Interloper at Glencoe

by Julianne Lee

  He closed his eyes against the image that came. Thank God she would be safe.

  Over the next few weeks the reading lessons continued, and soon Beth was working her way through the most elementary books word by word. Fox, box. Boat, goat. Train, rain. I will not... I will not... I will not. She was eager to move to Winnie the Pooh, but Nick insisted she stick with the Seuss for a few weeks first, lest she become frustrated and quit.

  Mom nearly had a hemorrhage when, after six weeks, he finally worked up the nerve to tell the parents he and Beth were engaged and she was living with him. The harangue over the phone lasted several minutes, during which Nick uttered not a word. He only waited, kicked back in a kitchen chair, until she would wind down and run out of arguments against his decision, and cleaned his fingernails with a toothpick while he waited.

  Finally she went silent, and Nick let the silence grow. Then she said, “When?”

  “July. Is Darlene there? Let me talk to her.”

  There was a hesitation, then Mom said, “Did you hear anything I said?”

  “Not really. Put Darlene on, please. I could call her on her cell phone, but that would use minutes and I know you’re paying for it.”

  The hesitation was longer this time, but then Mom called for Darlene and handed the phone over without saying goodbye. No congratulations, but Nick hadn’t expected any.

  Darlene, of course, was overjoyed to hear of the engagement. In the background Nick could hear Mom telling Dad the news, then was appalled at what he heard next. He shushed Darlene so he could hear all of it. Dear Mother was insisting to her husband that Beth must be pregnant for them to rush into this.

  He said to Darlene, “What’s she telling Dad?”

  Darlene listened for a moment, then said, “She says Beth’s pregnant. Really?”

  “She’s not pregnant.”

  “Oh. That’s what she’s telling Dad. And she’s telling him the only reason Beth could have for wanting to marry you is to obtain U.S. residency. Jeez.”

  Nick groaned.

  Darlene laughed, and muttered into the phone so the parents wouldn’t hear her, “So I guess the scenario Mom’s got cooked up in her head is that Beth is so hot to live in the land of the free and the home of the brave that she arranged to get knocked up and tied down forever with the child of a man she doesn’t love.”

  Nick managed a chuckle, though it cut him to know his mother thought him so unlovable. “She’s not pregnant.”

  “You guys using protection?”

  “Well, no.” It had never even crossed his mind, and now that it had, he was certain he didn’t want to use any and couldn’t talk Beth into it in any case. Even had he thought Beth would be open to the idea, he was not and wouldn’t care to even bring it up with her. They would let be what would be. He wanted kids as much as he knew she did.

  “Nothing?”

  “Not your business, is it?”

  “Just asking. Gee, I didn’t know you were so touchy on that. They do have AIDS in the U.K., you know.”

  Nick dropped that subject like a hot rock. There was no way to explain why he knew Beth didn’t have AIDS. Quickly he asked her to tell him how Dad was taking the news.

  “He’s relieved you’re going to get married at all.”

  Once again Nick wondered why his parents thought him so unlovable. “At least he’s not listening to her blathering.”

  “There is that.”

  Darlene’s biology comments reminded him of another need Beth would have he’d previously forgotten, and once he was off the phone he said, “Hey, Beth.” She was sitting on the couch with one of her books in her lap, running a finger over the words and whispering them to herself under her breath.

  “What is it?” She looked up.

  “Next time you get your, you know, monthly thing—”

  “I beg your pardon?” Her chin lowered and she peered at him. “And why would you even know of such a thing, never mind speak of it?”

  He snorted as he rose from the chair and came to settle on the couch next to her with the novel he was reading for himself. “Hey, we guys know more of what goes on than you think.”

  She shifted her seat and said stiffly, in a voice that rather reminded him of his mother enough to give him the willies, “What could be your interest in it, then?”

  “Well, when you do need them, there are things here other than rags to use. Disposable stuff you use once and throw away.”

  “Made of paper, I imagine?”

  He wasn’t really sure, and wasn’t overly fond of her “Oh, you rich folks” tone, but she probably was right, so he nodded. “Something like that, I think. Next time we go to the store we can pick up what you’ll need.” It would be weird, trying to explain those items to her when he wasn’t sure about much of it himself. But he figured they could read boxes and make guesses, and she could experiment on her own after that. “You’ll be needing them soon, I suppose.”

  “I suppose,” she replied in a tight voice.

  Nick opened his book, found his place, but then closed the book again. Something was wrong. He noticed she was tense all of a sudden, and something just beneath his awareness annoyed him. He thought hard to know what it might be. He looked over at Beth, who was engrossed for the zillionth time in the adventures of that Sam I Am, whispering to herself in Seussian rhythm. Then it came to him.

  It was late May. Nearly June. She’d been there six weeks. “No period?”

  “Pardon?” She looked up.

  “You haven’t had your period... I mean your courses or whatever, since you came here?”

  The pause was ever so brief, but it was there and her voice wavered. “Not since a fortnight before we came here.”

  “So... two months.”

  “Aye. And I would like it very much if we did not discuss these things, for they are terribly private.” She kept her attention on her book, but he could see she was gripping it with tense fingers. The silence grew long and dark. It was as good as a confession.

