The Other Child (15 page)

Leslie awoke with a sense that the house was much too quiet. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, noticing it was getting dark outside. She wondered where her mom was and what she was working on now.

Leslie went down the stairs and stopped at the landing, listening. “Mom?” she yelled. “Where are you? Mom?” Had she gone out without even waking her to let her know?

There was no answer from the third floor or the second. She looked around the kitchen and out the back door. Where was she? Leslie felt very alone, and automatically reached for the key around her neck, thinking Christopher would calm her down and possibly help her out. It was gone! Panic rushed over her. She had to find her mother.

She ran outside, shouting for Karen. She tripped on the exposed root of a tree, but she kept right on running, unreasoning panic driving her on. She didn’t see the open root-cellar door until she rounded the corner. Then she screamed wildly as she found her mother lying there motionless on the ground.

“
Mom!
Oh, Mom. . . .
Please!
” Leslie threw herself on the ground next to Karen, but was afraid to touch her. Her mother looked like a wax mannequin, she was so white. There was blood seeping under her, staining the newly cut grass deep red. For a moment she froze, breath caught in her throat. She was all alone and Mom was hurt, maybe dying.

Get help—she had to call for help. The moment she thought of it she was racing toward the house on shaking legs, running so fast she almost fell. She stopped at the phone, suddenly panic stricken. She didn’t know who to call.

Rob Comstock. Now she was dialing, fingers shaking in fear. Rob would know what to do. He had to be at his office. He had to help her.

Leslie fairly shouted into the receiver when he answered. Mom was hurt and she told him to come right away. Then she ran back to her mother’s side to wait, squeezing Karen’s unresponsive fingers, tears streaming down her cheeks. There was blood all over and Mom was hurt . . . a trail of blood leading from that hole in the ground.

Then she saw it and reached out frantically . . . a rusty padlock in the grass with her key inside. She pulled out the key and sobbed in relief. She had her key back. Everything would be all right now.

“Good thinking, honey.” Rob hugged Leslie hard. She was so scared, her whole body was trembling, and he kept his arms around her.

“Dr. Simmons will take care of your mother, honey. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. You were really brave, Leslie. You did exactly the right thing, calling me.”

The poor kid. Rob could see how pale she was. Of course she was terrified, having found her mother that way.

“Can you tell me how to reach Mike, honey?” Rob made his voice warm and reassuring. “I think we should call him right away, don’t you?”

Leslie nodded. She found the number of the magazine and stood right by the phone while he talked to Mike. She was so glad Mr. Comstock was staying until Mike got here. She got scared every time she thought of her mother’s white face.

“Let’s go upstairs and check on your mother.” Rob gave her an encouraging smile. “I think Dr. Simmons is through with his examination by now. Don’t worry, Leslie. I’m sure your mother is going to be fine.”

The doctor stepped outside when they knocked softly on her mother’s door. He nodded at Rob and leaned down to talk to the pretty, little blond girl.

“She’s just fine, honey.” Dr. Simmons patted Leslie on the head. “She needs a lot of rest, but I don’t think we have to take her to the hospital. You look like a good nurse, young lady. Just make sure your mother gets lots of sleep and stays nice and quiet. Can you do that?”

Leslie nodded quickly. She’d do anything the doctor said.

“The new baby?” Leslie almost whispered the words. “Is the new baby all right, Doctor?”

Dr. Simmons winced. He didn’t like to be the bearer of bad news, but someone had to tell her. He supposed he ought to be used to the unpleasant after thirty years as a small-town physician.

“I’m afraid not, honey.” He knelt down and held her small hands in his. “There is no new baby anymore, dear. Your mother had a very serious fall.”

Leslie nodded solemnly. She’d read all her mother’s books on pregnancy and she knew what had happened. Mom had had a miscarriage from the fall. She’d have to take very good care of her now. And just as soon as the doctor left, she’d find a very strong leather thong for her key. It seemed as though bad things could happen if she lost it. She decided she’d never let it out of her sight again.

He broke speed laws all the way home. An accident! Rob had said that Karen and Leslie were both all right, but wasn’t that what they usually said? Mike screeched into the driveway, gravel scattering as he skidded to a stop and jumped out of the truck.

