Whitefern (Audrina 2)

I looked up sharply. “I don’t understand why you’ve said that and you say it now. When have I ever thought of myself before I’ve thought of Sylvia’s welfare?”

“I’m just trying to keep everything in perspective. It’s what a good broker does, and most everything in life is in some way or another just another investment,” he replied, smiling. “Another thing your good old Papa taught me.”

He kissed me quickly on the cheek this time and left.

I sat there, stunned, angry, and, of course, very frustrated. I wanted to shout but knew that I couldn’t. I wanted to tear the blob of wool from my stomach, tear it into shreds, and see myself as I really was again, but I knew I couldn’t. I wanted to go find Mrs. Matthews and fire her on the spot, but I knew I couldn’t. I felt like I was in a straitjacket and wanted to rip it off. I got up instead and went to sit with Sylvia. Mrs. Matthews wasn’t in the room.

Sylvia groaned deeply and looked at me. “It hurts again, Audrina,” she said. “Does it hurt you, too?”

“Yes.” I hated to see her grimacing with pain. It did hurt me, too. I wasn’t lying.

I put my hand on her stomach. I could feel the baby kicking and smiled in wonder.

“The baby’s moving inside you, Sylvia. Feel it?”

Her stomach hardened but only for a few seconds. “Baby’s coming,” she said, nodding.

“Yes, soon.”

“Fix her pillows behind her, and sit her up,” Mrs. Matthews ordered from the doorway as she entered with Sylvia’s dinner. “She hasn’t been eating well. I want her to finish all of this tonight.”

I did as she asked. As soon as Mrs. Matthews put the tray in front of Sylvia, Sylvia looked at me. “Audrina has to eat, too,” she said.

I looked at Mrs. Matthews.

“Pull the chair up to the bed. Maybe she’ll eat better with you eating beside her. I’ll fetch your dinner.”

“I don’t want to fall asleep too quickly tonight,” I said pointedly.

She looked at me, her eyes narrowing. “You won’t. And you’ll be doing a lot more now.” She nodded at Sylvia. “There will be a lot more for both of us to do.”

“How close is she?”

“I doubt we’ll finish the week,” she said. “Make sure she drinks all the water,” she added, and left to get my food.

Sylvia was very uncomfortable. She pleaded to be permitted to lie back, but I did what Mrs. Matthews prescribed and kept her eating and drinking. She was a little more cooperative when Mrs. Matthews brought me my tray and I began to eat. I ate slowly, suspiciously, wondering if Mrs. Matthews had indeed done what Arden had asked her to do and reduced the dosage of whatever she had given me. Perhaps she wasn’t putting anything in my food now. I couldn’t detect it, but then again, I never did.

She returned to see how much had been eaten and nodded with approval. She took Sylvia’s tray.

“I can bring mine,” I said, starting to rise.

“Just stay there and keep her company. That’s more important. Now you can understand why I wanted her brought down to this bedroom. I can’t imagine running up and down those stairs. I hope you can appreciate everything I’ve asked you to do and everything I have done.”

“As you’ve said often, Mrs. Matthews, you’re being well paid,” I replied with a cold tone of realism.

Her face looked even tighter than it habitually was. I thought the skin would tear at her jawbone. Then she turned and left. She didn’t return for my tray for quite a while. I put it at the foot of Sylvia’s bed and helped her get as comfortable as she could be. Memories of my mother during the week before she was rushed to the hospital returned. She’d been in such agony sometimes, but the furthest thing from my mind had been the thought that she would die in childbirth. Every time Sylvia moaned, I was whipped back to that day Papa returned and Aunt Ellsbeth forced him to tell me the dreadful news. I’d thought my heart had been torn from my chest.

I reminded myself now that if something so terrible was to happen to Sylvia, I would blame no one but myself. I had dropped my protective shield around her. I had provided the opportunity for this to happen. Papa would scream from his grave. Everything, everything possible, had to be done to ensure that Sylvia would not face a fate similar to Momma’s. For this reason above all others, I had to placate Mrs. Matthews and appreciate all that she was doing. I shivered at the thought that something I might say or do would drive her out of Whitefern and leave us panicking over Sylvia’s final moments.

When she returned, I handed her my tray. She saw the look of obedience on my face and softened her eyes into her confident smile of self-satisfaction that only someone with her ego would enjoy. I avoided looking at her and sat down again quickly.

“She’s at the point where she can’t sleep well,” Mrs. Matthews said. “Do your best to get her to doze as much as possible. We don’t give pregnant women drugs they don’t absolutely need.”

“Okay.”

“Tell her a story, or sing to her.” She shook her head. “A child giving birth to a child.”

At least for the moment, she appeared to really feel sorry for Sylvia. Perhaps I was wrong to judge her so harshly, I thought. She was simply a woman with a personality that didn’t warm your heart. Maybe it was her way to get through the day, through each crisis, for her work was not work I would enjoy. Few would enjoy it. As Papa used to say, you had to have thick skin if you were going to walk among the bees.