Whitefern (20 page)

“I can't help but worry. I can't imagine what we would look like in this community if the truth came out.”

“You don't have to tell me that. But I said not to worry,” he snapped. Then he changed his tone. “I received a call already from one of our clients whose wife happened to see you in the supermarket. They're swallowing it all out there, hook, line, and sinker. Mrs. Matthews is ingenious. Trust in her. Now, I have to get back to work. I'll soon have a child's welfare to consider, his or her education, other needs. Lots more money must be made.”

“Arden, did you know that Mr. Price had a stroke? He's paralyzed on one side and can no longer do his artwork.”

“No, but that's truly poetic justice,” he said. “Oh,” he added quickly before hanging up, “I won't be at dinner tonight. I'm taking the Allans to dinner. You were supposed to come along, but they'll understand. Another opportunity to solidify our story,” he said. “Take care of Sylvia. And yourself, of course.” He laughed and hung up.

When I turned around, Mrs. Matthews was standing there. “It would help the situation now if you would retire to your room. I'll bring you your dinner tonight,” she said.

“What?”

“Your sister keeps asking about you. We don't want her unnecessarily disturbed. A pregnant woman's emotional health is just as important as her physical health. Calmness is the word of the month.”

For a moment, I stood staring at her. I was becoming a prisoner in every sense of the word. “How would she know if I was in that room or not?”

“She could call for you and you wouldn't be there to hear her. Then she would want to get up to find you. I don't know why we're arguing about it. I would hope that you would be the most cooperative of all.”

“I'm not arguing.”

“Good, then do it.”

It was easy for her to say. When I was confined to our house and grounds during my youth, I'd at least had
my mother, Aunt Ellsbeth, Vera, despite her jealousies, and, of course, Papa to keep me company. My real entertainment came from watching all of them interact. How I looked forward to the Tuesday teas, when Aunt Ellsbeth and Momma resurrected Aunt Mercy Marie. It was major entertainment. Sometimes Vera would be nice, and we would play a game together, and I did feel like her ally when her mother punished her or scolded her for something she did wrong.

The point was that during my confinement, there were other people, their laughter bringing smiles to my face. I was even fascinated by the arguing. Now there was mostly silence in my confinement. The things I would hear were mostly the memories of old voices. I feared the flood of nightmares, forbidden dreams invading both my waking hours and my sleep. I assumed that Mrs. Matthews had no idea why I was so reluctant to cooperate. Arden could paint broad strokes of my youth for her, but he was not aware of the myriad details that I had tried to bury in the empty grave of my false self.

“Well?” Mrs. Matthews said, holding the spoon with which she was preparing our dinner. I imagined it to be a ring of jailer's keys.

“Don't you need help with dinner?”

“From now on, I'll do it by myself. I'll even wash the dishes myself,” she added, and smiled her cold smile, as if that was going to make me feel better. “And yes, I'll do more to keep up the house. I know how concerned you are, but frankly, sometimes you act as if Whitefern is a national treasure, a museum. Most
of what I see here would have no special meaning for anyone other than yourself.”

“Which is reason enough to protect it,” I snapped back. “It's a sacred obligation to care for all that your family held dear. Don't you have any heirlooms? Have you inherited nothing from your parents and grandparents that you cherish?”

“I live for the here and now. We have museums for everything else. Besides, what I have and how I live are not the issue here. We have a job to do, and that's all that matters. You, of all three of us, should feel this the most. When this is over, it's you who will have to carry the deception forward. You'll have to be a real mother to this child, and don't forget, you'll have to convince your child that you are his or her mother, too.” She paused and nodded, as though what she said made a great deal of sense. Then she added, “Consider all this as nothing more than practice for that day—preparation.”

This time, she smiled with such self-satisfaction I felt sick to my stomach. Maybe I should go to bed, I thought. The episode in the supermarket, Dr. Prescott's call, Arden's glee, and now this witch of a woman's obvious enjoyment at wielding power over me all sent a dark sword of helplessness through my very soul. I wobbled for a moment as the room seemed to spin.

“Are you all right?” she asked, suddenly very concerned. After all, if something happened to me, what would she say? How would she explain what went on here, too?

