Maddie sat down on the bed beside me. “Your mama done named them babies, Miss Ashton. She told Miss Jeanette y’all done agreed on what to call them.”
“That is a bold-faced lie!” My sudden outburst made it difficult for me to breathe, which scared the living daylights out of me. “What’s wrong with me, Maddie? Why can’t I breathe?”
“You had a difficult time delivering them babies. You need to give your poor body a chance to mend.”
“But she can’t do this!” I said, my breath coming in gasps. “I have a long list of names I’m considering. I wanted to meet the babies first before I made my final decision.”
Maddie stroked my leg beneath the blanket. “Hush now while you catch your breath.”
I drew in several big lungfuls of air, all the while thinking, So this is how it’s going to be if I stay here.
When I finally summoned the nerve to tell Mother I am keeping the babies, she threatened to throw me out on the street. After weeks of fighting, when Mother realized I wasn’t going to change my mind, she finally acquiesced. But not before making me agree to her unreasonable demands. Truth is, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my babies, even life imprisonment inside this house. She’s chosen their names. I can’t bear to think what other decisions she will make for my daughters in the future.
I looked up at Maddie. “I’m almost afraid to ask. What did she name them?”
“This one here’s Eleanor.” Maddie rubbed the fair-skinned baby’s head. “And the other is Amelia.”
I understood why Mother named one of them after herself, narcissistic egotist that she is. I kissed the fair baby’s head. “We’ll call you Ellie.” I kissed the tip of the olive-skinned baby’s nose. “I love the name Amelia, as much as I loved my grandmother. But I don’t understand why my mother chose that name. She despised her mother-in-law. What does she have against this baby and not that one?” I planted another kiss on Amelia’s forehead.
“Them’s the names she told Miss Jeanette to put on the birth certificates,” Maddie said. “But your mama is calling them Baby X and Baby Y.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand. Why?”
Mother entered the room and tapped Maddie on the shoulder with her jogging stick. “You may leave us now.”
“Yes’m,” Maddie said and scurried out of the room.
“It should be obvious why I’ve nicknamed them Baby X and Y. The fair baby is the spitting image of you. The other baby looks nothing like any of our ancestors on either side. It’s apparent she carries her father’s genes.” Mother stood beside the bed, towering over me, jogging stick in hand. “You left out an important detail about your children’s father, Ashton. Why did you not tell me he’s Jewish?”
My jaw dropped open. “Since when do you have anything against Jewish people, Mother? You have plenty of Jewish friends.”
“That doesn’t mean I want my offspring to have Jewish blood running through her veins.”
I tightened my grip on the babies. “The father’s ethnicity is none of your concern.”
“It is when his bastard children are living under my roof, and I’m paying the bills.” She raised her jogging stick. “Tell me, Ashton, is the father Jewish or not?”
For the first time ever, I saw pure hate in my mother’s gray eyes. Hate mixed with something that gave me the shivers—the glint of insanity. I wondered if she was crazy enough to hit me with her jogging stick while I held innocent babies in my arms. I’ll do anything, including lying, to protect my children. And so that’s what I did—I lied. “No, Mother. He’s not Jewish.”
Mother hesitated a split second before lowering her stick. “You’re lying to me, but I have no way to prove it. You can stay here for now, but when I find out the truth, and I will find out the truth, I will toss all three of you out on the street.” She moved to the door. “I’ve allowed Maddie to tend to your children while you recovered, but she needs to get back to her other duties. These babies are your responsibility, Ashton. When you see how exhausting it is to take care of them, you’ll change your mind about putting them up for adoption.”
“I’m not giving them up, Mother. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of them.” I forced my aching body into a sitting position and laid the babies side by side on the bed next to me. “It’s obvious this living situation is not going to work out for either of us. Once I recover, I’ll take my babies and leave.”
“We’ll see how far you get.” She stamped her walking stick on the hardwood floor as she left the room.
