“You marrying Paul won’t be a problem, Molly. Pat will demand Paul marry you as soon as he finds out you’ve been having sex.”
And that was how it worked. I don’t know if Molly got pregnant that first night because we had a lot of sex together over the next few weeks before a pregnancy test confirmed that Molly was with child.
After that first fumbling night, we got pretty good at it. Molly loved to experiment, so we tried all kinds of things. Oral, anal, 69s, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, but we always seemed to finish with me on top of her, her legs wrapped around my hips, and her arms squeezing my neck as we kissed each other hungrily.
Molly adored gazing into my eyes as we came together one last time. Molly was a gusher and multi-orgasmic, so I learned good self-control during this time. I could hold myself on the edge of cumming until Molly had cum numerous times, and I heard her panting my name, followed by a ‘cum in me, darling, please’.
Twenty-one days after our first night together, Molly called me to her bedroom when I got to her house and showed me the results of her pregnancy test. Two blue lines. She was with child.
We told Val first when she got home.
“Okay, now the difficult part starts. Telling your father. Let’s hope he’s in a good mood tonight.”
Molly and I sat holding hands on the couch, waiting for Pat to get home.
The brothers had been surprisingly good about Molly and me becoming an item. Matt was good with it from the beginning, but I was surprised by how happy Fred and James were.
“Molly is glowing, and I’ve never seen her so happy, Paul,” James told me. “Just don’t break her heart, or you and I are going to have a problem, you know?”
“I won’t,” I promised.
“Good luck together,” Fred said. “I think you make a cute couple. But, if you break her heart, you know?”
“I know,” I answered.
I didn’t know how they would react when they found out I’d gotten Molly pregnant. I thought it would depend on how Pat handled it. If Pat was okay, the brothers probably would be, too.
A lot was riding on how well Molly had Pat wrapped around her finger.
To Val’s, Molly’s, and my shock, Pat was utterly calm when we told him Molly was pregnant.
Pat took a couple of very big breaths and then turned to me.
“This is why you asked me if you could date Molly, Paul, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir,” I answered.
“You took my girl’s virginity the previous night?”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied, holding his gaze.
“Were you a virgin that night as well?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you plan on marrying my daughter?”
“Yes, Sir. As soon as you permit us to.”
“Molly is old enough not to need my permission. You know that.”
“Yes, Sir, but we still want it.”
“And if I refuse to give it?”
“Then we will be very sad, Molly especially, but we will get married anyway,”
“That’s all I wanted to hear, Paul. Do you love my daughter?”
“Yes, Pat, I think I always have, but I wouldn’t let myself feel that way because she was too young.”
“Then you have my permission and my blessing. Once you’re married, you can move into Molly’s bedroom with her.
I assume you’re quitting Uni and getting a job? I can see if there’s something at the council with me if you’d like?”
“No, dad,” Molly answered for me. “I want Paul to finish his degree. It’s going to be hard, but together, we can do it. Long term, it will be much better. I’m going to quit my course and find work. The ‘Women’s studies’ course I’m doing is complete bullshit, anyway.”
“And when you can’t work anymore?” Pat asked.
Molly smiled, “I’ve worked it out. I’ll have the baby during the end of the year semester break. Paul will be able to get some casual work over the break, and by the time he has to go back to Uni, I’ll be ready to work again.
Mum doesn’t work, and she will look after the baby when I’m at work, and Paul is at Uni. The rest of the time, either Paul or I will be home.”
“If only life worked out so simply, my girl,” Pat growled.
But it did. It worked out exactly like that. Molly had our first baby a week after Uni had finished for the year. She worked up to the night before she had Patrick. She said goodbye to everyone when she finished her shift at the supermarket that night.
“Where are you going?” They asked.
“I’m having my first baby tomorrow,” she answered, her belly huge with child.
They all laughed, and the older women told her that it didn’t work like that, but it did. Patrick was born at 10.57 am the following day.
Everyone, except Molly, called Patrick PJ, of course. He wasn’t really, I guess, as Patrick was his grandfather, but it seemed to fit as we all lived together those first three years.
Our second, Thomas (Tommy), was born almost exactly a year after Patrick. I suspected Molly was holding on to have him on the same day, but she fell a day short.
Robert, or Robbie, as everyone called him, came 14 months later.
By then, I had finished my degree. As Molly had decided, we moved to Augathella, where I took up a teaching position. A schoolhouse was part of the deal, so Molly, the boys and I, finally had a place of our own.
Pat and Val took the drive out to see us as often as they could, and we’d head back to theirs during the school holidays.
Molly and I were trying for a fourth child but hadn’t had any luck yet. It took almost two years before Molly triumphantly announced she was pregnant again. An ultrasound at 21 weeks confirmed our fourth child would be a girl.
Unfortunately, the ultrasound detected an abnormal growth in Molly’s right kidney. More tests were run, confirming the growth was malignant and extremely virulent. It had already spread through Molly’s liver and had started into her left lung.
The only way to save Molly was to terminate the pregnancy and for her to undergo intensive chemotherapy.
Molly would never kill her child. I was torn. Like Molly, I couldn’t even contemplate aborting our child, but I couldn’t stand the thought of losing her, either.
“If you don’t abort now and start immediate treatment, you’re going to lose the child anyway,” the specialist told us. “Unfortunately, with how quickly this cancer is spreading, without chemo, your chances of surviving to give birth are virtually nil.”
“You obviously don’t know me,” Molly informed him fiercely. “There will be no abortion, and I will live to see my daughter born and be damned to you all.
Molly stood up and grabbed my hand, “Come on, Paul, we’re out of here. This jackass knows nothing!”
She dragged me out of the seat and down to our car.
“There will be no abortion, Paul,” she reiterated. “I will live to see our daughter born and go to my rest. You’re not to grieve because I promise we will be together again. Now tell me you believe me!”
As I observed early in this piece, Molly is impossible to refuse. With my voice and heart breaking, I nodded my head and said, “I believe you, my love.”
“I still like that, you know? My love, it makes me feel like I’m your whole world.”
“You are,” I replied.
Molly had our daughter in the late afternoon sun on a Friday. The nurse cleaned the baby up and placed her on Molly’s chest.
Molly was on oxygen and sedated, the maximum the anaesthetist dared to give her without endangering our child. She looked at her daughter, smiled, and then said, “I want you to call her Molly after me. Promise me you will look after each other forever, Paul. Promise me that, now.”