Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
THE B-52’S, “LOVE SHACK”
Gabby
Ben couldn’t stay until the end of semester because he needed to look for a job, but he did the one thing I had wanted him to do since he lost his hearing—he sent me letters.
Dear Gabby,
How are you? Passing your classes? Any juicy gossip on your floor? Are you keeping your plant alive? What else did I want to ask you??? Oh, yeah, how’s our baby?
I found a job. It’s nothing I ever imagined doing, but for now it’s good pay. I’m a ranch hand for Don O’Neill, the rancher who purchased most of the Cory land. He said as long as I completed my tasks properly and on time, no one would say anything to me. I sort of lied about knowing how to ride a horse, so your mom contacted Isaac, and he’ll be here next week to give me a crash course before I start my new job.
I’m mastering ASL, so watch out. When I see you, you’ll no longer be able to sign things I don’t know. My instructor said he’s never seen anyone catch on as quickly as me. Also, I’m working with someone on lip reading. But I’m not planning on reading your lips. I have other plans for them.
Love,
Benjamin Ashford, baby daddy in training
* * *
At the end of May, my parents drove to campus to move me back home. Despite everyone’s reassurance and having talked to my dad on the phone, I still felt nervous seeing him because I officially had a noticeable baby bump, even though it was hidden under my oversized T-shirt.
“Hi, darling,” was all he said when he hugged me, and I sank into his embrace.
Fourteen hours and three stops later, with my parents taking turns to drive, we arrived home. It was just before eight on Wednesday morning. I covered my mouth to muffle my squeal because Ben’s car was in the driveway.
“Whoa, let me get the car stopped,” Dad said as I jumped out and ran toward Ben’s blue Monte Carlo just as he stepped out.
“Hi.” He grinned as I threw my arms around him. “Careful, Pastor Jacobson is watching.”
I released him and signed, “I missed you.”
Ben signed and spoke, “I missed you more.”
I shook my head and took his hand, pulling him toward my dad’s car to unload my things.
“Pastor Jacobson,” Ben greeted my dad with a respectful nod.
My dad returned an uneasy look, and a less noticeable nod, but my mom hugged Ben.
After we unloaded everything and hauled it to my room, my dad stood in the doorway as Ben sat on the end of my bed, watching me sort through my things on the floor.
“The door stays open, young lady,” Dad said.
I narrowed my eyes at him and bit back my smirk while slowly nodding. “Yes, Sir.”
Once he headed down the stairs, I snorted and looked at Ben.
“What?” he said and signed.
I loved that he was making an effort to sign everything he said.
I signed, “My dad said door stays open.”
“Fine,” Ben said, sliding off the side of the bed. “But I want to see my baby.”
I giggled when he guided me to lie back amongst my sorted clothes and the rest of my junk. Ben lifted my shirt, and my heart soared when his face lit up at my noticeable baby bump.
“It’s me, your dad,” he said, kissing my belly.
Listening for any sign of my parents, like the creak of the stairs, I weaved my fingers in his hair and playfully tried to guide his head lower.
Ben stiffened, shooting his gaze up to mine. “What are you doing?”
I smirked.
“Gabbs, I’m not licking your kitty on your bedroom floor with your door open and your parents downstairs.”
I laughed because the way Ben said “licking your kitty” was so matter-of-fact, not seductive at all.
Still, maybe it was too many weeks without him, maybe it was the letters he wrote me, or maybe it was second trimester hormones, but my need for sex was almost painful.
I sat up and signed, “I need,” giving extra emphasis with my face to the need part.
Ben sat back on his heels and shook his head. “Don’t do that.” He adjusted himself. Ben was so sexy in his white T-shirt, black jeans, messy hair, and scruffy face.
Pre-pregnancy Gabby was a romantic, a dreamer. The idea of a chaste kiss and holding hands was everything. Second trimester Gabby needed to orgasm.
No chaste kisses. Only hard kisses with lots of tongue. And when I thought about Ben holding my hands, I imagined him pinning them next to my head as he hovered above me, hips thrusting into mine.
I crawled toward him, and he fell backwards, crab crawling away from me until his back hit the side of my bed.
He shook his head as I straddled his lap. “Gab?—”
I kissed him while guiding his hand up my shirt to my breast. He moaned.
“Gabby? Is Ben staying for breakfast? I’m making pancakes,” Mom called upstairs.
I quickly stood and straightened my bra. Ben narrowed his eyes.
I signed, “My mom is making breakfast. You hungry?”
After a second, as if his comprehension had a slight delay, he smirked and nodded.
