Chapter Eighteen #4
“I wasn’t before, but now that I’m pregnant I’m feeling more interested in finding out more.
I’ve been doing some research. I’d like to raise my child with some spiritual foundation for his or her future.
And, well, I definitely want to baptize the baby.
I have this fear that if I don’t, well—” She paused and her cheeks colored fetchingly. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Promise.”
“I’m afraid if I don’t and the baby dies, it’ll go to limbo.”
“Limbo?” Atticus snorted in disbelief. He couldn’t help it. “You mean the place where babies who die without baptism go?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“That’s an old Catholic teaching, and even they abandoned it.”
“Still, mothers think of these things. I read about it on the Web.”
“The Web,” he repeated knowingly. “Do you know what medical schoolitis is?”
Harper shook her head.
“It’s the phenomenon of medical students thinking they’ve acquired the many diseases and illnesses they’re studying. Happens on the Internet, too. Everyone self-diagnoses based on articles they’ve read. Sounds like that’s what you’re doing. Maybe you should lay off the Internet a little.”
Harper nodded and looked at her hands. “You must think me a complete idiot.”
Atticus reached out to take her slim fingers in his large, strong grip. “Quite the opposite. Listen, I don’t know much about pregnancy, but from what I do know, being curious about all stages of your baby’s growth and development—physical, mental, and spiritual—is natural.”
Harper smiled. “Thanks. I needed some support today.”
Atticus released her hand and bent to pick up his tea. “You know Charleston is called the Holy City? There are churches here from most every denomination. Why not check a few out? You never know. You might find one you like.”
“I will. I’ve always been curious. Taylor’s open-minded, too.
My mother didn’t guide me in matters of religion.
Let’s just say that was one more area of neglect.
Speaking of Georgiana, the other day I called her to tell her my good news.
I didn’t expect much, maybe a simple congratulations.
” Harper paused. “She actually asked if congratulations were in order. As though I might not be happy about the pregnancy and might consider getting rid of it.”
That took him aback. “And what did you tell her?”
“In so many words, to stick it where the sun don’t shine.”
He smiled into his cup. “Can’t say she didn’t deserve it.”
“I’m back on my mother’s blacklist. She doesn’t approve of my engagement or my wedding.
And as for my pregnancy, well”—Harper snorted in an unladylike fashion—“let’s just say she sees it in limbo.
You know”—Harper looked out the window—“it’s hard, even at my age, to realize my mother has no concern or sympathy for anything that makes me happy. ”
“I’m sorry.” From what Atticus was hearing of Georgiana so far, he was far from impressed.
This was the same woman who had treated their father miserably and fired his mother.
She seemed irredeemable. “I do understand, though. I had a distant relationship with my father. He wasn’t what you’d call an affectionate guy.
First, he worked all the time. But even when he was home, he didn’t hug or share his thoughts.
He cared, don’t get me wrong. Just . . . ”
“You didn’t feel loved?”
“Not as a kid. He was a formidable personality with a big voice and staunch principles. He could be intimidating at home as well as in the courtroom. He was generous with charities, a deacon in the church, and took on a lot of pro bono cases,” Atticus added, wanting to round out his father’s character.
“I admired him. When I got older, we communicated on a grown-up level. We had a few good moments. But that’s also the time I started getting in trouble.
” Atticus sighed. “I was a constant source of disappointment to him.”
“That’s how I felt with my mother. No matter how hard I tried, nothing I ever did seemed good enough.”
Atticus felt a connection with this sister. She understood his loneliness and displacement. That something was missing from their lives.
“But now you have a chance to start fresh. You can’t change your mother. Maybe not even your relationship with her. But you’ve already changed your own life. You’ve created this warm and inviting home. You won’t make the same mistakes with your child.”
Harper shook her head, eyes filled with new hope. “No, I won’t,” she said with conviction.
He smiled, glad that he could offer her some consolation. He suddenly felt hope of his own that he could make a change in his life, as well. With Mamaw and his sisters.
Harper returned the smile, then bent to pour the tea. “How do you take your tea?”
“Cream and sugar, thanks.”
He watched her graceful movements as she poured, added milk, a teaspoon of sugar, then handed Atticus his cup. It was good tea, a blend of some kind, strong with a heady scent.
“But, you see”—Harper picked up her cup—“the phone call brought up a tough conversation I had with Granny James. This is what I really wanted to talk to you about.” She paused. “Granny wants me to get a prenuptial agreement.”
“A prenup.” Knowing Harper’s finances, Atticus wasn’t entirely surprised. “How do you feel about that?”
“At first I was against it. It’s hardly romantic and I’m worried drawing one up will cripple my marriage before it even gets started. But I can see Granny’s point, too. The James estate is vast, and it is her responsibility to ensure that the estate is kept in the family. It’s a unique situation.”
He set his cup on the table. It sounded to him as if she was trying to persuade herself out loud. “What does Taylor think about all this?”
She held her cup in front of herself like a shield. “He didn’t like the idea. He said it makes him feel like a lesser partner in the marriage.” She took a sip of her tea, then cast a glance at Atticus.
“Well, he is the one with the lesser money. You hold the purse strings.”
She set the teacup back on the table. Her huge diamond caught the light, brilliant as a giant star.
“For any guy,” Atticus said, “but especially for a southern male, that’s tough. And, the vow does say ‘for richer or poorer.’ ”
“I do trust him.” She made a face. “It’s his future wife I don’t trust.”
“What?” Atticus laughed in disbelief.