The Gift

Chapter Three

The convent of the Sisters of Charity was a cavernous, dark, gloomy place, and Maribeth discovered very quickly that there were two other girls there for exactly the same reason. Both were from neighboring towns, and she was relieved to realize that she didn't know them. Both were almost ready to give birth, and in fact one of them, a nervous girl of seventeen, had her baby on Maribeth's second day there. She had a little girl, and the baby was quickly spirited away to waiting adoptive parents. The girl never even saw her baby. And to Maribeth, the entire process seemed barbaric, as if their secret was dirty and had to be hidden.

The other girl was fifteen, and she was expecting her baby to be born at any moment. The two girls ate their meals with the nuns, went to the chapel with them for prayers and vespers, and were only allowed to speak at certain times and hours. And Maribeth was shocked to discover on her third night that the other girl's baby had been fathered by her uncle. She was a desperately unhappy girl, and she was terrified of what lay ahead of her in childbirth.

On Maribeth's fifth night in the convent, she could hear the other girl's screams. They went on for two days as the nuns scurried everywhere, and at last she was taken to a hospital and delivered by cesarean section. Maribeth was told, when she inquired, that the girl would not come back again, but the baby had been born safely, and she learned only by coincidence that it was a little boy. It was even lonelier for her once both of the other girls were gone, and Maribeth was alone with the sisters. She hoped that other sinners would arrive soon, or she would have no one to talk to.

She read the local newspaper whenever she could, and two weeks after she'd arrived she saw the notice of Paul and Debbie's wedding. It made her feel even lonelier, just seeing that, knowing they were on their honeymoon, and she was here in prison, paying her dues for one night in the front seat of his Chevy. It seemed desperately unfair that she should bear the brunt alone, and the more she thought of it, the more she knew that she couldn't stay at the convent.

She had nowhere to go, and no one to be with. But she couldn't bear the oppressive sanctity of the convent. The nuns had been pleasant to her, and she had already paid them a hundred dollars. She had seven hundred dollars left, and almost six months to be wherever she went. She had no idea where to go, but she knew she couldn't stay locked up with them, waiting for other prisoners like her to arrive, for the months to pass, for her baby to be born, and then taken away from her, before she could go home to her parents. Being there was too high a price to pay. She wanted to go somewhere, live like a real person, get a job, have friends. She needed fresh air, and voices, and noise, and people. Here, all she felt was constant oppression, and the overwhelming sense that she was an unredeemable sinner. And even if she was, she needed a little sunshine and joy in her life while she waited for the baby. She didn't know why this had happened to her, but perhaps there was a lesson to learn, a blessing to be shared, a moment in time that need not be wasted. It didn't have to be as terrible as the nuns made it, and she told the Mother Superior the following afternoon that she would be leaving. She said she was going to visit her aunt and hoped that she believed her. But even if she didn't, Maribeth knew that nothing could stop her now, she was leaving.

She walked out of the convent at dawn the next day, with her money, and her small bag, and an overwhelming feeling of freedom. She couldn't go home, but the world was her own, to discover, to explore. She had never felt as free or as strong. She had already been through enormous pain when she left home, and now it was only a matter of finding a place to stay until the baby was born. She knew it would be easier if she left town, so she walked to the bus station and bought an open-ended ticket to Chicago. She had to go through Omaha, but Chicago was the farthest point she could imagine, and she could refund the rest of the ticket anywhere along the way. All she wanted to do was leave, and find a place for herself for the next six months until she had her baby. She waited at the bus station until the first bus to Chicago began to board. And as she watched her hometown slip away, when it left, she felt no regrets. All she felt suddenly was excitement about the future. The past held little for her, just like her hometown. She had no friends there. There was no one she would miss except her mother and her sister. She had written them each a postcard from the bus station, before she left, promising to give them an address as soon as she had one.

“Going to Chicago, miss?” the driver asked, as she sat down, feeling suddenly grown up, and very independent.

