Whitefern (Audrina 2)

“She ate a lot, Audrina.”

“Good. Please put her in the bassinet now. She needs to sleep to grow, remember?”

“Yes.” Sylvia paused, obviously wondering who this woman was and why I didn’t do the proper thing and introduce her. This was something I had taught Sylvia she must always do.

“Go on, Sylvia. We’ll have our lunch soon, too.”

“Okay. I’ll cut the tomatoes,” she said, and after another quizzical glance at Mrs. Price, she left.

“She is a very beautiful young lady. I can see what drove Arthur to do what he did.”

“Can you?” I fired back at her. My voice was so harsh she fell back into the chair. Now I stood, my temper flaring like Papa’s would. “Your husband just appreciated my sister’s beauty? That’s all it was? An artist being inspired? That’s all that went on here? Do you think I’m that stupid?” I caught my breath. “All right. You came to fulfill your promise to him. I appreciate your devotion to your husband, but this doesn’t change anything, Mrs. Price. Your husband took advantage of my sister. He used art as an excuse to sexually abuse her. I’m afraid we’re going to leave it at that. And you’re lucky that’s all we’ll do.”

My rage lit something in her. I could see how her body, which had been in a posture of pleading, changed. Her eyes brightened with fury. She stood, too. “I’m sorry there is no forgiveness in your soul for someone who suffered and has died. He was remorseful and sincerely in pain, a pain that killed him. His doctors confirmed that the stress was overwhelming. It took away his life when it caused his stroke. He was diminished, a shadow of who he was. Death had no struggle to take him. I’m sure he welcomed it.”

She continued, “And for you, from the little I know of your family and the tragedies you’ve endured, to stand there and be so high and mighty . . . I feel sorrier for you now. I’m glad I came here to see who you really are. Now I can forgive Arthur for sure. The rumors about this Whitefern family have good reason.” She started walking away.

Papa’s rage exploded in me. “Stop!” I shouted.

She turned.

“You think I’m unsympathetic, selfish, cruel, and harsh? You blame my family? You defile my family’s memory?” I stepped toward her. “Well, I’ll tell you something that you don’t know, that no one should know, and if you dare utter a syllable of it out there, I promise that I will destroy your husband’s memory forever. And you along with it. That baby you just saw, that beautiful child in my sister’s arms, that baby is her baby, not mine. Your husband raped my sister. How’s that for artistic inspiration? Well? What do you say now? Who is the high and mighty and unforgiving one now?”

She shook her head.

“Go on, get out and leave us. We’ll do fine bringing up your husband’s child, a child who will never know anything about him until she can absorb such a horrible fact about herself. Maybe she’ll visit you if you’re still alive and make you face your husband’s sin yourself. Maybe she’ll visit your children and tell them they have a half sister.”

She didn’t move. Then she surprised me by moving back to the chair and sitting.

“Stunned?” I said. “I guess you didn’t know the man you married, the man who was the father of your children, so well after all. It doesn’t surprise me. He was quite good at deceiving me. Apparently, he was good at deceiving the whole community, too, especially the school community.” Why was she still here?

She shook her head again. “He’s not the father of my children,” she said.

“What?” Now what was she confessing to? She dressed like a hippie. They probably lived with other hippies and had no morals. “I don’t want to hear your confessions, Mrs. Price. Frankly, I couldn’t be less interested in you. Please leave, or I’ll call the police.”

“All our children are adopted,” she said softly.

“That’s very nice, but—”

“No, you don’t understand what I’m saying, Mrs. Lowe. Arthur was unable to get me or any woman pregnant. He contracted testicular cancer when he was in his early twenties. The radiation and chemotherapy stopped the cancer but led to infertility. He tested and tested and finally gave up. That’s when we decided to adopt. My husband couldn’t possibly be the father of your sister’s child.” She stood again. “If you want, I’ll arrange for you to speak with Arthur’s doctor. I can also send you copies of his tests and reports.”

She waited for me to respond, but I couldn’t. After a moment, she started out. She paused in the doorway, looked back at me, then said good-bye and left.

The door closing sounded more like a coffin being shut. I fell back onto the settee.

Sylvia returned to the living room and looked around. “Is the lady gone?”

“Yes, she’s gone, Sylvia.”

“I cut too many tomatoes.”

“That’s all right.”

“Adelle’s asleep,” she said.

I nodded.

She looked at me, smiling, waiting for me to tell her to do something else.