Sweeter Than Wine (34 page)

Maria was bent over the deep sink, shaking with silent, wracking tears as she
scrubbed weakly at a huge brownish blot on a sheet. She did not seem to notice
Alice's arrival.

Alice dizzily realized what must have occurred. She had not known Maria was
pregnant.

"Maria, should you be doing that?" she asked, pity softening her voice. "Here,
let me--"

"It's all my fault," Maria whispered, pouring more powdered soap onto the
ruined bedclothes. "Peter says I lost the baby because I work too hard. What am I
supposed to do? We can't afford for me not to work."

"You could have said something--asked me--" Alice said, breathlessly.

"You work too hard, too. And where would Peter and I go if you lost
Montclair?" Maria's face went chalky and she swayed.

"Come sit down," Alice ordered. She pulled up one of the wooden chairs and
guided Maria's half-fall. "You should have left the washing-up till later. Do you
need a doctor?"

"We can't afford one." Maria shook her head. "The last doctor cost Peter all
our savings. No. I'll be fine. In a while." She wiped tears from the corners of her
eyes.

Alice busied herself making tea.

"Mrs. R., you shouldn't be doing that," Maria protested feebly.

"Why not?"

"It's my job--"

Alice presented her with a cup of chamomile tea, and didn't move until Maria
had taken it from her.

"You are officially on a paid vacation until you're feeling better," Alice
pronounced.

"That's kind of you."

Alice wasn't sure whether she was really being kind, or just a bully. "You take
as long as you need."

"I'll be fine. It usually only takes a day or two, and then I'm as good as
new."

"Usually?" Alice gasped. "You mean this has happened before?"

Maria closed her eyes. "This is my third miscarriage since Mario was born. I
don't know what's wrong. I pray and pray to the Blessed Virgin, but she doesn't
listen."

"Oh, Maria," Alice said, sympathy brimming over. "Does Peter know about the
other times?"

"One of them," Maria admitted. "I haven't wanted to get his hopes up." She
pushed damp wisps of hair off her forehead.

Alice couldn't think of anything to say, so she only gripped Maria's hand in
friendship.

"Peter wants a baby so badly." Maria's face crimsoned. "He exercises his
marital rights all the time." She sighed. "But it's like he doesn't see
me
anymore. He just wants another son. When I was in high school, even right up
until his father died, he had eyes for no one but me. Now I--I can hardly wait until
he leaves me alone. Oh, Mrs. R. What's wrong with me?"

"I'll 'phone Dr. Stillman for a house call, and I'll pay for it."

"Mrs. R. You're so good. And--and when the doctor comes, you'll let him look
at you, too, all right?"

"What do you mean?" Alice's heart thumped erratically.

"You've got to take care of yourself," Maria insisted, her voice scratchy. "You
might lose your baby from overwork, too."

"But I'm not--" Alice began the automatic denial, but her strength to speak
drained away.
I can't be pregnant!
But the evidence of her body witnessed
a different truth. Even Maria knew.

She would have to tell Siegfried. If the doctor confirmed it.

"Mr. R. loves you," Maria said softly. "I've seen the way he looks at you. He'll
make you very happy."

"I hope so."
Because he's gotten everything he wanted.
It was just odd
that the thought, which should have made her squirm and beat her fists with anger
at the unfairness of the world, was a warm spot of contentment riding low in her
belly.

She didn't need the doctor's word. She knew: she carried Siegfried's child.

* * *

Friday, August 22

Fillet of sole almondine. New potatoes with parsley, green peas fresh from the
garden, and a bottle of Sylvaner. Tati's formal china. The best silver trays...Alice
gathered her courage by planning her dinner, because it kept her from fretting
about the outcome of her announcement at the end of the meal.

She and Maria cleaned silver companionably in Maria's kitchen. Bored after
five days of enforced bed rest, Maria had insisted on helping as long as Alice
carried the heavy tableware cases back and forth from the house. Maria chattered
about inconsequentials, never mentioning the cause of her illness. The sound of
her voice was a soothing background noise for the turmoil in Alice's mind.

