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“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 m
ere 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.”
