by Banks, R. R.
Just as he had promised, Richard was back at the medical center as they were discharging me. The doctor handed me a sheaf of instructions and a reminder about my appointment with the midwife. He emphasized that I should be absolutely fine, but that I might want to take it easy for a day to let my body and my mind get over the experience. Plenty of fluids. Plenty of rest. Good food. All those things that doctors tell you when you are dealing with virtually any type of health issue. It was another reminder that pregnancy was, in the greater scheme of things, a run-of-the-mill event and that it only held the white-knuckled intensity for those going through it.
Richard asked if I wanted to use a wheelchair to get to the car, but I begged off of it. He probably already thought that I was two shades short of inept. The last thing I needed at that moment was a further blow to my self-confidence. We walked along the hallway toward the car slowly and silently. My hand hung between us and I found myself wishing that he would reach down and hold it again. The warmth and comfort that he had given me as we looked at the tiny speck of a child on the computer monitor was unexpected and thrilling, but at the same moment unnerving. I didn’t want to have these feelings. They weren’t mine to have. Yet every time that I got near Richard, every time I even thought of him, they seemed to get stronger and there was nothing that I could do about it.
His house was just as extraordinary as I would have thought it would be. Possibly even more so. The car pulled up to a massive wrought iron gate and paused for only a moment before the gate slid open and we entered. The meandering driveway was like something out of a sweeping family saga movie and I had the sudden mental image of a woman standing on the balcony in a hoop skirt gazing out over the grounds waiting for her man to come home.
Or the land to stop burning. Or the ice cream truck. Not a real woman. An actress there for ambience.
As we curved around the driveway the house came into sight, rising up out of the horizon so that it towered against the first hints of early morning sunlight. I couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer size and beauty of it. This was a home from another era, not like the other era that had brought the birth of Whiskey Hollow and Grammyma’s house. Yet all around me I noticed subtly integrated hints of modern technology that spoke to a cutting edge quality of life and enormous wealth that only grew each day.
The car brought us directly up to the bottom of the steps that led up to the front door and Abraham got out to open the back door. Though Richard had driven to the medical center when he first came, he told me that he had Abraham bring him back so that he would be able to sit in the backseat with me. It gave me a warm feeling in my chest, yet part of me wished that he had driven. It would show me a part of him that I could almost relate to, something that wasn’t so far out of the realm of my reality.
And keep me from wanting to cuddle with him and fall asleep in the backseat.
As soon as we stepped through the front door Flora came stalking down the stairs toward us. It was still so early that it could barely be considered morning, yet this woman was up, coiffed, perfectly made up, and wearing more spandex than the cast of Cats. A leotard with legs cut all the way up to her waist and matching tights were from another time, yet their intensely retro feel made them somehow totally contemporary. She wore a sweat band around her head, though I somehow doubted it saw a tremendous amount of sweat, and she had pared down her jewelry to just a pair of diamond studs in her ears and a delicate gold watch.
Practically one of the people.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “I woke up and you weren’t here. What is she doing here?”
“You didn’t tell her where you were going?”
“I didn’t have the time,” Richard said. “It was an emergency.”
“The second time?” I asked.
He looked down at me and started to say something but a plump woman with shimmering silver hair and a smile that made me feel like if she was around nothing could go wrong in the world came scurrying into the foyer.
“Good morning!” she boomed in a voice that was sweet but far louder than I was really prepared for that early in the morning.
“Good morning, Hannah,” Richard said. “Will you please bring Rue to the guest wing and make sure that she’s comfortable?”
“Of course. Come along, Sweetie. Let’s get you some rest.”
I glanced at Richard and then fell into step beside Hannah, who rested a comforting hand on my back as we climbed the wide, winding staircase toward the upper floor. I could hear Flora and Richard start arguing as soon as we reached the landing and immediately felt guilty. Hannah must have been able to see the emotion on my face when she finally led me into a sprawling, elaborate bedroom and guided me toward the bed.
“Now, don’t you feel bad about this for an instant,” she said.
“But I shouldn’t be here,” I said. “I should be at my own house. I’m intruding, and Flora is obviously upset.”
“You are right where you are supposed to be,” she said. “If you weren’t supposed to be here, then you wouldn’t be here.” It was the type of logic that made my head spin slightly, but I tried to go along with it. “And don’t you pay Flora any mind. Mean as a rattlesnake that one is. But I think down deep in there, there’s a good person. Somewhere. It’s just hidden real good. Somebody will find it one day.”
I laughed, and Hannah gave me another warm smile before walking over to a large wardrobe positioned against one wall. She opened the doors and reached in to take out a basket.
“Now, I wish I had something better to offer you for pajamas than this, but Richard didn’t give me enough warning to go find you anything decent. I hope that it will at least be comfortable. You just leave your clothes in this basket outside the door and I’ll make sure that they are washed before you even get up.”
