The Unforgiven

by Irina Shapiro

  “Yes, Seth told me. Don’t worry about him. He’s a big boy. It’s your big day and you should do whatever you’re comfortable with,” Kathy advised. “To be honest, if I had to do it all over again, I would talk Seth into running off to the Caribbean and getting married on some beautiful beach. Big weddings are overrated.”

  “So you would still have married Seth?” Quinn asked, smiling at Kathy.

  Kathy laughed, as though realizing what she’d said. “You know, I would. But I would have done things differently, and I’m sure so would he. We were happy for a long time, until we weren’t. I wouldn’t have been so selfish about having more kids. Seth begged me to have another baby, but I refused. My career came first, and I paid the price with my marriage. But hindsight is twenty-twenty, as they say.”

  “So I hear,” Quinn agreed, making a mental note never to start taking Gabe for granted or ignoring his needs. If he wanted to have more children, she’d never deny him, unless he planned to have enough kids to start his own football team.

  **

  “I’m coming with you,” Seth announced once they disembarked the Natchez and Kathy informed him she was taking Quinn to see her friend.

  “There’s really no need, Seth. We’ll be just fine, and I’ll see Quinn back to her hotel,” Kathy said.

  “But I’m worried,” Seth persisted.

  “And I will text you as soon as I know anything,” Kathy replied firmly. “Now, take Brett home. He doesn’t have a ride. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Seth looked like a dejected puppy, but didn’t argue. He kissed Quinn’s cheek and went in search of Brett, who was chatting up some girls who’d been on the cruise with their parents. Kathy got her car and drove Quinn the short distance to the medical center.

  “Page Dr. Glahn, please,” Kathy told the woman at reception.

  A few minutes later, a slight woman with a pixie cut and fashionable specs came down to reception. She smiled at Quinn and held out her hand. “Annette Glahn. It’s a pleasure to meet you. How was the party?” she asked conversationally as they got into the elevator.

  “Oh, you know, typical Seth,” Kathy replied with a chuckle. “Always throwing money around and showing up his friends. He did seem genuinely happy though. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time. Quinn has brought out his emotional side, something Brett was never able to do.”

  “The father/daughter dynamic is always different,” Dr. Glahn replied. “Men want sons, but dote on daughters. My dad was hard on my brothers, but I could do no wrong in his eyes,” she added with an impish grin. “I’m in my forties, but I’m still his baby girl. How is it for you, Quinn, meeting your father at this stage of your life?” the doctor asked as she led them to a vacant examining room.

  “It’s a bit strange, but I’m glad to have the chance to get to know my father after all these years.”

  Dr. Glahn patted the examination table, inviting Quinn to sit. She chatted amiably while she took Quinn’s blood pressure, listened to her heart and lungs, and palpated her stomach.

  “Fill this for me please,” she said, handing Quinn a plastic cup. “I need to check for protein in your urine.”

  Quinn did as she was told and returned to the room. She hadn’t noticed any signs of alarm in the doctor, and began to relax. Maybe she was just being a worrywart.

  “Have you had a sonogram recently?” the doctor asked.

  “I had a scan about a month ago,” Quinn replied. “Everything was fine then,” she added, her apprehension returning.

  “Everything looks fine now as well, but we can do a sonogram just to put your mind at rest. Lift up your dress for me.”

  The doctor squirted some clear gel onto Quinn’s stomach and sat next to her, probe in hand. She turned the screen toward Quinn and began to move the probe around gently on her stomach. Quinn exhaled in relief when she heard the whoosh of the baby’s heartbeat.

  “Aha, there we are!” Dr. Glahn exclaimed when the fetus appeared on the screen.

  Quinn could clearly see the baby. Its legs were bent at the knees and one foot was slightly raised. The baby appeared to be sucking its thumb. “What is it doing?” she asked as she stared at the screen, unable to look away.

  “Just chilling,” the doctor replied with a smile. “Would you like to know the sex?”

  “Yes,” Quinn said, then quickly backtracked. “No. Not without Gabe.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep mum then. The baby looks healthy and is developing normally, so relax, Mommy.”

