A Cry In The Night

Rooney did not seem to hear. “I’ve been seeing her and seeing her. Sometimes at night I sneak out after Clyde’s asleep because I want to talk to her. I bet she knows where Arden went. And I see her coming into the house. Once I saw her at the window of the baby’s room. The moonlight was shining on her, just as clear as day. I wish she’d talk to me sometimes. Maybe she thinks I’m afraid of her. But why would I be? If Caroline is here that means that even if Arden is dead she might be able to come back. Isn’t that right?”

She pulled away from Clyde and ran over to Je

It was nearly two o’clock. Her breasts were heavy with milk. Dr. Elmendorf had bound them to stop the lactation but at the hours she’d fed the baby they still filled. They hurt, but she was glad to have the physical pain. It balanced the agony of grief. Rooney’s frail body was shaking. Je

“Of course she was,” Mark said brusquely.

Luke and Clyde lifted Rooney up. “She needs a sedative,” Luke said, “I’ll drive with you to the hospital.” Luke looked ill himself.

Emily and Mark stayed a little longer. Emily made halfhearted attempts to talk to Erich about his painting.

“I have an exhibit in Houston in February,” Erich told her. “I’ll take Je

Mark sat next to her. There was something so quietly comforting about him. She could feel his compassion and it helped.

After he and Emily left, Je

Downstairs Erich had brandy waiting. “Drink this, Je

She listened, waiting for the numbness to wear off. Don’t try to make it easier, Erich, she thought. Nothing you can say matters.

“Je

She tried to pull away from him. His hands held her fast. His voice so soft, so hypnotically gentle. “Je

Soon she would wake up and be back in the apartment. Nana would be there. “Now, Jen, you’re talking in your sleep again. You must have had a nightmare. You’ve got too much on your mind, dear.”

But she was not in the apartment. She was in this cold, overfurnished parlor listening to the incredible suggestion that people might think she had killed her own baby.

“The trouble is, Jen, you have been sleepwalking. How many times have the girls asked why you don’t speak to them when you go into their room at night? It’s entirely possible you were in the baby’s room, maybe patting the baby’s face. Tina didn’t understand what she saw. You yourself told Dr. Elmendorf you’ve been hallucinating. He called me about that.”

“He called you?”

“Yes. He’s quite concerned. He says you’ve refused to see a psychiatrist.”

Je

Now the curtains seemed to be closing in on her, enmeshing her, smothering her.

Smothering. She closed her eyes against the memory of Tina’s small hands covering her doll’s face, pressing down.

Hallucinating. Had she imagined the face, the feeling of hair hanging over the bed? All those nights, had she been imagining that?

“Erich, I’m so confused. I don’t know what reality is anymore. Even before this. But now. I’ve got to get away. I’ll take the girls.”

“Impossible, Je

“I’m their mother, their natural mother and guardian.”

“Je

“But they’re mine! The baby was yours and you wouldn’t give him your name. The girls are mine and you want them. Why?”

“Because I want you. No matter what you’ve done, no matter how sick you are, I want you. Caroline was willing to leave me but I know you, Je

“No.”

“You have no choice. We’ll put the past behind. I’ll never mention the baby again. I’ll be there to help if you start to sleepwalk. I’ll take care of you. If they investigate the baby’s death, I’ll hire a lawyer.”

He was pulling her to her feet. Helplessly she allowed him to propel her up the stairs. “Tomorrow we’ll put the room back the old way,” he told her. “Just pretend the baby never was born.”

She had to humor him until she could plan. They were in the bedroom; he opened the bottom drawer of the large dresser. She knew what he was reaching for. The aqua gown. “Wear it for me, Jen. It’s been so long.”

“I can’t.” She was so afraid. His eyes were so strange. She didn’t know this man who could tell her that people believed she was a murderer, tell her to forget the baby she’d buried a few hours ago.

“Yes, you can. You’re very thin now. You’re lovely.”

She took it from him and went into the bathroom. She changed and the nightgown did fit her again. She stared into the mirror over the sink. And understood why people thought she looked like Caroline.

Her eyes had the same sad, haunted look as those of the woman in the painting.

In the morning Erich slid out of bed quietly and began to tiptoe around the room. “I’m awake,” she told him. It was six o’clock. It should have been time to feed the baby.

“Try to go back to sleep, darling.” He pulled on a heavy ski sweater. “I’m going to the cabin. I’ve got to finish the paintings for the Houston exhibition. We’ll go together, darling, the two of us and the girls. We’ll have a wonderful time.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Oh, Jen, I love you so.”

She stared up at him.

“Tell me you love me, Jen.”

Dutifully she said, “I love you, Erich.”

It was a bleak morning. Even by the time the girls had had breakfast, the sun was still hidden by patches of wintry clouds. The air had a chilly, dark feeling as before a storm.

She dressed Tina and Beth for a walk. Elsa was going to take down the Christmas tree and Je

“What are you going to do with those, Mommy?”

Beth asked.

“I thought we’d put them on the baby’s grave.”

The fresh dirt had frozen during the night. The luminous pine needles softened the starkness of the little mound.