Bloodline(13)

Mildred’s lips stretch but her eyes are doll-flat. “Just a poor dog hit by a train.”

My stomach does a tumble. There must be a dozen people gawping at it. Not doing anything, simply staring. I crane my neck, trying to get a better look around Mildred, through the crowd’s legs. I catch my second glimpse of raw red, but also blue cloth.

Oh no. Not a stray. A dog someone loved enough to smarten up with a bandanna.

Mildred moves to block my limited view, her hands dropping on my shoulders. “This isn’t for a city lady to see.” Her eyes drop to my waist. “Especially in your condition.”

My condition?

The truth drives home like a punch. My pregnancy.

Mildred knows. This drab woman I’ve met only once before knows my private business. How? My hand instinctively travels to my stomach, a gesture that Mildred misinterprets and rewards with a warm smile.

Not so good at reading facial expressions now, are you, Mildred.



“But you said . . .”

“Said what?” I demand. I’m in the break room at Deck’s office, and I don’t like the daggers in my voice.

“That you’d like people to know.” He appears genuinely distressed. “You said it that first night we moved in. In the bedroom.”

The billowing sheets of anger make it difficult to see the truth of what he’s saying, but then I remember my words. I wish we could fast-forward to being done, being settled in, everyone knowing about the baby. But how to explain that I’d wanted him to hold me and tell me everything would be all right, not wrest away my fragile control?

He must see the capitulation on my face. “It’s not like the city, baby,” he coos. “Here the women think being pregnant is a good thing.”

“Deck!”

His expression is pained as he unwraps his second sandwich—ham, onions, and Miracle Whip on white bread, his favorite. The waxed paper makes a rustling sound. “People were bound to find out sooner than later,” he’s saying. “You look great, you really do, Joanie, but you’re gonna start showing any day now. If we don’t tell anyone before then, it looks like we’re either hiding something or like it was an accident.”

“But it was an accident!” I wring my hands.

“I’m afraid this is all my fault.”

Ronald’s unexpected voice from behind shocks me. My heart pounds, but I keep it cool on the surface. I won’t show him that I’m startled, will calm myself before I turn to face him. I’ve always been a cool head when angry. A stoic, everyone says. I’d be surprised if any Schmidt Insurance employees even noticed my rage when I came through the door, anyone except Deck. I had smiled at Becky (Blonde Becky, a receptionist as beautiful as a butterfly, she’d fall to the earth if she stopped smiling), nodded at the four men working behind desks. I recognized only one, the giant Clan Brody, as I took a seat in the break room, sitting primly until Deck finished a meeting in Ronald’s office.

I didn’t let loose until we were alone.

Thought we were alone.

“I was the one who blabbed the good news,” Ronald continues from behind me, where he opened the door and slipped in as quietly as a snake. “You have to understand how a small town works. We’re a big family here. You don’t keep secrets from family.”

I’m trying to hang on to my calm, but my hands are shaking beneath the table. I cannot unring this bell, and the powerlessness is unnerving. Deck is staring at his sandwich, the ham leering out like a tongue from the pillowy slice of bread. He’s leaving me to address Ronald alone.

Very well. I swivel in my seat and stand to face Deck’s father.

I’m shocked to see from his expression that he thinks he’s teasing me, that we’re all in on a big, harmless joke, that it doesn’t matter a whit that I wanted a job and identity before I become a mother in everyone’s eyes. When he holds out his arms, I’m so caught off guard that I walk toward them.

“We’re so happy for you and Deck,” he says, wrapping me in his embrace. I stiffen when he buries his face into my hair, but I don’t pull away. With a Ronald hug, I’m learning, retreating simply isn’t an option. “Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from Him.” He chuckles, his laugh as gritty as his voice. “Guess the Schmidts have planted our stake in your real estate.”

I take three full breaths before Ronald releases me. I don’t know about any of my body being real estate, but I can’t see any options. Be invisible when you can, harmless if they spot you. “Yes,” I say, patting my hair. “Deck and I are very happy.”

“You bet you are. Nothing greater in this world than a child. Barbara and I’ve been meaning to have the two of you over to celebrate ever since Deck told us the news. I’ll let her set that up with you.” He twists his arm to pull his wristwatch into view. “You should get going.”

I bristle. “Excuse me?”

Ronald ignores my question, glancing at my stomach, then Deck. “You have to understand—in my generation, pregnant women didn’t work.”

I swell, soaking up anger like a towel dropped in water. Screw having a cool head. Before I can sound off, though, Ronald raises his hand, laughing more deeply this time.

“Now, hold your horses before you lay into me. I was about to say that I understand you and Deck are from a different generation than me and Barbara. Deck told me you want to work, and I admire that. You want to contribute. I understand that. You women these days,” he says, shaking his head, smiling like he can’t believe what he’s about to say, “cooking for your husbands, cleaning, raising children, and working. If only we could build an army of you!”