  Quinn wiped off the gel and pulled down her dress before swinging her legs off the table.

  “Just one thing before you go,” Dr. Glahn said as she turned off the sonogram machine. “Headaches, swollen ankles, and elevated blood pressure can be just that, but they can also be a sign of preeclampsia. The onset is usually later on in the pregnancy, but I think you should mention these symptoms to your doctor at your next checkup. If the headaches persist and the swelling gets worse, don’t wait; see someone immediately.”

  “How high is my blood pressure?” Quinn asked.

  “It’s slightly elevated, but not enough to be of concern. Yet. Stay off the caffeine, lower your sodium intake, and drink more water. It will help with the swelling as well. And it’s all right to take over-the-counter medicine for the headache. You don’t need to suffer.”

  “I’m not familiar with American medicine,” Quinn confessed.

  “Tylenol should be fine. Here, I have some one-dose packets. Keep them in your purse.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Glahn.”

  “Oh, it was my pleasure. I know how anxious first-time moms can be. And it’s especially worrying when you’re in a foreign country and don’t have a doctor you feel comfortable with. When are you returning home?”

  “By the end of next week,” Quinn replied as she slipped on her shoes and reached for her bag. “I’m a bit homesick.”

  “That’s understandable. I hope you’ll visit us again.”

  Quinn nodded. She hadn’t thought of returning to Louisiana, but now that she had family here, it was a definite possibility.

  Dr. Glahn walked Quinn and Kathy to the elevator and bid them goodnight. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a patient in labor,” she said. “She’s getting close.”

  “Feel better?” Kathy asked as the elevator doors closed on Dr. Glahn.

  “Yes. Thank you so much, Kathy. Where do I pay?”

  “You don’t need to pay. Annette saw you as a favor to me. I’m just glad all is well with the little one. Where to?” Kathy asked as they got into the car.

  “To the hotel, please. I’m tired.”

  “Get some rest. You look like you need it. And track down that man of yours and tell him his baby is fine.”

  Chapter 34

  December 1858

  Arabella Plantation, Louisiana

  The Christmas ball was wonderful, filled with music, dancing, and the type of male admiration Madeline had never experienced in her young life. George had warned her ahead of time that he would only partner her once, leaving her free to dance with all the other young men at the party. She waltzed with Gilbert at least three times, and two other young men begged for dance after dance, but had to be rejected after two turns about the floor in favor of other partners. Madeline didn’t enjoy dancing with the older gentlemen, like Mr. Montlake, who claimed her for a polka, but it would have been churlish to refuse, so she put on a smiling face and did her duty to the host. He reeked of brandy and tobacco. Normally, Mr. Montlake chewed his tobacco, but having been forbidden by his wife to indulge in the disgusting habit at the ball, he smoked cigar after cigar as the night wore on.

  George danced with all the ladies, young and old, and paid Madeline exactly the amount of attention appropriate to bestow on a young female cousin. She didn’t mind. He had given her a beautiful cameo locket for Christmas, saying it was also for her birthday, which he’d unwittingly missed.

  He’d chastised her for not telling him and pretend
ed to be angry with her until Madeline kissed away his scowl and got him to smile at her once again. George fastened the locket around her neck and she spent several joyful moments admiring herself in the mirror. The cameo was suspended on a thin gold chain and depicted the profile of a young woman on a shell-pink background.

  “When I saw it, it reminded me of you,” George said, kissing Madeline’s neck and pulling her away from the mirror. “But she doesn’t do you justice. You are much more beautiful.”

  “Why?” she asked. The woman in the cameo had perfect features and flowing hair. How could Madeline be more beautiful than her?

  “Because you are real,” George replied with a casual shrug, as if the answer should have been obvious.

  “I will wear it always,” Madeline promised, kissing his cheek. “May I have a photograph of you to put inside?”

  “Are you sure you should carry a photograph of your cousin so close to your heart?” George joked. “Poor Gilbert might get jealous.”

