by Davis, L. G.
The only other people in the garden with me are two men tending to nearby plants, gardening tools and bags of potting soil at their feet. They wave and I wave back before turning away.
I focus on the water, watching colorful fish swimming back and forth, free and unburdened by life’s troubles.
I had an aquarium as a child in my bedroom and in every place I’ve lived as an adult, some smaller than others. I gave my last one to Sydney for safekeeping before I moved to Wellice. She promised to give it back when I found my new home.
Where will that be? Will I even return to Miami after this?
Everything is up in the air right now, and thinking about the future uses up too much energy. The little energy I have must be spent on making it through the present. Right now, my future is limited to the time when the baby is born.
The ringing of my phone in my purse pulls me from the hypnotic state I have sunken into. I stare at the screen and groan.
It’s Marcia.
My finger hovers over the pick-up button, but I shake my head and put the phone away. The ringing continues for a while and finally dies. A few seconds later, it starts all over again.
“For God’s sake.” My jaw tightens. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”
When the ringing continues, I close my eyes, counting the seconds until it stops again. The harsh sound finally dies and is replaced by the hiss of a sprinkler in the distance, and the hum of bees and rustling of leaves in the trees above.
I glance back at the gardeners. Only one is left. He’s on his knees, a hand holding one of the white flowers sprouting from a bush. His mouth is moving, as if he’s talking to it. A smile ruffles the corners of my lips. It’s nice to see someone enjoying their job.
I draw in a deep breath. The sweet scent of flowers is invigorating.
Ten minutes later, I turn to walk back to the blossom-covered front gate.
I’m not sure whether it’s the pregnancy hormones or just everything in general, but my eyes brim with tears. They sting, reminding me that something is not right. This is not at all how I thought things would be.
I swipe at the tears with the heels of my hands and swallow the lump lodged in my throat.
When I pass the church, my phone trills again. It continues to ring until I reach the café. It’s open now, but I’m no longer in the mood to go inside.
Instead, I get back to my car and slam the door shut. Twenty minutes later, I’m back at the house.
As soon as I step out of the car, Marcia bursts from the house. When she nears me, I notice the pink tint on her cheeks.
“Goodness, Grace. You had me worried. Where did you go so early? And why didn’t you answer my calls? I thought—”
“I went to the botanical garden. I needed some fresh air.” My voice is hard, daring her to question my decision to exercise my freedom of movement.
“You should have told us. You can’t just leave. Innocent women get attacked every day. Did you hear about the woman who was found stabbed in Tallahassee?”
“With all due respect, Marcia, I don’t need permission to go out. That wasn’t part of the deal. And I can take care of myself.” I may be pregnant with their child, but they don’t own me. I should have made that clear from the start instead of following her unspoken rules.
“Of course not,” she says, putting on a tight smile. Arm outstretched, she moves closer, and I take a step back.
Startled, she stops, then takes another step forward. With her eyes on mine, she places a hand on my belly.
“Do you mind if we talk?” I ask, my cheeks burning.
“Sure. What about?” Her hand drops from my belly, and she begins to bite her nails.
I look at the front door. It’s open only a few inches, but I sense that someone is standing behind it, watching us.
Agnes.
“Do you mind if we go to the guesthouse?” Without waiting for her reply, I start walking. She has no choice but to follow.
Before we reach the guesthouse, she overtakes me and unlocks the door herself with the key she carries around with her. I’m sure she senses that she’s losing control and wants to get it back.
“It must be something serious,” she says, when we enter the living room.
“It is.” I sit and watch her do the same. “Marcia, I’ve been meaning to bring this to your attention for a while, but—”
Her body tenses next to me. “Is the baby okay?”
“The baby is fine,” I say. At least I hope it is.
Yesterday, the doctor came over to check up on me and have dinner with them. He said my blood pressure was high, and he prescribed me some safe medication to take during pregnancy.
“Okay.” She clears her throat. “Then what’s bothering you?”
“Your mother,” I say. “I want to talk to you about your mother.”
“What about her?” Her tone is guarded. She shifts a few inches away from me. She knew this conversation was coming, and if she thinks she’s going to brush it off again, she’s in for a surprise.
“Your mother is doing things to scare me.”
“Scare you?” I’m looking straight ahead, so I can’t see Marcia’s face, but I can feel her gaze. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“I’m getting the feeling she wants to sabotage the birth.”
“That’s ridiculous, Grace.” She rubs her hands up and down her thighs, then brings them to rest in her lap. “Why would she do something like that?”
“We both know she doesn’t want this child.”
Silence falls and stretches on for at least two minutes. Then she speaks, her voice almost a whisper. “What did she do?”
“Remember the note I told you about, the one I found on the doorstep? I really think she put it there.”
Marcia says nothing as I tell her the words that were written on it, words I have repeated over and over inside my head. I would have shown her the note, but I have no idea where it is. I had put it in the drawer of my bedside table, but two days later, it was gone. I tell Marcia as much.
