some, but I’d given up alcohol during my pregnancy.
“I’ll get myself some mineral water, and check if Phoebe needs any
help in the kitchen.”
Nick was just entering the room as I turned
to go. We nearly collided in the doorway. He studied me from head
to foot. He didn’t say anything, just gave me a lingering look that
made my knees feel like jellyfish.
Phoebe, busy mashing potatoes, set me to
thickening the gravy. “Mind it doesn’t lump,” she ordered, “and
don’t let it burn.”
“It’s a lot of work, getting a turkey dinner
ready,” I said, remembering how Vera Wemble used to fuss over such
things.
Phoebe flailed at the potatoes as if they
deserved punishment. “Heavens, I do turkey dinners for a hundred
down at the church all the time. This is easy.”
“Oh.”
Phoebe just kept on bashing the potatoes. I
knew, because Kiera had told me, that she was ecstatic about the
baby. Yet she’d never mentioned that to me. She’d never said
congratulations or how are you feeling or any of the usual things.
In fact we didn’t talk at all beyond the necessary. I could only
guess at how difficult the whole thing must be for her.
Dinner was odd. Phoebe seemed uncomfortable
sitting at the table with us and kept finding excuses to go to the
kitchen. Kiera looked happy, yet she didn’t make conversation. She
barely spoke. Angus tried to fill the awkward quiet with talk about
his rare medical book collection. But then Nick, who drank
non-stop, kept interrupting with funny anecdotes about his
work.
I mostly ate, and the food was delicious. I
tried to avoid Nick’s eye, but while Phoebe and Kiera were serving
the pumpkin pie at the sideboard, I glanced over at him. He raised
his glass in a silent toast, then raised his eyebrows in suggestive
question.
I thought about what had happened up on the
hill, how much I’d longed to just fall into his arms, and how wrong
that would have been. But how long could I stay strong? I knew he
wouldn’t give up. He had that predatory style I’d seen so often in
the hunters at the lodge. No matter where I ran for cover, sooner
or later he’d pursue me again.
I also suspected he was like those hunters
who prefer a primitive weapon, say a bow and arrow, to reduce the
chance of success. They got more thrill from the stalking than the
actual kill. So I had to wonder. Was Nick was really interested in
me, or simply in my seduction?
Chapter 10
Retching. Nothing but retching, all day
long.
That’s what I remember about the rest of
October and November. Often I felt so nauseous I spent most of the
day in bed. I wallowed in drowsy self-pity, rousing myself only to
rush to the bathroom to upchuck yet again. To even think of running
was impossible. Pregnancy consumed me.
“God, I’m sorry,” Kiera kept saying, “you’re
going through hell and it’s all my fault.”
“No, no it’s not. It’s my own bloody fault.
Why’d I ever get pregnant? I must have been out of my mind.”
“Please don’t talk like that,” Kiera would
say. “It makes me feel terrible. What you’re doing is humane and
unselfish and very noble.”
I wasn’t convinced. But blaming my stupidity
on the circumstances was some consolation. I’d been corrupted by
the thought of fifty thousand dollars. I’d been bewitched by the
appeal of Malagash. I’d been seduced by my attraction to Nick, and
by sympathy for Kiera, so cheerful and brave. Even my own body had
tricked me, somehow arranging ovulation at just the right
moment.
Phoebe brought me herbal tea and dry crackers
on a silver tray in the mornings. Still later she’d bring chicken
broth and custard. She never spoke as she served me, or rustled
about lighting the fire. And I always pretended to be asleep
anyway, feeling depressed enough without her serves-you-right
looks. Some days though her visits helped me rally She made me want
to defend myself, if only in my mind.
Then I could make myself believe I was a very
caring person,
“I’ll get myself some mineral water, and check if Phoebe needs any
help in the kitchen.”
Nick was just entering the room as I turned
to go. We nearly collided in the doorway. He studied me from head
to foot. He didn’t say anything, just gave me a lingering look that
made my knees feel like jellyfish.
Phoebe, busy mashing potatoes, set me to
thickening the gravy. “Mind it doesn’t lump,” she ordered, “and
don’t let it burn.”
“It’s a lot of work, getting a turkey dinner
ready,” I said, remembering how Vera Wemble used to fuss over such
things.
Phoebe flailed at the potatoes as if they
deserved punishment. “Heavens, I do turkey dinners for a hundred
down at the church all the time. This is easy.”
“Oh.”
Phoebe just kept on bashing the potatoes. I
knew, because Kiera had told me, that she was ecstatic about the
baby. Yet she’d never mentioned that to me. She’d never said
congratulations or how are you feeling or any of the usual things.
In fact we didn’t talk at all beyond the necessary. I could only
guess at how difficult the whole thing must be for her.
Dinner was odd. Phoebe seemed uncomfortable
sitting at the table with us and kept finding excuses to go to the
kitchen. Kiera looked happy, yet she didn’t make conversation. She
barely spoke. Angus tried to fill the awkward quiet with talk about
his rare medical book collection. But then Nick, who drank
non-stop, kept interrupting with funny anecdotes about his
work.
I mostly ate, and the food was delicious. I
tried to avoid Nick’s eye, but while Phoebe and Kiera were serving
the pumpkin pie at the sideboard, I glanced over at him. He raised
his glass in a silent toast, then raised his eyebrows in suggestive
question.
I thought about what had happened up on the
hill, how much I’d longed to just fall into his arms, and how wrong
that would have been. But how long could I stay strong? I knew he
wouldn’t give up. He had that predatory style I’d seen so often in
the hunters at the lodge. No matter where I ran for cover, sooner
or later he’d pursue me again.
I also suspected he was like those hunters
who prefer a primitive weapon, say a bow and arrow, to reduce the
chance of success. They got more thrill from the stalking than the
actual kill. So I had to wonder. Was Nick was really interested in
me, or simply in my seduction?
Chapter 10
Retching. Nothing but retching, all day
long.
That’s what I remember about the rest of
October and November. Often I felt so nauseous I spent most of the
day in bed. I wallowed in drowsy self-pity, rousing myself only to
rush to the bathroom to upchuck yet again. To even think of running
was impossible. Pregnancy consumed me.
“God, I’m sorry,” Kiera kept saying, “you’re
going through hell and it’s all my fault.”
“No, no it’s not. It’s my own bloody fault.
Why’d I ever get pregnant? I must have been out of my mind.”
“Please don’t talk like that,” Kiera would
say. “It makes me feel terrible. What you’re doing is humane and
unselfish and very noble.”
I wasn’t convinced. But blaming my stupidity
on the circumstances was some consolation. I’d been corrupted by
the thought of fifty thousand dollars. I’d been bewitched by the
appeal of Malagash. I’d been seduced by my attraction to Nick, and
by sympathy for Kiera, so cheerful and brave. Even my own body had
tricked me, somehow arranging ovulation at just the right
moment.
Phoebe brought me herbal tea and dry crackers
on a silver tray in the mornings. Still later she’d bring chicken
broth and custard. She never spoke as she served me, or rustled
about lighting the fire. And I always pretended to be asleep
anyway, feeling depressed enough without her serves-you-right
looks. Some days though her visits helped me rally She made me want
to defend myself, if only in my mind.
Then I could make myself believe I was a very
caring person,
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