It occurred to me that she was taking just as much of a risk as Arden and I were. How could she explain her behavior? She was retired from any regular work, but what sort of reputation would she have then? She might have to move away. Any friends she had, and I had trouble imagining that she had any, would certainly take a step away from her. Why, it would be like running a gauntlet to go shopping in this community because of all the looks and whispers behind her back.

“I am tired. This,” I said, placing my two hands over the bundle of wool that I had to wear, even sleep in, just in case Sylvia saw me during the night, “is becoming a real burden.”

“Imagine what a burden it is for truly pregnant women. Imagine what Sylvia is enduring,” she said, the slight note of sympathy I thought I had heard gone. “Go lie down.”

She stepped aside, and I walked out and to Sylvia's room. She was sitting up at the side of her bed, her legs dangling. She was scribbling on a pad in her lap.

“Sylvia, what are you drawing?”

“I'm writing a name,” she said.

“A name?”

“When Papa told me to stay in my room, he told me a name,” she said. “A name for the baby.”

“He did?”

She nodded. “He whispered it in my ear and told me to practice writing it.”

“But you can't pick a name until you know if the baby is a boy or a girl.”

“It's a girl's name,” she said.

“Okay. What is the name?”

“A-d-e-l-l-e,” she spelled.

“Adelle? Adelle is my middle name,” I said. She had heard it, of course, but as far as I knew, she had never said it or indicated that she remembered it. Arden and Papa often said it in her presence. If she was in a room when it was mentioned, she was usually distracted with some toy, a doll, even a piece of cardboard she had formed into something only she understood. She didn't listen to anyone but herself. In any case, I had no idea how she knew to spell it correctly.

This seemed like another thing she had plucked out of thin air. In my mind, the words of my parents, my aunt Ellsbeth, even Vera, swirled in and out of all the rooms in Whitefern. There was no silence here. Echoes never faded away. Cries, laughter, and screams of delight and pain rode in the belly of shadows. When night came and the lights were turned off, they were especially free to move about and circle me, invading my dreams.

Did Sylvia hear all this, too?

“As I said, Adelle is a girl's name, Sylvia. The baby might be a boy. We'll have to choose a boy's name, too. Did you get any ideas for that?”

She shook her head. “Girl,” she insisted. “Remember? Papa told me her name. So it has to be a girl.”

For now, she was so happy about it that I thought there was no point in discussing it further. “Okay. I'm going to lie down for a while. Mrs. Matthews will be bringing us our dinners.”

“Because we have to stay quiet,” Sylvia recited, nodding her head.

“Yes. I'll be right next door if you need me.”

“Mrs. Matthews says I don't need you. I need only her.”

“Did she? Well, she knows everything. I know only all the rest,” I said, recalling a joke Papa had enjoyed. It was something Mark Twain had said.

I went over to her and kissed her on the forehead, the way I always did.

“She might be the nurse,” I said, “and she can take care of you right now, but I'm the only one who can give you love, Sylvia. You will always need me.”

She didn't react. She was absorbed in writing the name Adelle in different ways with flourishes of script.

Actually, that would be the perfect name, I thought, if I was going to be the child's mother. Maybe Papa really was whispering to her. Who was I, as someone who often heard whispers, to doubt it?

I fell asleep minutes after I lay down and woke up when I heard Mrs. Matthews come in carrying a tray.

“Are you really going to treat me like an invalid, too?” I asked. “It's double work for you.”

“It's what your husband is paying me to do, what we all decided we had to do for Sylvia,” she said. “He's very keen on everything going right. Don't worry. I'm being paid well. Besides,” she continued, laying the tray on my lap, “the more you simulate pregnancy, the easier it will be to convince yourself that the baby is indeed your baby. It's good psychology.” She smiled like she really cared. But then she added, “After all,
you had good practice for something like this. A trained impersonator brought up to impersonate herself. Who could do better?” She laughed and left the room.

I felt the venom travel though my veins as I looked after her. I hoped that Arden really possessed a secret that would tear her heart in two if it was revealed.

Maybe someday I would do just that.

Almost reluctantly, I began to eat. The food was nowhere as well seasoned as when I made it, but I did have to eat, pregnant or not.

Mrs. Matthews came for the tray and dishes, nodding in approval at how much I had eaten. I looked at her as if I thought she had gone mad. She grimaced and left quickly. Even though I had slept, I was groggy again and dozed on and off.

