Tarnished Gold l-5

by V. C. Andrews

  This close to the floor, I could hear the commotion below: footsteps followed by shouts and exclamations, Octavious's voice, the voices of servants, guests, and then Gladys Tate's moans. With her bedroom right below, I was able to hear her screams. I heard her scream, "Blood! Contractions!"

  My own contraction subsided again. I struggled to sit up and then I crawled and pulled myself back to the bed. During my moments of relief, I prayed for Mama's imminent arrival and I asked God to forgive me for any sin I might have committed.

  "Don't punish the baby," I pleaded.

  When my next contraction came, I muffled my cries by putting my closed fist in my mouth and biting down on my own knuckles and fingers. I couldn't let the people below hear me, not that they would have with all the noise Gladys Tate was making. It was strangely like an echo of my own inner screams and shouts of agony. It was as if my pain did travel through the floor and ceiling below until it settled in her so she could sense when to cry out and when to be silent.

  I never found out how Henry located Mama, but he did so. To me it seemed like hours and hours before she came, but later I realized it had been less than an hour. I heard her voice below first and then I heard doors slam and the landing grow very quiet. Soon after, the door below was opened and Mama came bounding up the stairs. I was never so happy to see her face.

  I told her what had been happening. She examined me and looked at the bloodstained sheets.

  "What's it all mean, Mama?"

  "The baby's been stirring a lot. He wants to be born sooner, honey.”

  "Is it going to happen right now?"

  "It's hard to say exactly when, but maybe very soon," she replied. "Maybe very soon."

  She sat back and held my hand.

  "I think I passed out from one of the contractions, Mama. I can't remember how long ago the last one occurred."

  She nodded -aid looked around, seeing the crushed dollhouse. "You fell on that?"

  "Yes, Mama."

  "You can't be alone anymore, honey, and I don't want you up here any longer. That woman wants you in her bedroom, now anyway," she added with a smirk. "I don't know what she did to herself, but she had blood on her thigh when I was brought up to see her

  "Who was that boy you sent?"

  "His name's Henry. He works here. I didn't want Gladys Tate to find out that he knows I'm here, but I was desperate, Mama."

  "Let's not worry about what she thinks anymore, honey. I want to bring you downstairs where you'll be more comfortable and things will be easier."

  I saw in her eyes that she was more worried than she wanted me to believe.

  "Will the baby die, Mama?"

  "Babies can be born early and be strong, honey."

  "But it's usually the other way, isn't it? It's my fault," I moaned. "I wanted to be out of here so much, I forced the baby to hurry."

  "Nonsense," she said.

  "It doesn't deserve this. It's not the baby's fault. It didn't ask to be born this way," I wailed.

  "Gabrielle, stop this right now," Mama commanded. Her face was firm, her eyes blazing with authority. "If you're going to lie there and worry about everything, you'll make it harder and more dangerous for both you and the baby, honey. Trust in God now. It will be what He wants, and we will do what we can. This is not the time to be weak."

  I swallowed back my tears and nodded.

  "I'm sorry, Mama."

  "Okay, honey."

  "Where's Daddy?"

  "Your father is downstairs with Octavious Tate. He jumped for joy when he heard you might be giving birth."

  "Why?"

  "Another opportunity to ask for more money. He's been sitting on this like a fat hen on a fat egg, just waiting for the chance to put the squeeze on the man. I don't know who to dislike more for it, your father for his greed or Octavious Tate for what he's done to you. The man deserves to have your father on his back, but your father ain't doing this to get justice for you. I'm sure he's gambled away most of what he took from the Tates and got himself into new debt."

  "It just gets worse and worse, Mama. Maybe it was all my fault."

  "Nonsense, and don't you even think it," she snapped. "Oui, it's hard, but like any storm, it will come to an end and the sun will shine again for you, Gabrielle." She wiped away the strands of hair dampened with my sweat. "Can you stand or should I go get those scoundrels to help carry you down?"

  "Let me try first," I said.

  "Good girl."

  She helped me to my feet.