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  Her voice became very small—nearly inaudible. “When I could be certain it would live.”

  A lightheadedness came over him. Oh, boy. “It has a better chance of living if you get proper care right away.”

  Now she looked at him. “You care for me well enough. I’ve not felt a moment’s hunger since I came here.”

  “I mean, a doctor. Physician.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him, and he could tell she didn’t think the advice of a physician was worth very much. So he said, “And when the baby is born, they can take the pain away.”

  The resistance left her face. “Indeed?”

  “No pain.”

  “I should like that very much. I’m told the pain of delivering a child is more terrible than can be imagined. When the time comes, I suppose I shall allow the presence of a physician.”

  “I’ll make an appointment for you in the morning.”

  “And that would mean...?”

  “I’ll arrange a time for us to see a doctor so you can be examined.” She was frowning again, so he added, “Just to make sure everything is okay. That you’re as healthy as you appear, and that the baby is healthy.”

  “How can he—”

  “Just trust me. You’ll see when we get there.”

  She considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Very well.”

  With one arm he reached over to draw her close, then kissed her forehead. She settled in next to him, under his arm, and he pressed his lips to her head again. That was when it hit him, like a sock in the gut. He was going to be a father. It was all too much. Too big for him to truly grasp, and his mind struggled to wrap itself around the enormous reality of another new person in his life. Shoot, this would be a new person on the planet. The novel in his hand no longer interested him, and he set it aside. “Read to me, hon.”

  “I’ve read it to ye many times before; you must be tired of it.”

  “I know it by
heart, but read it to me anyway.” He knew he wouldn’t hear a word of what she read. All he could think of just then was that his life was never going to be the same. And that was good.

  o0o

  The wedding was set for late July, and Beth hoped she wouldn’t be overly big by then. Nobody would be fooled, but nobody ever was when healthy babies came only six months after a wedding. And that happened often enough in Glencoe. Nevertheless, she did not wish to hear whispers about her on a day that should be joyful, and would be married before her middle thickened if she could.

  Until then she spent her days keeping Nick’s house, but the job consumed not nearly so much of her time as it had in her father’s house. So she filled the extra hours with reading. Once she realized she’d been given the secret to deciphering nearly any word in print, she was voracious in her desire to do so.

  The stories were boring at first, having been written for children, but by perseverance it didn’t take very long before she was able to at least guess at the longer words and read the slightly more interesting, and funny, stories about Pooh Bear and Raggedy Ann. Stuffed toys that could talk; it made her laugh. Every once in a while she would sneak into Nick’s library and have a glance at the small paper books, but those were still too difficult, and too many words were strange to her. She supposed she could ask Nick what a “detective” was, but reckoned she was happy enough with what she had so far. When Nick brought her more books for her level of expertise, she devoured them. Alone for many hours each day, she kept Nick’s already clean chambers clean and orderly, prepared meals, laundered clothing in the machines that stood in a small, dirty room at the other end of the bright blue pond, and in between times lay on the couch with book in hand, whispering the stories to herself as her finger tracked the sentences.

  The visit to the physician was a nightmare of embarrassment. She was told to remove her clothing and lie back on a padded table so he could peer into parts of her no man should ever see, never mind handling them, without benefit of marriage. It was only by Nick’s promise to sit by her and make certain the deed was performed exactly to his expectation of propriety that she agreed to it. She gripped his hand and struggled to not cry as she was manhandled, pressed and probed. Nick sat on a stool beside her head with his arms cradled around her shoulders and whispered in her ear that it was all right, that it would be over quickly, but the ordeal seemed interminable. When she was finally allowed to sit up and the physician announced she was pregnant, she remarked that she hadn’t needed an examination to know that. Unperturbed, he continued that everything seemed in order and he’d found nothing to worry him.

  “And how should I be concerned about what might worry you, since ’tis I who am with child?”

  The physician chuckled as if she’d made a joke, and Nick said quickly into her ear, under his breath, “He knows stuff we don’t, sweetheart. He knows what you should look like in there, and he’s saying you look healthy.”

  “Och, good then. I’m ever so pleased I pass muster with him. May I restore my clothes now?” The paper gown and sheet she’d been given were almost worse than no clothes at all, for they were the devil to keep under control and it would be more convenient to not have to bother.

  They allowed her to dress, and the worst of it seemed to be over. The physician pumped air into a cloth wrapped around her arm then let it out slowly, a flat, cold metal disk was pressed to her front and back a few times and she was asked to breathe and cough, they made her pee into a plastic cup, then pricked her with a needle that sucked blood from her arm. By the time the physician and his helpers were finished with her, she was no longer interested in learning what they would say. Her only concern any more was to leave that place and never return. But Nick not only didn’t think any of this nosy, invasive behavior untoward, he insisted it would help her keep the baby healthy. So she waited patiently to learn what they would tell her.

  Which was nothing more than she knew already: she was pregnant, due in January, and she was healthy.

  After that, she was required to swallow pills every day. Ones Nick called “vitamins.” She disliked having to wash them down whole, but hated chewing them even more. They tasted bitter, overpowering and long-lasting in their harsh flavor. She often forgot to take them, and chafed when Nick reminded her.

