Magnolia Wednesdays (34 page)

“Okay.” Shelby looked and sounded about ten. Her face was scrunched up in an effort to hold back tears.

“Look,” Vivien said from the other side of the closed door. “Let’s not worry until we know we have a reason to.” Not that the fact that Shelby had reason to think she might be pregnant wasn’t reason enough. She heard the sound of cardboard and then paper being ripped open. Vivien offered up a few prayers on Shelby’s behalf, not that any of the ones she’d sent up for herself had been particularly successful. A few minutes later she heard, “Oh, man!”

“What?” Vivi asked. “What is it?”

“My hand was shaking so bad I dropped the stick in the toilet.”

Vivien drew a deep breath and then let it out. It wouldn’t help for her to get as agitated as Shelby. “Okay, we’ve got backups. Throw that one in the trash and I’ll get you another one.” She opened the bathroom door and saw Shelby sitting on the toilet with her jeans puddled around her ankles. She looked way too young to be worrying about this. And horribly frightened.

“Leave the door open,” Shelby said. “I, I just don’t want to find this out all by myself.”

This Vivien understood completely. The doctor’s message on the day she’d left CIN, all the shocks that had followed, came rushing back to her and she knew they wouldn’t have felt like such body blows if Stone had been there or she’d had anyone else she felt she could confide in.

She doubted she could have survived all the curve-balls that had been slung her way without Melanie on her side, and she would not let Shelby face this alone. But in her heart she knew Melanie wouldn’t appreciate Vivien keeping her daughter’s worries from her. And how would she feel about the fact that Vivien, as Scarlett Leigh, had spent the last months poking fun at her life and those of her friends? She was too busy ripping open the box and handing the slim wand to Shelby to answer. Like the character from which she’d drawn her pseudonym, she’d think about that “tomorrow.”

Vivien waited, heart pounding, while Shelby peed on the stick and then held it in front of her for the required period of time.

“What color was positive?” Shelby finally squeaked. “Blue or pink?”

Vivi retrieved the box from the dresser where she’d dropped it and reread the instructions, barely breathing as she did so. “Blue is positive. Pink is negative.”

There was a gasp from the bathroom.

“Shelby?” Vivien asked, bracing for the answer. “Don’t fool around here. What color did you get?”

“It’s pink!” Shelby shouted. “Thank, God, it’s . . .” She paused as if double-checking. “It’s definitely pink!”

There was another pause during which the frenetic beat of Vivien’s heart began to slow and her brain kicked back into gear. “We’ve got one more test, and I am
not
returning it,” Vivi said. She ripped the box open, removed the wrapper, and shoved the wand at Shelby. “Here,” she said. “Let’s just confirm, okay? To be sure.”

“All right,” Shelby said, and Vivi noticed that the quiver in her voice was already gone. “But I’m expecting another negative. It better be another negative.”

Vivien waited in the bathroom doorway. She collapsed onto her bed in relief when Shelby’s whoop of joy rang out in the bathroom. “Pink!” she shouted. “I’ve got another pink!”

Vivien felt as if she’d run a marathon. Dazed and out of breath, she waited for Shelby to get dressed and wash up. She still couldn’t move when Shelby finally came into the bedroom and collapsed beside her. “I can’t believe how relieved I am.”

“That makes two of us,” Vivien said.

They sat on the bed, their shoulders touching, both of them spent.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Shelby said, but Vivi wasn’t sure whether the gratitude was aimed her way or to a more highly placed recipient. When she was able to get her thoughts together, Vivien broached the subject that she had stashed away for after.

“I’m hugely glad you’re not pregnant. But this risky behavior has to stop now, this minute. Or I’m going to have to tell your mother.”

Shelby tensed and Vivien knew she had to talk fast before the gratitude and relief were replaced by Shelby’s more usual belligerence.

“In my opinion you’re much too young to be having intercourse, but if you’re going to, you have got to practice safe sex and birth control.”

“Like you did?” Already the sarcasm was sneaking back in.

“I’m an adult and our situations are completely different,” Vivien said. “And right now we’re talking about you.”

Shelby turned away from Vivi to face the mirror. Like the day she and Melanie had discussed her own pregnancy, Vivien was aware of the picture they presented. But no matter how grown-up Shelby looked, she was still a girl in many ways.

