Rebecca's Dilemma Resolved

"Hello darling'," Clay held the telephone receiver to his ear as he imitated Conway Twitty's voice singing the first two words of a song to which he and Rebecca frequently danced. "Hi Clay," Rebecca tried valiantly to infuse some humor into her voice. "Are you learning a lot?"

"I plan on doing that tomorrow."

"I miss you." Rebecca squeezed her mother's hand while she talked to her husband.

"I miss you more."

"Mom's here, she wants me to go spend a couple of nights at the house."

"Hey that's a good idea. Just lock up our house and go."

"I think I will. I can cook for Daddy and my brothers for a few days and Mom and I can gossip."

"Okay, I'll call you there tomorrow night."

"Sure, but go out with your buddies, too."

"Oh, I plan on doing that. But none of us are interested in too much time away from the books. I understand we're getting a couple of new manuals that we have to read before the class ends."

Clay and Rebecca finished their conversation about the time Rebecca felt her knees growing weak.

* * * *

For the first few days at her mother's house, Rebecca would sit and stare into space begging her brain to release memories of every moment of the previous Saturday night. She talked to her mother as she tried to put together a picture of every minute of the evening after Clay left for his class. She made telephone calls, carefully pulling information from her friends about what they heard and saw, adding each tiny piece of information to the movie running inside her head.

No one saw anything unusual. No one heard Terry or Rebecca say anything other than what friends might say to one another. The other young females he danced with did not hear him say anything about being attracted to Rebecca, other than he thought she was pretty. He had made no effort to hide his wedding ring.

By the end of the first week, she knew her efforts were futile. She had tried so hard to remember what it felt like to kiss Terry Napes but truthfully, she couldn't even recall the color of his eyes behind his thick glasses. The movie inside her head was fine until after she and Terry drove into the driveway of her home. At that point, her movie began to loose focus. She could not adjust the view, there were gaps in the film, and minutes or hours were missing.

The times Clay talked to her, he thought she sounded a little tired, but she was also helping her mother do some extra work around the old farm house. Besides, he was tired, too. Sitting all day, cramming new details inside his head, and staying up late to review the information in the new manuals, kept his attention directed elsewhere.

Almost every night of the second week, Rebecca cried herself to sleep. When she talked to Clay, he commiserated with her about her stuffy nose and said he hoped her head cold was getting better.

Three days before Clay was due to drive home, Rebecca grew more nervous. The day before he was due home, Rebecca was inconsolable.

"It's no use, Mom. I'm never late."

"Just give it a few more days, honey."

"It won't do any good. Can Jake go to my house and leave a note for Clay?"

"Rebecca Westerman ... ah ... Rebecca Hogan, you need to be there when you husband gets home."

"I can't Mom. I just can't do it."

Saturday, Rebecca paced the long hall down the middle of the house, from the front door to the back door. She stopped pacing long enough for a minor chore, to fix a big lunch for the men, and then returned to her pacing. About the time she expected Clay to arrive, she went outside to sit on the front porch. However, when she saw his car driving down the road, she ran into the house and couldn't come outside to talk to him.

Anticipating a violent reaction from Clay, Jake and his next younger brother, Hank, were walking out the front door when Clay got out of his car. He stood and looked around for a few moments then walked toward the front porch to shake hands with his two brothers-in-law.

Rebecca stood at her upstairs bedroom window and listened to the men's mumbles, but couldn't distinguish the words used. She heard a primal roar from Clay then saw Jake and Hank holding him, backing him away from the house, as he struggled and yelled her name.

Jake made promises he wasn't sure he could keep and Hank backed him up. Clay loudly demanded Jake move aside so he could go inside and speak to his wife. Just as loudly as the other man spoke, Jake told Clay that his wife did not want to speak to him.

Eventually, the two much larger men convinced Clay that Rebecca just needed a little more time. Clay needed to go home and give Rebecca the time she needed to settle down. As soon as she was calmer, Jake would call Clay. As soon as she was ready to go home, Jake would see Clay was informed.

Clay called The Westerman home several times that night, but everyone who answered the telephone informed him that Rebecca did not wish to speak to him. Near the end of each call, Clay sent a message to his wife that he loved her.

The next morning Clay went to church, but Rebecca didn't. After the worship service, Clay spent a little time with the minister, both men agreeing that they need not have done so. Clay loved his wife and felt no shame in doing so. He spoke to Amelia Westerman and learned neither she nor Rebecca had reason to believe his wife had been raped. Even if that was the case, he loved his wife and he wanted her to come home. Amelia wasn't aware she slipped up when she told Clay the reason Rebecca wouldn't go home was because she thought she was pregnant and feared it might not be Clay's baby.