“You really don’t need to do that,” I said.
“Of course, I do. Growing babies is hard work. You’re bringing a little drop of sunshine into this house and you need your rest to make sure that you can do it. When you’re ready, just draw the curtains and it will get nice and dark in here. Sleep as long as you like, and I’ll be ready to make breakfast for you as soon as you get up.”
She looked at me for a moment and I saw a tenderness in her eyes that made me wonder just how long she had been with Richard’s family. Hannah reached out and cupped her hand against my cheek, then leaned forward and kissed my forehead. I was surprised by the gesture, yet comforted.
“Thank you,” she said before patting my cheek and heading out of the room.
As soon as the door closed, I looked in the basket. Inside were two white undershirts, a pair of sweatpants, and a pair of socks. It was obvious that they were all Richard’s. I stripped down and stepped into the pants, tying the drawstring tightly to keep them in place on my hips, then let the shirt drop down over my head. It surrounded me with the fresh smell of warmth and bleach that had lingered in the tight hug that Richard had given me the day that we found out I was pregnant, and I sighed into it, wrapping my arms around myself to enjoy just a moment of it.
Doing as Hannah said, I put my clothes in the basket, tucked it outside in the hallway, and drew the curtains, immediately ensconcing the room in darkness so thick I had to feel my way to the bed. I climbed up the platform onto the mattress and slipped between the covers, knowing nothing after my head rested onto the pillow.
Chapter Seventeen
Rue
Dear Baby,
Please don’t scare me like that again. We’re only a few weeks in and I don’t think I’ll make it through if it’s going to be like last night all the way along. Now that you are settled in, please behave. Your daddy can’t take any more. Be a good baby.
Rue
****
It was the shortest letter that I had written to the baby so far, but I felt that it needed to be done. I folded the piece of paper and tucked it back into my purse along with my pen and made my way to the bathroom attached to the bedroom. Hannah ha
d brought me my clothes, freshly cleaned and neatly folded, and told me to enjoy a bath before coming out. I was happy to take the invitation, but I had a moment of disappointment at the thought of taking off Richard’s clothes. I had slept curled up in them and woke with the lingering feeling that he was holding me in his arms. It wasn’t something that I should be feeling, and certainly something I couldn’t admit, but now that I had to give it up I was reluctant.
Finally, I relented and savored a long, soothing bath before dressing in my own clothes. I wished that I had some makeup with me, but I had to make do with running the travel brush I kept in my purse through my hair and sweeping powder over my skin. I dabbed on some lip balm and checked the mirror. The result was looking even paler than I figured I already did, but there was really nothing that I could do about it.
I was already ready and heading out of the room when I realized that I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I didn’t even know if Richard was still at the house or if he had gone to work. The last thing I wanted to do was run into Flora without anyone around to buffer our encounter. Was I supposed to have breakfast? Was I supposed to hang out and wait for Richard to come back? Was I supposed to just find Abraham and have him bring me home without saying anything?
Most confusing walk of shame ever.
Fortunately, I had only gotten a few steps away from the bedroom when Hannah rushed up the hallway toward me. She never seemed to slow down. Maybe that’s what kept her so youthful and energetic. She kept moving so fast that aging couldn’t catch up with her.
“Good morning!” she gushed. “You look refreshed.”
“Is it still morning?” I asked, impressed that I had only slept a few hours.
“No,” Hannah said, shaking her head without her smile fading. “It’s almost three.”
“Good gracious,” I said. “I seem like a total slug.”
“You don’t seem like a slug,” Hannah said. “You seem like a woman who’s going through her first trimester of pregnancy. Growing babies is hard, and you need your rest.”
It was the same sentiment that she had expressed early that morning and it was even more reassuring now.
“Thank you,” I said.
“I have breakfast waiting for you downstairs and Richard says that he will be down to join you in just a few minutes.”
“He’s still here?” I asked.
My voice must have revealed a little more of the excitement that I was feeling than I intended because I saw the smile on Hannah’s lips change slightly and a knowing look in her eyes.
“He is,” she said. “Just go on downstairs. Breakfast is in the lounge.” She started away but then looked over her shoulder at me. “Come to think of it, I’ve never known Richard to take a day off just to spend at home.”
She walked the rest of the way down the hall, leaving me with that thought in my mind. I started down the stairs and let the smell of bacon and pancakes guide me through the lower floor of the house and into the lounge where I found a table spread with enough food for at least five people. I stepped in and the rest of the table came into view, revealing Richard sitting in one of the chairs, reading a newspaper.
They still make those?
“Good morning,” I said as I walked in.
“Kind of,” Richard said.
“Kind of good?”
“No, kind of morning.”
I laughed and sat down across from him.
“Actually, not at all morning,” I said.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Probably far too well,” I said.
