Fated Memories (2 page)

Oh, what tangled webs we weave, Jessie thought to herself, bracing an elbow on the arm of the chair as she reached the other hand behind her, trying to rub away a small cramp beginning in her lower back. “Then I’m to remain in Boston the rest of my life.”

“
I wouldn’t say that.” Martha pursed her thin lips in concentration. “I think in a few years Eathen will relent and allow you to come back. Without the baby of course.”

“
I feel like I’m livin’ in a world that ain’t even real anymore.” Jessie’s eyes closed for a brief moment against the cold truth. “An empty void filled with lies and a child I gotta keep hidden as though I’m ashamed of her.” She swiped at the tears seeping from beneath her thick, dark lashes.

“
Jessie. Jessie!” Martha moved the girl’s long legs to one side out of her way. “You can begin a new life. Here, with John and me. You’re young, sweetheart.” She stood motionless beside Jessie’s chair for a moment then leaned down, placing a light kiss on her damp cheek. “Life doesn’t have to be over because of one mistake. And as far as the baby is concerned, we couldn’t be happier than to share our lives with him or her.”

“
How come you and Uncle John never had children, Aunt Martha?” Jessie wiped her eyes then blew her nose into the lavender-scented handkerchief Martha handed to her. “You sure have enough room for them.”

“
We tried, Jessie.” Martha seated herself on the arm of the chair once more, snuggling Jessie close. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I’m fifty-two-years old, so it’s too late now. But with you and the baby here, everything could change.” A childish whine crept into her otherwise soft voice. “Please say you won’t begrudge us this last chance to have a baby in our home.”

“
It looks as though I don’t have a choice.” Jessie tried to inch herself out of the constricting embrace. “I can’t very well live on the street with a new baby.” Martha’s nearness and the sweet cloying scent of her perfume made it hard for her to breath. “I feel like I’m bein’ backed into a corner, with nowhere to turn.”

“
Nonsense, dear.” Martha smoothed Jessie’s wild curls into place. “Everyone is doing what we think is best for you. Given enough time, I’m sure you will forget all about that young man who took advantage of you. Just leave everything in our capable hands and, I promise you, everything will work out for the best.”

Too tired to argue any longer, Jessie nodded.

Withdrawing her arm from around Jessie’s shoulders, Martha glanced toward the old grandfather clock which stood tall and stately against the north wall of the parlor. “Goodness! I wonder what could be keeping your Uncle John. I hope he hasn’t been stranded in this storm.” But she had no sooner gotten the words out of her mouth than the shrill ringing of the telephone beckoned her.

“
I’ll be right back, dear. With any luck, it is John calling to tell me he’s on his way home.”

Alone in the large, well-furnished room, Jessie sat looking at all the wealth surrounding her. Sturdy walnut tables, handcrafted and shipped all the way from England, caught her eye. Firelight, from the Italian-marble fireplace, danced in the bright sheen of the well-polished black wood of the tables, placed just so beside twin Queen Anne couches and their equally uncomfortable-looking matching chairs. Their royal blue velvet material was offset by a large East Indian rug, with its subtle hues of green and gold, which took up much of the floor space in the oversized room. A small, white, spinet piano graced one corner – placed at just the right angle so the light spilling from the window would shine on its ivory keys. From there, Jessie’s eyes moved over the many portraits done in oil, enclosed in thick wooden frames. The people in the paintings, dressed in their finest, sat with their hands folded in their laps or stood with their arms straight down by their sides, each wearing the same self-important look on his or her face, as they took their turn on the immortalizing canvas. She reached out, running one hand over the papered walls of light ivory with just the slightest hint of lilac in the flowered pattern. The only understated touch that resisted Martha’s lavish hand in the entire decor.

A lot of people would give all they owned to live in a house like this, Jessie thought. But, she wasn’t one of them. Her heart ached for her own room, sitting empty in the big ranch house at home. If she could crawl into her big bed with the feathered mattress and pull the soft blankets up over her head, all this would be gone. When she woke, she would be back in familiar surroundings and her heart wouldn’t be breaking as it was now.