  “I don’t care about Gilbert.” Madeline pouted. “Why do you keep mentioning him?”

  “Because maybe I’m the one who is jealous.”

  “What reason would you have to be jealous?”

  “I’m jealous because he’s free to marry you, and I’m not,” George replied, his expression growing serious. “You might tire of waiting for me.”

  “Don’t be silly, George. You’re such a fuddy-duddy sometimes,” Madeline said, laughing. “I love you. I will wait for you forever, if that’s what it takes.”

  “Forever is a long time, Maddy, especially when you’re sixteen.”

  When Cissy arrived to help Madeline dress for the ball, she ejected George from the room.

  “You must leave now, Mr. George,” Cissy said sternly, brandishing the hair tongs. “I’ve much to do. Joe has polished your shoes and brushed down your coat. I’ll come by and tie your cravat for you after I’m finished with Miss Madeline.”

  George gave Cissy a thoughtful look. “Perhaps I should have my hair curled. What say you, Madeline?” he asked, flipping his hair and batting his eyelashes.

  Madeline and Cissy both giggled. “Go on with you,” Cissy said, “or I’ll make you look like that fellow in the alcove.”

  The bust in the alcove was of some Roman god whose hair was so curly it looked as if he were wearing his brain outside his skull. George gave the two women a look of mock horror and departed for his dressing room, where he would likely read the paper and smoke a cigar until it was time for him to don his suit. He didn’t require two hours of preparation.

  A joyful smile stretched across Madeline’s face as she slowly woke the next morning. She stretched luxuriously. The sun was already riding high in the sky, but she’d gone to bed just as the first rays of the morning sun lit up the wintery sky, so it was all right to sleep in.

  She thought back to her conversation with George as she reverently touched the locket. Warm from her body, it felt like a living thing rather than a piece of jewelry. She found it endearing that George worried about losing her. She’d wait as long as it took for him to extricate himself from his marriage. He had assured Madeline that Amelia wouldn’t object, so there was nothing to worry about.

  “Planning on getting up today, Miss Madeline?” Cissy asked as she swept into the room. “’Tis past noon, and Mrs. Besson would like a word.”

  Madeline reluctantly got out of bed and walked over to the dressing table. She laughed out loud when she caught sight of herself. She looked like a wild woman with her hair as unruly as a lion’s mane and her face flushed and slightly puffy from all the punch she’d enjoyed the night before.

  Cissy shook her head in dismay as she picked up the brush and motioned for Madeline to sit down. “This will take some doing,” Cissy said as she ran the bristles through the first tangled section of hair.

  “Ow, that hurts,” Madeline complained.

  “Should have brushed and plaited it before going to bed,” Cissy replied, unfazed. “Now sit still.”

  Madeline complied and tried not to yelp every time Cissy combed out a particularly nasty tangle. The only thing that made Cissy’s ministrations bearable was that Bette brought Madeline a cup of coffee and a buttered roll fresh from the oven.

  “I thought you might be hungry,” Bette said. She exchanged loaded looks with Cissy and left.

  Madeline took a sip of coffee and sighed gratefully. It was strong and hot and made her feel less muddle-headed.

  Half an hour later, Madeline was finally ready to face the world—and her grandmother. Sybil had seemed pleased with her last night, watching her as she danced with Gilbert and smiling at Mrs. Montlake as she commented on the waltzing pair. She’d even discussed the ball with Madeline in the carriage on the way back, while George stared out the window, half asleep after all the cognac and brandy he’d consumed.

  Madeline knocked on the door and entered Sybil’s private parlor. She’d never been in there, and the feminine loveliness of the room surprised her. Sybil was all sharp angles and harsh words, but the room was nothing like its occupant. It was charming, with rosewood furniture upholstered in pale yellow silk and matching drapes. Several competent landscapes hung on the walls and a daguerreotype of George and Amelia on their wedding day held pride of place in a heavy silver frame. Sybil sat in an armchair by the hearth, a pot of coffee on a low table at her side. There were two cups, which Madeline found encouraging.

