Summer House (36 page)

Two nurses were with Suzette, who had been somehow maneuvered onto the high hospital bed. They were helping her undress and don a hospital gown. Once she was resting against a pillow, a nurse did a pelvic check. “Six centimeters.”

“No!” Suzette cried. “That can’t be right! I’m in transition! They said I was in transition.”

“You’re not in transition,” the nurse insisted. “You shouldn’t push yet. You’ve got a while to go.”

“But I can’t!” Suzette wailed. “I can’t do this anymore!”

“Sure you can,” the nurse assured her pleasantly. “You’re young. You’ll be fine.”

Helen spoke up. “Her due date isn’t for another month.”

“Oh, an eager baby,” the nurse cooed. “I love eager babies.” She smoothed Suzette’s hair. “We’re going to put the fetal heart monitor on you now. It won’t hurt you, and it won’t hurt your baby. Standard procedure.”

“Oh, no!” Suzette screamed. “Here it comes again! Fuck this!” She arched her back in anguish.

“Father,” the nurse said to Teddy, “could you go to the other side of the bed, please? And perhaps you might help her focus on her breathing. Talk to her. Show her how to breathe.”

Worth entered the room, breathless from running. “How is she?”

Helen told him. “Six centimeters.”

Charlotte rushed into the room, followed by Whit. “How is she?”

The nurse looked up from the monitor. “Too many people in the room.”

“Right,” Helen said. “Let’s go out in the hall.”

Charlotte reared back with alarm when she heard Suzette shriek. “Is she all right?”

“She’s in labor,” Helen told her daughter. “She’s in pain, but the answer to your question is yes, she’s all right.”

They remained in a cluster by the door, all of them straining to hear, longing to help, feeling helpless. A doctor they didn’t know swept past them and into Suzette’s room.

“He looks annoyed,” Worth said.

“Probably had to leave a party,” Charlotte told her father. “It
is
Saturday night.”

“Babies can be
so
inconvenient that way,” Helen said jokingly.

Suzette’s scream peaked, then softened. After a few more minutes, Teddy came out into the hall. He’d undone his tie, and it hung limply against his shirt. His blond hair stuck out in odd places, as if he’d been pulling it. “They’re going to give her an epidural. They said it could still be hours yet before the baby comes.”

“You’re kidding!” Charlotte cried.

Helen put a steadying hand on Teddy’s arm. “Is there anything we can do? I know. We’ll go home and get you a change of clothing.”

Teddy wore a lightweight navy blazer that had once belonged to his grandfather Herb. He grinned. “Oh, I don’t know, Mom, I kind of like the idea of dressing up for my child’s birth.”

“Will you phone us the minute the baby’s born?” Helen asked.

“Absolutely.” Teddy answered his mother but looked at his father when he said, “Thanks for helping us tonight.”

Worth nodded brusquely, and then, surprising Helen and Teddy, too, he leaned forward and hugged his son. “Good luck in there.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Suzette screamed again and Teddy turned. “I’ll call.” He disappeared into the labor room.

The others lingered for a moment, and then Whit said, “Well, I guess I’ll be going. Charlotte, let me know if you’ve got a niece or nephew, okay?”

“Of course.” Charlotte went up on tiptoes to kiss Whit’s cheek. “Thanks for driving me.”

Whit strode off down the hall. Helen, Worth, and Charlotte discussed who would drive which car; Charlotte’s rented Jeep was still parked at the yacht club. They decided that Helen would drive Charlotte
back to the club, and Worth, who had ridden in with his daughter, would go home now with Helen. When they arrived back at the yacht club, Worth got out to hold the door open for Charlotte.

“The party’s still going on,” he told Charlotte. “Go enjoy yourself.”

Charlotte smoothed down her pink silk gown. “Really? That seems so heartless. I feel like I should be—oh, I don’t know, pacing the hospital floor and wringing my hands.”

“That wouldn’t help Suzette,” Helen told her.

Charlotte looked uncertain. “Well, okay. I’ve got my cell phone in my bag. Call me the minute you know anything.” She waved at her parents and went into the club.

