“At least you know he’ll never starve. He’s too clever for that.”
“Too clever for his own good.”
“Sometimes I wish Antoine were. He’s so damn impractical he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag. All he thinks about are principles and ideals, and intellectual mumbo jumbo most of the time.” Sabrina smiled tenderly. André wasn’t too far off, but Antoine was such a decent boy. He was intelligent, but somehow above the practical side of life. He would have rather read philosophy than eat, would rather pursue some vague, abstract idea than conquer a technical one. He was a dreamer in a way, and yet a brilliant one.
“He’s a lovely man, André. You should be proud of him.”
“You know I am.” He helped her into the cab and then smiled at her and glanced at the small protruberance as she sat down. “And how’s our little friend?” She had felt it move for the first time a few weeks before, and now it seemed to be moving a lot, he could feel it too and it delighted him. “Jumping up and down?”
“She’s going to be a ballerina, I think. She jumps around a lot.” More than Jonathan had or the baby she had lost.
“Or a soccer player.” André smiled. And that afternoon they went to visit their old friend, and she was delighted for them. She thought it nonsense that they were sensitive about their age.
“If I could, I’d have one now!” She was exactly ninety years old and Sabrina thought she looked terribly frail. “Enjoy every moment of it … it is the greatest gift of all. The gift of life.” And as they looked at her, they knew it was true. She had lived ninety full, wonderful, rich, giving years. She was an example to everyone … in sharp contrast to Camille. Sabrina talked to Amelia about her for a while, and then finally they left when Amelia’s nurse came in. It was time for her nap, and they both noticed that she looked tired. She kissed them both good-bye, and as she did, she looked deep into Sabrina’s eyes. “You’re just like your father was, Sabrina. He was a fine man. And you’re a fine woman. There’s none of her in you.” But there was in Jon. Sabrina knew it to her very soul, and she regretted it bitterly. But she said nothing now. “Be grateful for this child.” She smiled tenderly at them both. “And may she bring you great joy.” And then she laughed. “I think it will be a girl.” She put a hand on Sabrina’s tummy, and then kissed them again.
The next day they took the train home again, and Sabrina settled in to Napa for the summer, and in August their new house was ready and they moved in and the following month, they moved into the city, so that Sabrina could be close to the hospital, and they called Jon when he got home. He had had a marvelous time, and he mentioned Arden Blake once or twice. He had already started his new job, and it seemed to be mostly play, thanks to Mr. Blake. Sabrina had indeed sent him an enormous check with her thanks, to cover Jon’s trip, and it had gone back and forth once or twice, and he had finally accepted it. He had told her that he was very fond of Jon, as were they all, and Jon seemed to like them too.
“I’m going to Palm Beach with them for the holidays,” he crowed, and Sabrina was disappointed.
“I thought you’d come home then. The baby will have arrived.…”
But he had no interest in that. “I won’t have time. I only have two weeks. I’ll come out next summer probably. The Blakes are renting a house in Malibu, and I’ll probably stay with them for a while.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“No more than Bill does. I get the same vacations he takes, that was the deal.”
“Sounds awfully cushy to me.”
“Why not? I work as hard as he does.”
“I’d say he has an inside track, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe I do too.” Jon sounded very confident. “Arden is crazy about me, and Mr. Blake thinks I’m tops.”
“Sounds like you found yourself a lucky job.” And of course he had. And when she attempted to discuss the sneaky way he had arranged the trip to Europe for himself, he brushed her off.
“You didn’t have to pay for it, Mr. Blake said he would.”
“I couldn’t let him do that. And you shouldn’t have either, Jon.”
“Oh Christ, if you’re going to give me a speech on morality, Mother, I think I have to hang up.”
“Maybe it’s something you should think about, Jon. Particularly in regard to Arden Blake. Don’t use that girl, son. She’s a sweet person and a very innocent child.”
“She’s eighteen years old for chrissake.…”
“You know exactly what I mean.” He did, but he wouldn’t admit it to her.
“Never mind. I’m not going to rape anyone.”
“There’s more than one way to do that.”
She worried about him a lot, although he seemed happy in New York, from the cards they got from time to time, and as October wore on, Sabrina lost interest in everything but herself, as the baby got big and she got increasingly uncomfortable. She could barely walk up the stairs of Thurston House as her due date approached, and when the big day arrived and the baby didn’t move down, she and André began to take long walks.
“She must like it in there,” Sabrina sighed, “I feel like she’s never going to come out.” She looked at André woefully as he laughed. She could barely walk now. And she had to sit down every few steps. She felt a hundred years old and as though she weighed three hundred pounds, she claimed, but she was in good spirits too.
“What are you going to do if it’s a boy? You keep calling the poor thing ‘she.’ ”
“He’ll have to get used to it, poor thing.” But three days after the baby was due, she woke André out of a sound sleep at four o’clock with a broad smile on her face. “This is it, my love.”
“How do you know?” He was still half asleep, and hoping for a reprieve until the next day. Or morning at least.
“Trust me, I know.”