  “Good morning, Grandmother. I hope you slept well,” she said, hoping to recapture the unexpected camaraderie of last night.

  Sybil took a sip of coffee and set the cup down before acknowledging Madeline’s greeting with a nod. Madeline expected her grandmother to invite her to sit down and have a cup of coffee with her, but Sybil didn’t offer the seat or the coffee. She looked Madeline up and down instead, displeasure curling her lip into a snarl. Madeline took an involuntary step back, wondering if she’d done something to offend Sybil without realizing it.

  “Cissy informs me that you haven’t bled in three months.”

  Madeline’s cheeks heated. Menstruation was not something she ever discussed with anyone. It had been Mammy who had explained things to her when she got the curse at the age of twelve, and Mammy who showed her how to care for herself and protect her clothes. Cissy left the necessary supplies in a bedside table, and replenished them when they ran low, but never asked Madeline about her courses or made any mention of the fact that she hadn’t used up the cotton napkins Cissy left for her.

  “Do you understand what that means?” Sybil demanded.

  “Am I ill?” Madeline croaked, suddenly frightened. She hadn’t given it much thought, glad not to have to deal with nearly a week of bleeding and cramping every month. It was a relief, especially since George could come to her any time.

  “You’re not ill; you’re pregnant,” Sybil announced, her eyes boring into Madeline.

  “But I can’t be. I’m-I’m not married,” she stammered.

  “Has no one ever explained these matters to you, you foolish child?”

  “No,” Madeline muttered.

  Something like pity moved behind Sybil’s eyes, but she gave Madeline no quarter and continued her interrogation. “Have you not been indulging in sin with my grandson for months? Oh, did you think I don’t know?” she asked, correctly reading Madeline’s expression of shock.

  Madeline hung her head, too ashamed to look at her grandmother.

  “You took advantage of his bereaved state and lured him into your bed as soon as Amelia left. He was heartbroken, and you preyed on his vulnerability,” Sybil accused.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Madeline interjected, stunned. “It was George…”

  “Be silent!” Sybil roared. “How dare you argue with me when you’ve disgraced this family, you little trollop. I suppose I never should have expected anything better from you, given your parentage. Measures will have to be taken to protect your reputation, and ours.”

  “What measures?” Tremblin
g with fear and shame, Madeline was shocked to the core to learn what had happened to her without her knowledge or understanding. Surely George must have known about the possible consequences of his actions. He was a married man, and many years her senior. Madeline covered her face with her hands and hunched over, as if in pain. Tears slid between her fingers and ran down her hands. She didn’t even have a handkerchief in her pocket, a small oversight that only added to her misery.

  Sybil handed her one and pushed her into a chair. “Clean yourself up,” she said, not without sympathy.

  Madeline tried to get hold of herself, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling. She was so woefully uninformed about the whole process that the magnitude of what had happened to her was too much to bear. Only an hour ago, she had been basking in the afterglow of her first ball, and now she was here, her future uncertain and her grandmother, whose approval she’d tried so hard to win, ashamed and disgusted by her.

  “I’m sorry,” Madeline wailed. “I didn’t know this could happen.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you did,” Sybil replied. “Stop sniveling, Madeline. You’re not the first or the last foolish girl to fall pregnant before marriage. Of course, the fact that George is already married does complicate matters. Had this child been Gilbert’s, we’d have had you married before the end of the year. There’d be gossip, of course, but eventually, everyone would tire of your disgrace and move on to something else.”

  “What’s going to happen?” Madeline asked, her pleading eyes on her grandmother. Sybil was so strong, so capable. She’d have the answers.

  She had opened her mouth to reply when Cissy ushered Mammy into the room. Mammy looked ashen, her eyes wide with apprehension.

  “Take Madeline to my bedroom and examine her,” Sybil ordered Mammy. “I need to know how far gone she is.”

  Mammy looked as if someone had just upended a bucket of ice water over her head. Her gaze flew to Madeline’s face, but Madeline couldn’t bear to meet her shocked gaze and stared at her hands folded demurely in her lap, clutching the soiled handkerchief.