“He’ll be back anyway,” her husband reminded her.
“But they don’t know that yet, and we don’t know how long that takes.” She had called Michael, and he had said it could be months, or even years. “And we can’t tell them he was dead anyway. In their lives, this just happened.” In the end, Blake agreed with her, and wanted to do what he could for Bert, who was devastated by his daughter’s poor judgment and the death of his son, four months after they’d entered the war.
Three weeks later, almost to the day, Bettina was notified that her husband had been killed in France during training exercises. She was going to give birth to a fatherless baby in four months. The house felt like a tomb after both young men were killed in Europe.
Blake and Sybil found some relief when they took Andy to Edinburgh to settle him in. They took Caroline and Charlie with them, and they found it a charming city. Andy was wildly excited to be going to college at a foreign university, and he joined them in London for five days, and then Blake and Sybil took Charlie and Caroline to Paris, and then Blake, Caroline, and Charlie flew back to San Francisco. Sybil went to New York for the opening of the show at the Brooklyn Museum. She hadn’t touched the book she’d been working on since they moved to San Francisco. She just hadn’t had time. Between her children, the Butterfields, and her work, she never had the quiet hours she needed to continue the research and work on it, but she had promised herself and her publisher that she would finish it that winter. She was in New York for two weeks, and pleased that the reviews of the design exhibit in Brooklyn had been excellent. Based on the event’s success, she was asked to do a show at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It had been a very fruitful trip. And when she got home, she found Blake coping well. Alicia had stayed at the house to help Caroline and Charlie while Sybil was gone. Alicia was the only one at home when she arrived in the early afternoon. The black wreath was off the door, which Sybil was pleased to see.
“How is everyone?” Sybil asked her, and she shrugged when she answered.
“They talkin’ to themselves a lot.” But they all did. Sybil too. Alicia thought they were all a little odd, but nice people, and they were good kids. “They do their homework every night, and Mister Gregory, he take them out to dinner a lot. Chinese, pizza, Thai, Mexican.” This told Sybil that they hadn’t dined with the Butterfields while she was gone, and she wasn’t sure why. She wondered how they were doing after all the shocks of the summer, and how Bettina was. And she was excited to see her children when they got home from school. Charlie let out a whoop and threw himself into his mother’s arms.
Caroline’s boyfriend had left for college, but she had met another boy she liked, a fellow senior, and Charlie said he had seen Magnus almost every day.
“How are they?” Sybil asked with a look of concern.
“I don’t know. He says his mom cries all the time, and Bettina throws up a lot.” Sybil winced when she heard it. Magnus showed up a few minutes later and gave her a big hug too. He felt just as solid and real in her arms as Charlie did, and he was happy to see her. He told her he had missed her, and she said she had missed him too.
“My mom told me to ask you for dinner tonight.” She nodded.
“How is everybody?”
“My grandma was sick for a while, but she’s fine now. And Bettina is really fat.” Sybil knew that they hadn’t told him about the baby yet, but they would have to soon. Magnus knew she had gotten married and was a widow now. Sybil didn’t ask him if Josiah was back yet. She’d have to see that for herself.
When the four of them joined the Butterfields in the dining room that night, it was obvious that he wasn’t, and Bettina was almost transparent, she was so pale. Lucy seemed healthy by comparison, but they all greeted Sybil warmly, even Augusta, and she had brought back little presents for all of them. A scarf for Augusta, a pipe for Angus, a light cashmere shawl for Lucy, a book for Bert she thought he’d enjoy, perfume from Paris for Gwyneth, a box of lace handkerchiefs for Bettina, two sweet little nightgowns for the baby with matching caps and booties, and new videogames for both boys. And she could see immediately how much Bettina’s pregnancy had grown. She couldn’t hide it anymore.
