The Secrets of Midwives by Sally Hepworth Page B

couldn’t look away. What was going on? What was he thinking?
    Finally Bill’s lips curved up—the signature half smile. “You’re right, we can’t be too careful.” His face brightened, as if a switch had been flicked. “As I was saying, I’d like to raise a toast to my new bride. I’m going to need at least four boys to help me run the farm, and Elizabeth has done a great job of getting things started. To Elizabeth.”
    â€œTo Elizabeth,” chorused the room.
    Everyone was grinning and swilling. Everyone but me. Was I the only one who’d felt that? Evidently, I was. Conversations had resumed and from what I could hear, they weren’t talking about Bill. Even Evie’s dad was making small talk with Bill, and it appeared to be amicable. And why not? Nothing had happened other than a man being a little careless with his wife after a few too many drinks. Many men were guilty of worse. But the feeling in my stomach said it was something more.
    *   *   *
    â€œGran?”
    â€œYes?”
    Neva was watching me with an expression that made me nervous. “Why would you travel across the other side of the world with a brand-new baby?”
    Silence engulfed us. I realized my misstep. Like Grace, Neva saw the parallels between our situations. But Neva’s secret gave her insight Grace didn’t have. She was right, of course. It didn’t make any sense for me to cross the ocean with a new baby in tow.
    Unless I had something to hide.
    â€œWhat aren’t you saying, Gran?”
    I shrugged a little. “Perhaps it was a strange thing to do, but hindsight has a way of making things clear. In the moment, things are muddier, less obvious.”
    Neva nodded, but her face was still wary. It worried me. She wasn’t like Grace. She wouldn’t press me on an issue I didn’t want to discuss. But she also wouldn’t forget about it the way her mother would. Her unresolved questions would sit, just under the surface, a palpable but invisible wall between us.
    This wouldn’t be the end of it. My granddaughter was on to me.

 
    10
    Neva
    It was the first time I’d been home in days. Usually as I dashed from here to there, always late for the next thing, I courted a healthy lust for the idea of free time, the sleep-ins, the lazy breakfasts, the newspaper reading. Not today. The day ticked by in seconds, not minutes, and by late afternoon, I was climbing the walls.
    When the buzzer rang at five P.M. , I perked up. A visitor. I heaved myself into a standing position, and then I found the button and tapped it down. “Hello?”
    â€œHi, darling.”
    I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t seem to project any words. Grace hadn’t been to my apartment in years, not since she’d moved to Conanicut Island and developed a sudden intolerance for the “big smoke” of Providence. “Grace? Is that you?”
    â€œYes, it’s me.”
    Suddenly it was crystal clear. Grace was staging a surprise visit to try to catch me off guard. Perhaps she thought she’d find my baby’s father crouched behind the sofa or, failing that, his wallet or football jersey in the bedroom. “Okay. Come on up.”
    â€œOh no, I can’t stay,” she said. “Could you come down?”
    My finger froze, poised over the button. Seriously? She’d come all the way to Providence and she wasn’t even going to come inside? “Er … sure. Just a sec.”
    As I took the stairs, it occurred to me that I liked the fact that my mother could still surprise me. Like the time when I was in the third grade, and as the rite of passage went, asked my parents for a dog. We were all living in Providence back then, and Dad said our yard wasn’t big enough. Grace asked if I was upset and I remember saying “I guess not.” Being upset, I figured, wouldn’t change the size of our yard.
    That