Hours later, the sound of Arden's laughter woke me. I had started to get up to go out and see him when he appeared in the doorway.

“Good, you're awake,” he said.

He was going in and out of focus. I scrubbed my cheeks with my palms and took a deep breath. “This is ridiculous. I'm not staying in this room.”

“Don't do anything to mess up things now, Audrina. We are so close I can taste it. Mrs. Matthews says Sylvia had what she considered labor pains about an hour ago.”

“Labor pains? But she predicted at least six more weeks.”

He shrugged. “Did you forget? Sylvia herself was born premature. It could happen again.”

“But complications like that would make things more difficult for us.”

“Mrs. Matthews is aware of that and is giving Sylvia extra care.”

“How is she now?”

“Sleeping,” he said. “Comfortably.”

I stood. “I want to go out and sit in the salon.”

“What if she wakes and calls for you? We can't expect Mrs. Matthews to man the lookout here twenty-four hours a day. Now's the time for you to really pitch in and help. I certainly can't do it.”

“But—”

“Audrina, you just made mention of it. If something happened to Sylvia now and she had to go to a hospital, there would be hell to pay, especially since Dr. Prescott called and seemed full of suspicion. We've got to take extra care of her for all our sakes. For better or worse, we started this. Now we have to carry it out to completion. I stress
we
,” he added.

I sat back on my bed, weighed down by his words.

“I had a very successful day today, and tonight at dinner, I garnered another million dollars in investments. We're on a roll, and the birth of the baby will be the crowning moment.” He stepped forward and kissed me on the forehead, the way I kissed Sylvia all the time. “Get some rest,” he said.

“Rest? I slept all afternoon.”

“You do look tired. I know this is a burden on you. Stay well, my love. I need my little mother and wife.” He kissed me again on the forehead and walked out.

I lay back.

The bundle of wool on my stomach had never felt heavier, nor had any of my regrets and fears.

It was easy to fall asleep again.

After all, right now, sleep was my only escape.

Trapped in Your Own Web

During the days that followed, Sylvia's recurrent pains began to worry me, and judging by the look on Mrs. Matthews's face whenever she examined her, they were increasingly concerning to her, too. I tried to be of more help, but ever since the day we'd gone to the supermarket, I had found myself with diminished energy. I dozed on and off. I would start reading a book and after only three or four pages find myself drifting off the page. I would wake up with the book in my lap, opened to the same page, totally unaware of how much time had passed. Often, it was hours.

I made no effort to interfere with Mrs. Matthews's plans. She continued to bring us our meals, and I did nothing to help clean up. I did no household chores and wondered who was making Arden's bed and changing his linen. He never did. What's more, Arden seemed to be busier than ever with the business. According to what he told me, there were some issues with the stock market that were taking up extra time. By the time I was up and around in the morning, he was always already gone, and there were many nights
when he didn't come home for dinner. I would fall asleep before he did come home, so days went by during the next month when I didn't see him at all.

“Investors are very nervous about the economy,” he explained one night when he did stop by and I complained. “You have no idea how many rich people I am babysitting, comforting, and assuring. If this isn't all handled right, we could lose a lot at exactly the wrong time in our lives, Audrina. You'll have to excuse my absences. I'm running from one to the other and applying soothing balm.”

“What's happening in the economy to put all this pressure on you?”

“Oh, it's too complicated to explain.”

“I'm not stupid about economics, Arden. My father made sure that I was aware of what made it better or worse.”

I was anticipating the debate again about signing papers and negating what Papa had done in his will, but Arden didn't bring it up. He hadn't for months, and I fell into the idea that it had lost importance for him. We were, after all, a married couple. Why would I hurt him, especially if we had a child to raise?

“I know you're quite intelligent about it, Audrina, but why have you lie around here worrying about those things, too? You need to be a real assistant for Mrs. Matthews.”

“Assistant!” The mere exertion of extra effort to cry out made my head pound. “How am I any assistant to her? She does everything now. Every time I start to wander around the house, she sends me back,
telling me Sylvia was asking for me. I haven't washed any clothes or changed any bedding, much less vacuumed a rug. The house is running away with itself, I'm sure.”

“It's fine, Audrina. She does what has to be done, and I'm paying her more for that. So don't worry. If you do, I'll only worry about you, too.” He looked sincere.

