"They're all to blame. You might as well name all of them and let each one sweat," I said, thinking that would be a just and poetic revenge.
"I can't," she wailed. She shook her head so hard, I thought she would tear it off her neck.
"All right, suit yourself. You'll see what's going to happen now. You'll see," I predicted.
I rose and went to her bathroom to get some towels. Then I returned and rolled the dead infant onto one. I placed it and the afterbirth and umbilical cord on the bed just as Daddy opened the door and stepped back into the room. He looked around, his eyes avoiding Belinda for a moment. He gazed at the child before turning to me with a questioning look.
"He's dead, I think, Daddy," I said.
He nodded.
"Most likely," he said and approached the bed. He reached down slowly with his big hand and put the tip of his forefinger on the infant's neck. "Yes," he said. "A blessing."
Belinda began to wail.
"Stop it!" I snapped, hovering over her. "Do you want Carmelita to hear and come running up here?"
Belinda muffled her sobs and turned over on her side.
"Can you get her cleaned up and back to bed?" Daddy asked me.
"Yes, Daddy."
"Is she . . . bleeding or anything? Are we going to need a doctor?"
"I don't think so."
"Make sure. I'll be right back," he said.
"How's Mother?"
"I have her calmed down a bit, but she's still trembling badly," he said sorrowfully.
"After I get Belinda into the bathtub, I'll look in on her," I promised.
"Good." He hurried from the room.
"Get up, Belinda. I can't lift you and carry you into the bathroom. I'm going to run some water in your tub. At least cover yourself for now. You look absolutely disgusting moaning and wallowing on the floor," I said.
She whimpered her reply and started to brace herself on her elbows. There was blood on her legs, but she didn't look to--be bleeding anymore. She took deep breaths again and sighed so deeply I thought she had passed out.
"Are you in any pain?"
"I don't need a doctor," she said. "I'll be all right." "Maybe you don't need a doctor, but whether or not you'll be all right remains to be seen," I said.
I glanced again at the dead infant. I couldn't make out the color of its few strands of hair because its head was covered with sticky blood. There was no way to study it and determine who the father could be, I thought, and went to the bathroom to run Belinda's tub.
After I helped her get in, I heard Daddy return to the room. I went to the bathroom door and saw he had brought a small cardboard shoe box along. He glanced at me as he lifted the dead infant, wrapped it more tightly in the blanket, and then carefully, as if it were still alive, put it in the box.
"We've got to clean this up ourselves," he said, nodding at the floor. "I don't want the servants knowing anything, Olivia."
"I'll take care of it, Daddy."
"How is she?"
"She's all right. She'll live," I said sharply. He nodded again and lifted the box in his arms.
"What are you going to do, Daddy?"