“I didn’t even think you could get pregnant from oral sex,” Shelby said in a rush. “But then I didn’t get my period, and I was so freaked out.”

Vivien paused as Shelby’s words sank in.

“You didn’t have intercourse and you thought you were pregnant.” Vivien tried the statement on for size. Her own sarcasm flew right over Shelby’s head.

“He wanted me to go all the way, but I only gave him a blow job.” She looked earnestly at Vivien, and Vivien tried not to wince at the word “only.”

“You didn’t have intercourse?” Vivien felt the need to double-check.

Shelby shook her head dejectedly. “I said I would but then I just . . . couldn’t. That’s why he was so pissed off.” She looked down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. “I didn’t even like putting his . . . thing . . . in my mouth. It was gross.”

Vivien reached out an arm and put it around Shelby’s shoulders. “Nothing is gross when you’re in an adult relationship with someone you love and no one’s being forced to do something they don’t want to.”

Shelby drew a deep breath and buried her head in Vivien’s neck. “I was so scared I was going to have a baby. And Ty wouldn’t even talk to me about it.”

The tears came then and Vivien held her niece close while she cried. When the flow subsided, she wiped her niece’s cheeks with the pad of her thumb and stared down at her tear-streaked face. “I hope you learned a lesson here, Shelby. It’s your body and no one has the right to make you feel like you owe them any part of it.”

Shelby nodded and took a swipe at what was left of the tears. Downstairs the garage door swung up, signaling Melanie’s return.

“One last thing,” Vivien said as the girl shot a frantic look at the door. “I’d start paying a little more attention in health class if I were you. You’ve just freaked us both out completely over something that’s pretty much anatomically impossible.”

Shelby blushed and looked away.

“It’s time to get it together, girl,” she said as kindly as she could. “And believe me I’m going to be watching.”

34

R
UTH HAD BEEN very careful not to get too excited about Ira’s efforts to appease her. But as the Sunday-afternoon movie and dinner turned into a regular thing and the weekend in Mexico proved so much more fun than either of them had expected, she’d begun to let down her guard and to actually believe that her dog might, in fact, be learning some new tricks.

He’d definitely managed to learn some new dance steps and hadn’t missed a single one of their private lessons so far. She smiled as she parked in her usual spot in front of the Magnolia Ballroom and hurried into the building. Her hair was newly washed and styled and she’d taken to dressing with extra care. When she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective glass of the front door, she realized that she was smiling.

“Ruth!” Melanie came out of the office when she spotted her and walked over to give her a hug. “Your hair looks great.” She took in Ruth’s new outfit, a black gabardine pantsuit that she’d paired with a lime green silk blouse. “And I love that color on you.” She stepped back to study Ruth more closely. “Did you have something done? I can’t quite put my finger on it, but you look different.”

Ruth shook her head but could feel that the smile was still stretched across her face. She suspected the change was simple happiness. Or should she shock Melanie by telling her she thought it was a result of the sex that she and Ira were once again having as often as possible. She felt the smile stretch wider. Who would have ever thought it?

“Nope.” She was beaming now, and it felt good. “It’s just me.”

They walked into the office, and Ruth sat across Melanie’s desk from her. Fliers promoting the new spring classes were stacked in one box, and the envelopes, which one of the assistants had labeled earlier in the week, were in another. They started the folding, stuffing, and stamping process as they caught up with each other.

“How’re Shelby and Trip?” Ruth asked. “Will they be at Angela and James’s wedding?”

“Well, Shelby seems to be coming so that she can say she was there and is insisting on pictures to prove it. And, of course, Trip pretty much worships the ground James and his father walk on, although both James and Vivi have refused to get in a car with him again.”

“I guess your sister isn’t so bad,” Ruth observed, feeling generous even toward Vivien. “She must be pretty close to D-day.”

“She’s actually due on the twelfth, so she may or may not make it to the wedding. But she finally seems to have accepted the fact that she’s going to be a mother; she’s been running around like a maniac getting ready. Her overnight bag is sitting right next to the garage door now, and she made me promise if she was too out of it to speak that I’d demand her epidural the minute we arrive at the hospital.”

