Chapter Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Eight
Marly wanted her mom. That was her first feeling when the doctor confirmed she was pregnant.
She wanted to cry on her mom’s shoulder, feel her arms around her, and be told everything was going to be okay.
But Mom barely even knew who Marly was anymore and there was no comfort to be had in that hospital room.
Marly doubted there’d be any comfort to be had from her father either.
He was the old-fashioned sort, and this would shock him to the core.
But what choice did Marly have? Dad would find out eventually, as her stomach swelled out like a balloon, and the first thing he’d ask is whose baby it was.
She knew she couldn’t tell him, though. How could she, when she wasn’t even going to tell the baby’s father?
Freddie de Marche had made a habit of spending his leave from the army in Oxeye, where he tumbled into bed with Marly as soon as he hit town.
They’d been blurry, blissful weeks, out of ordinary time.
Marly had been sure she could drink her fill of him and get him out of her system, but it didn’t seem to work like that.
Instead, she couldn’t get him out of her head.
She thought about him all the time. She lived for the weeks in Oxeye, counting down her year until she saw him again.
“Hey, pixie stick!” he’d holler, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her upstairs.
And then they’d reach the end of the interlude and Freddie would head off to wherever he was stationed, and Marly would… wait. Which she hated.
She drove him to the airport the last time he visited, feeling irritable and cheated. Freddie himself was cheerful, which only irritated her more.
“I was thinking maybe you could meet me in Paris sometime,” he suggested, as he kissed her goodbye. Their goodbyes could take a while. There was a lot of kissing.
Marly had pushed him back, with the heel of her hand on his chest. “I thought we were just a summer thing?” Only they weren’t, were they? Because she was obsessed with him spring, fall, and winter too.
Goddamn him. Why didn’t he feel it too?
Freddie had grinned at her. “We are a summer thing. But we can also be a thing at other times, can’t we?” He kissed her again. “We can walk along the Seine, find a nice comfortable bed somewhere…” The kissing got serious. Too serious for the front seat of a car in an airport parking lot.
“You just want a sure thing while you’re on vacation,” she gasped.
“And what’s wrong with that?” he teased. And then he was dashing off to his life, which only included her as a name and address on a postcard.
She was sitting by her mother’s bedside one Sunday afternoon, reading through Freddie’s latest letter, which was as chummy as ever, when she decided enough was enough.
Dear Freddie, she wrote, I’m afraid I won’t be able to host you at Oxeye next summer. I hope you’ll understand. There comes a time when a girl has to trade flings for the real thing. Much love, M
And then, in spectacular timing, one week later she discovered she was pregnant.
“Who?” Dad asked her when she finally screwed up the courage to tell him. He was turning red. Marly had expected him to explode, but he didn’t. He just took a few deep breaths.
“Does it matter?” she said, knowing she was needling him. She wondered if she was trying to find the limits of this remarkable composure.
“Of course it matters.”
To her horror, tears shone in her father’s eyes. “Oh Dad, don’t!”
“Have you told him, whoever it is?”
“No.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
She didn’t answer. No. Yes. Maybe. She didn’t want Freddie to be all honorable again. The last time was goddamn humiliating, but this would be a million times worse. She didn’t want him proposing because he should. The idiot should propose to her because he loved her.
“Why not tell him?” Marly’s father seemed flummoxed.
She lifted her chin. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“But he might do the right thing.”
The right thing! As if marrying her was only right if she was compromised. It made her want to scream. Dad seemed to sense her rising temper and backed off.
“You know I’ll always be there for you,” he said gruffly, but he seemed extra deflated that night, as he sat over his TV dinner. Marly felt guilt worm through her. She’d made a miserable time in her father’s life even more miserable. And there was no Mom to comfort either of them.
A postcard came from Paris when Marly was in the middle of vomitous morning sickness.
Dad left it propped on her bed with the other mail, tactfully not interrupting her as she hurled.
The postcard was the first thing Marly saw when she emerged from the bathroom, her mouth astringent with the Listerine she’d used to wash her mouth out.
I was supposed to be here with a girl I know, but she stood me up. x F
Marly ran her finger over his words. Her heart hurt. How could he be halfway across the world when she needed him? Why hadn’t he loved her the way she loved him?
