Whitefern (Audrina 2)

“He won’t. A doctor’s relationship with his patient is private. I could sue him if he told anyone about the tests he gave us. Don’t worry about that.”

“I can’t help but worry. I can’t imagine what we would look like in this community if the truth came out.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. But I said not to worry,” he snapped. Then he changed his tone. “I received a call already from one of our clients whose wife happened to see you in the supermarket. They’re swallowing it all out there, hook, line, and sinker. Mrs. Matthews is ingenious. Trust in her. Now, I have to get back to work. I’ll soon have a child’s welfare to consider, his or her education, other needs. Lots more money must be made.”

“Arden, did you know that Mr. Price had a stroke? He’s paralyzed on one side and can no longer do his artwork.”

“No, but that’s truly poetic justice,” he said. “Oh,” he added quickly before hanging up, “I won’t be at dinner tonight. I’m taking the Allans to dinner. You were supposed to come along, but they’ll understand. Another opportunity to solidify our story,” he said. “Take care of Sylvia. And yourself, of course.” He laughed and hung up.

When I turned around, Mrs. Matthews was standing there. “It would help the situation now if you would retire to your room. I’ll bring you your dinner tonight,” she said.

“What?”

“Your sister keeps asking about you. We don’t want her unnecessarily disturbed. A pregnant woman’s emotional health is just as important as her physical health. Calmness is the word of the month.”

For a moment, I stood staring at her. I was becoming a prisoner in every sense of the word. “How would she know if I was in that room or not?”

“She could call for you and you wouldn’t be there to hear her. Then she would want to get up to find you. I don’t know why we’re arguing about it. I would hope that you would be the most cooperative of all.”

“I’m not arguing.”

“Good, then do it.”

It was easy for her to say. When I was confined to our house and grounds during my youth, I’d at least had my mother, Aunt Ellsbeth, Vera, despite her jealousies, and, of course, Papa to keep me company. My real entertainment came from watching all of them interact. How I looked forward to the Tuesday teas, when Aunt Ellsbeth and Momma resurrected Aunt Mercy Marie. It was major entertainment. Sometimes Vera would be nice, and we would play a game together, and I did feel like her ally when her mother punished her or scolded her for something she did wrong.

The point was that during my confinement, there were other people, their laughter bringing smiles to my face. I was even fascinated by the arguing. Now there was mostly silence in my confinement. The things I would hear were mostly the memories of old voices. I feared the flood of nightmares, forbidden dreams invading both my waking hours and my sleep. I assumed that Mrs. Matthews had no idea why I was so reluctant to cooperate. Arden could paint broad strokes of my youth for her, but he was not aware of the myriad details that I had tried to bury in the empty grave of my false self.

“Well?” Mrs. Matthews said, holding the spoon with which she was preparing our dinner. I imagined it to be a ring of jailer’s keys.

“Don’t you need help with dinner?”

“From now on, I’ll do it by myself. I’ll even wash the dishes myself,” she added, and smiled her cold smile, as if that was going to make me feel better. “And yes, I’ll do more to keep up the house. I know how concerned you are, but frankly, sometimes you act as if Whitefern is a national treasure, a museum. Most of what I see here would have no special meaning for anyone other than yourself.”

“Which is reason enough to protect it,” I snapped back. “It’s a sacred obligation to care for all that your family held dear. Don’t you have any heirlooms? Have you inherited nothing from your parents and grandparents that you cherish?”

“I live for the here and now. We have museums for everything else. Besides, what I have and how I live are not the issue here. We have a job to do, and that’s all that matters. You, of all three of us, should feel this the most. When this is over, it’s you who will have to carry the deception forward. You’ll have to be a real mother to this child, and don’t forget, you’ll have to convince your child that you are his or her mother, too.” She paused and nodded, as though what she said made a great deal of sense. Then she added, “Consider all this as nothing more than practice for that day—preparation.”

This time, she smiled with such self-satisfaction I felt sick to my stomach. Maybe I should go to bed, I thought. The episode in the supermarket, Dr. Prescott’s call, Arden’s glee, and now this witch of a woman’s obvious enjoyment at wielding power over me all sent a dark sword of helplessness through my very soul. I wobbled for a moment as the room seemed to spin.

/>

“Are you all right?” she asked, suddenly very concerned. After all, if something happened to me, what would she say? How would she explain what went on here, too?

It occurred to me that she was taking just as much of a risk as Arden and I were. How could she explain her behavior? She was retired from any regular work, but what sort of reputation would she have then? She might have to move away. Any friends she had, and I had trouble imagining that she had any, would certainly take a step away from her. Why, it would be like running a gauntlet to go shopping in this community because of all the looks and whispers behind her back.

“I am tired. This,” I said, placing my two hands over the bundle of wool that I had to wear, even sleep in, just in case Sylvia saw me during the night, “is becoming a real burden.”

“Imagine what a burden it is for truly pregnant women. Imagine what Sylvia is enduring,” she said, the slight note of sympathy I thought I had heard gone. “Go lie down.”

She stepped aside, and I walked out and to Sylvia’s room. She was sitting up at the side of her bed, her legs dangling. She was scribbling on a pad in her lap.

“Sylvia, what are you drawing?”

“I’m writing a name,” she said.

“A name?”

“When Papa told me to stay in my room, he told me a name,” she said. “A name for the baby.”