“You’re being paranoid, Grace. Yes, my mother doesn’t want the baby, but she wouldn’t want it to be harmed. She wouldn’t do that to me. She wouldn’t do that to my child.”
To save her further pain, I refrain from reminding her that as far as her mother is concerned, the baby is only Travis’s.
“I’m not paranoid, Marcia. Your mother is up to something.”
Marcia gets up from the couch and goes to the window to stare out at the main house.
“What do you want me to do?” she asks finally.
“Since your mother never talks to me, I think you should talk to her.”
She nods and walks to the door. Before she can open it, I call her name. I’m not done yet.
“We spoke about my need for privacy last time, but I still don’t get the feeling that I have it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You, your mother, and Travis. You come to the guesthouse whenever you want.”
They no longer walk in when I’m at home, but I still feel uncomfortable with them invading my personal space when I’m out. When a tenant rents a place, the landlord can’t just walk in whenever they want.
“Are you saying you don’t want us to come here anymore? It is our house.”
Annoyance tickles the back of my throat. I want to scream at her, to shake her awake, to make her realize what she’s doing to me, to her own baby.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” I say. “I’d just like to be notified if someone is coming here, even when I’m not in.”
“I understand,” she says in a strained voice. To my surprise, she reaches into her pocket. “Here’s the spare key. From now on, we’ll respect your privacy. If you’re not home, we won’t enter. I’ll speak to Travis and my mom.”
She places the piece of metal into the palm of my hand, and I wrap my fingers around it.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome.” She pushes both
hands into the pockets of her jeans. “But please, don’t shut us out completely.”
“I won’t.” I pause. “Another thing. I want to go away for a while. For a few days, a weekend maybe.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re leaving? Where are you going?”
“I’m not leaving town. I’ll stay in a hotel for a few days.”
Spending time around them has drained me. I need a chance to replenish my energy. I can only do that away from them, even if I have to spend some of my dwindling savings to get what I want.
“But you’ll be all alone. What if something happens to the baby?”
“You worry too much. Nothing will happen. And if something does happen, I’ll call you or 911.”
She breathes out, and her bangs lift like a curtain catching a breeze before falling again to shroud her eyes. “Fine, but you’re not going to stay in some cheap hotel. I will choose the hotel, and I will make sure you get all the pampering you need.”
She still doesn’t get it. Being pampered does not appeal to me. I only want to be alone, to get the chance to pull myself together and brace myself for what the future holds.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Good. I’ll go back to the house to make some calls.”
She doesn’t go to the house. She heads to her studio. The sound of the fragile door slamming shut is so loud it reaches me. I won’t be surprised if Marcia has damaged it.
Guilt stabs me in the chest, but I ignore the discomfort.
Twelve
The loud banging on the door vibrates through the guesthouse.
I zip up my small suitcase and hurry to the door.
Agnes is standing on the doorstep, her expression stony. As usual, she’s dressed for business, this time in a navy pinstriped suit and matching velvet pumps.
When she’s not stalking me, she runs her business from home and only goes into the main office two or three times a week. Her assistant shows up at the house every second day.
“What are you doing here?” There’s no point in my being polite anymore. We each know what we think of the other.
She takes a step forward and hovers over me. “Who do you think you are?” Her cigarette-tainted breath makes me want to gag.
I take a step back, distancing myself from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She enters the room and slams the door shut.
“Going behind my back and talking about me to my daughter. Do you really think that just because you’re carrying that thing inside you, you have the permission to be disrespectful to me in my own home?”
I square my shoulders and hold her gaze. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t want this baby to be your grandchild.”
“Yes,” she snorts. “You’re right. It’s no secret that I don’t endorse the sin happening under my roof. And no one is going to make me believe that this is good.” Her finger points at my belly. I move away before she pokes me.
The disgust on her face makes the back of my throat burn with anger. I’m carrying an innocent child. Even though it’s not biologically Marcia’s, she’s married to Travis. They will raise the baby together.
“So, how much are they paying you? It must be a fortune for you to do something so sinful, to let another woman’s husband impregnate you.”
“If you really must know, Marcia and Travis are paying me nothing. They offered, but I refused.”
She deflates like a hot air balloon, her shoulders hunching forward, her mouth falling open. But she catches herself and stands tall again. “Nonsense,” she says. “No one would carry a child for nine months for free.”
“If you don’t believe me, ask your daughter. I’m not getting anything for this. I’m a good person who wants to do a good thing for a couple that’s desperate to have a child. If you love your daughter, you will be happy for her, otherwise you risk destroying your relationship.”
“Are you threatening me in my own house? Talking to me like that.”
“I’m not here for you, Agnes. As soon as I give birth to Marcia and Travis’s baby, I’ll be out of your house. It won’t be long now.”
“Don’t be naïve,” she spits. “We all know that being pregnant doesn’t mean a baby will be born.”