  "Suddenly my stomach feels ten pounds heavier, Mama, and my legs feel like two sticks of lard."

  Mama laughed. I breathed easier. With her at my side now, I wasn't afraid.

  Of course, I was still like someone poling in the canal for the first time. I was excited and anxious to do well, but I didn't know what was around the next bend.

  8

  Mine for a Moment

  In anticipation of my arrival, Gladys Tate had Octavious move a second bed into her room and place it beside her bed. Mama said she heard Gladys tell Octavious to tell the servants it was for Mama because she would have to be at Gladys Tate's side continually now. Neither Mama nor I understood why Gladys didn't just move to another room for the time being or put me into one of the guest rooms, but the bed had been prepared and was waiting. After I entered the room, the door was kept locked and only Octavious and Mama were to be permitted into the room. Gladys insisted the curtains be kept closed, and of course, she ordered us to keep our voices down.

  Gladys was impressed with how difficult it was for me to come down the stairs to her room and the effort it took to get me comfortably situated in the bed.

  "How soon could it be?" she asked Mama, and Mama told her it could be hours or could be days.

  "There's a strong possibility it's false labor and it'll take the remaining weeks it was meant to take. We'll have to wait and see," Mama said.

  Nevertheless, Gladys told Octavious to go out and forbid the servants to come up the stairs.

  "In fact," she decided after a moment's thought, "discharge them, all of them, immediately;"

  "Discharge them?"

  "Give them all a week's holiday," she insisted.

  "But what am I to say is the reason?"

  "You don't have to give them a reason, Octavious," she replied haughtily. "They work for us. We give the orders. Just do it," she snapped, and waved her hand at him as if he were one of her servants, too. If there were any doubts as to which of them ran the house and their lives,, those doubts. died.

  "But . . ." Octavious looked to Mama.

  "I told you the bleeding doesn't always, mean the birthing's coming shortly," Mama explained. "A week, two weeks, who knows?"

  "I don't care," she told Mama, and turned back to, Octavious. "Just have everyone out of the house. I don't want anyone to suspect anything. I've come all this way convincing people it is I who is giving birth. I don't want to risk any mistakes, any accidental discoveries," Gladys insisted.

  "Which reminds me," she said, turning her steely eyes to me. "How did your mother know to come? How did you send for her?" she demanded. "And don't tell me you told some bird to go fetch her."

  Fearful, I looked at Mama. Would Gladys Tate cast us out now, and with us all the effort, the suffering and loneliness, I endured for the sake of the baby and my family?

  "Better tell her everything, honey," Mama said.

  "There was this boy," I began.

  "Boy? What boy?" she pounced, her eyes widening.

  "I saw him doing handstands on the lawn behind the house, and he saw me in the window. But he won't tell anyone I'm here. He promised," I added quickly.

  "What boy is this?" she asked Octavious. "Whom is she babbling about?" He shrugged.

  "What's his name?" she asked me.

  "Henry," I said.

  "The deaf-mute," Octavious said, realizing. "Porter's son."

  "Get rid of them," Gladys snapped. "Today. I want the whole family off the property."<
br />
  "But, Madame Tate," I cried. "He's harmless. He won't tell anyone anything, and he did help by getting Mama. Don't punish his family because of me."

  "I want them off my property before the sun goes down, Octavious. Do you understand?" she said, ignoring my pleas. He nodded.

  "Don't worry. I'll take care of them," he assured her, but she didn't look calmed.

  "You were not supposed to let anyone know you were here," she flared at me, looking red and very angry. "That was our bargain. Why do you think I've been going through all this discomfort and pain?"

  "Pain? What pain?" Mama asked.

  "Pain! Pain! I'm supposed to be the one giving birth. I can't be without aches and pains, can I? When you pretend as well and as accurately as I have pretended, you actually feel it. No one knows how much I've endured," she cried, her face in an ugly grimace. "I'm the one who's making all the sacrifices here just to make everything look right." She put her hands through her hair, looking as though she might tug out strands of it, and turned on Octavious, who stood by, watching with fear and amazement on his face, too. "Why are you still here? Get rid of them! Now! All of this is your fault. All of it!"