Ruth laughed. “That was a helluva snake arms she did Wednesday night.”

“Hey, all I know is she still shows up for class even though she can barely walk. And she really seems to be connecting with the kids. She’s been way more involved in our lives than I ever expected.” Melanie straightened the growing stack of stuffed envelopes. “Speaking of better than expected, what’s going on with Ira?”

Ruth tried to keep her smile in check, but it just kept taking over her face. “It’s been great. I just can’t believe that on top of everything else, it turns out he likes to dance! He even said something about maybe competing as a team.” Even as she said these things, Ruth could hardly believe them. She felt as if she’d asked for a small loan of some kind and been handed a million dollars.

“Wow.” Melanie’s astonishment equaled Ruth’s own. “It’s funny how people can surprise you, isn’t it?”

“I’ll say,” Ruth agreed. “Only most surprises aren’t such good ones.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes before the phone rang. Ruth picked up and thanked the caller for calling the Magnolia Ballroom.

“Yes,” the unfamiliar male voice said. “Is Melanie Jackson there? This is Bruce Summers, um, Dr. Bruce Summers.”

Ruth covered the mouthpiece and handed the phone to Melanie. “It’s Dr. Summers,” she said. “Is everything okay?”

Melanie nodded. “I’m fine. It’s, um, not a professional call.” Her cheeks turned red.

“Oh,” Ruth said. “Oh!” The smile was back. “In that case, I’ll go check on the, um . . . janitorial supplies.” She stood. “To see if we need any.”

Melanie raised the receiver to her ear, but she didn’t speak until Ruth was out of the office. As she walked by the plate-glass window, Ruth stole a look into the office and saw a smile curving on Melanie’s lips and another blush suffusing her cheeks.

It was the same sort of smile that Ruth felt on her own face; it was a bit strange and alien, but it was one she wouldn’t mind getting used to.

VIVIEN WOKE BEFORE dawn on the day she was due. In the early morning quiet, she lay without moving beneath the covers and silently took stock. Large protruding stomach. Check. Massive, overly sensitive breasts. Check. Swollen ankles and hands. Check. Aching back. Check. Urgent need to pee. Double check.

But contractions? Not a single one.

All day Vivi stayed close to home eyeing the packed bag she’d placed next to the garage door. Trying not to imagine the actual delivery, and hoping that her rejection of Lamaze class was not going to prove a problem, she focused instead on no longer being pregnant. Over and over she picked up the phone and pulled up Stone’s number, but each time she hung up before punching anything in.

She didn’t even have a column to write. She’d filed several in advance, including today’s, which painted today’s lavish weddings as nothing more than a ticket to suburbia, which she’d railed against as little more than an updated version of the white picket fence. To this she added a terse rant about the ways in which women continued to try to live the fairy tale, afraid to present themselves as they really were. The only thing that had enabled her to write such a piece in view of the upcoming Wesley wedding was her anonymity and her refusal to visualize Angela’s face as she wrote it. It was the most hypocritical thing she’d ever written.

The one column she hadn’t written was the one she’d planned on the suburbanites who’d flocked to ballroom dance studios after watching
Dancing with the Stars
. Even she, who felt as if she’d dissected and used almost every particle of her sister’s life, wasn’t ready to sink quite that low.

The house phone rang on and off all day, but the only numbers Vivi recognized on the caller ID were Catherine Dennison’s and her parents’, so she let everything go to voice mail. After a light lunch that she hoped wouldn’t interfere with the availability of anesthesia in case she went into labor soon after, she went back over J.J.’s case file one last time, but found nothing new or worth sinking her teeth into. In his old office, she conducted what she acknowledged as a final search, but she found no PDA, and his credit card and cell phone bills provided no new insights. The person J.J. called most after Melanie was Clay Alexander; given the length of their friendship and their business relationship, this was hardly news-worthy. Vivi had never been one to give up on her gut, but it seemed that her pregnancy had caused it to send out faulty signals. The time had come to let go.

The day stretched into eternity as Vivien waited for something to happen. A contraction. The discharge of the mucous plug. A leaking of fluid that would signal that her water had broken. Anything that signaled the onset of labor would have been welcome. But none of these things happened. She was finally forced to accept that she might not give birth today, just as Dr. Gilbert had warned.