“That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You’re doing everything possible to make sure it doesn’t happen.”
“I don’t need to lift a finger, young lady. Sometimes all one has to do is stand back and watch fate do its work. When something unnatural happens, nature often corrects itself.”
I press a hand to my abdomen. “Agnes, this baby is innocent, but you, on the other hand, are anything but. I feel sorry for you… that you have to carry so much hate inside you.”
Panting, I move to the couch and sit. She watches me without saying anything. If I had a heart attack right now, I bet she wouldn’t even call for help.
“Do you think your little show is going to get you anywhere?” She steps toward the couch, but still remains a safe distance away from me. “Pretending you are in pain will get you nowhere.”
“Get out,” I shout, my arm wrapped around my middle protectively. “Don’t you ever come near me again.”
“I will leave when I’m ready to. You seem to be forgetting that this is my house. My husband and I built it from the ground up.” She pauses. “By the way, that little deal you made with Marcia will not hold up. I have my own spare key to this guesthouse. I can come and go as I please, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
With that, she storms out.
When there’s a knock on the door again ten minutes later, I know it’s Marcia.
“I’m so sorry.” She puts an arm around my shoulders. “Are you okay? I was outside the door. I listened to the unkind things my mother said to you. You’re right, maybe you should get away from here for a while. I’ll talk to her again.”
I’m too tired to get into another talk with Marcia, so I pretend I’m fine. But I’m far from it. She stood outside the door. She heard everything and did nothing. She just let it happen.
“Marcia, I hope you don’t mind, but I should finish packing.”
“Of course. I’ll leave you to it.”
Fifteen minutes later, when I open the door to leave for the hotel, I bump into Travis, who was about to knock.
“Marcia told me you’re going away for a few days,” he says. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You came here so we could be on this journey with you.”
“Yes, that’s right.” I close the door behind me and wheel my suitcase to the car. “But I need some space. I talked to Marcia about it. I’m sure she’ll explain everything to you.”
Before I can respond, Marcia joins us outside.
“My mother’s been giving her a hard time,” she explains to her husband. “A bit of peace and quiet would do her and the baby good, Travis. She’ll be well taken care of at the hotel.”
Travis shakes his head and walks away without another word.
All their obsessions are becoming too much for me to bear. Marcia and Travis are obsessed with keeping this baby, and Agnes is obsessed with getting rid of it. The pressure is too much for one person to carry.
Marcia engulfs me in a hug. “Try to get some rest. Everything will be all right, you’ll see.” She presses her cheek to mine, and for a moment I’m reminded that even though things are hard, we are in this together. We both want the same thing.
“Should I drive you?” she asks, pulling away.
“No, I’ll drive myself.” I glance at my suitcase.
“Don’t even think about it. No carrying heavy things.” She picks up the piece of luggage and hauls it into the trunk. “They’re expecting you at the Sawyer Hotel. I’ve also booked some treatments for you in the spa.”
I smile at her. I do appreciate her going the extra mile to make sure I’m comfortable there. She’s trying, and honestly, after losing so many babies, I understand why she’s obsessed with this one. Like her mot
her said, a pregnancy is no guarantee a child will be born. That’s why Marcia is holding on to this one with both hands.
“Marcia,” I say, “I can’t wait to give you this baby.”
Sudden tears come to her eyes, preventing her from speaking. It’s fine. I already know what she wants to say.
“I should go. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“Make it Monday. That way you’ll have a few more hours to yourself.”
I watch her walk back into the house just as Beatrice walks out with a garbage bag.
I greet her, but I’m not sure she responds. Like Agnes, Beatrice hardly speaks to me. She’s not exactly unkind, but she’s not welcoming either. She comes to the guesthouse once a day to clean up, and she has only said a handful of words to me, mostly to do with the cleaning.
I shrug and get into the car. As soon as I leave Cedar Street behind, I open the windows. The morning breeze floats in, teasing my hair, making me feel free. The baby kicks and I chuckle. In spite of what Agnes said, what I’m doing is good. No matter what I go through, it will all be worth it in the end.
I peer into the rearview mirror and spot a red Jeep Grand Cherokee that looks just like Travis’s. My throat tightens. It can’t be.
The car draws nearer, and I exhale. It’s a woman behind the wheel, not a man.
Twenty minutes later, I arrive at the hotel and check in.
The hotel manager, who introduces herself as Rayna Drews, insists on escorting me personally to my room, a luxury suite with all the amenities I could have imagined. It doesn’t mean much to me—time is my greatest luxury right now—but it is nice not having to see pink everywhere I look. Everything in this room is white and pale blue. Refreshing.
“Miss Cooper, we hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us. If you need anything, do not hesitate to let us know.”
Before the manager leaves, she reminds me of the spa treatments Marcia has booked for me, including a mud bath. I’m guessing the Thorpes are paying them quite a bit of money to give me such special treatment.