“She won’t be able to go out for much longer,” Gwyneth said with a look of concern. “A few more weeks maybe. From the beginning of November, she’ll stay home.” She said it as though that were a normal occurrence, and Sybil realized that Bettina would have to stay out of sight and literally be “confined” at home, like other women in her condition at the time. “Maybe even before,” Gwyneth added. It sounded depressing to Sybil, but was accepted behavior for women of her day.
They talked about Sybil’s trip and the exhibit and how much Andy loved school. She had been FaceTiming with him from New York, while Blake and the children were Skyping with him from San Francisco.
They stayed at the table longer than usual, to catch up on each other’s news. Bert still seemed very down about Josiah. The loss of his oldest son had been a terrible blow. Gwyneth whispered to Sybil that she had been doing artwork on the computer the whole time Sybil was away, and they exchanged a smile.
“How do you feel?” Sybil asked Bettina when they got up from the table, and she saw that Bettina’s eyes looked inconsolably sad. She had lost a husband and a brother, and was having a baby she wasn’t ready for and would have to bring up alone. Her mother had whispered to Sybil at dinner that it would be nearly impossible to find her a husband now, especially during a war. Her fate as an unmarried woman in future was nearly sealed, and with a child.
“I’m all right,” Bettina answered in a thin voice. Sybil had noticed that she’d eaten almost nothing at dinner except some clear broth and a piece of toast. But Augusta appeared to be in robust health, and so was Angus, and he was very pleased to hear how much Andy loved school, and how he was traveling around Scotland on weekends.
“I’m amazed he got over there without a problem. Give the dear boy my love,” Angus said, with Rupert at his feet.
“I will,” Sybil promised. It felt good to be home with all of them. As odd as it seemed, she knew that this was where she belonged, even if her best friends now were all ghosts. At least they had Bettina’s baby to look forward to, but Sybil seemed like the only person in the house who was excited for it to arrive.
Chapter 9
By the end of October, as was proper for her time, Bettina no longer left the house. It wasn’t considered appropriate for her to be seen in public in her condition, and she accepted it without complaint. But she looked profoundly depressed whenever Sybil saw her at dinner, which wasn’t often. She remained very ill and violently nauseous throughout the pregnancy. Her mother said she still threw up several times a day and could barely eat. It sounded awful to Sybil, who’d had easy pregnancies with all three of her children.
“I don’t think I could have done that,” Sybil said sympathetically when Gwyneth came to visit her in her office. Sybil was trying to work on her book, but still with little success. There was always too much going on with Blake, the kids, or at night with their friends they shared the house with. They had dinner with the Butterfields two or three nights a week, and usually went out once a week to a restaurant with clients or one of Blake’s associates from work. They had a full life.
“I was very sick with Josiah,” Gwyneth said and looked sad as she said it, she missed him so much. They were having a beautiful portrait done of him in his uniform, from a photograph that had been taken right before he left. “I had less trouble with the girls,” she commented. “And I was in bed for six months with Magnus so I wouldn’t lose him. He came early, and hopped around all the time. He was in such a rush to be born.” She smiled at the memory.
“Do you think Bettina’s baby is all right? She eats almost nothing. She can’t be getting much nourishment.”
“The doctor has come to see her several times, and he says she’s fine, and the baby is quite small.” That didn’t sound good to Sybil, but she didn’t say anyt
hing. She didn’t want to worry her friend. They had their own way of dealing with things, according to the times they lived in. And a small baby would make for an easier birth. She would have the baby at home with a midwife in attendance, and a nurse who would stay on. It was how Gwyneth had given birth to her babies too. She said Magnus had almost fallen out, he was so anxious to arrive, and had come three weeks early, which could have been dangerous, but all had gone well, and she was sure it would for Bettina too. She was young and strong, in spite of how ill she had been for months.
“Is Bert feeling better about it?” Sybil asked Gwyneth, and handed her the cup of tea Alicia had brought for her. She couldn’t justify asking for two cups of tea when she appeared to be alone.