“
John is going to stay in town tonight,” Martha said, interrupting her thoughts. “It seems we’re in for a big storm. I should have thought to tell him about my giving the servants the night off. I so hate to be alone in this big house.” Her eyes swept the large room, lingering on dark corners the light couldn’t quite reach. “The way things are shaping up, they won’t be able to get here in the morning either. Well,” she drew in a deep breath, waiting for the twinge of unease to subside before releasing it from her lungs, “it can’t be helped. We will have to make do alone.”

“
I’m sure we’ll be all right, Aunt Martha.” Jessie glanced up at her. “At least the telephone lines ain’t down yet.”

“
Bite your tongue! We will really be cut off from everyone if that happens. It’s times like this, I wish I hadn’t been so adamant about buying all the surrounding lots. At the time, I wanted to safeguard our privacy, and of course, since this is one of the oldest estates in Boston, preserve the historical aspect of the estate.” She smoothed her hair, ash-blond and streaked with gray, neatly into place. “One can never be too careful with a house as valuable as this one. Still, sometimes,” she shivered, looking around the quiet room, “I feel so isolated.”

“
Why don’t you come sit down, Aunt Martha, while I go and see what the cook left us for dinner?” Jessie rocked herself forward, then pushed the ottoman out of her way to get to her feet. “I’m sure a hot pot of tea and somethin’ to eat will make us both feel a lot better.”

“
Yes.” Martha eased herself into a chair. “I think a pot of tea and some nourishment would do us up just fine, Jessie.”

The girl took but a few steps when a stabbing pain, low in her stomach, stopped her in mid-stride. With real fear clutching her heart, she stood for a moment, trying not to panic.

“
Jessie, what is it?” Martha moved forward in her chair, her attention riveted on Jessie as she stood there, one hand pressed against her stomach.

“
I don’t know. I just had a sudden pain. Oh, Aunt Martha,” her head snapped up, “it can’t be the baby. It’s too early.”

“
Oh, good God!” Martha whispered, her hand clutching a small cameo broach, pinned beneath the collar of her blouse. “We aren’t taking any chances.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I’m going to call Doctor Hinley right now! Go sit down, Jessie, and put your feet up,” Martha directed over her shoulder. “Maybe this is just a false alarm.”

Martha tried to quiet her jumping nerves as she hurried her steps towards the hallway and the telephone. “God in heaven, please make this just a normal part of her pregnancy,” she prayed. “I can’t handle this alone.”

On shaking legs, Jessie turned back to the chair, holding onto the arms and sliding her feet around to the front. She lowered her bulk into the soft fullness of the overstuffed chair, thankful for John’s refusal to throw out the old relic. Within moments, she had another reason to be thankful, as she felt a warm gush of liquid burst from between her legs to soak the entire cushion of the chair.

“
Aunt Martha!” she shrieked, afraid to move. “Come quick! It’s the baby!”

Moving faster than she ever thought possible, Martha ran down the hallway. “Oh, Jessie, no! It can’t be the baby! The telephone is dead!”

“
I’m sorry, Aunt Martha, but it is. My water just broke. I think we should try gettin’ me upstairs.” Jessie tried to scoot her swollen body forward. “I don’t want to ruin your furniture.”

“
The furniture be damned!” Martha squealed, unmindful of her language. “You can’t climb those stairs in your condition, and I surely can’t carry you. Just stay where you are.”

“
Alright.” Jessie tried to stop shaking. “But, could you get somethin’ dry to put under me? The chair is soaked.”

“
Yes, I’ll get some towels. Just, whatever you do, don’t move!”

Martha felt out of breath by the time she had climbed her way up the winding staircase to the heavy oak linen-closet in the hallway. Throwing the doors of the closet wide, she pulled a stack of towels off the shelf, not caring when the stack beside them toppled to the floor. Kicking the towels out of her way, she turned to go back downstairs.

Jessie could hear the wind shrieking its way around the mansion. Like a giant angry fist, it shook the branches of the large old maple, snatching the gnarled limbs in its grasp to pound them against the window. The words to call out had already formed in her throat, when the lights flickered once more then dissolved into total darkness.