“Maybe,” she said with a smile. She could go anywhere, and do anything. She was free. She answered to no one now, except herself, fettered only by the baby growing inside her. She was three and a half months pregnant now, and nothing showed, but she could feel her body growing. She began thinking about what she would tell people wherever she arrived. She'd have to explain how she got there, and why she'd come, and why she was alone, once they discovered she was pregnant. She would have to get a job. There wasn't much she could do. But she could clean house, work in a library, baby-sit, maybe work as a waitress. She was willing to do almost anything as long as she was safe. And until she found a job, she still had the money her father had given her for the convent.

They stopped in Omaha that afternoon. It was hot, but there was a slight breeze, and she felt a little sick from the long ride on the bus, but she felt better after she ate a sandwich. Other people got on and off, and most of them seemed to ride from one town to the next. She had been on the longest when they stopped that night in a picturesque little town that looked clean and pretty. It was a college town, and there were lots of young people in the restaurant where they stopped for dinner. It reminded Maribeth a little bit of a diner, but it was nicer than that, and the woman who waited on her had a dark well-tended pageboy, and a big smile as she served Maribeth a cheeseburger and a milkshake. The hamburger was great, and the check was small, and there seemed to be a lot of laughter and good spirits coming from several of the other tables. It seemed like a happy place, and Maribeth was reluctant to leave and go back to the bus, but they were riding straight through en route to Chicago. As she left the restaurant, she saw it. A small sign in the window offering work to waitresses and bus-boys. She looked at it for a minute, and then walked slowly back, wondering if they'd think she was crazy, or if they'd believe whatever story she invented.

The same waitress who had waited on her looked up at her with a smile, wondering if she'd forgotten something. Maribeth seemed to be hesitating as she stood there and waited.

“I was wondering if … I … I saw the sign … I was wondering about the job. I mean …”

“You mean you want work,” the other woman smiled. “No shame in that. It pays two dollars an hour. Six days a week, ten-hour days. We kind of rotate our schedules, so we get a little time home with our kids. You married?”

“No …I …yes …well, I was. I'm a widow. My husband was killed in …Korea …”

“I'm sorry.” She genuinely seemed to mean it, as she watched Maribeth's eyes. She could see that the girl really wanted the job, and she liked her. She looked awfully young, but there was no harm in that, so were a lot of their patrons.

“Thank you …who do I talk to about the job?”

“Me. You got any experience?” Maribeth hesitated, toying with a lie, and then she shook her head, wondering if she should tell her about the baby.

“I really need the job.” Her hands were shaking as she held her handbag, hoping she would get it. Suddenly she wanted to stay here. It felt like a happy place, a lively town, and she liked it.

“Where do you live?”

“Nowhere yet.” She smiled, looking very young, and it tugged at the other woman's heart. “I just came through on the bus. If you want me, I'll get my bag and find a room. I could start tomorrow.” The other woman smiled. Her name was Julie, and she liked Maribeth's looks. There was something strong and quiet about the girl, as though she had principles and courage. It was an odd thing to guess about her, and yet she had a good feeling about her.

“Go get your bag off the bus,” Julie said with a warm smile, “you can stay with me tonight. My son's visiting my mom in Duluth. You can have his room, if you can stand the mess. He's fourteen and a real slob. My daughter's twelve. I'm divorced. How old are you?” she asked, almost all in one breath, and Maribeth spoke over her shoulder, and told her she was eighteen, as she ran to get her bag off the bus, and came back only two minutes later, breathless and smiling.

“You're sure it's not too much trouble if I spend the night with you?” She was excited and happy.

“Not at all.” Julie grinned as she tossed her an apron. “Here, get to work. You can bus tables with me till I knock off at midnight.” It was only an hour and a half away, but it was exhausting work, carrying the big trays, and heavy pitchers. Maribeth couldn't believe how tired she was when they closed up. There were four other women working there, and some young boys, mostly high school kids, busing tables. Most of the boys were about Maribeth's age, and the women were in their thirties and forties. They said the owner had had a heart attack and only came in mornings and some afternoons now. But he ran a tight ship, and his son did most of the cooking. Julie said she had gone out with him a few times, and he was a nice guy, but nothing much had ever come of it. She had too much responsibility in her life to have much interest or time for romance. She had two kids, and her ex-husband was five years late with his child support. She said it took every penny she had to keep her kids in shoes, pay their doctor bills, and keep their teeth from falling out of their heads, not to mention all the other things they wanted or needed.

