Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
Maura
Bernie McCarthy makes me laugh. Her beautiful girls make me smile and her friendship is fast becoming a treasure. She shares amazing recipes from her scrapbook. Delicious stews and crubeens and colcannon. Christy raved about the latter and I was in his good books for days. I teach her how to apply makeup and we straighten her hair with the iron.
“Dan couldn’t keep his hands off me,” she says.
“Even with your growing belly?”
“Even more with a belly on me. The damage is already done.”
She laughs and I think I’ve missed the joke.
The girls regularly enjoy television. There isn’t a peep out of them while they watch Wanderly Wagon . Sometimes Bernie and I become accidentally invested in the lively stories of a man, his wagon, and his talking dog. These are the days I’m glad I have a stew brewing in the background, or there would be hell to pay. Bernie and the girls are always gone home before Christy arrives in from work. Bernie has never said anything, but I know she watches the clock as much as I do.
“Best get these little ’uns home and washed up for dinner,” she always says. But I know that what she really means is, Best keep out of your husband’s way.
This particular afternoon, a large log crackles on the open fire in the sitting room. I sit in the fireside chair and enjoy the flames warming my knees. It’s five days until Christmas and I’m absentmindedly humming “Silent Night.” I seem to be stuck on a verse, humming it over and over as I pull and tuck my crochet hook through pretty lilac yarn. I stop every so often to examine how the little doll’s dress is coming along. Lilac is Marie’s favorite color. I’ll switch to yellow for Elizabeth. Bernie tried her hand at crochet, and although she’s a fast learner, she doesn’t have the time or skill to have two dolls’ dresses prepared in time for Christmas. I’m more than happy to help.
“I can’t wait until they wake up on Christmas morning and find these under the tree,” Bernie said.
I wonder if I’ll ever share the joy of a child’s happiness on Christmas.
When I have two lilac and two yellow dresses complete, I set my crochet hook down and wrap each dress in shiny silver foil paper that I bought from the traders on Moore Street. I stick a hand-cut gift tag on each one, and I carefully write Love from Santy on each tag. I check my watch and, expecting Christy home soon, go upstairs and hide the parcels under the bed. Then I putter into the kitchen to check on the rice pudding in the oven.
I hear Christy before I see him. He’s humming a Christmas carol too, “Good King Wenceslas,” I think.
“Hello, my darling,” he says as he dances his way into the kitchen. I can barely see him behind a huge bouquet of red roses. There are a dozen, at least.
“Are they for me?” I ask, and my voice is squeaky and high-pitched, as if I’m nervous. I think I might be.
Christy sets the bouquet down on the countertop beside me and scoops me into his arms. It’s unexpected and my breath catches. He kisses my cheek and my neck. I go with it as I try to reach my arm behind me to twist the knob on the oven. The last thing I want is the rice pudding to burn.
“Oh, my darling, how are you?” Christy asks, between kisses dotted on my neck. His lips are warm and soft, and I close my eyes and try to relax.
His hands are in my hair and then cupping my face. His thumb strokes my cheek. He’s tender and gentle and my heart races, unsure.
“I’m good,” I say, at last, realizing I’ve kept him waiting for an answer. “I… eh… I got some new recipes to try out. I made—”
“Oh hush, hush, don’t worry about that now. I mean, how are you feeling? Are you tired? Have you been sick? Your back isn’t hurting, is it?”
I’m confused. And concerned. Finally, I reach the knob on the cooker and twist it until I feel it click off. I relax a fraction.
“I’m good,” I reiterate. “Would you like dinner now? Or would you rather freshen up first? I’ve made rice pudding for after. I could make some custard, or would you rather have ice cream with it?”
“Oh, Maura, I love you,” he says, hugging me tight. “I love you so much. Do you know that?”
“Yes, of course. Of course I know.” I kiss him back, realizing I haven’t yet. “I love you too.”
“You’re going to be the most wonderful mother; do you know that?”
The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Someday that would be wonderful,” I say, choosing each word carefully.
“In about seven and a half months, if my calculations are correct.”
I swallow hard, trying to push rising panic down.
“Christy, I’m not—”
Christy lets me go and steps back to look me up and down. His eyes steady on my middle as if it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“I bumped into Dr. Buckley today. Lovely man. Lovely, lovely man,” he says.
Oh God . Heat creeps across my face. I feel faint.
“He shook my hand and congratulated me. It was the most wonderful surprise, I’ll tell you that.”
“Christy, I—”
“Pregnant! Oh, Maura, a baby. I couldn’t be happier, really, darling. I truly couldn’t.”
I have no words. I look at the beautiful bouquet of red roses beside me that Christy thinks he has bought for his pregnant wife and I think I might cry.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his smile so wide and bright that his teeth look too big for his mouth. “Were you afraid to get your hopes up? Dr. Buckley said your result came back yesterday, but you didn’t return to get it. Oh, Maura, the news is good. It couldn’t be better.”
Christy embraces me again and this time I feel as if I’m suffocating.
“Leave dinner,” he says, sniffing the air as the smell of rice pudding cooling in the oven wafts around us. “We’re going to The Shelbourne. A man should treat his expecting wife, shouldn’t he?”
My tongue feels huge and I think I might choke on it.
“Wear that red dress I like, yes?”
I hate that dress. It’s tight and pinches under my arms and looks more like something an old spinster would wear than a dress for a woman who’s not yet thirty. But Grace bought it for my birthday and Christy said I’d never looked more beautiful.
“Oh, Maura, do say something. Are you scared? There is no need to be. Really. I’ve told you. Having a baby is the most natural thing in the world. It won’t knock a bother out of you.”
“I lost the baby,” I say quickly. As if the faster I say it, the less awful it will sound.
Christy pushes his shoulders back. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“You’re not expecting?”
“Not anymore.”
The smell of the rice pudding is turning my stomach.
“How do you know, if you didn’t go back to see Dr. Buckley?”
Christy’s question catches me off guard. I want to ask him how he could possibly credit me with such little intelligence, but of course I don’t dare.
He steps back and folds his arms.
“What happened—exactly?” he says. The tenderness in his tone is slipping.
“I bled.” My face is hot with embarrassment.
“When? How long? How much? Jesus, Maura.”
“I… I…” I can’t bring myself to say. I can’t discuss the intimate details of my body with this man.
“When?” he says again. This time, his tone makes it clear he expects an answer.
“Not long ago. It hasn’t been two weeks yet.”
“When exactly ?”
“When you pushed—”
Christy’s neck juts forward.
“When I fell down the stairs.”
“Right. Upstairs. I want to see for myself.”
“Christy. No. Please.”
“Up. Stairs. Now.”
“Please?” I say again, desperate to cling to my dignity. “I’m still bleeding.”
“Fine,” he says, grabbing my hand. He’s hurting me but I don’t say. “If not me, then one of my colleagues. At the hospital. I want a doctor to tell me my baby is lost, not some stupid woman.”
“Christy, please. I don’t want to. I just want to move on. We can try again. We can have another baby.”
Christy doesn’t reply. He drags me into the hall and picks up his car keys from the glass-topped table just inside the door.
“Get your coat,” he says, letting my hand go.
My fingers part instinctively, pulsing where he crushed them.
“Let me freshen up first. I need a wash. I’ve been in town all day.”
“Get your coat.”
“Christy, please. I don’t feel clean. If a doctor is going to look, eh, down there, I need to feel clean.”
“Fine. Do without a coat. But get in the damn car now, Maura, or so help me God.”
He snatches my hand again. I yelp and he opens the front door and drags me outside.