The House of Eve (61)
“I understand you’ve been through an ordeal. I’m so sorry for your loss. May I?” She pointed to the chair.
“Yes, of course.” Eleanor adjusted her blanket.
The woman pulled the chair up to the side of the bed and rested her hand on Eleanor’s thigh. “You probably think this is the worst thing that could happen to you. But I am here to let you know that God works in mysterious ways.”
“Excuse me?” Eleanor’s head snapped. God had clearly forsaken her. He hadn’t answered her prayers, and she had gone to Him on her knees for months.
Mother Margaret folded her hands in her lap and seemed to pause until she was sure she had Eleanor’s full attention.
“Mrs. Pride. I run a home for unwed mothers not far from here. There is a limited number of quality babies being born to Negro girls who have gotten themselves into a fix. Most come from well-bred, educated families, a few are mixed-race.”
Eleanor kneaded her blanket with her knuckles. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I know this is all happening very quickly.” The nun reached into her black gown, producing a business card that she extended to Eleanor. “I am happy to meet with you and your husband once you leave the hospital. I think this alternative will suit you both well. It would be a shame for a thriving couple such as yourselves to lose out on the joys of parenthood.”
Eleanor didn’t want someone else’s child—she wanted to have her own. She wanted a child with William’s smile and her eyes.
The nun stood up and reached for Eleanor’s hands. “May I pray for you?”
Eleanor wanted nothing more than to be left alone. She nodded yes, anything to make the woman leave.
Mother Margaret’s hands were ice-cold and chapped, but her voice was strong.
“Hail, Mary, full of grace
the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.”
Mother Margaret made the sign of the cross and then touched her gold cross to her lips. “I hope that brought you comfort.”
Eleanor nodded for the nun’s sake, but she hadn’t felt anything but sadness—and the overwhelming need to pee.
“Mrs. Pride, we are so thorough that no one besides your husband will need to know. Please do give it some thought. There is a baby that is right for you.”
She closed the door behind her.
Eleanor flipped the business card over in her hand, then shoved it under her pillow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE WHAT’S RIGHT
Ruby
Over the next few days, I read the brochure on the home for “fallen girls” so many times I had whole sections of it memorized. Aunt Marie had given me her opinion, but I needed to talk it through with Shimmy. I had been trying to reach him since his mother’s visit a week ago, but we kept missing each other’s calls.
On Friday, I held out hope that this would be the weekend his parents would allow him a trip home from Brooklyn. Despite the heat, I pulled on a pink T-shirt and shorts, carried a novel outside and sat on the steps and waited. My head jutted up every time I heard the pull and swish of the door to the paint store, but there was no Shimmy. The water ice man came through the street wearing his cowboy hat. I paid a nickel for a cherry water ice that stained my fingertips and turned my tongue red.
By the time the sun moved to my side of the street, sweat had soaked through the back of my shirt. I packed it up and went inside, but the third-floor apartment wasn’t much cooler. The heat, combined with my worry over what to do, made my temples throb. I decided to try Shimmy’s home one more time. But his mother was the one to answer after the first ring.
“Have you considered my proposition, dear?” she asked by way of greeting. “Dear” did not sound like a term of endearment coming from her mouth.
“Ma’am, I was hoping to speak with Shimmy, please.”
“Shimmy remains in Brooklyn indefinitely, but I assure you we are of one mind on this topic. He has admitted that he is not mature enough to go through with whatever you two were planning. This is the best option for both of you.”
I paused. “Could you give me a telephone number that I can reach him at? The one I have keeps ringing.”
“I’m afraid not.” She was silent on the other end. “A piece of advice. When girls find themselves in trouble, it is best they make decisions for their benefit. Do consider your bright future. A child would only keep you from reaching your goal.”
I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and uttered, “Are you sure you can guarantee the full scholarship for all four years?”
“Yes, I am certain.” Her voice held promise. She wanted this as much as I did.
My knees shook. With Shimmy gone “indefinitely,” as she put it, I didn’t have a lot of options.
“Okay.” My stomach rumbled as if in protest. But I forced the words that I had been thinking all day out. “Please make the arrangements,” I conceded.
She sighed with elation. “Wonderful! You won’t be sorry. I’ll handle all the details and will be in touch shortly.”