by Caroline Lee
If she gave birth tonight, her baby wouldn’t live. He wasn’t just telling her to scare her. He was asking her if she could do this. If she could do this for him. Annie swallowed again, but this time for a completely different reason. She nodded, in dread.
Reggie stared at her for a long moment, and then nodded approvingly. When he picked up his bag and put his hand on the door knob, she watched him take a deep breath. And then they were inside, and Annie forgot to be scared.
There was a woman bustling around, and Annie hoped that she was a midwife. She was pouring off a basin of pink-tinted water when they entered; Annie let Reggie introduce them, and made her way to the bed.
The woman lying there with closed eyes wasn’t any older than Wendy, but Annie knew that she had four children already, close together. That was never good for a woman’s body, and this one hadn’t handled it well, either. Her light hair was lank and sweat-dampened, and the linens smelled of a long illness. Annie guessed that she’d been confined to the bed for a while, which wasn’t a good sign for a pregnancy only seven months along.
Tonight wasn’t going to end well.
Then the woman grimaced, and her mouth opened as if she were crying, and Annie grabbed for her hand. When the woman turned towards her, Annie forced a smile, as if nothing were amiss with this much pain and blood so early in the pregnancy.
“My name is Annie.”
If the woman noticed anything different with her speech, she didn’t comment. Instead she gripped Annie’s hand tightly and panted. Annie let her, willing her to match the same deep, slow breaths Annie took. Maybe it worked, because the woman’s grip abruptly loosened, although she didn’t release her hand. “My name is Maria.”
It wasn’t much, but it was all Annie had. All she could offer. Through the next hour, she held Maria’s hand and clucked at her as if she were a laboring mare. The midwife thought she was touched in the head—Annie could see it in her expression. But Reggie occasionally glanced her way and smiled. It was a strained smile, and Annie knew that things weren’t going well. But at least it was a smile. For her.
He belonged here. He was in his element, comforting Maria and preparing the chamber and arguing with the midwife. This was where he belonged, what he was supposed to do with his life. He was good and noble and willing to sully his pristine tuxedo with another’s blood. He was so accepting of humanity… why couldn’t he accept her as she was? She might not be perfect, but she was good enough for Maria, at that moment.
The poor woman almost didn’t make it; she was exhausted. While Annie had never heard a woman laboring, it was obvious by the end that Maria was no longer screaming or moaning. She lay still, saving her meager energy only for the pushing when the midwife cajoled her. Annie did her best to will some of her own energy into the laboring woman, and maybe it worked.
With one last jerk that almost arched her off the bed, Maria opened her mouth on a silent scream, and Reggie—whose upper body was under the sheet laid across the woman’s distended belly—began his frantic and arcane movements.
The midwife rushed about on her own missions, and when Reggie backed out of the sheet, he caught Annie’s eye. She glanced down at Maria, but the mother’s heaving chest proved that she was still living. Annie carefully untwined her fingers from the other woman’s, and placed the lax hand on the bed over the damp sheets.
Hurrying to Reggie’s side at the foot of the bed, Annie almost wished she hadn’t. She averted her eyes from the work he was doing on Maria, but couldn’t help but study the tiny, pale body lying lifeless between her legs. Reggie jerked his chin at it, and she knew what he was asking her to do. Knew what he needed. Knew what Maria needed.
Carefully, as if afraid of waking the perfectly formed baby boy, Annie wrapped the body in the linen it was lying on. He was so small, much too small to live in the world on his own. And now he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t have the chance, and that was one of the saddest things Annie could imagine. She’d sat beside his mother, watched her bleed and cry and labor to bring him into the world, knowing all along that he was dead.
She traced one fingertip along the curve of his cheek, marveling at how little blood covered him. He’d been wanted, and now God had taken him back. Right before Christmas. Maria’s family would never be the same, and Annie didn’t realize she was crying until she saw the tear splash against the dead baby’s perfect forehead.
