It wouldn't be correct to say that Debbie hadn't thought about Bob Hoffmann since she quit her job at his office three weeks previously. It was hard not to think of him occasionally, considering her biological condition, but she hadn't seen him and hadn't considered seeing him since that Sunday night in church. She had only talked to him once on the phone, the evening after she quit her job. There hadn't been much to say.
Consequently, it was a real surprise when she heard his voice on her answering machine that Thursday night. "Debbie, this is Bob. I'm sorry I haven't called before this, but I really need to talk to you, now. Please call me at work tomorrow."
Almost automatically, she dialed Bill Deacon's number. "Hello," said the voice. "I can't come to the phone right now... " When his message was over, she invited him to come and talk to her after his youth group meeting. He arrived about nine-thirty. Over cocoa on the couch, she told him about the phone message.
"Are you going to call him?"
She nodded. "I think I have to."
"What are you going to say?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. What is he going to say?"
It was his turn to shrug, and then they sipped their cocoa side by side in silence.
"Would you go back to him, Debbie?"
She set her cup down decisively. "Of course not. Remember, it was me who broke it off. And Bill, I was never really 'with him,' anyway. Now, every time I think of him, I think about his wife and family. No, I can't have anything to do with him, anymore."
"But what about the baby?"
"Well, what about it?"
He reached over with his free hand, and gently grasped her wrist. "I just meant you must wonder what to do, sometimes."
She eased her arm away. "Maybe I just won't have it."
"Debbie!" He set his cup down with a bump that spilled half of it on the coffee table. "What are you talking about?"
She started to cry, and he impulsively wrapped his arms tightly around her, trying to take some of her pain from her. He stroked her hair, and pressed his lips against her forehead, and still she cried. Then, he just held on to her helplessly, and let the hurt and confusion pour out.
Finally, she was quiet in his arms. With her face pressed against his chest, she tried to tell him what she was feeling.
"Bill, I know there's no future with him. Even if I loved him - and I don't, I know that for sure - I couldn't break up his family. I've certainly thought about not having the baby, but time's running out on that option, and I don't know if I could really abort it, anyway. I don't think Christians are even supposed to think about that, are they?"
He didn't say anything, and she gently pulled away from him so she could see his face. He smiled weakly at her. "I don't know if you're supposed to or not, Deb. I just know how badly I feel for you."
She smiled back, and gently touched his cheek with her hand. "You're a very nice man, Bill Deacon, and I'm very lucky to have a friend like you. But don't worry about me; it'll be okay."
"Well, I'll be thinking about you, you can count on that. Let me know how the meeting with Bob goes."
"Believe me, Bill, you'll be the first to know."
* * *
Debbie called Bob on Friday morning, and awkwardly arranged to meet him after work "for a drink." He had bourbon and water; she had a diet Pepsi.
"You look good, Debbie."
"Thanks."
"No 'you look good, too,' Bob?"
She smiled, a little sadly. "Actually, you look awfully tired."
"Thanks a lot. Just what a guy wants to hear!"
She put her Pepsi down on the table. "Come on, Bob, let's not go through the courtship ritual today. I only came to talk to you because I felt guilty about not explaining things before."
He didn't say anything, so she told him about her "coming to herself," as she thought of it, and about how badly she felt about what they had been doing to his family. "I don't know if your wife knew, but I knew, and I had to stop it."
"She knew," said Bob, more to himself than to her.
"Well, even if she hadn't, I couldn't have gone on."
They were silent for a moment. "What if I told you that I love you, and that I don't love Sherry?"
"You don't love me, Bob, not really. But even if you did, it wouldn't matter. It's over."
"But you're pregnant."
"So?"
"So, what about the baby?"
"What about it?"
"Well, it's my responsibility."
She picked up her glass and sipped a little more before responding. "No, Bob, it isn't your responsibility. It's your fault - yours and mine - but that's different. We're talking about an accident, Bob, nothing more."
"That's pretty hard, Debbie."
She put her glass down hard. "For pete's sake, Bob, let's be honest. You don't want a baby, do you?"
He just looked at her.
"No, you don't. Okay, it was nice being with you... " He reached for her hand, but she drew it away. "Stop it, Bob, and listen to me. It was nice being with you, but it was wrong. Getting pregnant was the outcome, but it wasn't planned and I don't intend to make a wrong thing wronger, just because of a biological accident."
"Debbie... "
"Bob, I have to go." She stood up. "Please, go home to your wife, She's probably wondering where you are."
He laughed, but without humor. "Yeah, I'm sure she is." He stood as she pulled on her coat. "Can't we work this out, Deb?"
She touched his arm. "Bob, it is 'worked out.' I'm okay, and you're okay. Go home."
After she left, he sat and ordered one more drink.
***
That evening, she told Bill about the meeting. Although she knew it had gone as it should, and even though she didn't want it any other way, she had been down and upset since she arrived home.
"It's so final in one way, Bill, and yet it's just beginning in another." She automatically glanced at her lap.
"I know, Deb. I wish you didn't have to... "
She placed a finger on his lips. "Hush. That's just the way it is; 'the wages of sin,’ et cetera."
He took her hand, kissed it, and held it against his lips. They smiled at one another.
"Do you realize I've known you less than two weeks, Bill? It seems so much longer than that!"
He nodded. But then his smile turned to a look of concern. "Are you really considering an abortion, Debbie?"
She slumped back on the couch, her arms hugging her body and her head bent to her chest.
"Deb?"
"Oh, I don't know, Bill! I don't really want a baby - not this baby, anyway - and to carry it nine months and then give it away seems so... Oh, I hate this!"
She closed her eyes and was silent. He waited, closing his eyes, too, and tried to think of what he might say or do to help her. He was concentrating so hard that her voice startled him.
"Is abortion wrong, Bill?"
He shook his head. "I honestly don't know, Deb. Those who are opposed to it call it murder... " She winced, and he hurriedly continued, "But many others, including some Christians, say it isn't."
She thought a minute before she spoke again. "But Christians murder - or at least talk about it as being okay - all the time."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, aren't a lot of Christians in favor of capital punishment? And aren't a lot of Christians strong on spending big bucks for national defense? Isn't that so we can be ready to kill people?"
He nodded. "There's something wrong with that, isn't there?"
"I think so." She looked at him. "What would Jesus do?"
"What?"
"Well, we're supposed to be asking ourselves what Jesus would do in each situation in our lives. I'm wondering: what would Jesus do about this baby?"
He raised his eyebrows. "I don't know, Deb."
"Well, I think we better find out, don't you?”
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