He motioned for her to sit up.
“Well, I won’t give an official diagnosis. But your uterus does seem a bit swollen.”
Claire’s eyes filled with tears. “So I am?”
“It’s a bit early to tell for absolute certain.”
“But I’m swollen. It’s swollen.”
“It appears so. I would urge you to wait another two weeks, Mrs. Sullivan. If you still haven’t had your menses, I’ll examine you again, and I’ll be able to give you a definitive answer.”
He stood and smiled, feeling sorry for her in her despair. “No charge for today’s visit. Come back in two weeks’ time.”
He turned to leave and she spoke.
“I don’t want to have it,” she said, staring at the floor. He turned slowly. “I don’t. I can’t. I need you to help me.”
He sat back down, the picture of seriousness. “What are you asking me, Mrs. Sullivan?”
“I need you to…take care of it.”
He said nothing as he rubbed a hand over his face. Was he trained to do such things? Yes. Had he done them? Yes, and it had haunted him every day. The debate of life aside, some of the young mothers he’d agreed to help, he’d only helped to die.
“You’re a doctor. You know how to do that, right?” She raised her head and looked him in the eyes.
“I do,” he said slowly, not returning her direct gaze. “But, in my opinion, it’s not a safe procedure. There are more complications than successes. I’ve seen it directly.”
She seemed unmoved. He seemed to know what she’d say next. “I beg you to not seek this service elsewhere. The inexperience of the women in back rooms where these things are done cheaply only increase the chances of your dying. And then where would your husband and son be?” He looked up at her, his eyes imploring. “I know it would be a hardship in more ways than one. But is it worth risking your life?” he asked in his gentlest voice.
***
“So good of you to come help,” Ruth said as she walked up, hand shielding her eyes from the sun.
“So good of you to offer us the extra work,” Jonathan said, digging the shovel at the base of a small shrub.
“Well, I want to pay you fairly…no less than what you’d make in a day with your own business. What would you say is fair?”
“Well…” Jonathan leaned on the shovel handle, wiped his brow with the back of his hand, and smiled. “We make about a dollar a day on the boats.”
Ruth’s face fell flat. “A dol…”
He watched her shock, mingled with a bit of horror, and grinned.
“Only a dol…”
“Yes, Ruth. Give or take. Some days are better, some days are busts.” Jonathan thought of a storm last winter that cost them three days.
“Oh, my.”
Jonathan sobered. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?” At one time, a dollar was nothing to him. Stacks of dollars weren’t even much to consider. His had been a life of never keeping track of his expenses, and not even knowing, or caring, what the running price of things were. Now, every cent, every fraction of a cent counted.
“And you can live on this?” she asked in utter disbelief.
“Well, we can survive on it.” He resumed digging out the stubborn brush. “We save a bit in the summer to make up for expenses in the winter.”
“Claire and Aryl… That house runs eighteen dollars a month… How on earth…”
“Caleb’s farm helps a lot. We all have a garden plot over there. He raises meat, chickens, and rabbits and lets us buy some at his cost. It’s good of him, but that’s Caleb.”
Her brows knit. “Why don’t you all go in on a beef cow together?”
Jonathan thrust the shovel down and pulled it back, dislodging some of the roots.
“The startup. And space. His barn is filling out with his own needs.”
“Hmm.” Suddenly she was self-conscious of her wealth to the point of almost feeling guilty. She didn’t feel sorry for Jonathan for one reason. He seemed happier and more content now than Victor ever did with his fortune. What she did feel was a desire to help. The first thing she’d do is drop the Sullivan’s rent in half. It was all extra income to her anyway. She certainly didn’t need it. She searched for other ways to help. Not through charity, none of these hard-working men would ever accept that. She walked away without a word, thinking deeply. Remembering her original reason for coming out to speak with Jonathan, she turned.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I’ll pay you twice what you make on your boat. I know the work is twice as hard, and you won’t argue with me on that.”
Jonathan nodded, threw up a hand, and then punched the last hole to free the shrub.
Aryl wandered over.
“What did she want?” he asked.
“She was negotiating pay.”
“Oh, good,” he said, leaning on his shovel. “How much?”
“Twice our daily.”
“Even better.” With a pivot, Aryl turned to see Ruth disappear into the house. He chuckled to himself.
“What?” Jonathan asked, filling in the hole the bush left behind.
“I was just thinking how wild this is.”
“Digging up shrubbery?”
“No, our life. The turns they’ve taken.”
“Humph,” Jonathan said as he continued to work.
“A few years ago, you were her one true love.” He grinned. “Now you’re her gardener.”
Jonathan fought a smile but lost the battle.
***
With the excuse of party planning ready and available, Claire stole away after dinner.
“If we run late and it’s dark, I’ll ask Ruth to drive me home,” she said.
Aryl’s voice nearly cracked. “You’ll be that long?”
“I don’t know,” she said, adjusting her hat. She pecked him on the cheek and opened the door.
Jac cried after her from Aryl’s arms, writhing and thrashing.
“Wave bye to Mommy,” he said through a strained smile. Jac reared his head back against his collarbone and Aryl grunted. When Claire looked back, he smiled quickly.