“Not really,” she said honestly. “But he’s relaxed a little. He feels sorry for her. Apparently, her husband’s family wants nothing to do with her. They were afraid she’d ask them for money. And they’re devastated over their son. So are we over ours,” she said simply. “They’re not going to help Bettina or the baby. We’ll take care of both of them, of course, but no man is going to want her.” She had said it before. But Sybil knew differently and wanted to give her friend hope without telling her the future.
“There are going to be lots of young widows with children after the war. That will change things. And the baby will be legitimate, they were married.” For five months. An illegitimate child would have been much harder for a new man to accept, or even impossible in their social world.
“I suppose so,” Gwyneth said, looking out the window with a sad expression, thinking about Josiah. “How’s your book?”
“Slow.” Sybil smiled.
But, much more exciting than her book, Blake’s business was going extremely well. They had a new influx of money from a group of venture capitalists, and they were broadening their goals, since the model was working well. It was liable to be a huge hit, with enormous profits for them all.
Blake discussed it with Bert again that night, who warned him about the risks. “Don’t be too greedy,” he said seriously. “Don’t stretch farther than you should.”
“It’s hard to resist,” Blake said sincerely, but he knew Bert was right. They talked about it for a while, and Bert expressed his opinion as best he could, based on his understanding of their plans, which he said were foreign to him. But it always surprised Blake that many of the principles and the dangers were the same, no matter the century.
—
The two families spent Thanksgiving together, and Angus came down the grand staircase before dinner, playing the bagpipes, with Rupert following him, howling. It was hard to decide which sound was worse. The entire group sat waiting for him, and he walked around the table three times, with ear-shattering results. Violet, Augusta’s pug, jumped into her lap and buried her head in Augusta’s arms to avoid the noise. It was a blessed relief when he stopped.
“Wonderful, Angus, thank you,” Augusta praised her brother, and Phillips walked in with an enormous turkey on a silver platter. There was stuffing, sweet and mashed potatoes, half a dozen different vegetables, popovers, cranberry jelly, and all the trimmings, and excellent wine from Bert’s cellar.
It was the Gregorys’ first Thanksgiving with the Butterfields. They were going to spend Christmas together too, and then the Gregorys were planning to go to Aspen between Christmas and New Year’s. They had rented a house there. And Andrew was coming home for three weeks. They were all looking forward to it. Angus had sent him a list of his favorite pubs around the campus, with no understanding that they might not still be there seventy years later in his own time, not to mention a century later for Andy.
The food was delicious and everyone was in good spirits, despite the heavy losses they had suffered that year. Bert led them in prayer before they began eating, and they still found things to be grateful for, especially their close friendship. Bettina was beginning to look a little healthier as her pregnancy came to an end. She had five weeks left. Gwyneth was frantically knitting little sweaters and caps, while Augusta embroidered tiny nightgowns with white rosebuds on them that would work for either sex. They would put the baby in dresses for the first few months whether she had a girl or a boy.
Caroline and Lucy were excited about the baby, and so was Sybil. Magnus and Charlie showed no interest in it at all.
“I suppose it will keep us all up yowling at night,” Angus commented. “I’ll play the bagpipes for it to calm down,” he promised.
“Please don’t,” Augusta said firmly, as they all winced at the thought. Bert still hadn’t made peace with the idea of his daughter having the grandchild of an immigrant fish-restaurant owner who wanted nothing to do with his daughter, for fear it would cost them something. And they had never gotten over the slight of the Butterfields thinking them unsuitable, and were taking it out on Bettina as revenge, and punishing her. Bert wondered if they’d feel differently if she had a boy, and he suspected that would be the case. It made him think of Josiah, and he wished they had a child of his now, but there had been none. It made them regret he hadn’t married, although he was young.
Their Thanksgiving meal was a long one, with warm feelings of friendship among them, and at the end of the evening, they all hugged one another, and Augusta even embraced Sybil, although most of the time she ignored her or complained about what she wore, which was never right according to Augusta. She always said that Caroline looked like a dancer on a music box with the outfits she had on at dinner.