With a sob, she finished wrapping him up, tucking the linen lovingly around his tiny still form, and willing herself to control her tears. Maria—this family—didn’t need her sympathy right now. But she couldn’t stop herself from saying a prayer as she laid the baby in the optimistically stationed bassinet.
She was still standing there, one hand on the burnished wood, not sure where Reggie needed her, when the door opened and the older woman entered, holding the nine-month-old baby Annie had comforted downstairs. Maria lifted her head, and Annie could swear there was a small smile on the exhausted mother’s wan lips. She lifted one arm towards the woman and baby—now Annie could see the resemblance between them, and guessed this was Maria’s mother—and reached for the little one.
The midwife crossed to the bed, and with a sad smile, arranged the older baby against Maria’s breast. Annie felt like an interloper, watching the three women watching a baby nurse. But when Maria’s lips curled again, and she rested her head back against the pillows, Annie wondered if this wasn’t exactly what the grieving woman had needed. The reminder that life would continue.
If she hadn’t been watching Maria’s expression so intently, Annie would’ve missed the glisten of tears as they seeped from under closed lids and crawled down her cheeks. Annie glanced down at the tiny still body in the bassinet. No matter how much Maria’s family needed her, no matter how well they helped each other adjust and move on, this wouldn’t be a Merry Christmas for any of them.
It was impossible not to compare Maria to Wendy, and as Annie stood there beside the small still body, she prayed that this time, Wendy’s pregnancy would result in happiness.
Chapter 6
She sobbed against his chest the entire ride home. Reggie, who’d pretended not to notice her tears when she held the dead infant, just wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her close. He’d seen women weep before—he was a doctor, after all—but they never just cried; his sister and mother and every lady he’d ever had the misfortune to watch cry all interspersed their sobs with whimpers and wails and pleas.
But Annie cried silently. If he hadn’t been holding her, feeling her shuddering breaths and the dampness of his shirt where her cheek pressed against his chest, he might not have realized she was crying at all. And, God help him, but he was pleased she was weeping. He was pleased that she’d been there with him, to experience the pain that always came with a loss. It made him a lout, to wish that on her… but he was glad that he hadn’t had to bear it alone.
She’d been there. For him. With him. Just like she was now.
This wasn’t how he’d imagined the evening going. This afternoon, he would’ve been happy just knowing if she’d forgiven him. He still didn’t know, but he’d sat beside her, held her hand, felt her warmth, and experienced some Christmas joy with her. But he hadn’t planned on an emergency call, nor having her with him. And he certainly hadn’t counted on her help or her empathy or holding her while she wept.
As soon as he’d gotten the note from the clinic, he’d known that he had to go. Mr. Gudowicz trusted him, which is why his wife always came to him with her pregnancies. But this one was too soon after the last, and hadn’t been strong. Even lying in bed as she’d been for the last month, Maria Gudowicz had bled, and the midwife said that she hadn’t felt the babe move in days. He was probably dead long before Maria had birthed him. Oh yes, Reggie had known how tonight would end for the Gudowicz family, as soon as he’d gotten the note, but not Annie’s role in it.
It felt right to have her beside him like this.
When they arrived at his pare
nts’ home—after all these years he still didn’t consider it his—he handed her cloak off to Mrs. Smalls and tried to ignore the disapproving glare the housekeeper sent his way. He watched the two of them climb the stairs, the plump matron half-supporting Annie’s frail form, and wondered what Mrs. Smalls thought of her tears. Wondered if she saw Annie’s hidden strengths, or just focused on her deafness.
With a sigh, Reggie pulled his own overcoat off and chucked it over the banister. He’d left the soiled aprons with the midwife, and he’d scrubbed his hands down, but he still felt unclean. He needed a drink.
So instead of heading upstairs after her to his lonely bedroom, he turned towards his father’s study. Unfortunately, it was occupied. “Father,” Reggie acknowledged ruefully on his way to the tray with the brandy glasses the older man had laid out. “I didn’t expect you still up.”
