All Good Women (32 page)

Teddy leaned back
and stretched
her legs. On the couch opposite snored a young, expectant father. Teddy had
learned he was waiting for twins. Might as well rest while he could.

Teddy picked up her cup of cold tea and set it down again. 4 a.m. She read her watch and shook her head. It was 5 a.m. in Arizona. Wanda would be asleep. Teddy felt overwhelmed with sadness, thinking about Wanda still stuck in that place. She was paralyzed with remorse that she had never made her visit. Of course Wanda wrote to say she understood that Teddy didn't want to leave Moira in her condition. Wanda understood. Wanda was called upon to understand a great deal these last few years.

Teddy stared down the empty hall. At midnight, the nurse had said it might be five hours yet, had told her to go home, but if Teddy knew anything about Moira it was that she was unpredictable. Well, maybe the child wanted to come at dawn. This was going to be some day. New baby. Reconciliation between Moira and her mother. Mrs Finlayson should be getting to town this evening. Good timing — allowing Moira to recover and freshen up and get to know her daughter. Why did she keep picturing a girl? She tried to think of a little boy. She had practiced saying Moira's favorite names: Tim, Bruce. This just didn't work. It would be a girl.

Teddy closed her eyes and imagined the three of them, Moira and the baby and herself, sitting out in the garden together. She loved children, hated to see her youngest brother and sister growing up. And now she was going to be a parent. Never had she featured herself as a parent. That was OK, wasn't it? True, she wasn't a mother, but maybe a kind of auxiliary mother or a step-mother. That's how Moira thought of it, wasn't it? After all, she talked about ‘raising our baby'. Well, names weren't so important. It was the feeling they all had, the bond that counted.

Bonds. They had been through a lot together since July, she and Moira. First that horrible night with Moira lying at the top of the stairs. The frantic race to the hospital — this very hospital — and the agonizing wait while they ran tests. Then the coming-to-terms with her pregnancy. Then that wonderful night of Moira's birthday. The glorious days of loving since then. And now tonight, another birthday, any minute now.

Moira could not believe
the
wild, searing pain. The intensity. The endurance. How could it go on this long. There didn't seem to be any pauses between the contractions. But how could she survive if there wasn't some relief, some space for herself? She began to hate this thing inside her. Then she felt intense sympathy, because if this hurt her how did it feel to a tiny child? She knew she could not survive the pain much longer.

The nurse shook Teddy's shoulder.
Startled, she almost knocked the woman getting to her feet. ‘Is she born? Is Moira all right?'

The woman smiled and sighed. ‘Progress, but no product. I'm going off shift now. And I've told Hazel,' she nodded toward the thin, young woman behind the counter, ‘to keep tabs for you.'

Teddy blinked and yawned. ‘Why thank you very much. Thank you for your help.'

Stretching, she noticed that the father of twins had gone, replaced by a younger man, smoking furiously. Teddy checked her watch and rushed to the phone to tell Mr Whitney that she was very sorry, but she had come down with a terrible case of stomach flu.

This is it,
thought Moira,
I'm going to die in childbirth. They had wheeled her into a different room. Dr Emerson had given her something for the pain, but she needed to remain awake to push. Push? She was already almost over the edge. Had they called a priest? She should have told Teddy to call a priest instead of Mother. Well, if anyone could get her into Heaven, it was Mother. Maybe they would say the rosary in the same church where they prayed for Uncle Willie. This time sweet, wee Jenny would hang on to competent Aunt Evie.

‘Push.' The nurse was shouting in her ear. Poor woman didn't understand. Would the baby survive if she …

‘Push. Push. Puuuuush. Push. Pu …'

Moira could hear the wails. High pitched and angry. So different from the deep howls of terror she, herself, had made a moment before. The child cried again. Her child. She raised her head and stared at the squalling, red baby. Girl. They told her it was a girl.

Teddy brought Mrs Finlayson
a
fresh cup of tea. ‘It sure takes a long time.' She shook her head.

‘Yes.' Moira's mother faltered. ‘It's completely unpredictable. You must be exhausted, Teddy.'

‘Yes, Mam. No more than you. Or Moira. Or …' She saw the thin, young nurse approaching them. The man with the cigarette looked up nervously.

The nurse seemed to be trying to remember something.

