Chapter Fifty-Two. Ivy, 1964
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
The baby was crying in her bassinet again, even though Ivy had just fed and changed her.
They arrived home only an hour ago, and Mrs. Trimble had dropped off Sandra shortly thereafter, departing with barely a word.
Ivy desperately needed a nap. But how could she rest when the baby was fussing so loudly?
There was a list of things Ivy was supposed to check when the baby fretted.
A nurse had recited them to her in the hospital.
She thought as hard as she could, and an answer fluttered through her mind, then disappeared.
Like a timid sparrow, she thought. Maybe if she was very still and quiet it would flutter back.
Ivy picked up the bassinet and put it in the bathtub, then closed the bathroom door. There, that was better.
It seemed she’d only been laying on the bed for a few moments when the front door opened, then slammed shut. “Ivy? Are you here?”
David was home from work already? Ivy leapt up and rushed to greet him.
“Darling, how are you? Let me fix you a drink.”
He stepped back from her outstretched arms, distaste filling his expression.
“Have you bathed today?”
“I—oh, there wasn’t time today. Dr. Trimble needed us … but I was about to step in the shower,” Ivy fibbed.
She hurried to the bar cart and fixed him a Manhattan. Her vision turned blurry and she dropped the cherry on the floor instead of in the drink.
“I’m so clumsy!” She tried for a tone of gaiety as she cleaned it up.
“Your voice sounds strange,” David observed. He accepted the drink and took a sip. “Why is the baby crying?”
Ivy had forgotten about that. “She must be tired.”
“Well, I’m exhausted,” David said. “What’s for dinner?”
Ivy felt all the blood rush out of her face. She’d forgotten about dinner.
“Ivy? I asked you a question.”
“I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “We just got home … I can put together something quickly.”
“I’ve spent the past four days eating slapdash meals,” David said. “I was looking forward to home cooking.”
“Tomorrow I’ll make all your favorites,” Ivy said desperately. “And I’ll bake a coconut cake for dessert.”
David didn’t reply. He walked to the couch and looked down at the empty coffee table.
“Where’s the afternoon paper?”
Her head was aching. He had so many questions, and Sandra was still screeching. “The paperboy must have tossed it in the yard,” she said. “I’ll go look.”
She stepped outside and realized it was already growing dark.
She felt disoriented; surely they’d arrived home only a little while ago, while the morning sun shone brightly.
She spotted the paper trapped in the bushes and walked across the lawn to get it.
Dampness seeped through her pantyhose onto the soles of her feet and she realized she’d forgotten to put on her shoes.
She stood in the middle of the yard, frozen. Would it be better to go back to the house and get her shoes, or continue walking toward the paper?
It was all too overwhelming. She couldn’t decide.
Then she saw a tall woman in a trim blue dress coming up the sidewalk, carrying a suitcase in her right hand. It looked just like David’s mother. No, it was her.
David’s mother turned up their front walk, her eyes meeting Ivy’s. Ivy hoped she didn’t notice her wet feet and ruined stockings; she was in no state to welcome her mother-in-law.
“Ivy, did you find the paper?”
Ivy whirled around at the sound of David’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, frowning.
“Look who’s here!” she cried.
“Who? I don’t see anyone.”
“But it’s your mother!” As she spoke the words, Ivy turned around. She blinked hard a few times. What was happening? David’s mother had been marching up the front walk, just a dozen feet away. Ivy had definitely seen her.
Was her mother-in-law playing some sort of trick on her?
Ivy ran to the sidewalk and looked in all directions. His mother was gone.
“What is wrong with you?” David asked. “My mother isn’t here. I spoke to her over the weekend. She’s at home in Des Moines.”
Ivy slowly walked back up the front walk. She saw David look down at her wet stockinged feet. She tried to smile, but her facial muscles wouldn’t cooperate. She felt as if she were wearing a grotesque parody of a grin, like a clown.
“Maybe I should ask my mother to come for a few weeks,” David mused. “She’d get things shipshape around here.”
Sharp tears pricked Ivy’s eyes, but she kept her voice high and bright. “No, no, I’ll do it! You don’t need to trouble her.”
If she could just sleep tonight, things would be so much better in the morning. She’d have the energy to clean the house and make dinner. And she’d find a way to love Sandra, the tiny baby who deserved a better mother.
“Now go put your feet up and read the paper while I make you a good, wholesome dinner,” Ivy said.
She followed him inside and hurried into the bedroom to roll on a fresh pair of pantyhose. She went into the bathroom and fixed her hair and brushed her teeth, then lifted Sandra into her arms. Sandra’s face was damp with tears, but she stopped crying almost immediately.
Ivy hurried into the kitchen with Sandra still nestled to her neck and opened the freezer with one hand, hoping against hope it would have something she could easily cook—a few chops or a steak.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. Her freezer was full of foil-wrapped dishes, all neatly labeled. She touched them to make sure they were real and not another odd vision.
She pulled out one labeled Tuna Noodle Casserole and read the instructions: Pop in the oven at 400 and bake for 30 minutes.
Her friends had cooked for her while Ivy was in the hospital, just as they’d promised. Even though they’d banished her to a solitary room in the library basement, this was evidence they’d once loved her.
Tears slid down Ivy’s cheeks, mingling with the ones on her neck Sandra had shed.
Tomorrow, she thought. Everything will get better tomorrow. It has to.