes on him as he got out of the car. He didn't look as upset now. He looked absolutely grim. And why didn't he immediately think exactly what J.B. thought – that Stuart Dennison was the baby's father?

  “He asked me how I was doing," J.B said, her voice trembling again. "And I...wasn't doing so good right then, I guess. He's a very kind man and – Oh, Lillian, I just said it I didn't think. He didn't know anything about it, did he'"

  "No. J.B. He didn't."

  “Is he – ? He's not the – Oh, Lillian! Maybe I'd better go."

  "That would be good, J.B."

  "You don't have to worry. He's going to be glad about it. I think he's going to be really glad."

  "Does he look glad to you?" Lillian asked her as Becenti stepped up on the porch.

  "I'd better go," J.B. said again instead of answering. "What about Stuart? Is he in trouble?"

  "Go see him," Lillian said. "And don't take no for an answer."

  "Do you really think – ?"

  "Go on!" Lillian said. "Now!"

  She took a deep breath and waited until J.B. had scurried down the steps past Becenti to her car. Then and only then did Lillian look at him.

  "I'm running on empty," she said.

  The remark was as close as Lillian Singer could come to admitting any kind of weakness. He knew that, because he knew her and because he was the exact same way himself. Left to their own devices, both of them would suffer alone. The anger he felt left him. He took her purse out of her hand and began looking for her misplaced key.

  "Why can't you put it on the same ring with your car keys?" he asked, as if that were the reason he'd come – to chastise her about keeping up with her keys.

  "Because if somebody steals my car, they get the house as a bonus."

  "And if they steal your purse?"

  "Then maybe they don't get the car."

  "Logic by Lillian," he said, finally locating the key. He gave her back her purse and unlocked the door.

  "Don't start with me, Becenti. I mean it."

  "You haven't seen anything yet," he said. He pushed open the door for her to go inside. It wouldn't have surprised him if she'd slammed it shut behind her and locked it again, but she didn't. She dropped her briefcase on the easy chair in passing and headed for the bedroom.

  "I'm going to take a shower," she said tonelessly.

  "Are you hungry?" he asked.

  She looked at him if she'd never heard of the concept.

  "Yes," she said finally. "I don't know what's in the refrigerator. Fruit and cheese, maybe."

  Fruit and cheese he could handle. He went into the kitchen, and after a few moments he heard the water in the shower running. He found some oranges and seedless grapes in the refrigerator, and some kind of gourmet cheese, and he began to put together a meal of sorts for her.

  Lillian, what are we going to do about this? he thought as he worked.

  But the real question was, what was she going to do? He had to know, and he wasn't leaving until she told him. He had started out this day just wanting to see her, to talk to her, because he was worried about her. He had come to Santa Fe just for that purpose, even if it meant having her tell him again that their time together had been meaningless. He had never in his wildest dreams expected that the "nothing" relationship she'd insisted they had, might turn out to be "something" after all.

  A child. Possibly his child. He had loved Mae with all his heart, and while she was alive, the fact that they had never had children hadn't really mattered. But now, now –

  "Go ahead," Lillian said behind him. "Ask the question." She had put on jeans and a baggy T-shirt, and her hair was wet from her shower. He could smell the soap she'd used, and the scent of it immediately brought back a memory he'd been trying so hard to forget – the two of them bathing together in a tub of hot, soapy water. Afterward, they'd made love, long and slow and consuming. He wondered if that could have been when she'd conceived die child.

  And looking at her now, he thought that she was indeed "running on empty."

  "What question?" he asked. He gathered up the orange peelings and put them in the garbage.

  "You know what question. 'Is it mine?'"

  He looked around at her. "Is it?" He wanted to hear her say once and for all that he was the baby's father, and any doubts, any questions he had about it, he would try to put to test later.

  She waited a long time to answer. He could see her struggling to maintain her control. She had forced him to ask, and he had. But she still hated what must seem to her his total inability to believe she was a decent and honorable person.

  "The baby is yours," she said finally.

  He wanted to believe her. He didn't want to badger her. He did believe her. How could he not?

  I never lie, Johnny.

  If she was ever going to start, now was the time. Stuart Dennison had money, a big house in Santa Fe and a country club membership. He, on the other hand, lived and worked on the reservation.

  He handed her a plate of fruit and cheese, and some crackers. "Eat something. Then we'll talk."

  "I don't want to talk. There's nothing to talk about. I'm pregnant. You're the lucky father. End of discussion."

  "Don't be so damned flippant about this!"

  "I'm not," she said. "It's a very serious matter. For me.”

  He ignored the sarcasm. "You weren't going to tell me, were you?"

  "Of course, I was going to tell you."

  "Only because J.B. upset your plans. You had plenty of chances the other night at Lucas's. Why didn't you tell me then?"

  "I didn't want to."

  "You didn't want to? Lillian – " He gave a sharp sigh. "So what do you expect me to do now?"

  "Nothing."

  "I'm not going to go away and pretend it's not happening. You know that, don't you?"

  She sighed instead of answering. She sat down at the kitchen table, but she made no attempt to eat anything.

  "What are you going to do, Lillian?"

  "I'm going to stay right here. You, on the other hand, are going back to Window Rock."

  "What about the baby?"

  "What about it?"

  "You'
re going to keep it?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you been to a doctor? Are you all right?"

  "Yes. And yes," she said. "I'm twice as old as some of his other obstetrical patients, but the consensus of opinion among the members of the practice is that I'm doing fine."

  "What about the morning sickness?"

  "It comes and goes. Actually, my doctor says it's one symptom he's glad to see. It means there's an adequate hormone level. He says, in his experience, morning sickness is a good sign that the pregnancy will go to term – barring some other complication, of course."

  "You haven't told your family," he said. It wasn't quite a question.

  "No," she said.

  "I didn't think so. Lucas hasn't punched me in the nose."

  She almost smiled.

  "Nobody knows about us except Toomey," she said. "Or do they?"

  "I think Mary Skeets knows. And probably Winston Tsosie. I think you'd better tell Dolly and the rest of them before somebody else does. You don't want her to hear about it secondhand."

  "Who is going to tell them? You?"

  "If I have to."

  She sighed again, then picked up a piece of cheese and put it down again.

  "Lillian," he said to make her look at him.

  "What?"

  "Maybe we should get married."

  "No," she said. No thinking it over. No hesitation whatsoever. Just no.

  "Why not?"

  "Because you think you have to do the right thing. You don't mean it."

  "Don't tell me what I mean."

  "Okay, then. Because I won't live on the rez and you won't leave it. Because we have nothing to build a marriage on. Because you and I have absolutely nothing in common."

  "Except a baby. And the law. And the People – "

  "We don't even like each other!" she said.

  "Don't we?" he asked quietly.

  "No," she said, her voice barely a whisper. She sat there, so still, her face turned away from him.

  "I think we could make it work," he said, and she abruptly looked at him.

  "I want you to go, Johnny."

  "Lillian – "

  "Please. It's not your problem – "

  "It's not a problem at all, damn it! Not to me – "