“I don't mean to complain about it. I'm happy I have the time to sit with Sylvia, of course. She's very uncomfortable.”

“And crying a lot, I understand. You underestimate your contribution. Mrs. Matthews tells me it would be ten times worse if you weren't right there comforting Sylvia. Just keep up what you're doing.”

I looked down and shook my head. Tears were coming into my eyes.

“What? What else is wrong?” he snapped, not hiding his impatience.

“Something's not right with me, Arden. I know you can't take me to see Dr. Prescott or have him come here, but I am so unenergetic these days. Half the time, I don't even try to get up out of bed. I don't care about what I'm wearing. I've been in this bathrobe for days, I think. That's another thing, Arden. I've been having trouble remembering things, even things I think I did the day before. I know you haven't been around that much these past weeks, but surely you see a difference in me. Surely you do!” Now my tears were free to streak down my cheeks. “Look at my hair,” I cried, tugging on the loose, wiry strands. “I can't recall when
I last cared to put on lipstick. I'm turning into some sort of hag, something you accused me of once.”

He rushed over to sit next to me on the bed and put his arm around me. “Oh, Audrina, don't cry. It breaks my heart to see you so sad when we are on the verge of bringing new happiness to Whitefern. The wonderful sounds of a newborn baby's cry and laughter will drive away the shadows and dark memories from every corner of every room. We have lived under the cloud of sadness far too long. Both of us losing our parents too soon and your struggle with your twisted past would be far too much for most to bear. We have such strength. You have such strength. Together we'll conquer it all, Audrina. Don't cry.”

I sucked back my tears and nodded. “But I'm not feeling as well as I should, Arden. Something's wrong.”

“I know,” he said, standing again. “Mrs. Matthews told me.”

“What? When?”

“Recently.”

“What did she tell you?”

“She said you are suffering from intense anxiety. She said she has seen it many times, especially with pregnant women, so she is as familiar with the symptoms as any doctor and knows just how to treat you.”

“Treat me? What do you mean?”

“First, you do agree that you have been extraordinarily anxious recently, especially after that last trip to the supermarket, right?”

“I suppose so, but—”

“Well, as we've discussed time and time again, Audrina, we can't take the chance of anything happening to either you or Sylvia right now, and we can't expose either of you to the outside world. Up to now, we've been very successful convincing people that you're under special care as you draw within the last days of your pregnancy. A day doesn't go by when I don't have at least six or seven calls asking after your health. Why, even Mr. Johnson has bought it hook, line, and sinker. That's why we've put all the legal business on hold. You should be proud of yourself. You're making this possible. Just think how wonderful you'll feel with the baby in your arms, the four of us on some Sunday outing. That day is coming, Audrina, and it's coming soon.”

“What did you mean when you said Mrs. Matthews knows just how to treat my anxiety?” I wasn't going to let him change the subject.

He smiled down at me. Both he and Papa always accused me of being a bulldog whenever I bit into something. “You've got to appreciate how lucky we are to have Mrs. Matthews for all this, Audrina. Imagine, someone with her medical knowledge willing to do just as we ask and not only that but do it with enthusiasm and dedication. Why, all this has become almost as important to her as it is to us.”

I stared up at him, holding my expression, still waiting for my answer.

He saw that and walked to the door, peered out, and walked back to the bed. “We don't want to insult her, Audrina. That's the first thing and maybe the most important.”

“Insult her?”

“Challenge her instructions or her wisdom when it comes to you and Sylvia.”

“Me and Sylvia? Arden, get it through your head . . . I'm not really pregnant. I don't need a maternity nurse's tender loving care.”

He laughed. “Of course you're not. I didn't say otherwise. But what I'm talking about, what Mrs. Matthews is talking about, has nothing to do with whether you're pregnant. It has to do with your anxiety. She says she has seen women as anxious as you are do rather bizarre things. Some show it with aggressive acts, sometimes hurting themselves as much as others.”

“She thinks I would hurt Sylvia?”

“Oh, no. She's worried you might hurt yourself in some way, and then everything would be lost. She's only trying to make sure that doesn't happen, Audrina. It's not for long.”

“What's not for long? What is she doing?”

“She's been giving you some tranquilizers to keep you calm,” he confessed. “With my approval, of course. They're similar to the pills you took once before, remember?”