“Bringing up kids on your own is no joke,” she said seriously as she drove Maribeth home with her. “They ought to explain that to you real well before you get divorced. Kids aren't made to have alone, let me tell you. You get a headache, you get sick, you're tired, no one cares, you're all they've got. It all ends up on your shoulders. I don't have family here …the girls at the restaurant are real nice about helping me out. They baby-sit, they let me drop the kids off if I have a big date. One of the guys, Martha's husband, he takes my boy out to fish every chance he gets. That kind of stuff means a lot. You can't do it all alone. God knows I try. Sometimes I think it's gonna kill me.”

Maribeth was listening carefully, and the wisdom of Julie's words wasn't lost on her. Once again, she found herself wanting to tell Julie about the baby, but she didn't.

“Too bad you and your husband didn't have kids,” Julie said gently, as if she were reading her thoughts. “But you're young. You'll get married again. How old were you when you got married anyway?”

“Seventeen. Right out of high school. We were only married a year.”

“That's real bad luck, honey.” She patted the young girl's hand and parked her car in the driveway. She lived in a small apartment in the rear, and her little girl was sound asleep when Julie let them in. “I hate leaving her alone, and usually her brother is here. The neighbors listen for her, and she's real independent. She comes to the restaurant with me sometimes too, if I really get stuck. But they don't like it.” It was a good view of what it was like to take care of kids alone, and she didn't make it sound easy. She'd been alone for ten years, ever since the kids were two and four, and she'd moved around a bit, but she liked it here and she thought Maribeth would too. “It's a nice little town, lots of decent kids, and good people working at the college. We see a lot of them at Jimmy D's, and lots of kids. They're gonna love you.”

She showed Maribeth where the bathroom was, and her son's room. His name was Jeffrey and he was gone for two weeks. Julie said Maribeth could stay with them till she found a room. If need be, she'd have her daughter sleep with her once Jeff got back, and give her Jessica's room, but with all the student quarters available, she was sure she'd find something soon.

And she was right. By noon the next day, Maribeth had found an adorable little room in someone's house. It was all done in flowery pink chintzes, and it was a tiny room, but it was cozy and flooded with sunlight, and the price was reasonable. And it was only six blocks away from Jimmy D's, where she would be working. It felt as though everything was falling into place for her. She had only been in town for a few hours, but she felt happy here. It was as though she knew she was meant to be here.

She dropped her parents a postcard on the way to work, with her address, and as she did, she thought about Paul again, and knew there was no point thinking about him. She wondered for how much of her life she would think of him, wondering what he was doing, and where their child was.

At Jimmy D's that day, one of the other waitresses gave her a pink uniform with little white cuffs, and a clean white apron. And she started taking orders that afternoon. Lots of the guys seemed to look at her, and she knew the cook did too, but no one said anything they shouldn't. Everyone was friendly and polite, and she knew that all of the other women had whispered it around that she was a widow. They believed her too. It never occurred to any of them not to.

“How's it going, kid?” Julie asked late that afternoon, impressed with her. She had worked hard, and was pleasant to everyone, and it was easy to see that the customers liked her. A few of them asked her name, and some of the younger customers really seemed to enjoy her. And Jimmy liked her too. He had come in that day, and liked what he saw. She was smart, she was neat, and he could tell from looking at her, he said, that she was honest. She was pretty too, and he liked that in a restaurant. No one wanted to look at a sour old bag, who slammed the coffee down in front of the customers and didn't really want to be there. Jimmy wanted all his waitresses, young or old, to be smiling and happy. He wanted them to make people feel good. Like Julie and the others. And now Maribeth. She made a real effort, and she liked the job. She was thrilled to be there.