I turned my head. “Yes, we’ll have pancakes,” I yelled.
Ben stood and closed my door partway so that we were standing behind it. “Quickly and quietly,” he said, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.
I nodded, doing the same to my shorts.
Were we really going to remove our pants and have sex behind my partially closed bedroom door with my parents downstairs making breakfast?
Yes, we were.
He impatiently kissed me before either of us got out of our pants. I started to slide my hand down the front of his briefs.
“Gabby? We’re out of eggs. Your dad is going to run and get them. He wants you to ride along. Ben can stay with me.”
They were punishing us on purpose.
I pulled back, breathless and shaking my head while zipping my shorts. He did the same before peeking through the space between the door and its hinges for someone coming.
I wasn’t sure how to sign everything, so I hopped over my sorted piles on the floor to my desk.
I have to go with my dad to get eggs and my mom said you’re staying here with her.
He frowned, taking the pen from me. Ben rarely wrote his words, perhaps he didn’t want to risk my parents hearing him.
Let’s get married. We’ll rent a little house or even a trailer. Then we can have sex all day and there is nothing your dad can do about it.
I snorted.
He wrote:
I’m serious.
I took back the pen.
You want to marry me just to have sex?
No. I want to marry you because I’ve loved you FOREVER!!! All day sex is just a bonus.
“Gabby? Are you ready?” Dad called from downstairs.
“Yes,” I replied. “Just a sec!”
“Dad is ready to go,” I signed, nodding toward the door before walking that way.
Ben hooked his arm around my waist, hand on my little baby bump as he hugged me from behind. “Marry me, Gabby,” he said next to my ear. “I don’t have a ring, yet, and I know this is all out of order and not the fairy tale you always dreamed of. Still, marry me.”
I pulled away from him and stepped into the hallway, then I glanced back and rolled my eyes.
“Wow. Thanks for that,” Ben said, deflating.
“What?” I signed.
“I just asked you to marry me, and you roll your eyes like it’s a joke? We’re having a baby.”
I wrinkled my nose at him and finger spelled, “S T U P I D.”
“Stupid? You think I’m stupid?”
I nodded while grinning, but Ben didn’t find humor in my reply, so I stepped back into the room and nudged him aside to reach my desk and the pad of paper.
You got your preacher’s daughter pregnant. Of course you have to marry her, STUPID! I rolled my eyes because you asked me as if you think either of us has a choice.
“Gabriella!” my dad called.
“Yes. I’m coming!” I jerked my head toward the door.
Ben kept his frown, even after reading what I wrote.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I slipped on my sandals and followed my dad outside. As we pulled onto the main road, he cleared his throat.
“I know you don’t understand why I’m forcing you to abide by house rules, but just because you and Ben did something you should not have doesn’t make it right to keep doing it.”
“I know. And just so you know, he asked me to marry him. And I kind of assumed that was the obvious next step.”
Dad nodded. “I think the sooner the better.”
“Because you’re embarrassed that I’m pregnant and not married?”
He winced, shooting me a quick sidelong glance. “No, Gabriella.”
“Come on. There’s no way you’re not a little embarrassed. You preach to everyone in this town about the importance of honoring God in all we do, and your nineteen-year-old daughter gets pregnant her freshman year at college. That totally doesn’t feel like a ‘praise God’ moment.”
“Darling, I’m human. Of course, it’s not what I wanted for you or our family. There is a long list of things in my life that have not gone as planned. We are all sinners.”
“But you had higher hopes for me. After everything Sarah and Eve put you through, I was your last chance to feel fatherly pride.”
Dad barked an unexpected laugh. He was a somber man of God with a practiced smile for his congregation, but he rarely laughed out loud.
“Gabriella, I never thought of it like that.” He continued to chuckle.
I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out my window. “Why is sin so tempting?”
“No one is completely immune to desires of the flesh. When we give in to such pleasures, it’s a symptom of our separation from God. When we allow that separation, sin steps in to fill that void.”
“Dad, please don’t say ‘desires of the flesh.’ It sounds perverted. And I don’t want to look at my child and think of him as the result of desires of the flesh .”
“When you look at your child, what do you want to think?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to feel like they’re a mistake. Bob Ross says there are no such things as mistakes, just happy accidents. This baby is a happy accident.”
He hummed. “Perhaps.”
That was as good as it got. “Perhaps” from my dad was synonymous with “yes.” When my sisters and I were younger, we’d bug him for things like letting us spend the night with friends, going to the local carnival, or opening one Christmas present on Christmas Eve. And every time he gave us a “perhaps,” usually followed by “I’ll think about it,” that was a yes.