  "All right, all right," he said, holding up his hands. "Calm down. I'll do it."

  He ran from the room. I turned away so no one would see my tear-filled eyes. I shouldn't have looked out that window and I shouldn't have laughed and shown myself to Henry. Because of me, Henry and his family would be thrown out and have to go searching for a new place to live and work.

  It seemed like anything and everything I did now would hurt someone. Was it because I had been touched by evil, deeply stained in my very soul? Perhaps no act, no matter how unselfish, could cleanse me of the pollution. Maybe I was better off staying away from the people I loved, I thought sadly. Look at what I had done to this innocent, handicapped boy. If I hadn't panicked, if I had waited for Gladys Tate instead of sending Henry for Mama, Henry's family wouldn't be destitute. I deserve to be miserable, I thought. Somehow, I make everyone else more miserable.

  Mama saw the regret and guilt in my face and knew I was suffering remorse. "If she said the boy wouldn't tell anyone, he won't," she told Gladys. "Becoming hysterical over everything isn't going to help the situation right now."

  "I am not hysterical," Gladys insisted in a raspy whisper, but her eyes still looked like two hot coals.

  Mania shook her head. "I don't want Gabrielle upset at this juncture. I want her to have a clear mind and concentrate. If indeed the baby's coming, we ain't out of the woods. Not by a long shot," she said, and for the first time, Gladys considered the baby's well-being rather than her own.

  "Something can happen to my baby?" she asked anxiously.

  "A baby crosses from one world into another. Nature pushes him out of the safe, happy one and into this turmoil. The road's always fraught with some danger. We don't need to add any of our own to it."

  Suddenly Gladys Tate's eyes became two slits. The blood rushed to the surface of her cheeks and her shoulders lifted. She looked from Mama to me and then to Mama again, shaking her head very slowly as she took a step back. Then her smile came crooked and mean, her cold brown eyes shooting devilish electric sparks.

  "You want the baby to die, don't you?" she said, nodding to validate her own suspicions. "Sure. You made this happen too soon with one of your secret herbal concoctions. You backward Cajun faith healers believe in all sorts of superstitions. You probably think the baby will curse you or something. Isn't that true? The baby's death would solve the problem for you, wouldn't it?"

  "What? Of course not," Mama said. "What a terrible and ridiculous thing to say. If anyone is thinking like a backwards Cajun, it's you!" Mama retorted.

  But Gladys continued to nod, convinced of her own suspicions. "I heard stories about traiteur ladies killing babies because they thought the babies were born with evil souls. When they wash them off,, they deliberately drown them or they suffocate them when no one's looking."

  "Those are stupid lies. No traiteur would take a life. We are here to ease pain and suffering and drive away bad things?'

  You said it There. You said it," she accused, pointing her right forefinger at Mama. "Drive away bad things. If you think a baby's bad . . ."

  "A baby can't be bad," Mama insisted. "The baby can't be blamed for its own birth," she explained, "especially if the mother was raped," she added pointedly, but Gladys didn't look convinced.

  "I'll be right here, every minute," she said, "watching your every move."

  "Fine," Mama said. "You do that."

  Gladys folded her arms across her chest and dropped herself into the pink cushion chair across from me.

  "You can make yourself useful if you're going to stay here all the time," Mama told her. "Get me a basin of warm water and some clean washcloths. I want to bathe Gabrielle."

  Gladys Tate stared at us as if she hadn't heard a word. In fact, it was more like she was looking through us. Her eyes had turned glassy and she didn't move a muscle. There was just a slight twitch under her right eye. Mama studied her for a moment and then looked at me and lifted her eyebrows. She patted my hand and went to the bathroom. herself to get what she wanted. I threw a glance at Gladys and saw she hadn't moved, hadn't shifted her eyes. They looked like they had turned to glass. It added chills to my already tense and shuddering body.

  Mama washed me down and made me as comfortable as she could. All the while Gladys glared silently at us. She didn't change expression or move until Octavious returned. When he did, she spun on him as he approached.