He couldn’t mistake the glare his father sent him. “Your mother’s still awake too, but I convinced her to wait upstairs. Didn’t want her here to see you get in.”
That surprised Reggie. His parents were ashamed of him? Turning, the un-sampled glass of amber liquid in his hand, he raised a brow. “Am I being called on the carpet, then? Like the rakes of old?”
“It was one thing to leave the Tillworths’ so suddenly, Reginald. None of them—none of us—understand your obsession with that damn clinic, but at least it’s a reason.” He took a deep breath, and Reggie remembered how he’d always been impressed by his father’s strength. “But to take her?”
“She volunteered to come.” It was a poor excuse, and Reggie clamped his lips closed. He didn’t want to make excuses.
“You’ve ruined her, boy.” That simple statement, combined with the insulting term, cut Reggie to the quick. He sank into one of the thick leather chairs across from his father.
Of course he’d ruined her. He knew what those people were like. He knew how petty and superficial they could be, even if they were his family and childhood friends. He knew how tenuous Annie’s position among them actually was; knew that they already saw her as some kind of freak. Taking her away from an intimate party, out into the night, alone in his carriage…? Yeah, he’d ruined her, all right.
And the worst part was that he hadn’t even considered the consequences. He was an intelligent man, a learned man, and he never once thought of what would happen if he took her with him. All he thought of was that she could be useful at the birth, and that she offered to go… and that he didn’t want to go alone.
Thank God his parents didn’t know he’d taken her to assist in a birth. A young society miss had no place seeing an exhausted woman labor to bring a dead baby into the world. Reggie’s fingers tightened around the glass. But Annie wasn’t like the rest of the young women here. She was different. Better.
Father must’ve been watching his expression, because Reggie heard the older man sigh. “Your mother offered to sponsor her, Reginald. She pitied the girl—” Reggie’s gut clenched at the thought of anyone feeling sorry for her, “—and wanted to help. So she wrote to Sebastian and Serena and suggested they send the girl out here for the Holiday Season.”
He knew all of this. What was Father trying to tell him? Sebastian Carderock II sighed again. “My point is that we’re responsible for the girl—”
“Her name is Annie.”
His interruption surprised his father. The older man blinked once, and then shifted in his chair, bringing his fingertips together under his chin. “Yes, of course. Annie. We’re responsible for Annie. Her family sent her out here into our keeping—” Like she was some kind of object, owned by her family? “—and trusted us to keep her safe. And we didn’t.”
“She was perfectly safe.” Reggie hated that he sounded like a petulant schoolboy, defending his actions.
“Her reputation is not.”
His father’s point was inescapable. Reggie took a big gulp of the brandy, appreciating the burn as it seared its way to his stomach. Then, finally: “I know.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“What can I do?” He knew what he could do. He just wanted to hear his father say it. Say that he approved.
“You’ll have to write to Sebastian, and explain how this mess this is your fault, and make arrangements for her return.”
That hadn’t been what he’d expected to hear. What he’d hoped to hear. Reggie met his father’s eyes, and knew that his solution wasn’t even a consideration, as far as his family was concerned.
“I could always marry her.”
Father’s sharp bark of laughter was jarring, but no less than he’d expected. The older man rubbed a hand over his face. “Don’t joke about that, Reggie. Your mother would faint.”
“Why?” He knew why. He wanted to hear it said.
“Because she’s not…” Father took a deep breath, as if searching for the words. “She’ll never fit in here, Reggie.”
“Neither do I.”
“She’s deaf, son.”
Reggie took another swallow, and then shrugged. “True. And I can’t heal her. She’ll always be deaf. Always be not good enough for them.” For us, he added silently, because he didn’t want to insult his own family.
“I’m glad that you see that.” His father stood up to leave, and Reggie was astonished to realize that was the man’s final say on the matter. He honestly thought that Annie wasn’t good enough for his society, and that Reggie should just apologize to her family.