Helen and Worth were alone in the rented Saab. For a moment Helen was intensely uncomfortable, as the silence and the dark evening settled over them like a kind of tent, enclosing them from the rest of the world. She did not want to be in this close, intimate space with her husband. Sharp pinpricks of anxiety, excitement, and a strange and private exhilaration—Joe Abernathy!—stabbed her mind. Part of her still lingered at the hospital, in that room with Suzette, in labor with Suzette, for the young woman’s cries had summoned up a surprising sense of envy and desire. She wanted to lean back against the seat and close her senses against the present and remember her three deliveries. Suzette’s screams had made Helen viscerally recall her own labor pain. The intensity. The passion.

“I can’t help but think of the night Oliver was born.”

Worth’s voice made Helen jump. Giving herself a little shake, she steered the car out of the parking lot and onto the road.

“I remember how hard you clutched my hand,” Worth said in a low musing tone. “I had bruises—”

But Helen did not want to play that sweet game. “Does
Cindy
have children? Did she describe her birth experiences to you?”

Worth went quiet. They rode through the dark streets, past the various shops and restaurants, and then they were at the rotary, leaving the commercial buildings behind.

“Cindy doesn’t have children,” Worth said at last. “Helen, I’ll tell you anything you want to know about her, but I don’t particularly
want to talk about her. I’ve told her it’s over between us, and I don’t want to think about her anymore. I want to think about you, us, our family. I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you that I’m sorry. I want our marriage. I need our marriage.”

Helen listened to him, and his words did give her heart ease.

“Say something,” Worth urged.

She almost snorted. All their lives, she had been the one coaxing Worth to talk, she had been the one babbling out her innermost thoughts. “Worth, it helps to hear you say you need our marriage. I’m glad. But you know what? I think I’m overwhelmed. My fuses are all blown. I’m so excited and concerned about Suzette and her baby, I’m not sure I can think clearly about anything else.”

His voice was terse, as if he’d been rebuffed. “You were the one who brought Cindy up.”

She didn’t reply. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

At home
, Helen changed out of her satin skirt and silk top and into practical clothes, white capris and a loose lightweight navy cotton sweater, so that she would be dressed and ready to rush to the hospital the moment the call came. She lay down on the bed, telling herself she knew she wouldn’t sleep but would rest,
should
rest, and the next thing she knew, the sun was spilling through the windows. She sprang up, alarmed. It was so late! Surely Suzette had had the baby by now. Why had no one told her?

A look at the clock calmed her down. It was only five-thirty. Stepping quietly, she made her way through the upstairs and down to the kitchen. She was the only one awake. She couldn’t believe she’d slept through the night. She thought of Suzette, still in labor. She thought of Worth. She thought of Joe Abernathy his warm, thick, muscular body against hers.

“Well, you look like the cat who ate the cream.” Charlotte came in from the mudroom. “Any news?”

“The phone hasn’t rung. Or at least I didn’t hear it. Do you suppose I should call?”

“I don’t know. I suppose. Are you making coffee? I’d love some.” Charlotte fixed herself a bowl of cereal, sank onto a chair, and with the lithe grace of the young and slender, pulled up her legs and crossed them Indian style. She looked like a child. “I don’t suppose you’d man the farm stand for me this morning? Suzette’s been doing it, and it’s August, and I’m swamped.”

“Of course,” Helen told her daughter. “It will help me pass the time.”

The call came
at eleven-thirty Helen was enjoying herself at the stand, exchanging friendly banter with the customers, some of whom she knew, when the Chrysler suddenly came down the dirt driveway, Worth at the wheel. He was beaming. “It’s a girl. Six pounds. All her toes and fingers.”

Helen jumped up so fast she nearly knocked over the table. “Oh! Oh! Oh, Worth, a little girl!”

“Come on, get in,” Worth said.

Charlotte drove up behind Worth in her rented Jeep. “Go on, Mom,” she called. “I’m going to close the stand.” She held up a hastily contrived sign:

BEACH GRASS GARDEN CLOSED TODAY AS WE WELCOME BRAND NEW BABY GIRL WHEELWRIGHT!

Helen jumped into the convertible with Worth, grateful that the top was down. Conversation was always hard with the wind rushing over her head. Never had the road seemed so winding and long, never had they had to slow so often for dawdling vehicles, never had her heart beat with such impatience. A granddaughter!

Finally they peeled into the hospital parking lot. Helen was out the door before Worth had taken his keys from the ignition. His long strides made up for her quickened steps, so they entered the hospital together and raced up the stairs.

“Wait for me!” Charlotte called, only a few feet behind.

