"Australian law considers the child to be my husband's," Daphne said.
"But he was in Africa," Barbara protested. "He couldn't possibly-"
"I'm telling you what the law says," Daphne interrupted.
"And you're determined to have it?" Joanne asked.
God, I hate to talk about abortion with John sitting there with a shocked look on his face! But somebody, obviously, has to start thinking practically about this.
"Oh, I thought about that," Daphne said. "How am I going to support the child?"
"But it is getting a little late for an abortion, isn't it?" Barbara said.
"Yes, it is," Daphne admitted.
"What about your family?"
"My family can count. They will want nothing to do with me or the baby when they find out. God, it was conceived the night of my husband's memorial service."
"Your family doesn't know?" Joanne asked incredulously.
"Don't worry about support," John Moore said. "That's not one of the problems. This can be worked out with The Corps,"
"And if it can't?" Joanne snapped.
"There's money available," he said.
"Whose?" she demanded.
"Mine, all right?" He actually believes that. More evidence that he's no less a child than the child who made this pathetic young woman pregnant.
"In the end I decided that God had a hand in what's happening to me," Daphne said.
"God?" Joanne asked. "What's God got to do with it?"
"I thought that maybe I was being punished for being an adulteress... "
"That's nonsense!" Barbara protested.
"Or that God wanted Steve to leave something behind, a new life. Anyway, I'm going to have his baby. I'll work it out."
"Not alone," Barbara said.
"Right," Moore said. "And for one thing, you're not going back to Melbourne. You're going to stay here with us."
"I've got to have a job," Daphne said.
"I told you, you don't have to worry about money."
Goddamn you." The one thing she doesn't need is false hope!
"Can we get her a job here?" Barbara asked.
"Yeah, sure," John Moore said. "Detachment 14 has authority to hire Australians. But that's not what I was talking about." He turned to Daphne.
"I'm going to put my clothes on. Then we're going to have to take care of the Wagga Wagga business." Daphne nodded.
"Won't that wait, for God's sake?" Joanne snapped.
"I don't know what the hell is the matter with you," Moore responded furiously, "but everybody else around here is breaking their ass trying to get the boyfriends off Buka."
"Is that what you're really doing, John?" Barbara asked very quietly.
Moore didn't respond. He simply turned and went into his bedroom. As he left, Daphne's eyes followed him. God! That's admiration in those eyes of hers-awe! Joanne thought. As far as she's concerned Johnny Moore might as well be the Angel Gabriel, come to set all the evils of the world right.
Barbara, meanwhile, with tears in her eyes, went to Daphne and put her arms around her.
And Joanne pursued John Marston Moore.
She found him naked, awkwardly trying to put his leg into his underpants.
He modestly turned his back to her.
"You sonofabitch!" she hissed. "You make me sick to my stomach."
"Are you going to tell me why?" he asked over his shoulder.
"You had absolutely no right to tell that poor girl you'd take care of her. That was incredibly cruel. She needs to hear the truth; she doesn't need you giving her false hope."
"You're talking about the money?"
"Of course I'm talking about the money!"
"I hadn't planned to tell you this..." Moore said. Instead of finishing that thought, he squatted, wincing, to pull his shorts up; and then he turned to face her, "... until our wedding night. But among all the worldly goods I'm going to endow you with is a lot of money. Pushing three million, to be specific." My God, he means it!
"More than enough for you and me, and our kids, and Koffler's kid," Moore said. "OK?"
"I never said I was going to marry you," Joanne said softly.
"Well, what do you say?"
"You may have to," she said. "I'm probably pregnant."
"That would be nice," he said, and held his arms open for her.
[Two]