“Tranquilizers?” That made no sense. I took no pills. “When? How have I been taking tranquilizers?”

“She thought it would be easier to include them in your dinner. It's a very common prescription she has actually gotten for herself from time to time. It's why you sleep so well at night.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “You let her do this to me without telling me?”

“It was for your own good, our own good. I'm only telling you this so you won't think there is anything seriously wrong with you, and you won't insist on going to see some doctor or rush out and do that yourself. It would be far too dangerous now.”

“I'm being drugged,” I thought aloud.

“Not drugged, treated. I'll speak to her about reducing the dosage, perhaps, but you should want this, too. You don't want to let your anxiety ruin things,” he said firmly.

“I should have been told, have had everything explained to me,” I said. “I'm not a child, and I'm not crazy. Arden, how could you let her do this to me?”

“Audrina, Audrina,” he said, shaking his head as if I was a child. “Mrs. Matthews says that one of the things about people who suffer anxiety is self-denial. You have to admit that you wouldn't have accepted the diagnosis so quickly, and who knows where that would have led? And now, to really tell you the truth and add to all of this, I've been taking some of the same medicine myself. I'm not taking as much as you are, but you don't have to function throughout the day like I do. Have you any idea what it has been like for me to try to concentrate on intricate financial moves while worrying about what was happening at home and if our plan would explode in our faces? I've had great trouble sleeping. You haven't noticed?”

I shook my head.

“I know I put on a very good act for you, Audrina. I seem so strong and in control of everything, but there have been days when I was teetering on the edge
of disaster. Maybe you can appreciate that now and not be so judgmental.” He looked down and paced for a few moments like someone in deep thought. Then he stopped and looked up quickly. “Listen,” he continued when I didn't say the words he wanted to hear—that I forgave him and Mrs. Matthews and that I understood. “I knew I needed some help to get through it, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. If someone with my ego can say that, you certainly can.”

I sat up and rolled the blanket off me. “It just seems so deceitful for it to be done to me this way, Arden.”

“Sometimes, as we are proving in spades, as your father would say, deceit is good. What we're doing is quite a bit more than a little white lie, I know, but look at all the good that will come of it. When it was necessary, you lied. You lied to Dr. Prescott. You lied to Mrs. Haider. You lied to everyone who saw you in the supermarket. Frankly, not a day goes by when you don't have to lie to Sylvia about something.”

“And I don't feel good about any of it.” I sat at the edge of the bed but still felt a little dizzy.

“But you did it because you knew it was necessary,” he insisted. “So Mrs. Matthews did what she thought was necessary to protect you, Sylvia, and me, as well as herself. I admit that, but don't be angry at her and do anything that would jeopardize what we're doing, not now, not at this critical moment.”

“I feel . . .”

“What?”

“Like I've lost all control of my life.”

He nodded and approached me to put his hand on my shoulder. “For a while, you have, and so have I, but it will be over, and we'll have more control of our lives than ever. I'll speak with Mrs. Matthews about reducing your medicine to the amount I take. If I can take it, you can,” he added, nearly growling at me like a wolf.

“I don't want to sleep all the time and lack the energy to care about myself,” I said, shaking.

His hand flew off my shoulder like a frightened bird. “You won't. I don't, do I? But you'll remain calm enough for us to get through this. I'll go speak to her about it right now.”

I heard him meet her outside Sylvia's room, and I rose and went to the door. They were speaking so loudly that I didn't have to listen in the hallway. Sylvia's room was right next to mine.

“Why did you tell her?” I heard Mrs. Matthews say.

“She complained about her lack of energy and wanted to see a doctor. She's a strong-willed person. You told me so yourself. It's better to be honest now. She understands why it was necessary, but you should reduce the dosage to what you've given me.”

“Very well. I'm only doing what I think is required to get through this,” she complained. “I don't want to be criticized for doing my job properly. I won't stand for that.”

“Don't worry. She appreciates that as much as I do,” he told her.

I retreated to my bed and sat waiting.

He returned. “Okay, it's all set. You will barely notice the dosage, and you'll get through this just like I will.” He stepped closer and put his hands on my shoulders. “I can't stress it enough. It's very, very important now, Audrina, that you don't upset her. All we would need is for her to quit on us.”