Lara watched her mother push at the pillow until it formed a realistic shape. The image of her mother pregnant, which she knew was a lie, delivered a sudden anguish like a slap across the face. Lara burst into tears, collapsing to the chair. Her body weight slid the chair backwards and it collided against the wall with a loud bang.
“I just can’t believe we’re really doing this,” Lara cried. Marlene and Gerald looked to each other for reassurance.
Lara wiped her cheek. Marlene glanced to the mirror again but whipped around when the bedroom door flew open. There in the frame was Felix. He looked from Lara to his mother, then to his father and mother again. Horror spread across his face as he took in the sight of his mother cradling a burgeoning belly that wasn’t there hours earlier.
“Felix!” Gerald seethed. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“Wha—, what’s going on?” Felix stuttered.
“Come in. Quickly.” His father pulled him into the room and shut the door.
“I heard a crash,” the boy said, apologetically. “I was coming to make sure everyone was alright.” Lara’s face drained of color. Felix fixed his eyes on Marlene, who stood frozen. “Mother, why—.”
Gerald dropped his head, then regained eye contact with his son. “This is probably very confusing,” he said, palms out. “Let us explain.” He gestured to an open spot next to Lara. “Come. Sit.”
Felix sat, as instructed, next to Lara on the chaise lounge while his parents told him the truth. They had wanted to keep everyone in the dark, but their son’s unexpected appearance changed that.
“You mustn’t tell a soul,” Gerald ordered. “I hope we can trust you, Felix.” Felix nodded, stunned. At sixteen, they hoped he was old enough to keep the secret. Obedience—or at least the expectation of such—ran strong through the Weiss family, but this was big. This was a lot of pressure to put on a boy.
Felix looked to his sister, his face long as a fiddle.
“I’m so sorry, Lara,” he said. And with tears dripping down both of their chins, the siblings held each other. It was an understanding of the worst kind.
From there, they lived out the façade, day by day lying a little more. A few weeks later, Marlene and Gerald decided it was time to tell the children about the pregnancy—Marlene’s fake pregnancy, that is. They gathered the children into the den for a family meeting.
“We have some exciting news to share with you,” Gerald announced. He wrapped an arm around Marlene’s waist and they both put on smiles that only the youngest wouldn’t see as insincere.
“Oooh, I bet I know,” Lena said excitedly. What other news would a newlywed couple have?
“We’re going to have a baby.”
“I knew it!”
“Yay!” the little girls cried.
“Oh, Mother, how wonderful!” Bettina said.
The children shouted in elation at the idea of a new sibling. The youngest bounced up and down, giddy and slap-happy.
No one noticed Lara and Felix sitting quietly to the side.
“The baby will be here after the new year,” Marlene announced. The children gathered around, talking over each other and sharing their opinions on the newcomer—where it should sleep, who would be its favorite sibling.
The joy on their faces broke Marlene’s heart even further. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Lara’s eye.
As winter approached, Lara took to hiding her growing belly with oversized shirts that Marlene sewed—blouses with high collars and gathered yokes that flowed over her midsection. She declared her looks the latest style craze, and even though her siblings didn’t see other seventeen-year-olds sporting such fashions, they didn’t disagree. In their eyes, Lara could do no wrong.
Most of the changes to her body happened on the inside, unbeknownst to the naked eye. She gained little weight—still struggling with nausea and a suppressed appetite. So aside from her stomach, round as a basketball, Lara looked largely the same.
As often as possible, Lara made excuses to stay in her room, and the children, being young and impressionable, didn’t think much of it. Instead, Marlene kept them busy with outings and activities to distract from Lara’s absence. Neither did they probe Marlene for her continued stream of energy.
They were naive. Mother is having a baby, and that’s that. Why would she be any different?
With each week that passed, Marlene stuffed larger pillows under her clothes. She’d never worn so many empire-waisted tops in her life. She was grateful when winter came, so she could wear bulkier items to help hide the scam. Loose tops and open cardigans drew less attention to the inconsistent shape of her bump, as every day’s belly looked slightly different than the day before.
At times, she’d look in the mirror and imagine the bump of pillow filling was really the elbow of a baby.
Unlike Lara who could barricade in her room, however, Marlene’s responsibilities meant she had to leave the house. It had only been a handful of months since their arrival in Zürich, and the family was still meeting new people in the neighborhood. Marlene was relieved they didn’t need to make a grand announcement of her pregnancy to friends—there were really only a couple ladies she had gotten to know as acquaintances thus far.
Instead, she revealed her “news” with little fanfare. She told them they’d be welcoming a baby later in the winter, careful to never use the words “I’m pregnant.” Somehow avoiding this phrase made her feel a little better about the lie. It’s amazing what will ease a conscience.
“That’s wonderful news!” her friends cheered with excited great hurrah. And of course it would have been wonderful news, if it hadn’t all been built on deceit.
Still, Marlene had to be prepared each time she ventured from home, knowing it would only take one slip for their farce to come tumbling down.
On a cold January morning, Marlene and her two youngest daughters were at the store when an elderly woman with tight gray curls and a hunchback hobbled to where they stood at the meat counter. Marlene greeted her with a polite smile, stepping aside to let the woman view the cuts behind the glass.