Throwing back the covers, I swung my feet over the side of the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress until the room stopped spinning. Every muscle trembled beneath me as I carried the babies one by one to the nursery and placed them in the crib.
When I decided to keep the babies, Maddie and I scoured the attic for baby equipment. I found my old crib, a changing table, and several boxes of infant clothes. I scrubbed the furniture with hot soapy water, and Maddie laundered the yellow out of the clothes with bleach. I gave Maddie money and sent her out west of the Ashley to shop for the baby supplies I needed.
I stared down at the tiny beauties sleeping side by side as they’d done for nine months inside my uterus. “I brought you into this world, and it’s my job to protect you from your wicked gramma. Don’t you worry. I’ll figure a way out of this mess.”
I pulled the rocking chair I borrowed from the guest bedroom up close to the crib and sat for a long time admiring my babies while I contemplated my getaway. I had written Louisa two weeks before I went into labor explaining why I wouldn’t be returning to New York. Unable to bear the suspense any longer, I asked if Abbott had called or come looking for me. With Maddie’s permission, I used hers as the return address. Maddie mailed the letter for me and brought me Louisa’s response when it arrived a week later. I’m sorry to say, I’ve not heard from Abbott. she wrote in her curlicue script. You are better off without him, Nettie. Rumors continue to circulate about the woman he’s now seeing full-time in California.
After reading her letter, I mourned for the second time my breakup with Abbott. During all these months, I’ve been holding out hope that the woman in the newspaper article meant nothing to him, that it was all a big mix-up. But he’d never called or come to my apartment looking for me. I’m certain Olga told him about my mysterious departure from New York. We were in a relationship for three years. Wasn’t he the least bit curious about where I went and why I left so suddenly? What a fool I was thinking he was planning to propose marriage, when all that time he was seeing someone else. If he doesn’t care more for me than that, he doesn’t deserve to know about the babies.
The high cost of living in New York ate up most of my modeling salary, but I nevertheless managed enough savings to pay for bus tickets to a nearby city like Columbia or Spartanburg and a few months’ rent in a modest apartment until I could find a job. “We’ll have to wait until the two of you are old enough to travel,” I said in a soft voice to the sleeping twins. “Until I regain my strength.” I let my head fall back against the chair. “If I ever regain my strength. I’ve never felt so tired before in my life.”
When the midwife came two days later for my follow-up checkup, she confirmed that what I’ve been experiencing is not normal postpartum fatigue. Perched on the edge of the bed, Jeanette listened to my heart for longer than I thought normal. Standing, she crossed the room to the dresser where Mother was writing out a check to her for the delivery fee. “Your daughter needs to see a cardiologist,” Jeanette said in a low voice not meant for my ears, but I heard her anyway. “I’ll be honest with you, I’m concerned. I hope it’s nothing, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Mother peered at Jeanette over the wire rim of her reading spectacles. “Can’t you make her better?”
“I’m not a doctor, Mrs. Pringle. Ashton needs a specialist.”
“Then leave my daughter’s care to me, if you can’t handle it.” Mother finished writing out the check and handed it
to Jeanette. “I’ve added a generous bonus in exchange for your confidentiality. Can I trust you not to discuss my daughter’s case with anyone?”
Jeanette’s hazel eyes grew wide when she glanced down at the check. “Yes ma’am.” She folded and pocketed the check. “I’d be happy to treat your daughter for free if I were capable. But I’m not. If you’re concerned about discretion, I can make a few inquiries.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Mother aimed her stick at the door. “I trust you can see yourself out.”
Jeanette cast a concerned glance at me. “You will find her a doctor, won’t you, Mrs. Pringle? Her condition could worsen without the proper care.”
“Of course, Ms. Lane. What kind of mother do you think I am?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ellie
Julian took Ellie for an early dinner at Hank’s Seafood, where they shared a bottle of sauvignon blanc and gorged on raw oysters. Returning to his house afterward, he made pumpkin spice lattes, which they took to his cozy den that doubled as his home office. Julian then went to work at his drafting table, and Ellie settled into his leather chair. With Mills stretched out on his back beside the ottoman and Pixie resting her head on his belly, Ellie began to read.