At the sound of shattering glass, Jessie spun around, trying to see in the dim light of the fireplace. Her nerves raging, she screamed, “Aunt Martha! What happened?”

“
It’s nothing to worry about, dear,” came Martha’s distant answer from where she righted herself at the top of the stairs. “I knocked a lamp off the shelf when the lights went out.”

Hearing the clicking of Martha’s heels as she came down the stairs, Jessie breathed a sigh of relief.

“
Now then,” Martha placed a stack of linen on a table beside Jessie’s chair, “let me get this oil-lamp lit, and then we can see to getting you taken care of.”

A loud crashing sound brought both women up short as they stared in the direction of the floor-to-ceiling window. In the dim glow they could see the branch from the large oak sticking through the broken glass. Within moments the cold north wind blew in, leaving them both shivering and shaking.

“
Oh no, now what are we gonna do?” Jessie cried, as she watched snow swirl through the broken window.

“
I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.” Martha replaced the glass top onto the now flickering oil-lamp. “We’re going to get you settled into the other room away from this wind.”

As the Arctic air touched her sodden body, Jessie felt her teeth begin to chatter.

“
Come on, Jessie, lean on me.” Martha raised the oil-lamp high in one hand, placing her other arm around Jessie’s waist to support her, as the girl stood before the chair, her legs spread wide, while she held her wet dress away from her body. “Before you know it, I’ll have you dry and warm in front of the fireplace in John’s den. Just don’t stop walking.”

“
What else can go wrong tonight?” Jessie moaned, as she allowed Martha to lead her from the freezing room.

The pains came faster now, holding Jessie in their torturous grip until she thought her poor tormented body would be ripped in two.

“
If only Mama and Daddy could see me now!” she murmured to herself, trying to stay calm in face of the unrelenting pain. “If only they could witness my suffering! Where is the woman who told me over and over how much she loves me? Where is her gentle touch and soft voice now, now when I need them so much?” She wanted to scream out her agony and bring the ones she believed could stop such pain here, so they could witness her suffering.

But she didn’t scream, and no one came to her rescue. Except for Martha, whose cold efficiency and no-nonsense attitude left little room for weakness.

The fumes from the oil-lamps suddenly triggered a fond childhood memory. In her mind’s eye, Jessie could see Hattie, the woman who had taken care of her all of her life, telling her about the “Bugaboos.” How they would come out on storm-filled nights to carry off bad little girls. Her large black face would dissolve into laughter as Jessie, refusing to leave her side, held onto her long skirts while she walked through the shadowed rooms, lighting the large hurricane lamps. Later, curled up on her father’s lap with her mother nearby, they all sat before the massive fireplace and listened, wide eyed, as Hattie told about the “Hants” far into the night, while the northern winds shrieked like banshees through the trees. But then just as abruptly, the memory was gone, and the familiar smell of the lamps made her retch and brought a terrible sense of loss.

“
Is the discomfort getting worse, dear?” Martha gazed at the young girl curled up on the blanketed floor.

Unable to answer right at that moment, Jessie nodded, breathing in deep breaths against the waves of pain threatening to swallow her up.

“
Jessie, I don’t want you to worry about anything.” Martha forced calmness into her voice. “Doctor Hinley briefed me on what to do in case something like this should happen. I’ll do my best to help you all I can.”

“
I know you will, Aunt Martha. I trust you. It’s just that…I wish Mama could be here.” Jessie could feel her tenuous hold on her emotions slipping away.

“
Of course you do, dear. Of course you do. If she knew how much you needed her right now,” Martha bit her lip, trying to stay ahead of her emotions, “I know she would want to be with you.”

“
Then, why did she let Daddy send me away? I should be home, with Mama and Hattie takin’ care of me.” Her body tensed, making the words she wanted to say come out in breathless pants. “Hattie’s…always…been…there…for me, and I treated her just awful. I’m sorry.”

“
Jessie. Jessie, listen to me.” Martha dropped to her knees beside her. “You have to breathe with the pains. If you fight against them, you will make it harder on yourself.”