Whitefern (Audrina 2)

“What?”

“He didn’t say girl or boy, just baby,” she added, and then went into her bedroom.

I followed her, feeling dazed now. I had never mentioned to her that Arden and I had been trying to have a child. She never asked, and she was never in a room when he and I talked about it or my failure to get pregnant. I wasn’t confident that she would understand any of the medical information anyway.

I tucked her in and stood there in the dim light spilling through her doorway from the hallway.

“Papa told you I would have a baby?”

“Yes.”

“When, Sylvia? When did he tell you this?”

“Tonight,” she said. “He was here first in my room. I knew he was here, so I went to the rocking chair because I knew he had a new secret, and he told me,” she said.

“Okay. Just go to sleep now,” I told her. I tucked her in, and she turned onto her side, looking very contented. I stood there looking around her room as if I expected to hear or see something.

I went back to Arden’s and my bedroom and paused outside our door. For a few moments, I actually debated with myself about returning to the first Audrina’s bedroom and sitting in the rocking chair. Regardless of all I knew, despite how the deceptions were exposed, I couldn’t completely disregard the power of the rocking chair. There were too many emotional memories. It called to me, not just tonight but many nights, and in the beginning, after I had learned all the lies, I still wanted to feel its power.

It took a great deal of self-control to push these feelings back, but I was in more of a daze than ever, and when I entered our bedroom, I just sat on the bed for a few moments thinking. Of course Sylvia couldn’t have gotten such an idea from the spirit of my father while she rocked in the chair. I tried to be logical and decided that Sylvia was more alert than either of us knew, than anyone knew. She might be sitting and looking at pictures or playing with a puzzle, but she wasn’t completely shut off from what people were saying nearby. It was wrong to underestimate her. If anyone should know that, I should.

“What the hell is it?” I heard Arden demand. His shout made me jump. He must have turned, opened his eyes, and saw me sitting up, or else he had heard me walk out and back in. “What did she do now?”

My immediate thought was Don’t dare mention the rocking chair.

“She didn’t do anything terrible, Arden. She merely had a dream,” I said.

“A dream? Did she scream?”

“A little,” I lied.

“Why does that not surprise me? What was the dream?”

“She dreamed I had a baby,” I said.

“Oh, she did, huh? Well, that should do it. We don’t even have to make love. It will be an immaculate conception. We’ll call the baby Sylvia’s Wish. Go to sleep, or go back to her,” he ordered. “It’s the middle of the night. How I do as well as I do under these circumstances is a miracle. Thank goodness I’m dedicated.”

I lay back and pulled the blanket over me.

“Baby.” I heard him rustling about and then heard him whisper, “Okay.”

“What?”

He turned sharply and threw the covers off us as if they were on fire.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s baby time. Sylvia has declared it.”

“I don’t understand, Arden.”

“Nothing to understand,” he said. “Only to do.”

He reached down and pulled my nightgown up and out of his way, practically tearing it off me. I cried out, but before I could say another word, he scooped my legs up and pressed his hardness into me, so roughly I lost my breath for a moment. I was shocked at how fast and easily he could be ready. He didn’t bother kissing me or touching me tenderly anywhere. Instead, he hovered above me like a hawk, pouncing.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted, as he pushed and prodded, twisting me this way and that so he could be more comfortable. His grunts made it sound like he was lifting a heavy weight. I couldn’t stand the sight of him like this and put my hands over my eyes. On he pushed and prodded. I felt like he was tearing me up. The bed sounded like it would crash to the floor. At one point, my head hit the headboard, but he was oblivious to everything but his own animal satisfaction. This wasn’t even sex to me; it was anger and revenge.

As so often when we made love, he had his orgasm before I even began to enjoy one, not that I could tonight. It reminded me of our earlier years, even our honeymoon, when he practically raped me because of my fears and hesitation.