Bettina could hardly move when she got up from the meal. Her belly was huge now, in a red velvet dress Gwyneth had had made for her, although she wore black most of the time, suited to her being a widow. Gwyneth had worn black for Josiah since he died. She had done the same for Magnus for a year when he’d died twelve years before.
They said good night to each other, heavily sated by the meal and good wine. Bert and Blake clapped each other on the back, and Sybil and Gwyneth hugged, and then they quietly left the room and vanished, as the Gregorys wandered up the stairs, groaning about how full they were.
“I feel like Bettina,” Sybil said, laughing, and Blake said nostalgically that he wished it were them having a baby, and she looked surprised. He had always wanted a fourth child, although he hadn’t said it for a while. But Sybil felt that three was enough.
“One more would be nice,” he said wistfully. “A little girl.” But at nearly forty, she didn’t want to do it again. “It would keep us young.”
“Speak for yourself,” she said, as they walked into their bedroom, after a really wonderful evening with their friends.
They lay in bed a little while later, talking about nothing in particular, and feeling close to each other. And then he mentioned Bettina again.
“I feel sorry for her, having that baby alone. It won’t be easy.”
“I don’t think she’s happy about it,” Sybil said thoughtfully. “I think she realizes she made a mistake and acted in haste to defy her parents, and she regrets it. But it’s too late now. Maybe the baby will cheer her up.”
“Her father thinks no one will want her now, with a child,” Blake said, thinking about it.
“Gwyneth says the same thing, but we know that’s not true. And there will be lots of young widows with children after the war. This war will change things for everyone. It will even make it all right for women to work, if the breadwinners are gone.”
“You’re beginning to sound like them,” he said, and she laughed.
They fell asleep and woke up late the next morning, and had a relaxing weekend with their children. The Butterfields did the same. It was a perfect Thanksgiving for them all.
—
December was busy for Sybil, getting ready for Christmas and for Andy to come home. She had presents for everyone, including the Butterfields. The two families got together to decorate an enormous tree in the ballroom, as the Butterfields had always done. Charlie and Blake went to pick up a tree, and they all worked on it, hanging decorations they found in t
he garage. Bert had told them where they were. Alicia’s husband, José, helped them, as the Gregorys chatted with each other and people he couldn’t see. He decided that Alicia was right and they were all slightly crazy.
“They all have imaginary friends,” she had told him, “even the grown-ups.” But the Gregorys paid them well and were kind employers, so he didn’t care if they talked to themselves, and told Alicia not to pay attention to it either. It was none of their business if they were eccentric.
—
On Christmas morning, they all gathered in the ballroom, and everyone’s presents had found their way there. The Gregorys had exchanged a few presents on Christmas Eve as they always did, but they’d decided to follow Butterfield tradition this year, and exchange their presents with them on Christmas Day. Phillips served eggnog, with the adults’ portions laced with brandy, and Magnus and Charlie took a sip before they got caught, and Phillips pretended not to notice. He was very fond of the boys.
Both sets of parents had told them that Santa Claus had left the presents during the night, and they still believed it. Charlie got a new bicycle from his parents, and they had bought one for Magnus too, a bright red one, and he loved it, and rode it around the ballroom and the Christmas tree as fast as he dared.
Everyone else loved their gifts too. Bettina received a number of them for the baby, all handmade by her female relatives. Augusta and Gwyneth were in a frenzy of knitting and sewing these days. She said she felt like an elephant now, and the midwife had said the baby was a good size and could come at any time. Bettina just wanted it over, and the baby in her arms and out of her body. It felt as though it had been there forever, making her feel sick.
The two families shared another big dinner that night, and the next morning, the Gregorys left for Aspen, with all their ski equipment and clothes. They planned to come back the morning of New Year’s Eve, so they could see in the New Year together. They had received other invitations, but they wanted to spend it with the Butterfields, who had become like family to them now. And Sybil had bought a new silver dress for the occasion.
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