Chapter 24
Bill woke up to Ann shaking his shoulder. It was a blistering hot late-August day, and he was drenched in sweat. His head throbbed, and his throat was raw. The memory of her accusations from earlier seeped into his consciousness and made him wince.
“You’ve been asleep all morning. It’s lunchtime. You should get up and eat something.” Her voice sounded cold, detached.
Junior, oblivious, giggled as he played with his toes on a blanket.
With supreme effort, he made himself sit up. Everything ached. This was one awful cold. Way worse than the usual sniffles. He looked down at his drenched union suit. He probably didn’t smell great, but his nose was too stuffed to tell.
“I have some chicken and potato salad for you.”
He had no desire to eat. His stomach lurched at the mere thought.
But he knew he needed something, so he dragged himself out of bed and hobbled across the floor to the table.
Sitting down heavily, he picked up his fork and took a bite.
His throat was so sore, it felt like swallowing broken glass.
Nonetheless, he forced himself to take another bite under Ann’s censorious gaze.
No sooner had he swallowed than a coughing fit took him.
“Have you spoken to Pritchard yet?” he asked in a gravelly voice, once the coughing let up. He suspected he already knew the answer from the way she was treating him.
“No. I tried twice while you were asleep and didn’t get anyone.”
He closed his eyes and sighed. What could he do? Pritchard could be anywhere. There was nothing for it but to wait and keep trying.
Ann came up to him with furrowed brow and put her hand on his sweaty forehead. “It’s hard to tell with the heat, but I think you’re running a fever. I’ll run you a cool bath. Keep an eye on Junior.”
She disappeared into the bathroom, and running water tinkled from behind the door. Junior seemed perfectly content to gnaw on his favorite cloth bunny. If only it was that easy to cheer up Ann.
He had to fix things between them. Was there anything he could do or say that wouldn’t require Pritchard? It was bad enough being sick, but having her mad at him was far worse. He’d give anything to be back in her good graces.
When she came back out, she wouldn’t meet his eye.
“Ann, how can I make this better? There has to be something I can do to fix this. I know you’ll get the truth from Pritchard eventually, but I want to make it up to you now.”
“There’s nothing you can do except not let it happen again. It’s going to take time for me to regain my trust in you.”
Another fit of coughing overtook him. “I know you don’t want to hear it right now, but I love you and would never intentionally do something so hurtful. I—”
“Please don’t, Bill. It only serves to remind me how much I’ve lost.”
How much she lost… A faithful husband. A love that was true.
And right now, in her mind, Bill was the opposite of Roger.
He never meant to stoke her grief, but that was exactly what he had done.
What a bitter pill this was to swallow. He’d inflicted pain on her with his carelessness at the very moment he’d hoped to convince her of his love.
This was the worst thing he could have done.
“I’ll go take that bath. I don’t think I can eat any more.
” He got up from the table having only eaten a few bites and dragged himself into the bathroom where he stripped off his union suit and sank into the bath.
It brought instant relief, and he leaned back, reveling in the cool water on his burning flesh.
He closed his eyes and imagined the life he wanted with Ann.
They lived in the Millington house, down the street from his parents.
Junior toddled around on the front porch while he and Ann sat sipping lemonade on a porch swing on a balmy summer evening.
Her belly was large and round with child.
Their child. Perhaps later, they would go inside and sing together at the piano.
She rested her head on his shoulder and whispered, “I love you.”
Then the scene in his head shifted. They were still in the Millington house, but she sat in the parlor alone with her knitting.
When he walked in, her eyes were cold and forbidding.
There was no child on the way. She kept a separate bedroom.
She kept Junior away from him too, not trusting his influence.
The piano was covered with a thick layer of dust, untouched since he bought it for her.
She turned her gaze from him to the picture he’d given her with Roger and her mother, those paragons of virtue who had never betrayed her. He bowed his head and backed away.
Pritchard had to come to the rescue. He couldn’t take much more of this. He loved her too much.
He sat up and soaped himself off, even though it made his skin crawl. Then he washed his hair, his arms heavy as lead. With great effort, he pushed himself up from the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist.
When he left the bathroom, he could feel Ann’s eyes on him. He turned to meet her gaze, and she blushed and looked away. If he could make her blush, then perhaps there was still some hope.
He put on a fresh union suit. After hanging up his towel and combing his hair, he made his way to the telephone and dialed Pritchard. Still no answer. Where could that troublesome bastard have gotten to?
“You should go back to bed,” Ann said, no warmth in her voice. “You look like you’re barely awake.”
He wandered back to the bed and lay down. “Ann, please forgive me.” It was hopeless, he knew, but he couldn’t stop asking.
“We’ll discuss it later when you’re feeling better and I’ve had a chance to speak to your friend. You need to rest.”
“I can’t rest knowing you’re angry with me.”
She looked at him long and hard. At last, her expression softened, and her shoulders sagged. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt until I get hold of your friend. Now rest. Please.” She came over and kissed his forehead. He sighed and drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up again, it was evening. Ann urged him to get up and have some of the chicken soup she made.
It was delicious, even if it was too hot for the weather.
He wished he could suck on ice. He was radiating heat as he swallowed each spoonful of the delicious, salty broth.
At least Junior was happy as he mashed a banana into his wispy hair.