Ninety minutes later, she raised her head to find Julian still bent over his work, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he redesigned some lucky homeowner’s new kitchen. She dared to dream of a happily ever after with him. Countless nights spent like this one. Instead of reading her mother’s journals, she imagined herself working at her easel alongside him at his drafting table, with the dogs snoring softly on the floor in front of a fire and a baby sleeping peacefully in a bassinet in the corner. She brushed her thoughts aside. She couldn’t contemplate her future while her focus remained on the past. Julian had hinted that he might have feelings for her. But he was still pretty banged up over his divorce. Right now, she valued his friendship too much to confuse it with thoughts of anything more.
Julian smiled at her when he caught her staring at him.
“I’m surprised architects draw anything by hand these days,” she said. “Isn’t there computer software that’ll do all the work for you?”
“Most architects don’t draw much at all anymore. I prefer a little of both. When I start a new project, I like to create a few sketches of the elevation as I see it in my mind. Putting pencil to paper beforehand makes the work go quicker when I move to the computer phase. One day, when I retire from being an architect, I’ll take up painting with you.”
Ellie’s ears perked up at the mention of one day. He was talking about their future, and she liked the sound of it. All the more reason for you to figure out your past, Ellie, sooner rather than later.
He set his pencil down and moved closer to her chair. “What’d you learn from the journals?”
“I have a twin sister. Am-e-lia.” She let the name roll off her tongue and then shook her head. “The name doesn’t summon any memories. Not even the one of the little girl I saw my first day here. It has to be her, though. My mother describes Amelia in here”—she placed her hand on the diary—“as having olive skin like my father. My grandmother was not too keen on the idea of having a Jewish granddaughter. Add anti-Semitism to Eleanor Pringle’s growing list of negative character traits.”
“I didn’t realize you were Jewish.”
Ellie heard curiosity in his tone but not distaste. She was an expert at reading signals. Her father had taught her a long time ago that it was best to ignore the bigots.
“My father’s parents were Jewish, but I don’t think he practiced much of the Jewish religion growing up. He married a Christian woman, and I was raised as a Methodist. My mother lied to grandmother. She told her my father wasn’t Jewish.” Ellie got up and walked to the window, staring out into the dark night. “What happened to Amelia? That’s what I want to know. She wasn’t in the house the day my father came to claim me. I wonder if she’s even still alive. What if my grandmother killed her and buried her bones in the backyard?”
Julian laughed before realizing she wasn’t joking. “You’re serious?”
A chill traveled her spine at the realization that she was in fact serious. She wrapped her arms around herself. “The woman was insane, Julian. She refused to let my mother see a cardiologist about her suspected heart condition.”
Julian pursed his lips together. “Whoa. That is seriously sick.”
“She was responsible for her own daughter’s death. So yes! I think she could have harmed my sister.”
He poured two fingers of bourbon from a crystal decanter into two lowball glasses and handed one to her. “Still, even if you look nothing alike, why would your grandmother harm one child and not the other when you both have Jewish blood?”
“Easier for her to forget the crime without the evidence staring her in the face.”
His jaw went slack. “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You’re saying your grandmother murdered your twin sister because she was Jewish but kept you because you didn’t look the part?”
Ellie’s shaky hands cupped her glass as she sipped her bourbon. “It sounds far-fetched when you say it. I don’t know, Julian. I have more questions than answers right now. I’m the spitting image of my mother, and maybe deep down my grandmother loved her, although she had a funny way of showing it. At least I know my mother loved my father. I’ve wondered about that a lot over the years. She talks repeatedly about her love for him in her diaries.”
He moved closer to her, the warmth of this body comforting hers. “Are you ready to call him?”
“Not until I’ve finished reading all the journals. And had a chance to talk to Maddie.”
