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“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.”

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