“But why didn’t you tell me you were having a problem?”
“It seems obvious now that I should have, because I’m thinking clearly. But I wasn’t.”
I nodded. She wasn’t pressing me to forgive her—I appreciated that. I had the choice to forgive her, and I did. Of course I did. I know what it is to be caught in a soundless cage when in the confusion of great pain, during the days when the feet are going mechanically round and round. Emily again.
“Tell me. I can’t possibly tell you my news until you do.” Star put his paws up on the sofa and I pulled him up.
Polly took a deep breath through her nose, composing courage. She kept her eyes on her knees. “I was pregnant, and I lost it.”
“What? You didn’t write me about it.”
“I didn’t even tell Dick. I still haven’t, and honestly, I never will. I wanted this child to be mine—a girl. Living with four males… I have no one to share my interests with… The boys will all get married, and my futures with them will depend wholly on whether or not their wives like me. I wanted my own child, who’d be with me always, beyond marriage, children, everything, as I am with my mother. I’ve thought of it so often, Nessie, when I arrange flowers or set a table or choose a dress, or do all I do for Dick that he doesn’t even know about. My private life—I have dreamed of sharing it with a daughter. When I got pregnant again, I think I went a little crazy. I believed I could make her a girl if I kept her a secret. Insane, I know. But that’s what happened.”
“When was this?”
“It ended December 4, at sixteen weeks.”
“Sixteen weeks?” I tried to do the math.
“I was pregnant in August, though I didn’t know it. When I found out, it occurred to me that, because I’d concentrated on her so much, Nan had brought me a girl of my own. Isn’t that nutty?”
She was calmer now. She let go of me and leaned against the sofa back. “I was so happy. Dr. Webber told me not to be, because I’m old to have a baby, but I couldn’t help it. I can’t remember ever being as happy in my whole life.”
I understood. I’d had a happy fall, too, and as nonsensically.
“Did Dr. Webber say why it happened?”
“He couldn’t tell. He said it wasn’t unusual, and offered his philosophy that lost pregnancies are a part of a natural plan that exists beyond us, and aren’t meant to result in birth. I am trying to believe that, so please don’t say it’s ridiculous.”
“All right.”
“It was a girl.” Polly’s face went slack. Pain so great she couldn’t muster an expression. It hurt me to the core.
“I’m so sorry you lived through this by yourself.”
“Thank you. I feel better now, having told you. It’s a peculiar grief to lose an early pregnancy. People don’t think it amounts to much. It’s not a baby. But it is an event, and an act. I was doing something. I was making my daughter.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
I’d never imagined it at all, truth be told.
“That’s how it feels to me.” Polly touched her chest. She was strong again, and regal. Sometimes she astonishes me.
“How soon can you try again?” I asked.
She gave me a sudden quick look. It was as if I’d caught her doing something she shouldn’t—or something she should. “Nessie—until I’m here without you, I forget what it’s like to be known.”
“I understand that very well.”
“We’re lucky in each other.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t had more time this week.”
“And I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I know.” We looked at each other helplessly.
“It’s not as if we won’t spend the whole summer together. We’ll catch up. Meanwhile, my question—when are you going to try again?”
“As soon as it’s safe. For now I have to pretend to headaches and backaches.” She raised her eyebrows mischievously.
“Polly, please spare me.”
“Oh, grow up! How do you think I have all those boys?”
“I know, but—”
She looked at me. “Are you at all curious?”
“No. Maybe I was once, but I’m old now. I can’t imagine.”
But I have imagined, at least a little.
She shrugged. “You haven’t missed much.” She walked across the room and came back with Muncie. “I do want her.” She took my hand. I don’t know which of us had the more careworn hands—and we were rich women. Yet we dug into our lives, and it showed. “Now I want to hear your story. I’m not in a hurry—I’ve made sure I could stay all afternoon.”
We had lunch, and afterward, back in the living room, I recited the events of Nan’s accident, except for the part about Virgil in the hospital. I didn’t want to hold anything back, but I also wasn’t ready to let it be more than private. Polly wept at the image of Nan in the hospital, stuck with needles. “Poor little girl,” she muttered over and over.
“She’s safe at Leeward now. Mrs. C. is managing her recovery. Her father stays overnight, but that will end when I get back, and I’ll be there to get up with her if need be.”
“You sound as though you want to.”
I blushed. I felt caught, though my desire was innocent. “It will be a pleasure to nurse someone back to health rather than—”
“Yes.” Polly rescued me from having to explain. “It will be uniquely gratifying. As will your Christmas present. Be right back.” She got up and went to the hallway, where she’d left her handbag. She came back with a wrapped book.
“You already gave me a Christmas present, the necklace.” I touched it at my throat. I’d worn it for her visit, of course.
“Open it.”
I slid my thumb under the tape and removed the wrapping. The Flashing Sea by—Virgil Reed.
I think I actually gasped. “How did you get this?”
“I asked a man I know in Leary’s to find it for me.”
I opened it and looked through the pages. “For Otto,” it said. Not a woman, I thought. “I didn’t even know he’d published a book. He never said.” Why hadn’t he? “How did you even guess?”
“It wasn’t a guess. I asked around about him. I didn’t find out much more than we already knew, but I did learn that he published a book. I was going to write to you about it, but then I hatched this plan instead.”
“It’s a good surprise. Thank you so much.” I opened it, but purposely didn’t take anything in. I wanted to be alone to read it.
Polly looked at me shrewdly. “You haven’t said much about him.”
“Oh, he’s not so bad after all.”
“And?”
“That’s it. We spent a lot of hours sitting close to each other in the hospital. I got used to him.”
“Did he get used to you is the bigger question.”
She laughed. I saw in her friendly, open face that she really didn’t imagine the extent of my feelings for Virgil, or that I might be serious. He was our project, our curiosity, our game. In consideration of the sorrow she’d arrived with, I decided to let the whole truth remain unclaimed for the moment.