Apple pie. Will I have time to bake one?

"There's one in my pantry," Maria said, responding to Alice's muttered note to
herself. "I just couldn't stay in bed a moment longer yesterday, and Peter had
brought home a sack of apples, so I baked two."

"I couldn't--"

"Don't be silly. You think you need to sweeten up Mr. R.?" She smiled sadly. "I
think he won't even taste the pie, if you tell him your news before you serve
it."

Alice blushed as her stomach twisted with nerves. "I hope you're right."

* * *

Siegfried sighed, sitting back in his chair and wiping his lips with his napkin.
Although it had been a delicious meal and his stomach was happily full, he
wondered what was wrong with Alice. She had been so skittish, scarcely eating
more than a bite of anything, leaping up from her chair every two minutes to fetch
something else from the kitchen.

The clink of cup against saucer roused him from his postprandial bliss. "Coffee
in a minute!" she called from the kitchen. She appeared, placed the tray, and lit
candles against the drawing dusk. The light gilded her skin and brought out flame
highlights in her hair. She watched him warily as he took his first sip of her
brew.

The coffee was hot, black, and strong--just the way he liked it.

A growing realization blossomed that he was being prepared for
something
. Puzzled, he put his elbows on the table. "Yes?"

Alice fidgeted with her napkin. "Siegfried, you know I always wanted an
annulment. I didn't want...well, but we..." She trailed into silence, chewing her
lower lip, and Siegfried began to worry in earnest. She still wanted an annulment?
What had he done wrong lately?

"Ah-lees, please, what is it?"

She took a deep breath, obviously steadying herself. "We--we can't claim
nothing ever happened between us. You're going to be a father."

"Das kann ja doch nicht sein!"
Siegfried exclaimed, incredulously.
After only one time with her? What a miracle!
"You are certain?"

"You know Dr. Stillman came to see Maria." She bit her lip again, and he
wanted to kiss her, to wipe that little pain away. "He examined me, too. It's
definite."

He reached for Alice's hand, and found it cold. "You have made me the
happiest of men,
Liebchen."

"I know," she said, dully. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

A warning klaxon sounded at the back of his mind.
She never wanted you.
Now you have to convince her that she has not made the biggest mistake of her
life.
"Ah-lees," he said, deliberately keeping his voice low, so as not to frighten
her. "Although
Oma
Tati may have pushed us together, my esteem for you
has only grown deeper upon our further acquaintance. I know I am not worthy of
your regard, but I will do everything in my power to make you as happy as you
have made me."

He stood up, and drew her up with him. He put his arms around her and pulled
her into a tender embrace.

She was going to be the mother of his child! Let him be a better father than his
own had been. He would protect Alice and serve her all his days.

Tati would be ecstatic.

"Ah-lees," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "
Ich liebe Dich."

He felt her tremulous smile, her lips pressed against his cheek. "What did you
say?"

For a moment he almost withdrew the words, afraid that she would disbelieve
him. But it was too late for that. "I said 'I love you.'"

She melted into his arms with a shaky sigh and raised her face to his. "You're
truly happy about the baby?"

He answered her with a deep kiss, and she responded--then grew heavier, a
dead weight. He staggered, then carefully picked her up, peering anxiously into
her face, which had gone bone white, and unconsciously tranquil.

She had fainted at his declaration.

As quietly as possible, he carried her upstairs and to her bed. He placed her
on top of the coverlet, and held her hand, listening to her breathe. "
Mein
Schatz, mein Liebchen, Du bist mein Herz, mein Leben
." He knew she did not
hear him, but it did not matter.
You are my treasure, my love, my heart, my
life.
They were going to have a child together, and be a family. Siegfried
thought his heart might break from the joy of the gifts he had been given.

They were truly married. There would be no annulment.

Montclair was his, forever.

Montclair, Friday, August 22

Alice opened her eyes. Siegfried, wrapped in Bill's old, richly colored dressing
gown, was hanging up his suit inside the vacant half of the closet.

