Whitefern (Audrina 2)

She was lying with her eyes open, just as before, but clearly not seeing anything. Mrs. Matthews came up beside me, looked at her, and moved to the bed and began to check her blood pressure. She listened to her heart with a stethoscope and then looked at me. “She’ll be all right. Just sit here and talk to her,” she ordered.

“Are you sure? Maybe she needs more medical attention. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her just because we were afraid of revealing the truth now. Really. I’m worried.”

“Calm down,” she snapped. “Just read her a story or something.”

When she left, I sat next to Sylvia and began to talk to her.

“Our baby has been born, Sylvia. You have to help care for her, you know. You can’t sleep too long. We need you. I know it was painful, but when you see her and see how beautiful she is, you will agree that it was worth it.”

She blinked, but nothing else in her face moved.

“Someday soon, you’ll be playing with her, Sylvia. You’ll show her things, how to do things. And when she can walk, you’ll take her into the woods and show her the squirrels. But you have to be strong, Sylvia. You have to be healthy and well.”

I took her hand and held it. This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be just a little thing. She wasn’t moving or trying to speak. I lowered my head and closed my eyes. Papa, I thought. Papa, help us.

I looked at the rocking chair.

“I’m going to tell Papa about the baby, Sylvia, but he’ll want you to tell him, too.”

I went to the chair. It had been years since I had sat in it. It actually terrified me a little. When I sat, memories came rushing back—the visions, the voices, everything I had ever seen or heard when I closed my eyes and rocked. I glanced back at Sylvia. She looked like she had turned a little toward me. I took a deep breath, like I would if I was going to jump into the pond, and then I put my arms on the arms of the chair, closed my eyes, and rocked.

I saw Papa’s angry face. The words I feared resonated.

You were supposed to protect her, Audrina. You promised.

I started to cry, crying like a little girl again. I couldn’t have Papa mad at me. I couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, Papa. I’m sorry,” I moaned.

“Papa?” I heard, and opened my eyes. Sylvia was sitting up. “Did you hear Papa?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “He’s waiting for you, Sylvia, for you.”

She started to get out of the bed.

Mrs. Matthews, as if she had been listening just outside the door, appeared. “You stay in that bed,” she ordered, pointing with her long right forefinger at Sylvia. “I’ll tell you when you can get up.”

Sylvia froze.

“But it helped her,” I said. “The rocking chair.”

“I told you that her lethargy wouldn’t last. You don’t have to go through some stupid magic. She’ll be fine. Now, go keep your eyes on the baby. I’ll handle Sylvia. Go on!” she ordered, so sharply I winced and then got up.

“Papa,” Sylvia said.

“Lie down,” Mrs. Matthews commanded. “I won’t have you tear those stitches and bleed all over the place. Go on. Do as I say.”

Sylvia lay back reluctantly, her eyes on the chair.

Mrs. Matthews glared at me. “You’d have her up rocking in that chair with those stitches still fresh? I can see I’ll be here for a while yet. Go on. Go to your room.”

I wanted so much to shout back at her, but we were still trapped, trapped by the secrets. I glanced at Sylvia and then went and stood beside the bassinet, watching Adelle breathe and occasionally whimper like a puppy. Could I do it? Could I make her my baby? Could I stop thinking about who her father was and how she had been conceived? Of course, it was wrong, even stupid, to blame the baby, but it wasn’t easily ignored.

I sat on my bed softly beside Adelle and picked up one of the pamphlets about caring for an infant. Hours later, Arden returned, beaming as brightly as he had before, if not more. He rattled on and on about all the congratulations he had received, the clients who had called, and how wonderful it had made him feel.

“Maybe I should have been there,” I said, my voice full of bitterness.

“Now, how could you do that, Audrina? Really? If you’re going to be a mother, think like an adult,” he said, and looked at the baby. “Of course, like your father, I wanted a son,” he said, “but for now, she will do.”