Angry and hurting, Marly tucked the postcard inside her copy of Forever Amber.
She’d been reading that book the night they met, she thought nostalgically.
God, she wished she was rolling around in bed with him in Paris and not throwing up in Boston.
But it was all the rolling around that got her in this mess in the first place.
She slid the book back on her bookshelf.
“I told your mother.” Her father’s voice made her jump. He was hovering at the threshold of her bedroom nervously. She suspected by the way he was staring at the bookshelf that he’d read the postcard. Marly was glad Freddie never signed his full name.
“You told Mom what?”
“About the baby.” Dad cleared his throat. He couldn’t meet her eye. “I like to think she can still hear me, that there’s still something of her in there.” His voice sounded tight. “She loved you so much, Marly.”
Marly was horrified to see his lip tremble.
“I know she’d never forgive me if I screwed this up,” he said roughly. “I told her everything. I kept hoping she’d come to herself and tell me what to do. How to take care of you. Both of you.” He glanced at Marly’s stomach, which wasn’t even showing yet.
“I can look after myself, Dad,” Marly said, although she knew it probably wasn’t true. How would she work and raise a kid all by herself?
“People will talk.” He sounded wretched. “It’s not easy when the baby’s a…” He couldn’t finish.
Marly bit her lip. “We can tell people I’m engaged. That would be bad, but not as bad.”
“Are you engaged?” He looked her in the eye, and she could see he didn’t hold much hope of a yes.
She shook her head. “But people don’t have to know that.”
“Well, where’s the guy?” her father said. “Why isn’t he marrying you, given the circumstances?”
“We’ll tell people he’s in the army.”
His gaze went back to the book she’d hidden the postcard in and she saw his fist clench.
“You know I haven’t told him, Dad. It’s not his fault.”
“And you haven’t reconsidered telling him?” Dad asked gruffly.
Of course she had. She wasn’t a total idiot. But her heart hurt at the thought of forcing his hand. If he married her like this, he’d resent them, her and the baby. She couldn’t bear it.
“I’m telling people I’m engaged,” Marly said firmly. “I don’t want to cause too much scandal, especially for Virge’s wedding. I’ll go to Oxeye before I start showing. That way people won’t even know…”
Dad gave her a look. Sylvie’s summer house was right next door. How was Marly to keep it a secret from her?
“I just need time to think about what to do,” Marly said desperately.
Dad nodded. His eyes were suspiciously shiny. “You mother would want what’s best for you,” he said.
When he left, Marly sat on the floor and cried.
Marly settled into a lonely life at Oxeye, where she had too much time to think. And all she could think about was Freddie de Marche and her future without him. Sometimes it was all she could do not to pick up the phone and call his base.
Freddie’s next letter came in the depths of winter, when Marly was fat with the baby and even fatter with misery.
Dad had forwarded the letter on from Boston.
I heard you got engaged, pixie stick. E wrote and told me.
I keep thinking about Maine. I’m an idiot, I guess.
Anyway, I wish you nothing but the best with the guy who was smart enough not to be an idiot.
Goddamn him. Why couldn’t he rage and beg and do everything in his power to stop her wedding? Not that she was actually getting married. But he thought she was. Marly had cried a tempest over that letter. But then the next one came.
You can’t blame a guy for being confused, he wrote in a scribbled hand.
I mean, you were a kid. And then you weren’t a kid.
We were friends. So how was I to know what the hell I was feeling?
The scribbling got so intense she almost couldn’t make out the words.
How come you never told me for keeps was on the table?
Marly looked down at her belly. That was about as for keeps as it got.
Meet me, he wrote. I’ve booked a flight home. I’ll be there on the 17th. Meet me in Oxeye?
Oh God.
I haven’t heard from you. But I wrote to E, and he and Sylvie are happy for me to stay at their place. I’ll be there. Come.
Marly was the size of a whale by then. There was no way she could hide it. She didn’t know if she could bear the look on his face.
I’ve extended my leave to three weeks. Please come, Marly.
The 17th arrived and Marly balked. She couldn’t handle him feeling like he had to marry her.
I’ll wait.