The House of Eve (88)

I followed her inside.

“Why do we need to go? I was just with the nurse yesterday for my thirty-eight-week checkup and she said I was fine.”

“Well, there’s a new development. Please wash up and meet me by the back door in ten minutes.”

Something felt off, and my thoughts swirled along with the paint that dripped from my fingers and circled the sink as I washed my hands. It had been so long since I’d left the Gingerbread House, so once we were in the white van, I turned my attention to the window and watched the city passing by.

I had always pictured the white girl’s clinic as a big, grandiose building with multiple floors that stretched a full block. In reality, it was a basic one-story brick office barely the size of three Philadelphia row houses pressed together. We pulled into the alley, and I followed Mother Margaret past the reeking garbage dumpster. A piece of broken glass cracked beneath my saddle shoe. Mother Margaret looked both ways, then banged on the back door with her fist. A few seconds passed, and then a woman in a nurse’s cap pulled the door open and we stepped inside.

The hallway was stark white, with fluorescent overhead lights that made everything appear sterile. As we walked, my stomach churned from the overwhelming smell of bleach. The nurse led us into a room at the end of the hall and told me to put on a medical gown. Up close, I could see that the nurse wore too much rouge on her cheeks and it made her look like a clown.

“Ruby?”

“Yes.”

“Lay back, dear. Everything is okay. You don’t have to be afraid.”

But I was.

“I’ll take good care of you. Don’t worry.” Her voice was so soothing that I didn’t notice the needle in her hand until she pushed it in my arm.

Then came blackness.





PART FOUR


There are no good girls gone wrong—just bad girls found out.


—Mae West





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT WAITING GAME



Eleanor




The telephone had not rung in three days. Eleanor knew because she had been hovering by it anxiously, spending almost all her time in or near the den since Mother Margaret called. William had gone to the hospital each morning with strict instructions for her to page him the moment she heard the news. Eleanor had even phoned Nadine and asked her to call her back to make sure the telephone was working properly.

“Seems to be working just fine to me,” Nadine teased after Eleanor picked up. “Who are you waiting to call anyway?”

“It just hasn’t rung all that much, that’s all,” Eleanor fibbed.

Eleanor hung up after finally relenting and telling Nadine she could swing by with breakfast someday soon. Bernie had returned to put the finishing touches on the baby’s room the day before, but the ease with which they had previously spoken was gone. He had been quick and formal when she walked upstairs to check on him. Nonetheless, he had done an amazing job. The baby’s room was cleaned and fully furnished.

There was nothing left for her to do. All the Evenflo bottles had been sterilized in hot water; the cloth diapers had been prewashed in Ivory Snow and were stacked and folded. Diaper pins overflowed from a mason jar, and she was set with two economy-sized squeeze bottles of Mennen Baby Magic to prevent diaper rash. All she could do now was wait on the call.

The day dragged on, and just as she decided to occupy herself with preparing dinner, William came through the back door carrying a paper bag filled with the fresh fruit she had requested. When he hugged her, she could feel the chill coming from his skin.

“Cold out there?”

“Freezing,” he said. “Any news?”

Eleanor shook her head as she unpacked the bananas, grapes and red apples. “I hope nothing went wrong.”

“I’m sure everything is fine. If I learned one thing from my rotation in pediatrics, it was that things can be pretty hectic.”

“What if Mother Margaret took our money and this is all a hoax?”

“Everything will be fine. Just try to relax, honey. You go put some music on while I pull dinner together.”

Eleanor did as she was told while enjoying the sounds of William futzing around in the kitchen. She was tempted to go in and help, but it wasn’t often that he cooked, so she gave him space.

When the food was ready, they ate at the kitchen table. William had poured himself a glass of wine but she had refused. She wanted to have all her faculties when the call came in and it was time to race to their baby.

As William caught her up on his stint in the ER, she tried to give him her full attention, but part of her mind was still focused on all the things that might have gone wrong in the days since she’d spoken to Mother Margaret. But then, just as she was securing the leftovers in Tupperware, the blissful sound of the telephone rang out.

They exchanged looks and then Eleanor dashed from the kitchen to the den. It was only a few steps, but she still sounded out of breath as she answered.

“Hello.”

“Mrs. Pride?”

“Yes, Mother Margaret,” she said loud enough for William to hear from the kitchen.

“Sorry to phone during the dinner hour, but I wanted to let you know that we have a slight delay.”

“Is the baby all right?”

“Everything is fine. We are just backed up on our paperwork. I know you are both eager to start your new lives, and you should be able to pick up your baby soon. I’ll phone again shortly.”