“Hurry!” Helen called back to her daughter. She felt absolutely childish with glee and anticipation.

They burst into the maternity ward and were directed to the same room Suzette had gone into the night before. The door was closed.

“Quiet,” Helen cautioned. “They might all be sleeping.” She grasped Worth’s hand hard; it was like clutching the bar on a Ferris wheel or roller coaster.

They went through the door. Suzette half lay half sat on the bed, her multicolored hair limp against her skull. She looked up at them, her blue eyes shining. Teddy sat on the side of the bed, gazing down at the bundle in Suzette’s arms.

“Hey,” he said to his parents. “Come meet Dawn. We named her Dawn. She was born right at dawn.” He slipped off the bed so his parents and sister could get close to his wife and new daughter.

Helen eased her hand from Worth’s. She moved close to the bed and peeked down, then said to Suzette. “May I hold her?”

“Sure.” Suzette lifted her baby up.

Dawn was coddled in white blankets, which Helen pulled away slightly, so she could see more of the infant, the little arms, the wrinkled neck. “Oh, she’s beautiful.”

Charlotte squeezed up. “Let me see her.”

Worth stood behind them, pressing to see. After a moment, he said, “She has black hair.” Looking into his son’s blue eyes, he added, “She has black eyes.”

“Like blackberries,” Helen cooed. “Worth, remember, babies’ eyes are generally dark blue at birth. And their hair can fall out and another color come in.”

But Worth turned without another word and left the room.

Twenty-three

I
t was Grace
who broke the news to Nona. Of course, Nona thought, it would be.

Nona was in her wicker chair in the garden, toying with the lunch Glorious had brought her on a tray. A disgustingly healthy lunch, basically a salad with some chicken breast cut up in bits. And a piece of seven-grain bread, nicely buttered. Glorious took great responsibility for the state of Nona’s bowels. Nona was grateful, but she would have preferred a club sandwich.

“Nona!” Grace actually tripped on the threshold as she rushed from the house out onto the patio. “Suzette had her baby!”

Nona’s old heart leaped. “Tell me everything!”

“It’s a little girl. Only six pounds, but all her bits and bobs intact.”

Nona clapped her hands together. “How lovely!”

“Maybe not,” Grace said, trying to sound solemn but unable to disguise the satisfaction in her voice. “She has
black
hair and
olive
skin. Suzette and Teddy both have blue eyes and blond hair—well, Suzette
would
, if she ever let the natural color grow back.”

Nona let the information float in the air between them. “How is Suzette?”

“Oh, I think she’s fine. It was Helen who phoned, and she said Suzette’s kind of bleary from the experience, but she’s okay. Well, she should be, she’s so young. And I’m not so sure that baby was a month early, not when she has eyelashes and fingernails and all. Nona, I don’t want you to be upset, but I’m not so very sure this is your—um, great-grandchild, your blood relative. From what I’ve heard, she doesn’t look a thing like anyone in our family.”

“Oh, Grace,” Nona said. She meant it as a rebuke, but Grace took it as disappointment.

“I know, I know, it’s unfortunate. But apparently Teddy isn’t upset. Maybe he’s just being nice to Suzette. Anyway, Charlotte’s taking photos with her digital camera, and she’ll be here any moment to show them to us.”

“Mom!” Mellie waddled out onto the patio. “You promised you’d take me shopping! There’s a trunk show at the jeweler’s.”

“Suzette had her baby,” Grace gushed. “A little girl. With
black
hair and
olive
skin!”

“Oooh,” Mellie cooed. “A little girl. How’s Suzette?”

“She’s fine,” Grace snapped impatiently, disappointed by her daughter’s response.

“After we go to the jeweler’s, we can buy some cute little pink things for the baby,” Mellie said. “And some flowers! Come on, Mom, I don’t want to be late.”

Nona’s daughter and granddaughter scurried away. Nona let her head fall back against her chair. Suddenly she was exhausted. If she had the energy to call Glorious, she’d ask her to help her back to bed. But she was too tired even to call out.

Perhaps she dozed. She heard Grace’s car roar off, and then silence.

It seemed only a moment later that she heard the Chrysler’s familiar purr. She looked around. The shadows had shifted on the patio, so she had slept, time had passed.

She heard the slam of car doors and the crunch of gravel. Then she heard Worth and Helen, and they were arguing.