Rob was waiting for him in the kitchen. “Sit down, Mike. Everything’s fine now.” Rob pointed to a chair.

“Where’s Karen? What kind of accident? What happened?”

“She’s upstairs, resting comfortably,” Rob assured him. “Leslie’s with her. She took a bad fall, Mike. I guess she was exploring that old root cellar outside and she slipped on the steps. Leslie found her and called me. Dr. Simmons says she’s going to be fine.”

“Oh, my God!” Mike stared at Rob with a horrified expression. “The baby. Is the baby all right?”

“I’m afraid not.” Rob swallowed hard. He wished that Dr. Simmons had stayed for this part of it. “She lost the baby, Mike.... I’m really sorry. There was nothing the doctor could do. Karen’s fine, though—thank God for that! She was lucky, Mike. It’s incredible she wasn’t hurt worse. I locked that old cellar up again. It’s a menace.”

He stopped talking and stared at Mike. Nothing he said seemed to be registering. Mike was just sitting there, hands clenched on the table in front of him, eyes vacant and fixed at a point on the opposite wall. Rob wished he knew what to do. He’d never seen a man look so miserable.

“How about a drink?” Rob suggested thoughtfully. “Do you have anything to drink in the house, Mike? You look like you could use one right now, and so could I. There’s absolutely nothing you can do for Karen right now. Dr. Simmons gave her a shot and he said she’d sleep until morning. Leslie’s going to stay with her, just in case she needs anything. You’ve got a fine daughter there, Mike. Most kids her age would have panicked, but she ran straight to the phone and called me. Dr. Simmons said it could have been much worse if Leslie hadn’t acted so quickly.”

“Yeah.” Mike nodded, but he didn’t really hear Rob’s words. A drink, he’d said. Rob could use a drink. Mike’s legs felt rubbery as he pulled himself upright by levering his elbows on the table.

“Come on up to the studio.” He motioned toward the stairs. “I’ve got a bottle up there.”

As Rob followed him up the stairs, Mike’s mind began to work again. Christ, what a shock. Why on earth had Karen been climbing around in an old root cellar in the first place? He hadn’t even known the cellar was there, but he’d lock it up for good. In her condition she should have been more careful.

Mike opened the darkroom door and switched on the lights. He needed a drink badly. He hadn’t touched a drop yet today, even though he had joined the guys in the bar. He had wanted to prove himself to Karen. He needed something now, though—something strong to wipe out his grief. She’d lost the baby! He wanted to go to her and take her in his arms so they could cry together, but she wouldn’t even know he was there if the doctor had given her a sedative. And he didn’t want to face Leslie. She’d be terribly upset if he broke down and cried in front of her. He’d be better off staying up here with Rob.

It was late; two
A.M.
by the luminous dial on her mother’s clock. She’d heard Rob leave hours ago, but Mike had stayed up in the darkroom. Now his heavy steps on the stairs awakened her.

Leslie got up quickly, wrapping her blanket around her like a sarong. She peeked out the door and saw Mike. He was weaving back and forth and she recognized that crablike walk instantly. He’d been like this a lot when they first met him. Mike was drunk. What if he came in here and upset Mom?

She held her breath and let it out again in a grateful sigh as he turned in the opposite direction. He was going downstairs. Leslie hoped he would stay there. Mom needed to rest. The doctor had said so.

“I love you, Mom, and I’ll take care of you always.” Leslie whispered the words as she settled back down again in the overstuffed chair by the bed. Her mother couldn’t hear her, but it made Leslie feel better anyway. The key was warm and comforting around her neck and she snuggled up in her blanket. Everything would be all right again. She just had to believe that.

“How do you feel, honey?” Mike opened the door and stepped inside. She looked so white! Karen had always been so healthy and now she looked so very sick.

Her eyes opened and she looked at him. Then they closed again and tears squeezed out to roll down her pale cheeks. “Oh, Mike!” she whispered. “I’m so sorry!”

“I know, honey.” He sat carefully by the side of the bed. He reached out for her hand and held it gently. “It’s all right, Karen—don’t think about it now. Just concentrate on getting well. We’ll have our baby, just as soon as you’re up to it.”

“We can’t.” Karen’s voice was small and frightened. “We can’t have another baby now. We can’t afford it. The house, Mike. We’re going to lose this beautiful house . . . and we don’t have any money!”