  The daytimes without Nick, and without anyone familiar to her to keep her company, were terribly boring. Even the room with the clothes-washing machines was ever deserted, and nobody lingered to gossip when passing to and from their own chambers. Soon she was looking forward to the birth just for the sake of having another soul for company during the day. Often she walked to the small store on the corner for a drink of something sweet and cold even though there was always an abundance of cola in Nick’s refrigerator, only for the sake of striking up conversations with whoever might be there.

  The woman who worked there in the daytimes was very black and spoke strangely, but once Beth learned to understand the speech she found the storekeeper to be friendly and eager to pass the time. She had enormous lips, which sometimes hindered Beth’s understanding of her words, and wide, jet-black eyes. She had black hair, the like of which Beth could not have imagined, for it didn’t look like hair at all, but like a mass of fuzz in the shape of hair. Nick said these folks were what she’d heard of as “blackamoors,” but he also said they no longer cared for the term and preferred to be called simply “black” or “African American.” Beth learned this woman’s name was Karen and preferred to call her that, and encouraged her to talk about her children. In return Beth was blessed by stories told with enthusiasm. She enjoyed the céilidh, tiny though it always was with just the two of them.

  With her new friend, life began to somewhat resemble her days in Glencoe. She settled into the rhythm of this new existence, and found it less frightening than at first.

  One morning while Beth was folding clothes there was a knock on the door and she went to answer it. She had become accustomed to the knocking, and realized by the overwhelming numbers of people who lived nearby that if everyone passing had been welcome to simply walk in there would be no peace. Nor security, for she’d noticed most of the people she saw in a day were ones she did not know and would never meet. Though she felt the bolt lock unnecessary, she did think knocking a wise custom in Nick’s time.

  The door opened to Mrs. Mouliné, who wore tight, short trews, a tight upper garment with no sleeves, and dark frames over her eyes Beth had come to know as “sunglasses.” Her purse was slung onto one elbow, and she smiled at Beth.

  “Hello, Beth. I’ve come to take you shopping. If you and Nick are in such a hurry to be married, there’s much to do and little time.” Her tone allowed for no argument. Nor reply, for that, but Beth made both regardless.

  “We’ve made plans, Mrs. Mouliné.” The wedding was to take place in a nearby Protestant church.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  Beth’s face flushed with embarrassment at forgetting her manners. “Och, I apologize. Come in.” She stepped back to allow Nick’s mother entry.

  “You have a dress? Flowers? Caterer for the reception?”

  Caterer? “I dinnae have a dress yet, but Nick and I will find one on the weekend. We determined our resources willnae allow for expensive niceties such as flowers for decoration, and the celebration will take place in the community room of this apartment building. I shall cook.”

  “Oh, but you must have flowers!”

  “As much as they cost, I’d rather not. Nick tells me I must have a bouquet, but I feel anything more would be too costly.” Never in her life had she been to a wedding where the flowers worn and carried by participants had been anything other than picked wild. When she learned the cost of flowers in this century relative to what Nick’s job brought him in a week, she found it appalling. Since then, if she saw cut flowers in a vase anywhere she could only think of how terribly expensive they were.

  “Come,” said Nick’s mother, and held out her b
rightly manicured hand. Her sunglasses were still over her eyes, so certain was she that Beth would drop everything and accompany her. “I won’t take no for an answer. Come, we’ll find you a dress. You don’t want Nick along for that; he’s a man and he’ll just pick out something tacky.”

  Beth was certain that wasn’t so, but knew arguing with this woman would do no good. She and Nick had spent long conversations talking about his mother and her temper. “I’m rather busy.”

  Mrs. Mouliné looked around at the still-to-be folded laundry piled on the sofa. “Oh, that can wait; come shopping with me. It’ll be fun. You’ll get to try on a lot of pretty clothes. Come.” Her hand was still out, waiting to be accepted.

  A smile she didn’t feel struggled to Beth’s face. There was no desire in her to spend even an hour shopping. But she said, “Very well.”

  “Fabulous. Get your purse.”

  “I’ve no purse. Naught but keys and a credit card.” Nick had given her a set of keys for the apartment and the car, though she knew better than to go near the driver’s seat of that car. It would be a long time before she would be ready to learn the twenty-first-century trick of controlling a carriage with no horse. The credit card was for emergencies, though Beth had some trouble imagining a crisis requiring more than the twenty dollars cash he’d also given her.

  Mrs. Mouliné blinked, then with an edge of disdain said, “All right, get your keys and credit card then.”

  Beth did so, and locked the door of the apartment before following her future mother-in-law to her car waiting at the side of the roadway in front of Nick’s building. It was a low, small carriage, and had no roof. At first Beth thought it had been damaged, but then saw the top folded up behind the seat in back. Mrs. Mouliné tied a scarf around her head and slipped into the driver’s seat. Beth buckled in on the passenger side, and as they zoomed off into the traffic she was thankful she wore her long hair well secured with a ribbon in back. The ends of it tossed and flicked, and she knew it would have become a hopeless mess if left free.