“How can you sleep too well?”
I concentrated on filling a plate with food, not meeting his eyes. I didn’t want to confess how wonderful it felt to be wearing his clothing or to be curled up in his house. I ate for a few moments and then noticed that he hadn’t eaten anything.
“Not hungry?” I asked.
“I’ve already eaten breakfast,” he said. “And lunch. And a snack, for that matter.”
I laughed again.
“Perfect.” I took a sip of orange juice and then cocked my head to look at him. “Why did you stay home from work today?” I asked.
“You,” he said.
“I’m sure I could have made my way home myself,” I said. “You didn’t have to take the day off just to wait around for me.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I wanted to make sure that you were alright, and to spend some time with you.”
“You did?” I asked.
Richard nodded.
“Are you finished?”
I looked down at my plate and the remnants of what had once been the huge pile of food. I nodded.
“Yes.”
“I want to show you something.”
I followed him out of the lounge and back upstairs. Rather than turning in the direction of the room where I had slept, we continued on and climbed another set of steps until we ended up in another hallway. To one side I saw what I assumed was the master bedroom, but he guided me in the other. We reached a closed door and Richard took a key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and opened it. I stepped inside and gasped.
“What is this?” I asked, looking around.
The room around me was completely decorated for Christmas. Garlands stretched elegantly across the mantle of a fireplace and along the tops of windows. Lights glittered from every surface. A massive tree sat in one corner, meticulously wrapped gifts piled underneath. Even the air in the room smelled like pine and peppermint like it was being piped in from somewhere.
“This is my Christmas room,” he said, looking around with a smile on his lips. “I put it together every year right around Thanksgiving.”
“But why is it up here?” I asked, walking closer to a small table set beside a couch to look at an intricate crystal carousel. “Why do you keep it locked?”
“Flora doesn’t particularly like Christmas,” he said. “She doesn’t like the house getting changed and the effort of decorating, or the mess. On Christmas Eve she puts up a small silver tabletop tree, we exchange gifts, and then it’s over. But I love Christmas. It reminds me of when I was little and my whole family would get together. So, I started doing this every year. It’s kind of a chance for me to have the Christmas that I want, without disrupting anyone else.”
“This is your house,” I said. “You shouldn’t feel like you’re disrupting someone just because you want something that they don’t. Especially when it’s something like Christmas.” I looked around and sighed. “I love Christmas. At least I used to. It’s been a while since I’ve really done one like we did when I was a little girl.”
He smiled around the room again and then looked at me.
“Do you want to stay for a little longer, or are you ready to go home?”
I wanted to stay. I wanted to never leave. But him putting it that way illustrated just how much I couldn’t.
“I should go home,” I said. “There’s a lot that I need to do.”
“Like what?” Richard asked.
“Just…. just a lot.”
He nodded, but I couldn’t tell what emotion was in his eyes. We walked out of the room and he locked it behind him, hiding the beautiful, festive scene like he was locking away a private part of him for no one else to see.
The ride back to Whiskey Hollow felt long, but I enjoyed every moment of it, though we were in silence for most of it. It was nice just being there in the backseat with Richard. He spent most of the ride looking ahead of him or at me, but as we approached Grammyma’s house, I saw his focus turn to the window beside me. Something shimmered on his face and I turned to follow his gaze. My hand flew up to cover my mouth, muffling my gasp.
Beyond the window I saw Grammyma’s house, fully decked out for Christmas. Strands of lights dripped from every surface, potted trees flanked the door and lights that looked like icicles outlined a walkway from the parking area to the porch. I climbed out and took it all in, then turned to look at Richard. He grinned
at me as he climbed out of the car and followed me.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Like it?” I asked. “It’s incredible. I can’t believe it.”
“I hoped you would. I sent my team out here this morning.”
“Is that why you showed me your Christmas room?” I asked. “To make sure that I wasn’t some sort of Grinch?”
“I would have gone with Scrooge, but yes, that’s the general idea.”
“Ah,” I said with a smile. “Of course, you would.” I looked at the house and then turned back to him. “Is there more?”
Richard shrugged.
“Maybe.”
I giggled and ran up the steps toward the front door. It opened beneath my hand and I stepped inside to a winter wonderland. I glanced out at him and he laughed.
“No locks.”
I grinned and went back in the house. Every room had been decorated, each corner featuring another detail. The kitchen smelled of warm cinnamon, the hallway of peppermint, and the living room of pine, the smell wafting from the broad boughs of a tree in the corner. It was the only thing that I saw that wasn’t decorated.
“I thought that we could decorate it together,” he said.
I felt like a little girl again as we unpacked boxes of ornaments and nestled them into the tree. A crate sitting on the floor beside the couch caught my eye. I remembered it from years before. I walked up to it and touched my fingertips to the lid.