Clay smiled. For the first time in two days, he knew he could win. Rebecca was pregnant and he KNEW it was his baby. All Rebecca needed was a little time to get over her fear, realize he loved her, and forget she had gotten drunk. He knew she hadn't had sex with Terry Napes. As soon as she realized it, she would come home. He knew she had never had sex with any man but him. She had been a virgin the night he pulled her off the hood of his truck onto his rock hard cock and she knew it too. Except for the hours he worked, for more than two whole weeks before he left for his two week class, they had spent most of it in bed, loving each other, having sex, or recovering. If Rebecca was pregnant, it was his child.

Before the day was over, the story was making its way from mouth to mouth. Sisters argued with sisters. Friends disagreed with friends then agreed to set their argument aside until Clay and Rebecca could work out their differences. Citizens and farmer's wives tut tutted about the gossip then spread what they heard to anyone who would listen.

* * * *

Thus began the meetings between Jake Westerman and Clay Hogan. Every three or four days, Clay would see Jake's truck parked in front of The Little Brown Jug, or Jake would stop if he saw Clay's truck with the seed and chemical logo on the driver's door, at the bar.

Clay called the Westerman farm every morning, usually talking to his mother-in-law, Amelia Westerman, asking her to pass along the message that he loved his wife. He called the Westerman home every evening, usually talking to Hiram, or one of his sons, asking about his wife's day and reminding her father that he wanted his wife to come home.

Rebecca stood across the room listening to her mother, father, or one of her brothers talking to Clay. She would shake when he called, so nervous he might give her some kind of ultimatum she couldn't meet. A few times, she went into the kitchen to pick up the other telephone, just so she could hear his voice. But she didn't do that very often, she feared she might say something and burst into tears. She had shed enough of those already.

During the meetings at The Little Brown Jug, the men would exchange a few words. Jake described what Rebecca was doing or how she felt. Clay asked if Rebecca was having any problems with the pregnancy. Rarely one of the other Westerman brothers would be at the bar, returning from an errand in town, going to visit a neighbor, or they had a date with the daughter of another farmer.

Anytime Clay drove through the small town, he looked for one of the Westerman vehicles. If he spotted one, he usually drove around the block, but he didn't try to force Rebecca to talk to him. She needed to come home because she wanted to, not because he forced her.

Jake's first description of Rebecca's morning sickness left Clay groaning, knowing he should be with her to offer his support. Jake assured him it wasn't an every day event, just an occasional upset tummy that righted it's self quickly. Amelia Westerman was very familiar with pregnancy and reassured Rebecca there wasn't anything wrong, it was just a natural part of her body adjusting to the changes it was going through.

The other patrons of The Little Brown Jug listened to the conversations. They took the stories home with them, and the whole county became absorbed with Rebecca's dilemma.

Opinions flourished and differed. Older women thought Rebecca was being foolish. Older men thought Clay should go get his wife, take her home with him, and tell her to fix his supper. Young wives understood her fear of pregnancy and knew she would settle down if given enough time. Young unmarried women looked at Clay and smiled. They hoped to find a man as gentle as he was. Young unmarried men stood open mouth in surprise when their girlfriends remarked, "Clay Hogan wouldn't do that."

It was unusual for one of the conversations between Jake and Clay to occur on a Saturday. However, Jake had called Clay offering to report on Rebecca's appointment with her doctor the previous day. The three young women, looking for a fun time had arrived at the end of that conversation.

With the pregnancy absolutely confirmed, Clay decided he was going to apply a little persuasion to resolve his wife's absence from their marriage bed and from their home. When he left The Little Brown Jug he drove straight to the Westerman farm and parked in the same spot he had parked the evenings he had courted Rebecca.

He didn't bother to go to the front door. He stood in the front yard and raised his voice as he looked up at the bedroom windows above. It was not yet full dark, but there was a light on in the middle room.

"Rebecca Hogan, I want to talk to you."

Clay looked at the front door and saw Amelia Westerman smiling as she turned on the front porch light before she turned and walked back down the hall.

"Rebecca, I love you."

Once again, his voice was loud enough to be heard all the way through the house to the back door. Clay noticed Hiram Westerman walking from the barn to the back door. The older man waved at Clay and continued toward the house.

"Rebecca, I'm not leaving 'til I talk to you."

Jake Westerman drove by the man standing in the front yard of the farm house and waved as he continued down the road, intending to leave his truck parked in the barn.

"Rebecca, I need to talk to my wife."

Clay thought he saw a shadow move across the middle window upstairs, but wasn't sure. It happened too fast to be certain.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Come out to the porch and talk to me."

Going for broke, Clay took a deep breath, let it out, and then sucked in another deep breath.

"Wife, I talked to Jerry Napes this morning."

Ah ha, he knew he had her now. The curtain moved at the window he was watching.

"Ya know. You scared that poor man half to death."

Wonderful the curtain fell back into place. He had one more teaser, but he really wanted to save it until he could say it to her face.

"Ah, Jerry thinks he was a little confused."

Finally, the front door began to open. For Clay, it was a long agonizing wait as the door moved slowly until his beautiful wife walked out to the front porch. He took one step forward but the fear on her face cause him to pause in place.