But Maribeth was exhausted when she walked home to her new room that night, reminding herself of how lucky she was to have found a job, and a room. Now she could go on with her life. She could even take books out from the library, and continue with her studies. She wasn't going to let this ruin her life. She had already decided that. These months were just a detour for her, but she was determined not to lose her way or her direction.

She was waiting on tables the next night, when a serious young man came in, and ordered meat loaf. Julie said he came in frequently for dinner.

“I don't know why' she said knowingly, “but I get the feeling he doesn't like to go home. He doesn't talk, he doesn't smile. But he's always polite. He's a nice kid. I always want to ask him what he's doing here, instead of going home to dinner. Maybe he has no mom. Something happened there. He's got the saddest eyes I've ever seen. Why don't you go wait on him and make his day.” She gave Maribeth a little push in his direction, down toward his end of the counter. He had only looked at the menu for a minute or two before deciding. He had already tried just about everything they had, and he had certain favorites he always liked to order.

“Hi. What would you like?” Maribeth asked shyly, as he glanced at her in covert admiration.

“The number two, thanks. Meat loaf and mashed potatoes.” He blushed. He liked her red hair and tried not to stare at her figure.

“Salad, corn, or spinach?” She remained noncommittal.

“Corn, thanks,” he said, eyeing her. He knew he hadn't seen her there before, and he came in often. He had dinner there three or four times a week, sometimes even on weekends. Their food was plentiful and good and cheap. And when his mother stopped cooking it was the only way he could get a decent dinner.

“Coffee?”

“No, milk. And apple pie a la mode for dessert,“ he said, as if he was afraid it might run out, and she smiled.

“How'do you know you'll have room? We serve pretty big portions.”

“I know,” he smiled back. “I eat here all the time. You're new, aren't you?” She nodded, feeling shy for the first time since she'd been there. He was a nice kid, and she suspected he was about her own age, and somehow she got the impression that he knew it.

“Yeah, I'm new. I just moved here.”

“What's your name?” He was very direct, and very honest. But Julie was right, there was something devastating in his eyes. It almost made you afraid to look there, except that you knew you had to. Something about him drew Maribeth to him. It was as though she had to see who he was and know more about him.

“My name's Maribeth.”

“I'm Tom. It's nice to meet you.”

“Thanks.” She went off to order his dinner for him then, and came back with his glass of milk. Julie had already teased her by then, and said he had never spoken as much to anyone since he'd been there.

“Where are you from?” he asked when she came back, and she told him. “What made you move here, or should I ask?”

“A lot of things. I like it here. The people are really nice. The restaurant's great. I found a real pretty little room near here. Everything just kind of worked out.” She smiled, and was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. And when she came back with his dinner, he seemed more interested in talking to her than eating.

He nibbled at his pie for a long time, and ordered another piece and another glass of milk, which he had never done before, and talked to her a lot about fly-fishing nearby and asked if she'd ever done it.

She had, a number of years before with her father and brother, but she'd never been very good at it. She liked just sitting there, while they fished, and reading or thinking.

“You could come with me sometime,” he said, and then blushed, wondering why he was talking to her so much. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her since he'd walked into the restaurant and first seen her.

He left her a big tip, and then stood awkwardly for a moment on his side of the counter. “Well, thanks for everything. See you again next time.” And then he walked out. She noticed how tall he was, and how lanky and thin. He was good-looking, but he didn't seem to know it. And he seemed very young. He seemed more like a brother than a boy she'd have been interested in, but whatever he was, or would be, or even if she never saw him again, he'd been nice to talk to.

He came in again the next day, and the day after that, and he was deeply disappointed to find that she had a day off and he missed her. And then he came back again after the weekend.

“I missed you last time' he said as he ordered fried chicken. He had a healthy appetite, and he always ordered a whole dinner. He seemed to spend most of his paper route money on food. He ate out a lot, and Maribeth wondered if he lived with his parents, and she finally asked him.