  "Well?" she said.

  "They're all packed and gone. I gave them an extra week's wages so they wouldn't complain." He turned to Mama. "Your husband said to tell you he had to go," Octavious said.

  "To play bourre for sure," she whispered to me. "The new money's burning a hole in his pocket. Couldn't even wait to see how you were," she added, choking back her anger. "Probably better he's not here anyway. He'd only drive us all mad," she added, more to calm herself than me.

  I nodded, smiling. A small pain had begun in my groin and traveled into my stomach and around to my back, but I didn't say anything about it because it wasn't as bad as the early ones were yet.

  "Well," Octavious said, looking from Gladys to Mama, "maybe I should bring something up for you to eat and drink. This may take a while, eh?"

  "Bring some ice tea," Gladys ordered, "and make sure the front door is locked. Draw all the curtains closed, too. And don't answer any phone calls or make any."

  Octavious closed his eyes as if he had a terrible headache and then opened them and turned to Mama.

  "What can I get you?" he asked.

  "Just cold water," Mama told him. She had brought along what she wanted for herself and for me.

  He nodded and left, and soon after, the pain began to build.

  "Mama," I said, "it's starting again."

  "Okay, honey. Just squeeze my hand when you hurt. I want to know how bad it really is."

  She pulled Grandmère Landry's silver pocket watch out of her bag and put it beside me on the bed.

  "What's that?" Gladys demanded, looking over Mama's shoulder.

  "Just a watch to tell me how long her contractions last and how much time between them. That's how I know how close we are to the birth."

  "Oh," Gladys said, and placed her palms over her fake stomach. "It tightens, doesn't it? It gets as tight and as hard as a rock."

  Mama just looked at her, nonplussed, which caused something in Gladys Tate's eyes to snap. A crimson tint came into the crests of her cheeks.

  "I've got to know every detail, don't I? People ask questions. I want to be able to describe the birth as if I really did have the baby."

  "Yes, it gets hard," Mama said. "In the beginning for a very short time and then longer and longer as you get closer to delivering the baby."

  "Yes," Gladys said, and grimaced as if she really did suffer a contraction.

  Mama sighed and turned back
to me with a small smile on her lips. She rolled her eyes. I wanted to smile back, but the pain grew longer and more severe.

  "Take deep breaths," Mama advised.

  "Is it coming? Is it coming?" Gladys asked, excitedly.

  "Not yet, no," Mama said. "I told you. I'm not sure this is real labor yet, and besides, babies don't come busting into this world that fast, especially when a woman's giving birth for the first time."

  "Yes," Gladys said, more to herself than to us. "My first time."

  She waddled over to her own bed and sat down, her hands on her padded stomach. She closed her eyes and bit down on her lower lip. Mama wiped my face with a cold washcloth. I forced a smile and gazed at Gladys, who looked like she was breaking into a sweat herself. Watching her actions, her silent moans, her deep breaths, distracted me from my own. pain for the moment. Mama just shrugged and shook her head.

  Mama said the contractions were a good five minutes apart and didn't last long enough to be that significant yet, but it went on for hours. All the while Gladys Tate lay in her bed beside mine. She ate nothing, drank a little ice tea, but for the most part, just watched me and mimicked my every action, my every groan.

  As the sun began to go down and the room darkened, my labor pains grew longer and with shorter and shorter intervals. I saw from Mama's face that she thought something significant was happening now.

  "I'm going to give birth soon, aren't 1, Mama?"

  She nodded. "I believe so, honey."

  "But it's too soon, isn't it, Mama? I'm barely eight months."

  She nodded, but made no comment. Worry and concern were etched in the ripples along her forehead and the darkness that entered her eyes. My heart pounded. In fact, it had been beating so hard and so fast for so long, I was worried it would just give out. These thoughts brought more cold sweats. I squeezed Mama's hand harder and she tried to keep me calm. She gave me tablespoons of one of her herbal medicines that kept me from getting nauseous. Gladys Tate insisted on knowing what it was, and when Mama explained it, Gladys insisted she be given some.