Before he could come up with what he needed to say to properly express his incredulity, his father was gone. And Reggie was left holding a half-glass of fine brandy and his guilt.
Had he ruined Annie’s chances here in New York? His family had agreed to sponsor her and introduce her to society, but to what end? Had they intended that she make a match, find a husband? That had to be the end goal, but apparently his parents hadn’t intended her to make a match among their friends. Their family. Because she just wasn’t good enough.
But tonight, Reggie had seen that she was better than they guessed. She might not be able to hear their snide insults and petty gossip, but she was strong and compassionate and capable. She possessed assets the pampered ladies of New York City could only dream of. He admired her, and he admired her assets.
He knew what it was like to be looked down upon; when he’d finally quit his carousing and settled down to focus on his studies as a way to make the world a better place, his family and friends had disapproved of his choices. They’d said that he was turning his back on Carderock Imports, and that he was abandoning family obligations. His old friends had taunted him, calling him a killjoy who forgot how to have fun. But he hadn’t forgotten; he’d just discovered something that he thought was more important. And because of that choice, his society called him a class traitor.
Annie didn’t think that way, though; he’d seen it in the way she offered to help him, the way she’d supported him tonight.
He would be lucky to find a woman like her, who understood his passions and his goals.
He would be lucky to have her.
Taking another swallow of the brandy, Reggie admitted the truth. She might not be good enough for his society, but neither was he. And she was better than he deserved.
Chapter 7
The parlor was deserted, as Annie knew it would be. She pushed the door closed behind her, breathing a sigh of relief that she’d made it downstairs and across the foyer without being seen. Mrs. Carderock had sent a note to her room that morning with the breakfast tray and made it clear that she expected Annie to venture out of her hiding today. The Carderock’s grand ball was tomorrow, and the household was abuzz with preparations. Annie had hoped that her absence of the last few days would go unnoticed, but such was not the case.
So she’d slipped out, carrying one of the books her sister had written, and snuck down to this small back parlor. She wasn’t hiding anymore, but she was still able to avoid the family. And after the embarrassment of coming home so late on Wednesday, and see
ing the disapproving looks from Mrs. Smalls and both upstairs maids, Annie needed that solitude. It had been the most relaxing days she’d had since she’d arrived in New York, without any trips or social events planned… but the inactivity had begun to wear at her.
If she could manage to face her hosts again, even with them knowing that she was out late at night alone with their son, perhaps she could offer to help with the ball preparations. Annie looked around the parlor. This room looked perfect as it was; nothing she could help with here. There were garlands and swags of fresh-smelling pine boughs hung around the mantel and the door jambs, and holly arrangements on every table. The only thing left to decorate was the modest-sized tree, tucked into the corner between two of Mrs. Carderock’s wingback chairs. From the years she’d lived with Sebastian Carderock and his wife Serena, Annie knew that it was family tradition to wait until Christmas Eve to decorate this last, family tree.
It was a nice tradition, but in Serena’s home that tree was the main one, and everyone—family and friends—gathered to decorate it at a wonderful party and luncheon. Here, the tree was tucked into the corner of a small parlor, as if ashamed by the tradition.
Annie sank down onto a settee, rubbing the bridge of her nose and plopping the book down beside her, forgotten. Why was she so determined to compare everything here to her home? And why, despite the wealth and glamor and incredible luxury she’d seen since she arrived, did the Carderocks’ life in New York pale in comparison to hers in Cheyenne? Was she really that ungrateful for everything they’d done for her? Or was it just that it had taken a trip across the country for Annie to realize what was important in her life?
What was important? It certainly wasn’t her speech. She’d worked so darn hard over the last nine years, learning how to speak, how to understand others’ speech. She remembered the hours spent with her hands on Sebastian’s mouth, his throat, feeling the vibrations from his voice and learning to understand the movements his tongue and lips made. She’d been half in love with him then, the love of a little girl for a mentor who could give her the world.