“Have fun. See you soon.” He added under his breath, “Hopefully, real soon.” She could hear Jac all the way down the block.
She was sure Dr. Foley assumed the decision not to have this child was spontaneous. But it wasn’t. She’d thought it through well enough. She felt horrible, guilty, and weak for considering it. But she felt hopeless when she considered the alternative.
All that evening, she wanted to tell Aryl. It was on the tip of her tongue for most of dinner. If she could just get the words right, she could make Aryl see there was no way they could have another child. Under stressful enough circumstances, he’d support her in this. But, by some miracle, Jac had behaved the entire meal. He didn’t scream once, didn’t throw any food. Didn’t make the veins in Aryl’s head bulge and have her on the edge of angry tears.
He just had to see it wasn’t possible! She had to walk everywhere, for God’s sake. What was she supposed to do, drag Jac along while largely pregnant carrying groceries home on the icy sidewalks? They couldn’t afford the clothes, the diapers—she’d just given Jac’s to Tarin for her baby—they couldn’t even afford a hospital birth, and after laboring with Jac at home, she swore that next time she’d have some of the sedatives that the women talked about enjoying during their labor. But Aryl wasn’t there to see her labor, wasn’t there those first sleepless weeks. He thought it was hard now? He wasn’t there in the beginning.
By the time she reached Ruth’s house, she had worked herself up into a froth. She knocked on the door harder than she intended and was surprised when Ruth answered. She wore a white shirt with the first few buttons undone, a gold necklace gleaming against her skin, and black wide-legged slacks.
“Oh,” Claire said, fist still in the air. “I thought you had a butler.”
“I don’t feel like I need one here. I just have a few staff that help me out. Please come in.”
> Claire envied the calm. The quiet. The wonderful floral smells that, despite the house still being repaired and unpacked, permeated every space.
“I’m so glad you dropped by,” Ruth said with a smile. It faded as she got a good look at Claire and recognized a woman on the edge.
“What’s wrong, Claire?” she asked kindly.
“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
“Of course.” Ruth ushered her into the library and closed the heavy doors behind her. Heavy, green velvet drapes were pulled open for the light. The tall shelves were only half stocked. There were unopened crates of books scattered about, reading chairs on either side of a half table with decanters and crystal, and a large round table in the center of the room.
“You’re staying in Rockport for a while,” Claire said, glancing around.
“I am. You’re the first to know officially. At first, I thought I’d summer here. But then I saw how much Mahni liked it, how much better it would be for him than the city, so I decided this would be my primary home. I’ll have to travel to New York frequently for business, of course,” she said as she sat down in a plush, white chair. She gestured for Claire to sit as well.
Claire struggled to keep her composure. “I’m in a predicament and I need your advice.”
“Oh? On what?” Ruth folded her hands and waited.
She dropped her eyes. “On where I can go to terminate a pregnancy.”
Ruth did well hiding her surprise. She blinked, and then nodded slowly. “Does Aryl know?”
“No. I don’t think…I’m not sure I’m going to tell him.”
“You have to tell him. If you do something like this, it’s going to be obvious. It’s not like you bounce right back the next day.”
“I’m always tired,” Claire said. “I’ll…fake sick or something.”
“It’s not that simple, Claire. Have you stopped to really think about this?”
“Yes.” She looked her in the eyes. “I know you must think I’m a horrible person. I think I’m a horrible person. But I just can’t do this.”
“I don’t think you’re a horrible person,” Ruth said. She glanced out the window and seemed to be distracted by the birds.
“Well, you can if you want. I don’t care. All I want to know is where to go. Somewhere clean with a good reputation. And I need to know how much.”
“I don’t look down on you at all, Claire. I just wish you’d take some more time to think about it. And talk to your husband.”
“He won’t agree. Even on Jac’s worst day and being penniless, he’d never agree.”
“Perhaps because he thinks you can make it work.”
“I can’t! He doesn’t have to deal with it like I do.”
“True. But he has his own lot to deal with. Supporting you, for one. If he feels confident he can support another, you should feel confident you can care for another.”
Claire sat back hard. “You’re trying to talk me out of it.”
“Maybe I am,” Ruth said softly, “but only because I’ve done it myself. Twice.”
Claire’s eyes flickered up. “Why?” Ruth could easily afford a dozen children.
Before answering, Ruth rose, went to the half table, and poured them both a drink. She handed one to Claire and sat down, drinking before she spoke.
“You know who I was married to,” she said with disdain. “I couldn’t see bringing Victor’s child into this world. I couldn’t imagine damning a child to have Victor for his father. I was positive he’d destroy them as he’d destroyed every relationship he’d ever had. Was it fair, I asked myself, to have a child knowing it would be subject to Victor’s cruelty and abuse? At the time, the answer was no.” She lowered her eyes and drank again.
“But now you’ve changed your mind?”
“Funny thing about choosing to end a pregnancy. Once you do it, there is no changing your mind. So, no, I didn’t change my mind. I realized I was wrong. I had no way to know just a year after the second one Victor would be gone. I would be left everything. I’d be free. They wouldn’t have even remembered him.”