Unconsciousness seeped away like wine out of a leaky bottle, leaving her
cold.
Idiot! Why can't you think anything through ahead of time?
"What are
you doing?" she asked stupidly, although she knew. Siegfried was moving into her
room.

"I am your husband." He straightened the coat upon its hangar, and bent to
align the too-polished dress shoes with military accuracy.

"We never discussed...sleeping arrangements," she countered, striving for at
least as much politeness as Siegfried displayed.
But I've been thinking about
it,
her mother's voice purred.
Mmmmm.
Abruptly, Alice sat up
straight.

"I did not expect that we would need to." Siegfried nodded, but he did
not
nod, and smile, and say,
Of course, since you are so against it, I will
go away, right now.
He merely set his battered hairbrush and comb next to her
own silver set upon the dresser.

Alice shivered and clutched her elbows. She was on top of the spread, fully
dressed. He must have carried her to her room. How could she have slept through
that? "You can't--"

"I
can!
" he blazed, his eyes fixing hers. "You have told me that you bear
my child. Very well. We are husband and wife. We shall sleep together."

She marveled at this flare of Teutonic stubbornness and his instantaneous
repudiation of what he
expected
her to say. What a real lady would say.
Knowing herself a complete fraud she spoke the line: "But
sleeping
is all--
"

"No!"

Now she was shocked. Siegfried had never raised his voice to her in anger
before.

Carefully he collected himself. "Saint Paul himself--an authority, you will
agree?--said, 'It is better to marry than to burn.' For you, Ah-lees--I
burn.
"

She believed him. She felt the heat from his body across the room and she
recognized the matching flame within herself. Her heartbeat stuttered and a
tremor, deep inside, shook her. She had to say something, anything to deflect his
intention, or she would be lost forever, living her mother's life in Siegfried's
bed.

"That's a sin!" she declared desperately. "We haven't been married by a
priest!"

He took a step closer. "I do not care what some pious old men--who are not
married, and have sworn they never will be--call a sin!"

"Siegfried! That's--" she faltered. That was an ineffective argument, then. "But
I'm--I'm in a delicate condition--"

Another step, and she could tell that he had bathed. His skin had an allure like
the ripest of peaches, downy softness wrapped tightly around firm flesh, promising
a sweetness that would cure all her hunger and thirst.

Siegfried tempted her. "Ah-lees," he breathed. "I have seen you working. If you
have the strength to weed the garden, can the fruits, beat the rugs, you cannot call
yourself 'delicate.'" Slowly, slowly, his hand came close to her face, and gently his
fingers traced the line of her jaw. "Please do not deny me."

She trembled again. She knew what she ought to do: say yes, endure, and
remain unmoved. All the years outside her mother's house had taught her
that.

But she knew she couldn't do it. She was on fire where Siegfried touched her,
as he brought his mouth down along the line of her neck, across her collarbone,
trailing kisses along the top of her breast, breathing hot upon her nipple....She
wanted him, too, despite the fact that he had won everything: respect as a vintner,
Montclair, and even herself. If he touched her again, she would beg for more.

She had tried so hard to become a lady. Tried, and failed.

She only had strength for one last effort to keep him from shattering her
defenses. She would pretend, just as she had always done.

"Of course," she said coldly, her voice dripping with simulated disdain. "It
would be most improper of me to deny you your marital rights."

* * *

Siegfried recoiled, standing with his back to Alice, his passion drenched by her
icy response.

Once was more than enough, to touch her, and cause a flinching gasp, as if
his flesh burned her. He had not meant to hurt her!

He clenched his teeth against uttering an apology. He was her husband, for
the love of God! He had a right to enjoy her body. He wanted to hold his wife, to
love her and hear her cry out in her ultimate pleasure.

"...most improper..." Her words rang in his ears. "...deny you your marital
rights..." Where had this cold unfeeling woman come from? Where was his
adorable, ardent Alice?
We haven't been married by a priest!

He felt like slapping his thick-skulled forehead. Of course she was unhappy.
She had married him before a judge. They had not been sanctified in their union.
She was devout, as he had once been, before the War had devoured his
piety.