When she finally heard the garage door go up late that afternoon, Vivien practically ran downstairs to greet Melanie, so badly did she need someone to talk her down off her emotional ledge. But one look at Melanie’s face told her that whatever Melanie was about to say was not going to make her feel better. Something was terribly wrong.

When Melanie rounded on her and slapped a section of the
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
in her hand, Vivien found out what it was.

Matt Glazer’s lead read,
How the mighty have fallen
, and continued,
First she lost her network gig, then she got pregnant. Now Vivien Gray is public enemy number one in our northern suburbs where she’s been living undercover and writing as the notoriously nasty Scarlett Leigh.

Ah, you ask, how can that be when Ms. Gray is so very smug about her role as a serious journalist? Well, in addition to the catty articles she’s been ashamed or afraid to admit to, Just Peachy has learned that the very pregnant Miss Gray has been busy investigating the presumably accidental death of her former brother-in-law, Republican legislator J.J. Jackson!

Just Peachy hears that no stone has been left unturned. Except for hunky international correspondent Stone Seymour that is, who may or may not be the father of Ms. Gray’s child.

Vivien stopped reading and looked up into her sister’s face.

“Is this true, Vivi?” Melanie asked. “Is it?”

“Which part?” Vivien asked when she regained her speech.

“You have written all of those vicious articles?”

Vivi nodded again. And winced.

“All those people I introduced you to, the things I shared about my life, you took those things and mocked them in front of a national audience?”

Another nod. Vivi couldn’t think of a thing to say, not that Melanie gave her a chance to.

“And you are investigating my husband’s death?”

A nod. “Well, it wasn’t really a—”

“Not what?” Melanie cut her off. “Not a real investigation? How dare you go around asking questions about J.J? How dare you pry into our life and the way that he died? Why would you do that? What were you thinking? What gave you the right?”

Vivien didn’t know how to answer. All of Stone’s warnings came crashing down around her as she faced her sister’s hurt and wrath. “I didn’t trust Clay. He seemed to be too attached to you and the kids.” Her voice trailed off. “I felt he had an ulterior motive and so I decided to look into it.”

“You felt he had an ulterior motive?” Melanie asked. “Because he was kind to us? Because he was there for us when you and the rest of my family weren’t?”

Melanie’s accusations landed like blows; they were weighted with truth and they were perfectly placed.

“Whatever possessed you to do this?”

“I suspected he was in love with you,” Vivi said in a rush. “And there’s no question that he’s hiding something. I think he knows a lot more about J.J.’s death than he’s saying. I—”

“J.J.’s death was an accident, and you’re trying to turn it into the crime of the century,” Melanie cut her off, her hurt and anger as cutting as any blade. “Is this how you investigated things in New York? Did you just come up with ideas willy-nilly and then look for ways to prove them?”

“It wasn’t willy-nilly,” Vivi said. “I just went over the case file. And interviewed one of J.J. and Clay’s former professors and, um, the president of Sigma Sigma when they were at UGA.”

Melanie looked at her as if she were completely mad. At the moment Vivi thought she might be.

“And although I didn’t come up with hard evidence of a crime, there are lots of things that just feel . . . suspicious.”

Melanie stared at her as if she’d grown two heads and sprouted a tail.

“Mel,” Vivi said, feeling the need to at least prove she’d had reason to investigate. “It’s all so weird. I mean Clay was the only one there when J.J. died and now he’s practically head of J.J.’s household and getting ready to run for J.J.’s seat?”

Melanie looked at her, shook her head. “Vivien, this is ridiculous. You know when you went after Harley Jenkins and Mom and Dad got so upset, I defended you. He’d done something wrong, illegal. He’d abused his office and you were right to go after him. But you’re investigating Clay because he was there when J.J. died and has remained our friend?” She laughed and there was not an ounce of humor in it. “You are certifiable!”

“I was just looking for the truth. I figured if there was no proof of any wrongdoing on Clay’s part, no harm, no foul. But if he was hiding something, you’d want to know.”

“And then you could take what you found to the networks, I’ll bet. You always like to say it’s about the truth, but what it’s really about is you. Finding a story that will take you where you want to go.”

“No, that’s not it. I . . .” Vivien began.