Becca's Baby

Becca nodded. “I know, but Samuel was adamant about being remembered for his legacy, especially the university, and not for his private life. Besides, each generation is so caught up in its own concerns. It’s too easy to forget what previous generations achieved. History becomes simplified—like reading just the headlines, instead of getting the details.”

Will nodded respectfully. “I agree. So what do we know about those friends of his?”

“Apparently he wrote to them and was quite humbled by the numbers who were willing to leave their old lives behind and move west to help him with his venture.”

“That was quite a sacrifice in those days.”

“He paid them more than generously, of course,” Becca inserted. “He was nothing if not realistic.”

“Still,” Will said, his elbows on the table, “it’s amazing that even now, more than a hundred years later, Samuel’s philosophy is maintained, not only by how rigorously we select our faculty, but by the meetings and retreats we attend before the beginning of every semester. Meetings that continue to instill Samuel’s values—even if we’ve forgotten exactly how we came by those values.”

“And a code of ethics, for both students and faculty that’s still enforced.”

“It’s kind of humbling to see what a huge impact one man can make,” Will murmured.

“And encouraging to know that conviction and strength really do exist, and that sometimes they’re enough to conquer whatever the world hands out.”

Will smiled at her and Becca’s insides melted. Taking a deep breath, she placed one hand over his on the table.

“I want you to know, Will, that I’m glad I didn’t go through with the abortion.” Though difficult to say, those words were also the truth. “No matter what the cost.”

He shook his head. “Not at the cost of your life.”

He spoke with such vehemence Becca was left in no doubt that her life still meant something to him. But it would, because he was a compassionate man. It didn’t necessarily follow that he was still in love with her or wanted to stay married.

“I’m grateful you told me that, though,” he continued.

Peace settled over her. “I’m out of the doghouse, then? At least on that score?”

“I have to be honest with you, Becca.” He pulled his hand away. “Because that’s one thing we’ve always been with each other…”

Becca’s stomach started to hurt. She wished she’d never begun this conversation.

“It isn’t the rightness or wrongness that eats at me. It’s the fact that I’ve always seen us as sharing the same life—one life—with the same goals and dreams—”

“We do!”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure I ever knew your dreams, Bec,” he said sadly. “For that matter, I’m not sure I knew my own. This whole situation, with you not sure you even wanted a baby when I thought that was the one thing that mattered to you—it’s opened my eyes to the fact that I don’t really know you.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. Refused to cry. But she couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Bec, you did nothing wrong,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. “This is my fault.”

But she still lost.

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe I just had this image in my mind of what my life was destined to be, of who you were, of what we wanted—but that’s all it was. An image. I never dug deep enough to find reality. Maybe even to know that it existed.”

Scary as the thought was, Becca could understand what he was saying. “Kind of like that movie where everyone was living in a TV sitcom and didn’t know they weren’t real?”

“Exactly.”

Becca ached badly. For herself. For him, too. She could feel his struggle almost as well as she could feel her own. The confusion. And, on her part, the fear.

“So where do we go from here?” she whispered.

“I guess to bed, and then to tomorrow morning.”

“One day at a time.”