“Okay.” He wrestled himself out of bed, and woke up with a start as he saw her double over suddenly. He leapt out of bed and held her in his arms, and then led her gently to a chair, as she looked at him with a slightly panicky look in her eyes.
“I think I may have waited too long.…” She was panting a little bit and she looked more than a little uncomfortable “… but I didn’t want to wake you up … and I wasn’t sure at first … ohh …” She grabbed his arm, and he felt suddenly terrified.
“Oh my God … did you call the doctor yet?”
“No … you’d better … oh André … oh my God … call …”
“What’s happening?” He led her back to the bed with a panicked look and grabbed for the phone. “What do I say to him?”
She gave a moan and fell back on the bed. “Tell him I feel the head.…” She lay there panting as he dialed, and gave a small shriek suddenly. He had never been through anything like this before. He had waited politely in the hospital lobby for several hours when Antoine was born, and he had never seen his wife in labor at all.
The doctor answered the phone and André told him what Sabrina had said, and he asked André hurriedly, “Does she feel like bearing down?” He tried to ask her, but she wouldn’t listen to him, she was grabbing his sleeve and her face was contorted with pain. It had gone so rapidly he couldn’t understand anything.
“Sabrina, listen to me … he wants to know … Sabrina … please …”
The doctor was listening to her at his end, and he shouted into the phone at André. “Call the police. I’ll be right there.”
“The police?” André looked horrified, but he had no time to think of anything or call anyone. Sabrina was literally crawling across the bed, and sobbing now.
“Oh God … oh André … please …”
“What can I do?”
“Help me … please …”
“Darling …” There were tears in his eyes and he had never been so desperate in his life. It had been easier wrestling her from the abortionist’s hand at gunpoint seven months before. That had required only a little bit of sangfroid and some bravery. This required skills h
e knew nothing about, but as she turned to him now and looked at him helplessly, writhing in pain, he suddenly forgot all that he didn’t know, and instinctively reached out to her and held her hands, speaking to her soothingly. He knew now that he would never get her to the hospital. She had woken him too late, and it had all moved too swiftly ahead. She had pulled her clothes off, and lay there covered only by a sheet, just as she had lain there once before, so long ago, and there was something familiar to it now. It was as though she had forgotten all of it, and now she remembered it perfectly, like a distant dream. She looked at André and for the first time in an hour she almost smiled at him. Her face was damp, her eyes were dark, and she suddenly pushed with all her might as he held her shoulders for her, and when she stopped she looked up at him and smiled this time.
“I told you … I wanted … the baby … born … in this house …” And as she said the words, she pushed again, and he held her in his arms again, holding her from behind where she lay, so that he had the same perspective as she and he was not quite sure what was going on. There was nothing to see, and all he could feel was the tremendous straining of her entire body as she pushed, and then slowly she began to scream, a low deep ancient agony, as his whole body tensed and she almost sat up this time. “Oh André … oh God … oh no … André …” It seemed an endless sound as he cooed meaninglessly to her, holding her in his arms, tears running down his face, and this time she gave a sharp cry, and then another one, and she fell back against him each time as the pain began to ebb and then she would tense again, and suddenly he sensed a quickening of the pace. He knew … he knew … it was as though he felt just what she did and he talked to her.
“Go on … go on … go on, darling … yes, you can …”
“I can’t!…” She was screaming in pain and he wanted to tear the baby from her to end her pain.
“You can!”
“Oh God … oh no … André …” She tore the sheet back as she writhed, gripping him, gripping the bed, pushing until she could not breathe or move or cry, and as he watched, a round head pushed its way out and he screamed with her.
“Oh my God … Sabrina!” He could not believe what he saw, the face was turned up toward them, and as though he had always known what to do, he went to the other end of the bed, and held the tiny head as she pushed again, and the shoulders pushed free this time as the baby began to cry for the first time, and he helped it gently out from its mother’s womb as he cried with her. She was crying and laughing now, and he urged her on again, and a moment later, the brand-new child lay in his hands as he looked miraculously at his wife, and held the baby up to her. “It’s a girl!” He was crying unashamedly and he had never seen anything as beautiful as the baby he held or the woman he loved. He went to Sabrina’s head again as she lay back now, and he held her shoulders as she began to shake, covered her with the sheet again, and placed their baby in her arms. “Oh, she’s so beautiful … and so are you …”
“I love you so much …” The cord still throbbed between the two, and Sabrina looked as though she had climbed Everest. She looked up at him with newborn love, and he kissed first the mother and then the child.
“You’re incredible.” It was an experience they would never forget, and as he looked at her he knew that he would never love her more than he did now. She was the loveliest sight he had ever seen, with their baby in her arms.
And then slowly, she smiled at him, still shaking, but looking so pleased. “That wasn’t so bad for an old girl, was it, André?” He was totally in love with her, and with their child. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and when the doctor arrived with an ambulance ten minutes after the baby was born, André opened the door with an enormous grin.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” He looked so happy and so proud that they knew they had come too late. And the doctor flew up the stairs to find Sabrina happily nursing her child.
“It’s a girl!” she announced to him with delight, and both father and doctor laughed, and then the doctor closed the door, looked at them both, cut the cord, and made sure that Sabrina was indeed all right, and he looked at her with astonishment.