“Such a blessing,” the lady said, gesturing to the hump protruding from under Marlene’s coat.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” Marlene responded, placing a hand on her abdomen.
“How much longer? You look like you’re about ready.”
Marlene felt her cheeks flush. “Any day now!”
“Ah, so wonderful. I just love babies. May I?” The woman reached out to touch Marlene’s stomach.
“No!” Marlene shouted. The old lady gasped, retracting her hand as if she’d just come close to the flame of a candle. Another shopper near the counter turned sharply at the sound of the commotion.
Embarrassed, Marlene quickly diffused the situation with nervous laughter. “Sorry,” she said smoothly. “I’m just really particular about my space. I don’t even let the children feel the baby.”
“Oh,” the woman responded, baffled. “I see. My apologies. I meant no harm.”
“Of course not, it’s just me. I’m sorry for startling you.”
The elderly woman shuffled off, glancing once more over her shoulder and considering Marlene’s peculiar reaction to such a common gesture. Marlene felt the tingling panic begin to subside, and her breath returned to normal. It was true, she never let the children touch her stomach—she’d never offered, and they’d never asked. She’d resorted to altering the way she hugged them, too—never straight on.
Marlene’s life had become one big game of charades.
It was a trying several months. Honesty was a core pillar of her being, and she felt a piece of her integrity chip away each day that passed. When Lara made it to thirty-nine weeks, Marlene knew the time was near. Even staring down the never-ending road of deception ahead, she was greatly looking forward to putting at least this part of the lie far behind them.
Seven
The pains struck on a bitter cold night in the first week of February. Lara had been a
sleep for a few hours when an intense cramp tightened her midsection, wrapping around to her lower back. The spasm jolted her from her sleep and she cradled her belly, rubbing her hand over the skin that had been stretched taut for the past nine months. Sharp and deep, it was different from the small pangs of the last few weeks, which were uncomfortable but bearable. This was squeezing, like Lara had never felt before. She imagined an octopus strangling its prey.
The contraction eased and her muscles softened again. With a beat, her shoulders relaxed. Whew, what was that? she thought. Taking a deep breath, Lara ran her tongue across her parched lips. Her throat stung from the dry air in the room.
She lifted her head to see if her squirming had woken her sister. To her relief, Lena slept soundly in the matching twin bed a few feet away. Their white headboards featured a bubblegum pink bow painted at the center. The innocence of it fitting for Lena, but fraudulent for Lara.
Not three minutes later, her belly tightened again, slowly at first, then increasing in intensity. Lara drew a sharp inhale. The pain seized her, and she pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, clenching her teeth and squeezing the sheet in her hands to keep from crying out.
When the pain receded and she was able to think clearly, she gathered the first contraction hadn’t been a fluke. Yet another wave crested, then fell. She sat for a while longer, realizing the contractions were coming in regular intervals.
Lara knew she needed help.
She stood from her bed, using her arms to lift her heaviness. As she did, a warm stream of liquid trickled down her leg, soaking into the top of her shearling sock. The light was off. Nothing but darkness and fear surrounded her. Scared and shaken, she shuffled, wide legged, down the hall to her parents’ room.
Marlene and Gerald were sound asleep, their bodies nestled together and his arms draped over her waist. They always slept with the curtains open, and now the moon’s luminescence showed Lara’s wet footprints on the hardwood. Lara lifted a leg and saw a discoloration at the ankle of her sock—clearly not urine.
Quietly, Lara shook her mother awake.
“Mother, I think it’s time.”
Marlene flew out of bed, waking her husband in the process who looked around with a mix of confusion and alarm.
“What? What is it?” he blathered, half asleep.
Lara, in the clutch of another contraction, leaned against the tall armoire, eyes closed. She rocked her head to the rhythm of her long, slow exhale.
“The baby’s coming,” Marlene hissed, trying to keep her voice low. “Call Elena.”
Marlene and Gerald had divulged their secret to only one other person: a midwife. Elena had a glowing reputation in Zürich for her knowledge and skill—two things Gerald insisted on for the care of his daughter.
During her first visit to the Weiss home, Elena examined Lara with gentle hands and a confidence in her voice that made Lara feel safe. She was as wide as she was tall, with boyish hair that looked like she cut it herself. With her frumpy clothes and not a stitch of makeup, Elena was far from glamorous. But she was good at what she did, and that’s all that mattered.
Upon their first meeting, Gerald offered Elena a generous sum of money for her discretion. “We appreciate your confidence in this delicate matter.”
The woman adamantly declined.
“You may pay for my services like any other patient,” she said bluntly, draping a stethoscope around her neck. “But I will not take anything else from you. I know how to keep secrets, sir, and I have no reason not to. My job is to get this baby here safely. I care of nothing else.”
At that, she had given Lara instructions and then departed, leaving them no choice but to trust her.
Elena visited the house every month, her appointments increasing in frequency as Lara’s belly grew. Along the way, she educated both Lara and Marlene on the course of gestation, including what to expect as labor drew near.