Ellie, feeling safe in Julian’s guest bedroom, hadn’t planned to read anymore that night, but her unanswered questions nagged at her, keeping her awake. She read until nearly three o’clock in the morning—two journals that covered the time frame between the birth of her and her twin sister to their third birthday. Her mother’s words weighed heavily on her heart. Nothing she learned was earth-shattering, but the combination of events proved that her grandmother had been mentally ill. Taking care of two babies can be exhausting for a healthy woman, but her mother, in her weakened state, barely managed to keep up. She was too proud to ask for help. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway. She’d once overheard Maddie offering to take care of the twins. “Miss Ashton looks so tired, Miss Pringle. I’m finished with my other work. Why don’t I sit with the babies awhile and give her a break?”
“If I wanted a nanny for those children, I would hire a nanny for those children,” Eleanor had responded in a stern voice. “If you’re finished with your other work, you can clean out the fireplace in the library.”
Ellie heard the sadness and fear in her mother’s words when she talked about Abraham’s sudden death from a heart attack. He seemed so healthy, so vibrant, but he died in his sleep one night with no warning signs. Is that how it will be for me?
By night, Ashton dreamed of escaping, but her brutal reality returned by the light of day. Her heart was growing weaker, her will to live along with it. She had dedicated page after page of her journals to her musings. One day she seemed optimistic about her health, and the next she fretted over her daughters’ futures. She wrote about the new life she wanted to create for her small family in places like Atlanta or Raleigh or Richmond. A week later, in her next entry, realizing she lacked the resources to start that new life, she weighed the pros and cons of putting her daughters up for adoption. She worried about how they would learn if they didn’t go to school. And how they would get well without antibiotics when they fell ill. She worried about how they would adapt to the real world once they were freed. She knew her mother wouldn’t live forever, but neither would she. Based on how puny she felt, she would be the first to go. She kept her strength up as best she could by climbing the stairs and doing floor exercises in her room. But the time would eventually come when she could no longer take care of the
girls. Wouldn’t they be better off living separate lives with good families than staying together in hell?
Once, in a moment of desperation, she mentioned getting in touch with Abbott. The girls would be better off with their father, even if they had a stepmother, than they would be stuck here with Mother after I die. Several days later, she wrote about seeing Abbott’s photograph in several of the tabloid magazines Maddie had smuggled into the house for her. Abbott’s too busy partying it up with all the movie stars to take care of two little girls.
Ellie found her mother’s revelations difficult. When she finally fell asleep near the end of the second journal, she dreamed of two little girls being held prisoner by an evil witch, dressed all in black, who poked at them with her jogging stick.
In spite of her disturbing dream, she woke feeling energized.
After stripping the linens from her bed, she smoothed her hair into a ponytail, changed into the khaki shorts and black cotton blouse she’d brought with her, and went downstairs to find Julian. He was in the kitchen folding blueberries into pancake batter. What’s not to like about a sexy man who enjoyed cooking, offered a muscular shoulder to cry on, and made her feel better about herself than she’d felt in years?
He inclined his head toward the small dog bowl on the counter. “I crunched some of Mills’s kibble into Pip-squeak-size pieces. I wasn’t sure how much to give her.”
“She’ll stop eating when she gets full.” She placed the bowl on the floor in front of Pixie. “Do you pamper all your houseguests like this?”
“Only the ones with four legs.” He studied her face as he handed her a mug of coffee. “You look tired. You were up late reading, weren’t you? Even though you promised me you’d try to get some sleep.”
How was it that he knew her so well when they’d met less than a week ago? Was she that transparent? “Busted,” she said, raising her left hand. “I make no excuses. I can’t help myself. I have to find out what happened to my sister. To Lia.” A look of amazement crossed her face as the light bulb went off in her head. “I didn’t call my sister Amelia. I called her Lia. That’s why her name sounded so unfamiliar to me.”
Magnolia Nights Page 12