“Are you feeling any better?” Ann’s brow furrowed. That haggard look from when they first met had returned, and damn it all, he’d put it there.
“No,” he said in a rough, broken voice.
“Perhaps we should call for the doctor.” She reached out and touched her hand to his forehead. “You feel very feverish.”
“I’ll be fine,” he lied, knowing very well he was in a bad way. “I just need to sleep it off.” He took another few bites of soup. “Any luck with Pritchard?”
She shook her head. “Still no answer.”
“Will you believe Pritchard when you talk to him?” he asked quietly, voicing a fear he couldn’t hold back any longer.
“I’ll try. I won’t pretend I haven’t wondered if he might lie to cover for you.”
Bill dropped his face into his hands. He couldn’t face this. Her mistrust made him ache with regret.
Junior knocked over his cup of blueberries, scattering them all over the floor. With a heavy sigh, Ann got the broom and dustpan and swept them up.
“I want to believe him, Bill. I want to believe you. I’ll do my best to set aside my worries.
It doesn’t do me any good to mistrust you.
You’re still my husband, and I have to figure out how to make the best life possible with you no matter what.
I wish I could simply turn off the warning in my heart like a lamp, but I can’t.
You’ve shaken my trust. Rebuilding it will take time. ”
Who knew a few tall tales amongst friends and a little lipstick could do so much damage?
He told the tales in the first place because he didn’t want to disappoint.
But here he was with the most important person in his life, and he couldn’t make her happy.
Worse, he’d hurt her and didn’t know if he could win her back.
If only this wretched cold would go away so that he could think clearly.
He needed a plan, but at that moment, his mind felt like molasses.
“Roger would never have done this to you, would he?” he mumbled before he could stop himself. The last thing he wanted was for her to compare him to her perfect, deceased husband, but he couldn’t stop the wheels from turning in his own head. He was jealous of a dead man. Wonderful.
“No, he wouldn’t. Roger was always honest to a fault, and he never gave me cause to think he strayed.”
He stayed silent, absorbing her words, knowing however much he wanted her to see their marriage as something new and different, rather than making comparisons, he would always be judged against the memory of Roger.
“Did we make a mistake marrying too hastily?” she asked quietly, not meeting his eye.
Her words cut him, flaying his heart open. How could he win her back if she was questioning the entire marriage?
“Ann.” He tipped her chin up with his finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I will never regret marrying you, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you the happiest wife on earth. Please tell me you don’t regret marrying me.”
“I… I…” She paused, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
“I don’t want to regret marrying you. But we jumped into this so quickly.
I know there was little choice under the circumstances.
I just wish we’d had more time to build trust and get to know each other.
Roger courted me for six months before we wed. I feel like I hardly know you.”
There it was—the comparison to Roger again. He wanted to crumple in on himself and sink through the floor.
“What do you want to know, Ann? Ask me anything, and I’ll give you my honest answer.”
“What I really want to know is whether you are trustworthy, and that’s not a question you can answer.”
He started coughing and couldn’t stop until Ann handed him a glass of water.
“Where do we go from here?” he asked, his voice barely functioning. “I don’t want you to live in doubt, but I don’t know how to fix this.”
“We make the best of it, and in time, hopefully, trust will come.”
“And love?”
She looked away from him and wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to hold herself together.
“Maybe someday. I can’t foresee the future.”
Maybe someday. She didn’t sound hopeful, but it was an opening, however small. He would find a way into her heart if it took the rest of his life.
He was so lost, so in love. What could he do except wait? But everything in him yearned for her forgiveness and love. He craved her kindness and affection like air. Her doubts left him gasping and desperate.
“Someday, Ann, you’ll trust me and love me. I’ll find a way to be the husband you deserve.”
Another coughing fit took him. It was a deep, dry cough that felt like it was shredding his insides. He drank down the rest of his water to stop it, even though it burned going down his throat.
Junior started squalling, and Ann hurried to pick him up and soothe him.
“Oh dear. He needs a diaper change.” She put Junior down on the changing table, making quick work of the soiled diaper. Junior cooed at her as she put him down to play on the blanket again. Then she washed her hands.
On her return, she looked down at Bill where he sat, barely holding his head up. “You should go back to bed.” She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. He put a hand over hers, wanting to prolong this tender contact.
Taking a deep breath, he let her go and made his way back to bed.
“Would you read to me?” he asked as he climbed beneath the covers.
A sad smile graced her lips, and she went to pick up the book. She read aloud to him with his head in her lap, gently stroking his hair, until he dozed off.
The night was filled with nightmares. He was in a strange labyrinth, trying to follow her.
Every so often, he caught a glimpse of her back, but she never turned, and he never caught up.
Several times, he caught up to a woman he thought was her only to be confronted with another face from his past—Betty, Edith, dozens of others.
He hardly noticed when Junior woke up for his middle-of-the-night feeding. The terrible dreams trapped him.
The labyrinth flooded, and he couldn’t catch his breath. He was drowning, drowning.
A gentle hand shook him. “Bill, wake up.”
With difficulty, he returned to consciousness. The morning sun peaked through the curtains. Ann was beside him. He took a deep, gulping breath, and couldn’t fill his lungs without coughing and wheezing. However bad he was yesterday, this morning, he was far worse.
“Ann,” he whispered. “I think I need to see the doctor. Can you call him?”