Chapter Thirty. Betty, 1964
CHAPTER THIRTY
“During the Cold War years, the USA and Soviet Union were known to have been spying on each other using the services of psychic remote viewers.”
—Strategic Analysis Journal
Betty stood in the doorway of Ivy’s hospital room clutching a bouquet of pink carnations, with Kathleen and Helen beside her.
Ivy was writing in her diary, and the look on her face was so unlike her usual cheerful countenance. Then Ivy glanced up and smiled weakly, and the momentary shadow in her expression passed.
“Did you see the baby?” Ivy asked in a hoarse voice as she set aside the diary.
“Not yet,” Betty said, hurrying to Ivy’s side. “Viewing hours at the nursery aren’t until ten AM.”
She reached for Ivy’s hand, cradling it gently. The other women squeezed in close in the small space, mindful not to press against the privacy curtain separating Ivy from her roommates. The room smelled vaguely of antiseptic, and a monitor beeped rhythmically in the distance.
“We were so worried for you,” Helen whispered. “Did it hurt terribly?”
Ivy shook her head. “They put me to sleep right after I got here. I didn’t feel a thing. And I slept through the entire night. They had to wake me to give little Sandra a bottle this morning. Only five and a half pounds, but perfectly healthy. She has a headful of dark curls already.”
“I can’t wait to meet the little angel,” Betty said.
Kathleen was rummaging through her purse. She pulled out a hairbrush and cosmetics case. “You’ll feel better when your face is made up,” she said.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Ivy replied. “I left my purse in Dr. Trimble’s car so I didn’t have my things. One of the nurses promised to do my makeup before David came to see me…” Her voice trailed off, as if she’d revealed more than she’d intended.
Kathleen paused in dusting powder on Ivy’s face: “David hasn’t been here yet?”
“No, but he will be soon,” Ivy said in a tone that made Betty think Ivy was reassuring herself more than the others.
Betty hid her surprise. Of course no husband would be in the delivery room, but wouldn’t a loving father come as soon as he could to see his new baby?
“It’s for the best, really,” Ivy said, as if she could discern Betty’s thoughts. “I needed the rest. The doctor said my iron is low. And the nurses fed Sandra her bottle last night. David wouldn’t have had the slightest idea how to do it!”
“I’m glad you’re giving your baby formula,” Kathleen commented. “They say it’s the finest nutrition.”
“And it means we can help you feed her,” Helen added.
“I would love that.” Ivy’s voice was tremulous. “I want you girls to visit me as much as you can once I’m home.”
Everyone fell quiet. Betty could feel the hitch of tension in the air. Helen’s gaze dropped to the ground. Kathleen smoothed blush so gently onto Ivy’s cheekbones it was like a soothing caress.
Someone had to say it.
Betty cleared her throat. “After we finished with Dr. Trimble last night, he said…” She paused. Looking at her pale, fragile friend, it seemed cruel to go on. But she had to.
“He wants you back volunteering in a week.”
Ivy’s eyes looked shattered. “A week? But that’ll be right after I get out of the hospital.”
“I know,” Betty blurted. “He kept repeating he was so close to gathering the data he needs. We tried to convince him that you had to rest, but he was adamant. He said all of his work would be in vain if the four of us didn’t resume.”
Kathleen closed her compact with a snap. “I think you should just quit,” she said. “What’s the worst he could do to you?”
Ivy closed her eyes. “It’s not me he would harm,” she finally said. “But what if he got David fired?”
The Marquis Wolves football team hadn’t performed especially well this season. David, the newest coach, would be an easy target for that disappointment. And if Dr. Trimble, who had such influence at the university, weighed in—
“Could your mother come and help care for little Sandra?” Kathleen’s question interrupted Betty’s spiraling thoughts.
“Oh, no. My mother is very religious. She carries a small bible in her purse everywhere she goes. She wouldn’t approve of my volunteering at the Trimble Institute.”
“What about David’s mother?” Helen asked.
“That old battle-ax would be the end of me.”
With every dead end, Ivy seemed to deflate a little more. Betty had always thought of her friend as buoyant and robust, but now, lying in the metal-framed bed, she seemed a mere husk of her former self.
Betty looked up and caught Kathleen’s eye, then Helen’s. She understood they were completely in sync.
“So we’ll be your family,” Betty said as the others nodded. It felt as solemn a vow as the one she’d given at the wedding altar.
“You rest this week and let the nurses take care of little Sandra,” Kathleen said. “Get as strong as you can. We’ll stock your freezer with dinners.”
“And when I grocery shop, it’ll be simple enough to get the things on your list,” Helen added.
“If you lend us your key we can dash over to your house and make it spick-and-span,” Betty said. “And when you come back to the institute, you’ll bring Sandra and we’ll all help you care for her.”
“What would I do without you?” Ivy asked.
“Wipe away those tears, you’ll ruin your makeup,” Kathleen mock scolded.
A moment later, a nurse in a crisp uniform and white cap entered the room.
“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Lennox?” she asked.
“I’m better now,” Ivy said.
The nurse’s low-heeled pumps landed briskly on the tile floor as she approached the bed. “I’m going to need to check your pulse and blood pressure.”
“We should go,” Helen said.
“But we’ll come back tomorrow to see you and little Sandra,” Betty promised.
“Try to keep up with your facial saving exercises at night,” Kathleen advised. “You don’t want your jawline to start sagging.”
“I will,” Ivy promised.
Maybe her dream had been all wrong, Betty thought. Ivy had said the baby was perfectly fine. Perhaps the strange setting of sleeping at the institute had conjured the disturbing image of the destroyed yellow blanket.
Don’t think about it, she told herself.