“Do you live alone?” she asked cautiously, as she set his meal down and refilled his glass of milk. She didn't write it on the check. They gave free coffee refills after all, it wouldn't break Jimmy to pay for a glass of milk for a regular patron like Tommy.

“Not really. I live with my parents. But …they …uh …everyone kind of does their own thing. And my mom doesn't like to cook anymore. She's going back to work this fall. She's a teacher. She's been subbing for a long time, but she's going back full-time at the high school.”

“What does she teach?”

“English, social studies, lit. She's pretty good. She's always giving me extra work to do,” he said, rolling his eyes, but he didn't really look as though he minded.

“You're lucky. I've had to take some time off from school, and I know I'm really going to miss it.”

“College or high school?” he asked with interest. He was still trying to peg her age. She seemed older than her years, and yet in some ways, he got the feeling she was closer to his own age. She hesitated for only a moment before answering.

“High school.” He figured she was probably a senior. “I'm going to be doing some work on my own, until I go back after Christmas.” She said it defensively, and he wondered why she had dropped out, but he decided not to ask her.

“I can lend you some books, if you want. I can even get some stuff from my mom, she'd love it. She thinks the whole world should be doing independent studies. Do you like school?” He could see from the look in her eyes that she was being honest with him when she nodded. There was a real hunger there, an appetite that was never completely sated. On her day off she had gone to the library to borrow books that would help her keep up with her own classes.

“What do you like best?” she asked, clearing his plates. He had ordered blueberry pie a la mode for dessert. It was the pie they did best, and he loved it.

“English,” he answered as she set his pie down, and felt her back ache. But she liked standing there talking to him. They always seemed to have so much to say to each other. “English lit, English comp. Sometimes I think I might like to write. My mom would probably like that. My dad expects me to go into the business.”

“What kind of business is that?” she asked, intrigued by him. He was a smart, good-looking kid, and yet he seemed so lonely. He never came in with friends, never seemed to want to go home. She wondered about him, and why he seemed so alone, and so lonely.

“He's in produce,” he explained. “My grandfather started it. They used to be farmers. But then they started selling produce from all over. It's pretty interesting, but I like writing better. I might like to teach, like my mom.” He shrugged then, looking very young again. He liked talking to her, and he didn't mind answering her questions. He had a few of his own, but he decided to save them. And before he left that night, he asked when she was going to be off again.

“Friday.”

He nodded, wondering if she'd be shocked if he asked her to go for a walk with him, or to the swimming hole outside town. “Would you like to do something Friday afternoon? I have to help my dad in the morning. But I could pick you up around two. Hell let me have the truck. We could go to the swimming hole, or out to the lake. We can go fishing if you want.” He looked desperately hopeful as he waited.

“I'd like that. Whatever you want to do.” She lowered her voice then, so the others wouldn't hear, and gave him her address, and she didn't hesitate for a minute. He looked like the kind of person you could trust, and she felt completely at ease with him. She knew instinctively just from talking to him that Tommy Whittaker was her friend, and he would do nothing to harm her.

“Did you just make a date with him?” Julie asked with a curious grin when he left. One of the other girls thought she had heard him invite Maribeth to go fishing, and they were all giggling and laughing and speculating. She was such a kid, but they all liked her. And they liked him. He had been a mystery to them ever since he'd started coming in the previous winter. He never said anything to them, he just came in and ordered dinner. But with Maribeth, he had really come alive and he never seemed to stop talking.

“Of course not,” she said in answer to Julie's question. “I don't date customers,” she said pointedly, and Julie didn't believe her for a minute.

“You can do anything you want, you know. Jimmy doesn't mind. He's a cute kid, and he really likes you.”

“He's just a friend, that's all. He says his mom hates to cook so he comes in here for dinner.”

“Well, he certainly told you his life story, didn't he now.”

“Oh for heaven's sake.” Maribeth grinned, and walked into the kitchen to pick up a tray of hamburgers for a bunch of students. But as she walked back with the heavy tray, she smiled to herself, thinking of Friday.