‘How is my daughter, Moira?' Mrs Finlayson stood tall.

‘Well, Mam, it's a girl. The mother is fine.'

‘Thank God.'

Teddy reached over
and squeezed
Mrs Finlayson's shoulder. She felt the older woman try to relax.

A girl, thought Teddy. And she was OK. Everybody was OK.

‘When may I see my grandchild?'

Teddy looked on expectantly.

The nurse frowned as if she were still trying to remember something and said, ‘Since you're the grandmother, I'm sure it will be all right. Just follow me.'

Teddy remained standing, confused and then disappointed. Well, she would get to see them soon enough. They were all right. Everything was going to be all right.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Early winter 1944–5, San Francisco

GERMANS RETREAT FROM ARDENNES

STRASBOURG THREATENED

HUNGARY AND USSR SIGN ARMISTICE

STREETLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH
the
white shade as Moira tucked Tess into her crib. She stood in the darkened room, watching light play on her baby's face. Her baby. This sweet, small, chubby person. At once Moira felt wizened and weary and far too young to mother this child. Yet she knew Tess was hers by this love which was larger than anything she had ever experienced. Had Mother felt this way about her? The child turned with a low, gurgling sound. Moira held her breath because she didn't want Tess to waken. She had no energy to spare except for looking and loving. Is this why Mother never had a second child, because Moira had given her so much bother? She had often thought of Mother since Tess's birth — had found a new sympathy and forgiveness, at least the willingness to forgive.

A healthy wind blew outside, casting tree branches over the streetlamp and webbing shadows across the room. Moira watched anxiously for signs of movement in Tess, but all she detected was quiet breathing — in and out, slow and even. She studied the shimmering blond hair, the pink skin and the miraculous vitality that eased up and down beneath the knitted blanket.

When she noticed the baby's resemblance to Randy her heart would catch. She stepped back and considered that she had stopped counting the months since she had heard from him. She had little sadness left, only a hard crust of anger. But it had all worked out for the best, hadn't it? Otherwise she couldn't have found this new love for Teddy.

Moira's eyes drew back to her own fingers, lightly gripping the edge of the crib. This skin was tougher since she had taken the shipyard job and her fingernails were ruined. What did Tess feel when she was washed? Did she feel Moira's rough, harsh skin? Did she sense security? Moira paused, remembering the antiseptic smell of Mother's hands after she purged their house with Clorox and the Bon Ami.

What would Tess's early memories be? Would she know anything of this war? Would she remember not having a father? Why was she thinking about Randy so much tonight? This wasn't a tragedy. Moira could not remember her own real father. And Tess wasn't an orphan. She had two parents. How much could the child feel? What could she taste? Did she perceive herself as separate from her mother? Surely when she was hungry, she squirmed and cried as if Moira belonged to her. So often Moira had the sensation that Tess was in charge. Her own arms were for holding; her shoulders for burping; her hip for carrying.

How long would their love be this strong? Moira had to restrain herself from tucking in her child again.

She worried about the desperate schism that tore her apart from Mother. Odd, how you could spend nine months surrounding a being, creating her, feeding her and then find out that you are completely helpless as to how that being develops, as to who she becomes. Would her hair remain blond and curly? Would those blue eyes turn dark? Would she be steamy or placid or dull or turbulent? Moira wondered if she were capable of being a mother since she had hardly learned the daughter role.

Tess continued to sleep peacefully, and Moira, concerned that her worries might disturb the child, blew a silent kiss good-night. Quietly, she secured the doorstop with her foot and proceeded across the hall to bed. Standing on her toes, she stretched the tension from her body. She had never imagined working this hard: tending a baby was tough enough; then the shipyard drained the rest of her spirit. They couldn't survive on Teddy's salary, generous as she was. The babysitter was reliable and she was blessed to have one.

Bending down to place
her
slippers under the bed, she felt a pain pulse along her waist. Must be the muscle she pulled at work yesterday. God damn, you think you've escaped these things and then they plague you. Still, she was luckier than some. She shuddered, thinking about Eleanor's eye and Nell's left foot. There wasn't enough attention to safety. Here they were building these ships tightly to protect the seamen so the seamen could bring supplies to the military who were protecting the civilians. But who was protecting the shipbuilders? This, if nothing else, had got her active in the union. She didn't care if people called her ‘Red' with that silly double meaning in their voices, she knew she had a right to be paid fairly and treated carefully. After all, this wasn't Pan-O-Rama Studios; this was the American war effort.

