Jamie did not come home for dinner. Nor did he come home all night. Margaret sat in the library waiting for him until three o’clock in the morning, and then she went to her bed, alone.
When Jamie returned home the following evening, he nodded politely to Margaret and walked on to his son’s room. Margaret stood staring after him in stunned bewilderment, and then slowly turned to look at herself in the mirror. The mirror told her that she had never looked as beautiful, but when she looked closer she could not recognize the eyes. They were the eyes of a stranger.
10
“Well, I have some wonderful news for you, Mrs. McGregor,” Dr. Teeger beamed. “You’re going to have a baby.”
Margaret felt the shock of his words and did not know whether to laugh or cry. Wonderful news? To bring another child into a loveless marriage was impossible. Margaret could no longer bear the humiliation. She would have to find a way out, and even as she was thinking it, she felt a sudden wave of nausea that left her drenched in perspiration.
Dr. Teeger was saying, “Morning sickness?”
“A bit.”
He handed her some pills. “Take these. They’ll help. You’re in excellent condition, Mrs. McGregor. Not a thing to worry about. You run along home and tell the good news to your husband.”
“Yes,” she said dully. “I’ll do that.”
They were at the dinner table when she said, “I saw the doctor today. I’m going to have a baby.”
Without a word, Jamie threw down his napkin, arose from his chair and stormed out of the room. That was the moment when Margaret learned she could hate Jamie McGregor as deeply as she could love him.
It was a difficult pregnancy, and Margaret spent much of the time in bed, weak and tired. She lay there hour after hour, fantasizing, visualizing Jamie at her feet, begging for forgiveness, making wild love to her again. But they were only fantasies. The reality was that she was trapped. She had nowhere to go, and even if she could leave, he would never allow her to take her son with her.
Jamie was seven now, a healthy, handsome boy with a quick mind and a sense of humor. He had drawn closer to his mother, as though somehow sensing the unhappiness in her. He made little gifts for her in school and brought them home, and Margaret would smile and thank him and try to lift herself out of her depression. When young Jamie asked why his father stayed away nights and never took her out, Margaret would reply, “Your father is a very important man, Jamie, doing important things, and he’s very busy.”
What’s between his father and me is my problem, Margaret thought, and I’ll not have Jamie hating his father because of it.
Margaret’s pregnancy became more and more apparent. When she went out on the street, acquaintances would stop her and say, “It won’t be long now, will it, Mrs. McGregor? I’ll bet it’s going to be a fine boy like little Jamie. Your husband must be a happy man.”
Behind her back, they said, “Poor thing. She’s lookin’ peaked—she must have found out about the whore he’s taken as his mistress…”
Margaret tried to prepare young Jamie for the new arrival. “You’re going to have a new brother or sister, darling. Then you’ll have someone to play with all the time. Won’t that be nice?”
Jamie hugged her and said, “It will be more company for you, Mother.”
And Margaret fought to keep back the tears.
The labor pains began at four o’clock in the morning. Mrs. Talley sent for Hannah, and the baby was delivered at noon. It was a healthy baby girl, with her mother’s mouth and her father’s chin, and black hair curling around her little red face. Margaret named her Kate. It’s a good, strong name, Margaret thought. And she’s going to need her strength. We all are. I’ve got to take the children away from here. I don’t know how yet, but I must find a way.
David Blackwell burst into Jamie McGregor’s office without knocking, and Jamie looked up in surprise. “What the hell—?”