“I must say, I didn’t expect this from you, my dear.”
“Neither did I.” She laughed at them both, and reached for Andre’s hand, and looking at him with gratitude in her eyes, said, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
He was amazed at the undeserved praise from her. “I didn’t do anything but watch. You did it all.”
Sabrina looked down at the baby lying peacefully asleep at her side. “She did it all herself.” What a miracle she was, lying there.
The doctor looked at her again. He was satisfied, and the baby was doing fine. A good seven and a half pounds from the look of her, maybe more, but mother and child were fine. “I really ought to take you to the hospital and let you rest there”—but there was no reason to disturb either of them, it had been a perfectly normal birth—“what do you think?”
Sabrina did not look pleased. “I’d rather stay here.”
“I thought you would.” The doctor did not look surprised. “Well …” He looked at them both so peaceful there. “I’ll tell you what.” Sabrina beamed at him. “I’ll let you stay at home, but if there are any problems at all, any fever, any discomfort you think is unusual,” he turned to André, “then call me at once.” He wagged a finger at Sabrina then, “And don’t wait until it’s too late this time!” She grinned at them both.
“I thought I could wait awhile. I hated waking everyone in the middle of the night.” And both men looked at her and laughed. She had anyway, and far more dramatically. It was only five fifteen right then, and it was still dark. And Dominique Amélie de Vernay had made her entrance into the world. “Dominique” had been difficult to find, but they had long since agreed on the middle name.
When the doctor left, with the ambulance, André brought her a cup of tea, and the maid who had been waiting patiently for the baby’s birth came upstairs to wash her and return her to Sabrina as soon as possible. The bed was changed, Sabrina was bathed, and as she lay in her bed again, sipping tea, with Dominique at her breast, André looked at her unbelievingly, as the sky paled and the sun came up, and suddenly he laughed. “Well, what shall we do today, my love?” They looked at each other and laughed and laughed. How long they had waited and how swiftly it had come, and as Sabrina drifted off to sleep in their bed, she remembered back to the hideous place she had gone to in Chinatown … and she still saw André speaking quietly to the man with the gun … and how they had fled downstairs … and suddenly here she was with a tiny baby girl asleep beside her, and her husband at her side.
They called Antoine when Sabrina woke up again. He had been just about to leave for the fields, and he answered the phone distractedly. André came right to the point. “It’s a girl!”
“Already?” Antoine was thrilled. “My God, how wonderful!”
“Her name is Dominique, and she’s very beautiful, and she is two hours and,” he checked his watch, “fourteen minutes old.” He beamed and Antoine was incoherent with delight.
“Oh my God … Papa … c’est formidable!… How’s Sabrina?… is she in the hospital?”
Andre laughed at his oldest child. “The answers to that are yes, and fine, and no. Yes, it is formidable, she’s fine, and no she isn’t in the hospital. The baby was born at home.” Sabrina beamed at him as he explained. She would never forget how he had held her up, that he had been with her. It meant everything to her to have shared that with him.
“What?” Antoine was stunned. “At home? But I thought …”
“So did I. But your mother pulled a fast one on me. She didn’t want to disturb my sleep, so she woke me too late. And … voilà, Mademoiselle Dominique arrived about twenty minutes after I woke up. And the doctor arrived here ten minutes after that.”
“That’s incredible!”
André sounded as though he were still in a dream, and his eyes were damp again
. “Yes, mon fils, it is incredible. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He wished that for Antoine one day; a woman he loved as much as André did his wife, and the birth of a much loved child, shared with his wife if possible. He was glad that he had been there with her after all, now that everything was all right. It had been at the same time much more difficult and much easier than he realized. It was much harder work than he had ever known before, more painful, more frightening, more beautiful, and in effect Dominique had delivered herself. But he realized that Sabrina was one of the lucky ones. When Antoine had been born, his mother had been in labor for more than two days.
“You do that awfully well, you know,” André teased her that afternoon as they lay in bed side by side. She was eating lunch, and Dominique was sound asleep in the bassinet that had been Jon’s, draped with white organdy and new white satin ribbons now. “Maybe we ought to do that again sometime.” He was teasing her and she looked at him in astonishment.
“Now just a minute here … it wasn’t as easy as all that.…” She was terribly sore understandably, but none of the danger signs the doctor had warned them of had happened to her. “I don’t think I want to do that again.” And they both knew that it was unlikely she would have the chance at her age, but it was a gift they were both grateful for.
They were both disappointed that Jon was out to lunch when she called him. She left a message with the secretary he shared with young Bill Blake, and he called her back later that afternoon, sounding a little drunk and not very interested in why she called at first, and then when he heard the news, there was dead silence at his end and she thought they’d been cut off.
“Jon?… Jon?… Jon?… Jon … oh damn … André, I think …” And then he came alive again.
“I can’t believe you really went through with it.” He hadn’t seen her since four months before. “Somehow I thought you’d come to your senses before it was too late. Mom, I guess it looks like you’re stuck with it.” He laughed tipsily and Sabrina was annoyed at him.
Thurston House Page 46
