Pie Town - Lynne Hinton [80]
George balled up the receipt and threw it in a trash can at his feet, shaking his head. “These two things are not related,” he told himself. “Lisa Myers was only trying to get money from me, she was not seeking my assistance as much as she was trying to ruin me.” He slumped in his chair and dropped his head in his hands, remembering that day in April, remembering how he hid from her all morning, how he had repeatedly phoned her before that day and told her not to visit him, that he didn’t want to see her and that if she was pregnant, then she needed to take care of matters herself. He had convinced himself that he was not the father of her child, that he barely even remembered that night in Cincinnati, and that he was not responsible for his drunken behavior. He was almost through with his education and his time of discernment, he had always intended to be a priest, and nothing was going to stand in the way of making that happen. The pregnant Lisa Myers was not his problem.
George closed his eyes, recalling how shocked he had been when she phoned him the first time. He didn’t remember giving her his phone number, or even his name. And yet, she had stolen his wallet. She knew everything there was to know about how to track him down. He thought about that night with his friends, the night they left him, the night he was planning only to walk back to the hotel and go to bed.
She had stopped him just as he left the restaurant, asked him for directions, which he didn’t know, and then, as he was walking away, called him back. He had turned and followed her. For some reason he still didn’t recall, she had said something funny, something interesting that caught his attention, and he had gone with her somewhere and they had drunk more and he was sick and she was laughing, going through his wallet, and then, well, then . . . then he had sex with her, fell asleep, woke up alone, and found his way back to the hotel just as his roommates were about to call the police. He had lost his money, his identification, and his virginity. And then, a couple of months later, right out of the blue, she had called to say she was pregnant with his child.
Young George Morris, about to graduate, about to be ordained and called to his first parish, about to see his dream become a reality, had told her that he didn’t know who she was, that she had called the wrong guy, and that she shouldn’t call him again. When she called the third time, he finally admitted that he was the one she’d been with that night in Cincinnati, but he insisted that the events of that night had been her doing, that she had planned it all and seduced him to steal his wallet, that Lisa Myers, whoever she was, could be locked up for her theft, and that if she was really pregnant, then she was going to have to handle her own problems. That’s how he’d said it. “Handle your own problems.” And then she showed up on April 16, and then she was gone, for good. He never confirmed the abortion or found out why she had driven all the way to the seminary to see him. He had finished school and his requirements, received his call to Pie Town, New Mexico, and left the rest of that night in Cincinnati, that final semester in seminary, and that day, April 16, behind him.
That night with Trina, pregnant and asking for his advice, the two of them talking for two or three hours, sipping tea and actually conversing like friends, him even telling her about Lisa and then explaining that she could have the child and manage, or she could give the baby up for adoption. That night was completely different, the two pregnancies were completely different. And in both cases, although he’d engaged in very different conversations and there would probably be different outcomes, he had done nothing wrong. He was sure of it.
Father George thought about Trina, wondered how she was doing, whether she’d decided to keep the baby, and whether anyone else knew. He doubted that she would stay in Pie Town, because he had already