Claire wanted to argue. It wasn’t as if she and Aryl would discover some windfall inheritance or strike it rich in the market again. There was nothing at all on their horizon that even hinted that life would get any better.
“I appreciate you sharing that with me, Ruth. I understand what you’re saying. But—”
“Women have been huddling together like this since the dawn of time, seeking each other’s advice and wisdom.” Ruth interrupted. “After all, when it comes to things like this, who else is there to help?”
“So you’ll tell me where to go?”
After much hesitation, she nodded. “I went to a skilled surgeon. It was done in a hospital. They put me in the medical ward for two days after.”
Claire’s heart sank at the word surgeon. Surgeons were expensive. She dropped her hand in her lap and looked away.
“I know what you’re thinking, Claire, but I can’t suggest you go to anyone who’ll charge less. As it was, he made it very clear I was taking a terrible risk and that I might not be able to have children after.”
“Then I’m stuck,” she said, looking up with tear-filled eyes. “I can’t afford anyone good, and the ones I can afford will most likely cost me my life.”
She looked around the library, hundreds of dollars’ worth of books, a row of Tiffany lamps by the wall waiting to be placed. Ruth could afford to help her. She debated asking. How would she explain to Aryl the need to pay on a loan? How would she manage to get away for three days to have it done? She sniffled and wiped away a tear with a trembling hand.
“Claire. Go home and talk to Aryl. Tell him exactly how you feel… what you want to do and why.”
“What good will that do?” Claire asked in an ugly voice.
“You know, when I ran with you all, I wasn’t always a drunk, shallow, miserable person. I do remember things, and there is something about each of you I admire very much. Aryl is always able to see the opportunity in the crisis. He’s good like that. I don’t think you should make this decision without him. He may be able to see a glimmer of hope that you and I can’t see right now.”
Claire couldn’t disagree with her assessment of Aryl but failed to find any opportunity in this situation.
“You have something that I never did. A husband who is willing to listen, who cares about your wellbeing and your happiness. You don’t know how he feels about it until you tell him how much this is affecting you. If you talk to him, and this is what you both want, I’ll give you the name of the surgeon as well as funds to have it done.”
Claire’s head jerked up. “You will?”
“Yes. But you have to promise to think about it. How far along are you?”
Claire sniffled again. “I’m only two weeks late.”
Ruth relaxed. “Then you have time to decide. Together.”
***
Claire settled Jac in bed, tucked the sheet under his chin and stroked his cheek with her finger. He smacked his lips in his sleep and a curly lock of brown hair fell into his eyes. She smiled and brushed it away. Knowing she needed to talk to Aryl tonight, she’d planned as best she could. Before dinner, she’d fed Jac six cookies, and then took him to the beach and let him run and run and run.
He barely kept his eyes open through dinner. Aryl helped move him. She tried not to watch how gently he carried him, how carefully he took his shoes and socks off and touched his little toes, or how he wiped away the mass of unruly hair so much like his own and kissed his forehead.
She tried not to watch, but she did. And it made what she was about to tell him so much harder.
When she was finished, she found Aryl in the kitchen clearing the dishes from the table.
“What are you doing?”
“You look tired.” He winked at her.
She pulled out a chair and sat down. He had no idea.
“I went to the doctor,” she said, eyes down, finge
rs twisted, dread welling up in her stomach.
Aryl stopped working. “What did he say?”
Claire rose, limp as a ragdoll, and dragged her feet into the living room. She’d imagined and rehearsed telling him in the living room. He followed quickly, frowning with concern.
“Claire, what did he say?” He sat close, swiping up her hand.
“Well. He thinks… what I suspected… I might be pregnant.”
After a brief stint of frozen shock, he smiled. “You are?”
She looked at him, her eyes full of tears.
“You don’t look happy.”
She gave a small shake of her head. “Because I’m not,” she whispered.
He took a moment to think and wrapped an arm around her.
“It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”
“No, we won’t. It’s not that simple, Aryl.” She wiggled away from his arm.
“Of course, it will. I’ll… work harder. I’ll work evenings. You can get the diapers back from Tarin, and Maura can help you when it’s time like she did with Jac.”
“I don’t want Maura to help me.”
“Then we’ll find another midwife,” he said, dipping his head to look at her. “Anyone you want.” She was shaking, mustering courage.
“I don’t want anyone to help me because I don’t want to have it.”
He fully froze now, staring at her. Then he laughed nervously.
“Well, it’s too late for that,” he said through a frightened smile. When she said nothing, he asked, “Right?”
She let go of his hand and stood. She needed some distance. “No, there is something we can do about it.”
Again, he laughed nervously. “Claire, you can’t mean…” He searched her face and found that she did. “I think you’re just scared. A bit overemotional. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’ve never thought more clearly in my life,” she said, turning to him.
There was a long pause, him looking at her open-mouthed.
“I went to Ruth. She knows of a doctor and is willing to pay for it, but only if we both—”
“What?” He rocketed off the sofa. “You’re serious? You’re considering an abortion?”
Purling Road - the Complete Second Season: Episodes 1-10 Page 10