“You will call me when contractions are a minute apart, no sooner. That, or if your waters break.”
“How will I know if they break?” Lara had asked.
“You’ll know.”
Elena answered their concerns with frankness that might have been interpreted as poor bedside manner. But Lara appreciated her straightforward approach. The two formed a connection. Each time Elena treated Lara compassionately, and without any hint of judgement. Her words were crisp, but her hands were gentle. She left every appointment by giving Lara a kiss on the cheek.
Still leaning against the armoire, Lara let out a quiet moan and cradled her stomach. She breathed through gritted teeth.
Gerald hurried to the kitchen and used the home’s only phone to call Elena. He glanced at the clock above the stove: one o’clock in the morning. Would she answer at this hour? Relief came when she picked up on the second ring.
“Elena,” he gasped. “she’s in labor. We need you.”
“I’ll be right there.” The line clicked on the other end.
When he returned to the bedroom, the scene had changed. Marlene propped several pillows against the headboard behind where Lara sat in the middle of the bed. The girl reclined against the softness. Her face was ghostly with fear and discomfort. Her bent legs formed a tent with her nightgown, and the intimacy in the room made Gerald blush and turn away. This was his daughter, his little girl, not some grown woman about to birth a child. The scene conjured images that felt too private, too wrong for him to be witnessing.
“What can I do?” he whispered to his wife.
Marlene, in her own floor-length nightgown, gathered towels into a pile near the foot of the bed. “Nothing, I suppose. I’m just trying to keep her comfortable—and quiet—until Elena gets here.”
Gerald took a seat in the corner, balancing his elbows on his knees. His legs bounced nervously. With each contraction, his body tensed along with Lara’s. It was as though he could feel the pain through her. Gerald bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.
When the midwife finally arrived after twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, she was fresh-eyed and ready. She swooped in with authority and confidence. Gerald, relieved, gratefully excused himself from the room.
“I’ll, uh, just be downstairs if you need me.” His clumsy announcement met no response, as the women’s full attention was on Lara whose hairline had become wet with perspiration. When Elena whipped up the hem of Lara’s white nightgown, Gerald turned so fast he nearly hit his nose on the doorframe.
The plan they’d agreed on in advance was simple: Keep the door locked until the baby arrived. No one in and no one out. And for the children? They would be told that their mother was in labor and that Lara was assisting the midwife.
It was true—almost.
As the dark hours of the night passed one by one, Gerald’s bare feet paced the floor. He traced a path through the kitchen, dining room and sitting area, hoping each lap would be the last before the baby came. A finger pour of whisky helped ease his nerves. The amber liquid burned his throat, but he took the punishment willingly.
The grandfather clock struck four, then five. How long would it take? He hadn’t been present for the births of his own children—a lifetime ago, it seemed, before his first wife died in childbirth with Gloria. That wasn’t something in which men of his position participated. All he remembered of those times was being told his baby had arrived. Congratulations, you have a daughter! Cheers, sir, you have a son! How many hours had it taken? He couldn’t even begin to guess.
Gerald prayed—for the first time in a long time—for the safety of his daughter and her unborn child. Not one to label himself religious, he’d opened up to the idea of a higher power thanks to Marlene. She was, after all, a highly spiritual person, given her time volunteering at the abbey and teaching nursery school alongside nuns.
He willed Elena to do her magic, to deliver the baby without complication. The room above was quiet—the dull pattern of footsteps on the ceiling the only sound in the hushed house.
A few time
s, when curiosity got the better of him, he climbed the staircase and leaned his ear against the smooth wood door, and only then did he hear a rhythmic panting that sent him running back downstairs.
At the strike of seven, a bright orange sun inched up over the horizon. The day dawned new and clean despite the messy situation upstairs. It wasn’t long before soft, morning pitter patter filled his ears. Gerald stirred, having surrendered his pacing for the comfort of an armchair where, after strumming his fingers anxiously for another hour, he’d eventually rested his head in his hand and gave in to the allure of sleep.
Gloria and Miriam were always the first ones up, well-rested and cheerful after a full night of sweet dreams. They bounded into the kitchen—all rosy cheeks and flyaway hair—expecting to see the familiar sight of their mother. Instead they met a father with dark circles under his eyes. He was in plaid pajamas—an altogether unfamiliar sight.
“Father, you’re home? Where’s Mother?” Gloria asked.
“Your mother is having the baby!” He put on an enthusiastic smile he hoped they wouldn’t see through. The last thing he wanted was his unease to rub off on the children.
“She is?!”
“Shhhhh!” he playfully scolded. “Yes, but keep your voices down. We need to stay quiet so they can focus.”
But their gasp was enough to wake the other children, and within minutes they had all made their way from their bedrooms to the kitchen.
“What’s the commotion?” Bettina asked.
“Mother’s having her baby!” the girls exclaimed in unison.
A sense of excitement filled the space, as the children spewed questions—“When?” “Is it a girl?” How much longer?”—at their father and he tried to answer strategically. Only Felix met his father’s gaze with misgiving.
“Where’s Lara?” Karl finally asked, noticing she was the only one missing.
All That Shines and Whispers Page 5