“You’re going to have the baby with a man who hurts you?”
“He’s my husband, and the baby’s father, so of course I am.”
A sad truth washed over Ruth. She’d seen it before. Babies and children meant to save a relationship, only to end up being used as hostages, creating more broken bones, more bruises.
Ruth’s bluntness overtook her. “A baby isn’t magic, Carrie. It won’t make everything okay.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ruth. A baby changes everything.” Carrie rolled her eyes. “You don’t understand marriage yet. You’re a newlywed. You’ll understand when you get more time in.”
Ruth would never see abuse as normal. And if she knew one thing about herself, it was that she was not a bystander. “Come home with me. Let us help you.”
“Ruth, mind your own business. I mean it.” Carrie’s voice held more than a hint of exasperation.
“You’re my friend. You are my business.”
“Then be happy for me. I’m going to be a mother. It’s the answer to my prayers.”
A veil of sadness dropped over Ruth. “I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. I will finally give Eli what he has wanted all along, so he’ll have no reason to—well, he’ll be happy. We’ll be happy. He is going to be a wonderful father.” Carrie looked into Ruth’s eyes. “Please don’t mention the baby to anyone. I haven’t told Eli yet, and I want to tell him first. And don’t discuss my private life with anyone else either.”
Ruth promised nothing. But she nodded, mostly because she was stunned to see a girl like Carrie behave this way.
Carrie shifted in place, a frown confirming her uneasiness. “You’re blaming my husband for something that’s not his fault. You have no way to know this, but I’m not easy to live with. I’m quite fussy.”
“Being fussy doesn’t merit physical punishment. And what’s going to happen when the baby starts fussing?”
“Stop with the nagging! Eli is a good man. Would I have married him if he wasn’t?”
Ruth tamped down her anxiety. Carrie was a smart girl; she’d made it through nursing school on her own. Eli was a respected educator. Having a temper wasn’t a crime. Surely Carrie would leave him if she or the baby were in danger. Ruth didn’t want to lose this friendship, or hurt her friend any more than she’d already been hurt. There was nothing she could do. “I just want you to be safe.”
Carrie smiled. “We will be. Now do I have your word this stays between us? I can’t be around you if you won’t respect my privacy. Ruth?”
Ruth said nothing. She wasn’t prepared to promise that. If she stayed silent, she wouldn’t have to lie to Carrie.
Carrie quickened her pace again. “So, I know where I stand.” She sounded furious. “In that case, I’ll have to ask you not to call the house or come by.”
Flabbergasted, Ruth stopped. “You’re kidding me! Carrie!”
Carrie kept on walking, swinging her arms.
“I only want you to be safe,” Ruth whisper-yelled.
Carrie stopped in midstride and swiveled around. “How many more times do I have to tell you? You need to butt out. I’m fine.” She continued on her way, as if she didn’t want her words to catch up to her. “Perfectly fine,” she called over her shoulder.
Ruth scurried up behind her. “You’re not fine.”
“No, not with friends like you.” Carrie crossed the street and made her way through a group of little boys. When they dispersed, she raised her voice. “Go home, Ruth. Maybe if you focused more on being a good wife than wanting a career, you’d be busy and wouldn’t feel the need to attack my marriage.”
Ruth was stunned into silence. Carrie had shifted the blame away from Eli and onto Ruth. It occurred to her that Carrie had never told anyone about these attacks, that no one knew. That Carrie was afraid. She felt even worse for her friend. “I didn’t. I would never . . .”
Carrie cackled like the Wicked Witch of the West.
Ruth had to give it one last try. “Let me help you with this—issue.”
“Don’t you get it, Ruth? You are the issue.”
Carrie turned the corner and was gone.
Ruth plodded toward home, her feet dragging as if they had weights tied to them. Ruminating on this wouldn’t help, but she couldn’t let it go. She could never let things go. A good trait in a lawyer—not such a good one in a wife, or daughter-in-law, or friend.
Her legal training told her she was obliged to keep a client’s confidence. But Carrie wasn’t her client. Ruth knew she was clueless when it came to social relationships in a place like Wynnefield. She wished Lillian would cover the subject of discretion when a friend was suffering. It would be far more meaningful than learning how to balance a teacup on one’s knee or fold one’s napkin on their lap. She suspected that etiquette rules didn’t apply here.
Maybe if Ruth went to Lillian in private, she might advise her. She was their teacher and guide.
Another consideration was that keeping Carrie’s secret might put her friend in danger. Losing her friendship might be a small price to pay to keep Carrie and the baby safe.
If Ruth were home in New York, she would have gone to her father and then to Dotsie, but they couldn’t help her with Carrie in Wynnefield. She didn’t have time to waste.
PART 2
LIFE LESSONS
Chapter 20
LILLIAN
Lillian sat at the dining room table, her blue notebook open in front of her, pencil in hand. She jolted when she heard three loud knocks on the front door. She glanced down at her hand. That pencil had been still against an empty page. Not a word written.
She checked her golden wristwatch, with its well-placed diamonds. How long had she been in this trance? A while now. Since the girls and Shirley had left. She had intended to make notes about their session, yet she felt so distracted, she couldn’t find the words.
Three more insistent knocks. What impatience and impertinence!
There were stomps coming up the basement steps. Sunny could hear the thumping all the way down there too. “Here I come,” Sunny said, as if the visitor could hear her from the floor below.
“Don’t rush,” Lillian called. “I’ll get it.”
She flipped her notebook to a new blank page, jotted the word doorbells, set down her pencil, and stood. Even though the etiquette lessons didn’t feel as important to her anymore, she still needed to get them done, to plan them, to make them worthwhile.
Then she stopped and wrote the word tap. There was a better way to command attention, even without a doorbell. These tips were important points for civilized behavior.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Lillian made a few tsks under her breath as she headed to the door and the awful racket.
Peeking through the sidelight, she saw the source of her annoyance. She groaned at this rude interruption, then whirled around to ensure there was no witness within earshot. She held the polished brass doorknob, inhaled, exhaled, smiled, and pulled open the door. Wide and polite. The proper thing to do. She might be conflicted, but she wasn’t a barbarian.
She had to remind herself that Ruth was still a student.