She hurried into her flannel night gown, wistfully acknowledging that the warm spell was over. Opening the bed, she could smell the fresh sheets she had fitted this morning before going to work and the sweetness pleased her. The bed was cool, but it would soon warm up. Moira lay still, listening carefully for noises from the adjacent room. She decided to leave the light on.

Teddy tiptoed into the bedroom,
worried about Moira, who had gone to bed early as she had every night this week. Well, tomorrow was Sunday and the kid could rest from at least one of her jobs. Undressing with dispatch, Teddy noticed Moira was wearing a flannel nightie. She reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out a long gown of her own. Then she stood beside the bed. Moira was as busy in her sleep as in every other moment of the day. Her round breasts rose and fell like ocean swells. Her curls tangled on the pillow like seaweed strung along the shore. For all her hard work, she looked well, more fit than in years. That nagging self-pity had disappeared. Maybe the problem had been she didn't have enough to do in that silly office job. Now she had responsibility upon responsibility and she was handling it beautifully. Ann should see Moira's self-sufficiency now. In many ways the girls were similar. She looked forward to Ann's return.

Teddy climbed into bed beside Moira, breathing in the scent of clean sheets mixed with Moira's lemon talc. She wasn't ready for sleep, so she picked up
The Glass Key
and turned to the chapter she had been reading last night. Moira's breathing remained deep and even. Teddy imagined it rising and falling in rhythm with Tess in the next room. She remembered nights when Moira still carried Tess inside her. The two of them would lie in bed timing Tess's heartbeat. Teddy leaned against the pillows and closed her eyes. How long had this been going on — how long had they shared the same bed, how long had they been ‘lovers', as Dawn would say? How long? Of course she knew perfectly well because tomorrow would be their fourth month anniversary. Four months of holding Moira in her arms, of being able to look and smell and touch as closely as she wanted. Four months of skittish happiness. Teddy thought she could remember every detail of their first night. For one thing, Moira loved to relive that evening, talking about it moment by moment.

Teddy looked down at her friend and remembered her this afternoon, wearing the birthday dress, just to show that it finally did fit. Moira, yes, this was the same Moira who had waited for J.D. to give her a break in the movies. And she still fiddled with all that lipstick and nail polish. When Wanda and Ann returned, they would find the same person. They would recognize her. How long would it take for them to notice she had ripened? Of course they all had aged; they would expect changes. But Moira seemed so profoundly different to Teddy. She longed to share her happiness, but she knew, even as Moira warned her, that it wasn't the sort of thing you put in a letter. Wise as Moira was about the world, Teddy felt a little nervous in her general secretiveness.

Teddy couldn't keep her head in the book. She needed to remind herself that there were some friends she could talk to.

Dawn and Sandra were happy
for her. Sandra more so. ‘Welcome to the club.' Sandra had slapped Teddy on the back, as they sat in a corner of the Quiet Cat. ‘You'll have to bring her along next weekend.'

‘But you know, well, that she's different,' Teddy stumbled, unable to picture Moira in this place, reluctant to admit that Moira had already said she was too shy to come and that she herself was here only because Vivian and Moira had gone to the movies.

‘Hell, that don't make no difference, some of those shy women are the most delicious and, if the dancing gets too rambunctious, we can all sit here at the table, the way we's doing now.'

Dawn held her peace, looking from Teddy to Sandra and rolling a cigarette.

‘Well.' Teddy finally managed. ‘It looks like you all will have to come visit us at the house. I reckon it'd be easier for everyone there.'

Dawn took a long drag. ‘You be careful, honey.'

Sandra shot her a warning look, which made Dawn all the more determined to advise.

‘Moira is a nice girl, we know that. But just take it easy.'

Teddy drew back, irritated by the smoke. Then, in spite of herself, she said, ‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean that straight ladies like to play games with us sometimes. They don't intend to hurt. But they can pull out anytime. And that leaves you holding a hole in your heart.'

