The whispers sounded like screams
echoing in her head. All Cara Lee's senses had magnified
over the last twenty hours while she labored to bring forth
the baby. She weakly gripped the cheap coverlet in her
fists, willing the pain to go far away.
"The blood loss
is great, sir. If you had only called me earlier, I might
have—"
"Just leave. Give me a few minutes . . . with my
wife."
Gordon's voice. Full of anguish. Oh, he was
good.
The midwife walked reluctantly to the door. "Five
minutes only, sir."
"Yes, yes." He eased the woman out
the door and leaned against it, his long frame graceful as
he removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his
brow.
What had she seen in him? Cara Lee wished she
could reverse time, return to being the naรฏve schoolgirl
she'd been before she listened to his flattery and lies. He
was so handsome on the stage. She'd almost taken leave of
her senses when he actually spoke to her after the
performance.
Suddenly another pain gripped her belly.
She gave out a low, guttural howl.
"My God, Cara Lee.
You sound like a wolf in the wild."
Gordon pulled up
the lone rickety chair, fixing the crease in his trousers
before turning his attention to her.
"The midwife
says you're dying. Something about losing too much blood.
Don't worry about the baby. I'll take him to Max."
She
eyed him suspiciously. "What if it's a girl?" She wouldn't
have been bold enough to cross him before. Funny, how dying
changed everything.
Her husband shrugged. "I suppose a
girl will do. Either way, I'll get my money."
So it
was true. He'd married her for reasons other than love. And
by marrying a penniless actor, her Boston Brahmin parents
disowned their foolish, only child. She had nowhere to turn
in these last minutes.
Gordon took out his money
clip. He placed a few bills on the bed, soaked in her sweat
and water and blood.
"That's enough to satisfy the
midwife. Sorry I don't have enough for your funeral,
love."
Cara Lee bit back the scream and held it in her
throat. The contraction ended. She refused to give him
another reason to belittle her.
To her surprise, Gordon
pecked her on the cheek. He reeked of cheap perfume and
another woman.
"Try to hurry, dear. I've got an
appointment and still need to take the baby to a wet nurse
for a few weeks before I present it to Max. I'll share how
you passed in childbirth." He chuckled. "You know, Reverend
Monty could do your funeral."
Cara Lee remembered the
jovial man who married them. He had smiled broadly at her
throughout the brief ceremony.
"That would be nice,"
she murmured, as she floated away. The odd feeling of
euphoria was short-lived as she gasped, torn apart once
again. She was past tears now. She only wished she were past
the never-ending pain.
"No, come to think of it, he's
in Chicago. Doing King Lear if I'm not mistaken."
She
tried to focus on what her husband said, but he didn't make
any sense.
Gordon beamed down at her. "You didn't
really think we were married, pet? I thought you realized
long ago Monty was a fellow thespian."
The banging on
the door interrupted him. "Please, sir. Let me back
in."
Her lover, her great deceiver, opened the door and
ushered the stout woman in. "Shall I wait in the hall?"
The midwife came to the bed and lifted the covers. "My
God, the baby's coming. Push, missus. Push for your
life!"
Cara Lee gritted her teeth and bore down. Relief
washed over her.
"There, little one."
Cara Lee
heard a slap and a hearty cry. She saw her baby. Love burst
from her.
"It's a boy, missus. Hale and
hearty."
Rustlings and soft noises were all Cara Lee
heard as she faded in and out. Then in her exhaustion, she
sat up.
"He's mine," she spit out, glaring at Gordon
Fisher. "You can't take him."
"I can, dear girl. This
child is the meal ticket to my trust fund. Max wouldn't
loosen his grip and leave all his money to a worthless
actor. But a father?"
He took the baby, now clean and
wrapped in his mother's ivory shawl. "Thank you for all you
did, my dear."
Gordon retreated from the room. She let
out an anguished cry.
"Well, I never . . ." The
midwife shook her head. "Let's see if I can make you
comfortable, dearie."
Cara Lee moaned as the woman
fussed over her. She was having trouble breathing again. A
great weight pressed upon her.
"The worst is over now,
missus. Let me just deal with the afterbirth. Maybe I can
staunch the bleeding."
As the midwife lifted the sheet
again, she gasped. "Oh, my lord."
Cara Lee broke out in
a cold sweat. The pain was back again, even worse. Her body,
her spirit, her faith in her husband. All had been broken.
How much more could she bear?
The midwife clucked
loudly. "Another one's coming, child. You'll have to be
strong."
The burning urge to push returned, stronger
than the first time. She bit her lip and willed the baby to
exit the birth canal. The burden eased from her, and the
midwife cut the cord as before.
"Another boy. Spittin'
image of the other tyke."
Cara Lee smiled weakly at the
newborn. The room began to grow dark. She reached out to her
child. "I love you, sweet boy."
The baby gurgled
happily.
"You mustn't call him back. Don't ever let . .
." Her voice trailed off.
A wet cloth glided across her
forehead. What I wouldn't give for a sip of cool
water.
Minutes later the midwife pulled the stained bed
sheet over the woman's head. She stared blankly at the
wide-eyed baby in her arms.
"Lord Almighty. I never
even knew your mama's name."
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