"I have a photograph you need to see." Clay no longer needed to yell, but he wanted the people inside the house to hear him, too.

It had taken Clay two weeks to convince his supervisor to find Jerry Napes. It was almost another two weeks before Jerry Napes agreed to come to the company offices for a short talk. Then it took several days for the envelope to arrive.

Clay took the large rolled up envelope from his back pocket and took a step forward. Rebecca didn't move so he kept walking toward her. Before he took the step up to the front porch, he removed the photo from the envelope and held it out, offering it to Rebecca.

Curious to see what Clay thought was so important Rebecca took the rolled photo and opened it. She twisted a little to let the light shine on the stiff paper in her hand. When she could see the entire photo, she gasped and looked at Clay.

"This is ... Clay, I know I didn't ... who is this?"

"That's Betsy Napes, Jerry's wife."

"That ... that's his wife?"

"Yep, she looks just like you, doesn't she? He didn't have his glasses on when he woke up, did he?"

Rebecca shook her head. "I found them on that little table beside the couch."

"He's blind as a bat without his glasses. Sometime in the middle of the night he went to the bathroom. He said he thinks he took a piss in the bathtub. It was dark and he couldn't find his way back to the couch."

"You mean, I didn't ... he didn't ... we didn't ..."

"Nope, he said when he woke up he thought you were Betsy. When you screamed and yelled at him, he knew he wasn't in his bedroom. He almost drove his car into the ditch trying to get away. He's so nearsighted he always keeps spare glasses handy. When he got away from the screaming woman who was not his wife, he found his spare glasses in the glove box and got his ass out of town before her big brothers came after him."

From little more than arms length Rebecca leapt into Clay's arms and put her legs around his waist. He staggered backward a few steps, but he held onto his wife.

"Home, Clay, home, home, home." Rebecca chanted.

* * * *

Resting his cheek on his wife's naked belly, Clay asked, "Can I hear his heartbeat yet?"

"Her heartbeat," Rebecca countered.

"I don't care. If you get your daughter this time, the next one can be a boy for me. But when can I hear a heartbeat?"

"The doctor gave me some things to read and pictures for you."

Clay was on his knees moving up to kiss Rebecca. He put his hands on her cheeks to look deeply into her eyes, "You know I love you, don't you?"

"Yes," she nodded her head as much as his hold on her would allow, "And I love you."

He placed one hand on her tummy and did not take his eyes from hers, "We need a lot of years together to give this little one a good life. Please don't ever be afraid to talk to me 'cause I need to talk to you, too."

Rebecca put her hand on his, "This baby is going to be the happiest child that ever lived. She's always going to know that she has two parents that love her as much as they love each other."

"He, him." * * * *

Terry Napes brought his wife Betsy and their twin daughters to meet Clay and Rebecca. He blushed and apologized while Betsy laughed and talked about their wedding day. Terry had thought he could manage the wedding ceremony without his glasses because they always caused a glare in photographs. As they stood before the minister, he dropped the wedding ring and it rolled down the steps and into the sanctuary. Betsy did not hear and Terry would not say what her father whispered in his ear when the man put the ring back in Terry's hand.

Amelia Westerman took care of the two small girls that Saturday night while the two couples went to The Little Brown Jug. The women giggled with delight when everyone looked from Rebecca to Betsy, remarked about the resemblance, and marveled that they were not related.

Rebecca put her hair behind her ears and showed her dangling earlobes, and then Betsy did the same showing hers were attached to her head, offering it as the surest way to tell them apart. Laughter grew when Betsy pulled her husband to her side and showed he had attached earlobes similar to hers. Moments later one of the women was pulling Clay to stand beside his wife to see his fat dangling earlobes. For the rest of the evening, people compared and laughed about the different types of earlobes that abounded throughout the dancehall.

Rebecca blossomed with her pregnancy. She glowed. Her breasts grew larger and her belly grew round. She waddled and Clay learned to rub her aching back. He listened to his unborn son's heartbeat and Rebecca rubbed her unborn daughter's back. The baby moved and twisted, stretched legs and grew.

The morning Rebecca's water broke, Clay drove her to the hospital. The Sheriff didn't stop Clay as he broke the speed limit in town when Clay was so occupied with Rebecca's groan from the next labor pain. He wasn't watching the speedometer.

At the hospital, Clay paced the hall every time a nurse or the doctor asked him to leave Rebecca's room for another examination. Before too long, he was joined in his pacing by three prospective uncles plus two soon-to-be grandparents. The other grandparents were on their way, but it was a long drive.

By late afternoon, Clay was standing beside his wife, holding his son. Rebecca lifted her hand and with her forefinger she gently traced the curl of her son's ear and lifted the tiny earlobe. "Look Clay, he has your ears."

Clay grinned and kissed the baby's forehead, "See, I told you this is my child."

THE END