‘How do you know she's straight — or for that matter that I'm any more in the life than she is. This is the first woman I ever made love with …'

Sandra was shaking her head at Dawn. Dawn took another drag and interrupted Teddy. ‘Honey, I know you. You're as queer as they come. I don't mean to sound superior, but I knew you liked women before you did. And that Moira girl, she does like men. Now would she be carrying around that bundle if she didn't like men?'

‘It was an accident; she didn't mean it.' Teddy stopped, realizing how foolish she sounded, understanding that Dawn was voicing her own doubts. Still, Moira said that sex with her was gentler than with Randy. More fulfilling.

‘Dawn McCormack,' Sandra whispered harshly. ‘You don't know nothing about this affair. You don't know how people develop. Remember me five years back; I couldn't decide between you and Billy Walker. Besides, besides,' she turned to Teddy urgently, ‘you deserve a little loving after what that Angela girl did to you. You take it while you can. These days you can't never count on tomorrow.'

Sandra hadn't made her feel better. That was the last advice from either of them. Sandra and Dawn wished her the best. She knew she could count on them for company if not for answers.

Teddy set her book
on
the bedside table next to Wanda's letter. She thought she had problems, well, what about Wanda? Her brother lost in combat; her boyfriend 6,000 miles away; herself completely responsible for Betty and their mother. Tomorrow Teddy would write to Wanda. Tomorrow as soon as she got home from work.

Vivian honked at exactly 5.45
the next morning. Moira was still feeding Tess her bottle. Someday she would get used to the fact that other people were punctual. She was supposed to be on time too, not eternally five minutes late. Teddy hurried into the kitchen, automatically lifting the baby from Moira. ‘You go and get your coat and the basket; I'll finish feeding her.'

‘Thanks, hon.' Moira kissed Teddy's cheek. As she raced into the living room, she had a queasy feeling that this was becoming like a marriage in the simple ways they relied on each other. Or had their relationship always been this way? Moira felt much more comfortable in a friendship than in a marriage. She smiled thinking about their traditional costumes — she in her heavy overalls and Teddy in her prim skirt and pumps. But she was really the mother of the baby. And Teddy was really the lesbian. Well, Moira guessed most people would call her a lesbian now. And she guessed that in loving Teddy that's what she was.

Honk. Honk. Vivian called from the car, ‘Hey, Moi, get a move on.' Moira hustled across the room, taking Tess from Teddy's arms.

Moira settled into the front seat, quietened Tess with her bottle, then turned to Vivian. ‘I'm sorry, I-I …'

‘So what else is new? Forget it. Just lucky we don't have to pick up anyone else today.'

‘Right.' Moira caught her breath. ‘I forgot Jay and Claire were taking a furlough. Good, we'll get to talk. It's been so crazy at work with the union stuff and the speed-up. Seems I only catch you coming and going.'

‘Yeah.' Vivian tucked a stray hair beneath her neckerchief. ‘You and Dot and I have to have dinner soon, that is if Teddy doesn't mind.'

‘Why would she mind?' Moira asked, wondering if she were imagining the edge in Vivian's voice. ‘We have separate friends.'

‘Right.' Vivian's tone was more brusque.

‘What's on your mind?' Moira checked on Tess as she often did when she, herself, was anxious. She wasn't clear whether her reflex was to protect her child or to find self-protection in motherhood.

Vivian stared at the traffic for forty seconds and began slowly. ‘You heard from Randy at all?'

Moira blushed and resisted an urge to cover Tess's ears. Of course the child would learn about Randy some day. But while the war continued, Moira assumed a certain immunity. She was surprised at the intensity of her rage and underneath that — she was disappointed to find — of her sadness.

‘No.' She shook her head at the universe. The anger was now transferred to Vivian. ‘How would I know if he's even alive?'

‘Well, none of us have heard for months and months. Those things — those romances — blow over. You have to keep hope.'

‘Of course I hope he's fine. But it's not like I'm planning any big homecoming for him. I've got a home. I'm settled, with Teddy. You know that. I'm surprised to be hearing this from
you
of all people. I mean, after you told me about your sister. I thought you said you were easy about lesbians.' Moira felt a twinge. Teddy would be pleased that she had used the word about herself. But how could she tell Teddy about this conversation without worrying her? Sometimes she felt so alone. When she was with Randy she could talk to all the girls about him. But Vivian and Dorothy were the only people she could talk to about Teddy and now Vivian was getting strange.