In the Shadow of Lakecrest(39)
I sagged down onto the bed. “Marjorie said I looked unhappy,” I said. “About the baby.”
It was a test, an opening for Matthew to admit he’d noticed the same thing. He laughed and kissed me on the nose.
“Don’t mind her. Aren’t you curious why Mum dragged us off after dinner?”
“Sure.” I’d almost forgotten.
“The board of directors finally agreed to set up Lemont Medical as a separate company. Mum’s been pushing for it for years. With so many new medicines coming to market and hospitals being built, it’s the perfect time . . .”
I leaned against him and let my eyes drift shut. For so long, I’d wished Matthew would confide in me about his work. Now I was too tired to care.
“. . . to ask me if I’d do it.”
“Do what?” I asked, jerking myself upright.
“Run the new company. It’ll be a sacrifice, of course. I’ll be traveling, meeting with bankers and doctors. That’s why this baby is such good news.” He gave my belly a pat. “Something to keep you busy while I’m gone.”
“Oh, Matthew.” I tried very hard to look happy. Inside, I felt almost sick with worry. How could Hannah think Matthew was ready for such a responsibility?
“Don’t you worry,” Matthew said. “Mum will look out for you. She’ll take care of everything, I promise.”
He was more right than he knew.
Within a week, I was spending every morning on my knees in the bathroom, quivering with nausea. I spent most days in my room, while Hannah and the maids hovered, trying to tempt my unpredictable appetite with crackers and warm milk. One afternoon, when I was feeling strong enough to walk downstairs and listen to the radio, I heard Hannah on the phone, turning down an invitation on my behalf.
“I’m afraid Kate’s not well. I’ll pass on your best wishes. Thank you. Yes, we couldn’t be more pleased.”
You’d have thought she was the one expecting.
“Who was that?” I asked, walking into the entrance hall. Who cared if I was caught eavesdropping? Hannah had no right to take my calls.
“I informed Luanne that you will not be attending any Ladies’ Club luncheons for the foreseeable future.”
It was no great loss; the club’s gatherings were an irritating mix of gossip and one-upmanship. But I was furious at not being allowed to make the decision myself.
“I thought it was vulgar to talk about my condition until I was further along,” I said.
“In normal circumstances, yes. But I’m afraid it can’t be helped, given your delicate state. Now, what are you doing out of bed?”
“I feel fine,” I said. “I was going to listen to the Thursday Mystery Hour.” Then, with a certain defiance, I added, “If you don’t mind.”
Hannah took me by the crook of the arm, as if I were an invalid. “Of course not. I’ll get you settled. It’s time we had a talk about what’s expected of a woman in your condition.”
And that’s when I learned the baby didn’t just mean I wasn’t going to Africa. It meant no more solitary walks along Deertrail Road. No dashing off to lunch dates in Chicago whenever I pleased. For the next seven months, Hannah would determine what was suitable and what wasn’t. Thanks to the baby I hadn’t planned for and didn’t want, my mother-in-law was now in charge of my life.
CHAPTER NINE
It was a wetter than usual spring. Everyone said so. The rain poured down in torrents, soaking the landscape until water bubbled up from the ground. Puddles as big as ponds filled the front drive and back lawn, and the sky never changed from a dull, blank gray. Winter in Chicago is what most people complain about—the cold, the wind—but January and February had been crisp and bright, with swaths of snow glittering under clear blue skies. Spring felt desolate in comparison, and the few brave tulips that burst from the sodden flower beds were hardly enough to raise my spirits.
Hannah insisted I choke down a horrible tea each morning, which helped with the nausea, but her constant attention made me want to scream. She told me when to eat, what to eat, and when to go to bed. I hadn’t been so closely watched since school, when Sister Agatha and the other nuns were always eyeing us girls for signs of sinful behavior.
I wasn’t allowed to leave the house except for my monthly appointment with Dr. Westbrook, who asked nosy questions about my feelings on motherhood and marital relations with my husband. I was convinced everything I told him would be reported back to Hannah, so I put up with his poking and prodding and smiled demurely when he lectured me for not wearing a maternity corset. The only time I ever missed having morning sickness was in his office. What I would have given to vomit all over his pristine white coat!
Good Lord, I was bored. Denied my rambling walks outside, I paced the halls of Lakecrest instead. The rooms felt clammy and oppressive, with a lingering smell of wet plaster, and I began to hear the steady drip of leaks throughout the house. It was as if tiny rivers were trickling inside the walls, just out of sight. Even with a heavy cardigan pulled over a wool dress, the damp cold seemed to seep through my skin.
Matthew went off for a week to Boston, then for another to New York, and Marjorie tagged along to visit friends. My only visitor during their absence was Eva Monroe. I came close to asking her about the time I’d seen her standing alone in the snow; even from so far away, I’d sensed her loneliness. But Eva had a wariness to her, reminding me of a cat that scurries under the bed if you approach it too quickly. Confidences would have to wait.