The Intern(90)

She’d been unfair to her mother. Though, that didn’t answer the question of whether to trust her now. Deep down, she knew Sylvia was telling the truth. If it were only her own life at stake, she’d bet on her loyalty. But with the baby to think of, the stakes were higher. She couldn’t afford to be wrong.

The wind rattled the windows. Sylvia carried a tray with two cups of tea and a sleeve of saltines over to the sofa.

“Take off your coat, honey. You’re sweating.”

Without help, she had no chance of saving her child. Or herself. It was a leap of faith, but one she ought to take.

Kathryn shrugged out of her coat and handed it to her mother. Underneath, she wore a shapeless black dress, with a silk scarf at her neck to draw the eye. Since Matthew died, she couldn’t eat. In her fourth month of pregnancy, she’d gained only three pounds. But her waist had thickened in a noticeable way that Sylvia didn’t miss. Her eyes went wide.

“Kathy. You’re pregnant. Oh my God, no wonder you threw up like that. I’m so happy. How far along are you?”

“Four months.”

Her eyes glittered with tears of joy. “Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s wonderful news. What a special Christmas present.”

“It’s not wonderful. You can’t tell anyone. Do you understand? If they find out this baby exists, he won’t be safe.”

Sylvia wiped away tears, her expression sobering.

“Cross my heart, I won’t tell a soul. Does anyone else know?”

“Nobody. I’m hardly showing. I don’t go anywhere except work, and there, I wear my judge’s robes and sit behind the bench. It’s winter, so I hide under bulky sweaters. And my OB is in the same medical building as my shrink, so I say I’m going there when I leave for the appointments. Everyone believes that I’m depressed enough to go to the shrink constantly, so that works.”

“Okay, but how much longer? You won’t be able to hide it forever.”

“I don’t need to hide it forever. Just long enough to get away from here.”

Sylvia looked scared now. “Honey, how you gonna run with a baby? I say this as someone who was all alone and had nothing when her child was born. It’s a nightmare even if nobody’s after you. And these people will not let you go without a fight.”

“I understand that. Ray made it clear there’s no way out. That if I run, they’ll never stop looking for me. I have to figure some way around it.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Every day, I wake up terrified about what happens next and no closer to a solution.”

Sylvia sighed, and tucked Kathryn’s hair behind her ears. They sat for a moment, listening to the hiss of the radiator and the scratching of sleet against the windows. Kathryn picked up her teacup.

“Blow on it first, it’s hot,” Sylvia said.

Despite the horror of her situation, her mother’s presence made her feel better. A small kernel of hope began to glow in her heart.

“What if—” Sylvia said, and stopped.

“What if what?”

“What if it’s not you who runs? But me?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re their investment, Kathy. They care about keeping you on the hook to do them favors. They don’t care about me. What if I take the baby somewhere? You stay behind like nothing happened. Do their bidding, bide your time. And visit in secret while we figure out a better plan.”

“Well, first off, they’d find out about the baby anyway, because there’s the rest of the pregnancy and then the birth, which I won’t be able to hide. Second, they’d notice that you’re gone. Charlie? Ray? They’d put two and two together and figure out you ran with the baby. They’d come looking for you. The baby would still be in danger, but now so would you.”

“Not if they never know about the baby, and they think I’m dead.”

“I don’t understand. How?”

“Women hide pregnancies, and people fake cancer. They do it all the time, as a grift. In my case, it would be easy, because I was sick before. They’d believe it for sure. Say I lose a few pounds. Put on a turban like I lost my hair. We take a picture for the Facebook with an IV in my arm, tubes in my nose, a little contour on my cheeks so I’m gaunt. You take a leave of absence from work to care for me. Say you’re bringing me somewhere for treatment. Then disappear till after the baby comes. Nobody will suspect. Your husband just got killed, and now your mother’s dying? Who’s gonna begrudge you, or think to check your story?”

“Wow. That could actually work.”

“It will work. I’m a good actress when I want to be.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“For you. And for my grandchild.”

“His name is Ollie.”

“No,” Sylvia said, eyeing Kathryn’s waistline. “You’re carrying thick in the middle like I did with you. That’s a girl in there, for sure.”





33


Kathryn had thought it would take an effort to cry at Sylvia’s memorial service, since her mother wasn’t actually dead. But she broke down repeatedly. She’d given birth just two weeks earlier. The bleeding had stopped, but her breasts were still engorged, and her hormones haywire. She longed for that red-faced, scrunchy little baby with a physical craving. Grace. Her downy head, her perfect fingers and toes and ears. She understood that they couldn’t be together. But the separation hurt worse than anything she’d ever felt. When Matthew died, he was gone forever. It was final. There was nothing to do but accept, and plot revenge. Grace was still here on this earth. She could be touched and held and kissed and cuddled. Just not by Kathryn. Ten minutes after being discharged from the anonymous Midwestern hospital where she’d given birth, she’d waved goodbye under cover of darkness. Her stitches hurt. There was a heavy pad between her legs. But it was her heart that felt like it would explode. If there had been any other way … but there wasn’t. Sylvia’s death certificate was ready. It was time to call Ray, notify him of her passing, and announce Kathryn’s imminent return, along with the date of the memorial service.