“We’re not going to lose the house, darling.” Mike patted her hand. “I’ll make sure we don’t lose it. And we’re going to have money, too. We can have as many children as you want. I’ve given up gambling for good, Karen. I swear it!”

Something in her expression made him stop and swallow hard. She really didn’t trust him, he could see that.

“Oh, I don’t expect you to believe me yet,” Mike said, acknowledging the doubt in her eyes. “But I’ll prove it to you. I’ve made some terrible mistakes, but everything’s going to be all right now, honey, I promise.”

Karen still didn’t reply. It made him nervous and he went on in a rush.

“We’ll speed everything up, and that’ll bring in the money,” he explained. “I’ll talk to Red and see if he can work full-time. I know you can’t do much right now, but in a couple of days you’ll be on your feet. Then we can finish the house in record time.”

Her eyes closed and Mike shifted uncomfortably on the spindly antique chair. He didn’t know what else to say. Karen certainly wasn’t being very responsive.

“Honey?” Mike waited until she opened her eyes. “What were you doing in that root cellar? I can’t use that in my photographs.”

“I just thought there might be some antiques down there.” Karen’s voice sounded weak and she sighed.

“You should have waited for me.” He shook his head. “Really, honey! You took a terrible chance going down there alone.”

“But you’re never here.” Karen looked aside, not meeting his eyes. “If I waited for you, nothing would get done.”

“That’s why I hired Red. Stop thinking like that, Karen. You don’t have to do everything by yourself. You should have asked Red to go down there and poke around. We’ve got enough antiques for the pictures anyway. We don’t need any more.”

“But I’m not just doing it for the pictures, Mike. This house is more than a series to me. It’s our home! It’s got to be authentic!”

“Authentic?” His patience snapped and he stood up, glaring. “You’re going crazy with this authentic crap! Who cares if it’s authentic? I just want it finished in time for the deadline!”

A tear ran down her cheek and it made him even angrier. He was sick of hearing about antiques and authenticity!

“You and your damn authenticity killed our child!” The words poured out before he could stop them. “If you cared more about being a good wife and mother, we wouldn’t have lost the baby!”

Karen stared, horrified, as he stalked from the room. He was blaming her for everything and it wasn’t fair. All he cared about was his series! She turned her face to the wall and sobbed.

Mike knew he had to get out of the house. He rushed past Leslie without a word and ran to the truck. He’d drive around until he calmed down a little.
Forget Karen and her precious antiques! She cared more about them than him!
He was still fuming.

“Morning!” Rob looked up with a smile as Mike came through the door. “How’s Karen?”

“Oh . . . she’ll be all right.” Mike dropped into a chair and sighed. Now he felt terrible for having yelled at Karen. It must be this damn hangover. His head was killing him.

“You look like you could use a little Comstock remedy.” Rob pushed the aspirin bottle Mike’s way. “Shake out a couple of these and I’ll fix you up.”

Rob opened the small refrigerator under the counter and took out a pitcher of juice. “This’ll do the trick. I mixed up some for myself this morning.”

Mike sipped from the glass Rob gave him. “Not bad. What is it?”

“Tomato juice, Worcestershire sauce, and an egg.” Rob laughed as Mike made a face. “It sounds terrible, but it works. We really tied one on last night, didn’t we!”

“Yeah.” Mike sighed. “I wish I’d had this sooner. I had a big fight with Karen, and I don’t know how I’m ever going to make it up to her.”

“Tell me about it and maybe I can think of something.” Rob leaned forward and crossed his legs. “I’m a master at things like that. I’ve been pacifying Marilyn for years.”

By the next morning Karen was much better. The doctor said she could sit up, but she still had to stay quiet. Leslie was determined to keep her mother cheerful. Mike was busy in the darkroom and it was her responsibility to make sure Mom didn’t get bored or upset.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Mom?” Leslie was dusting the huge carved oak coatrack, which stood at the foot of the bed. “Is it really the same one that used to be in the downstairs hallway?”

Karen nodded. “It’s the original. When Rob’s grandfather bought this house, he took it for his office. It’s been in the Comstock family for eighty years. Just as soon as I can get out of bed, I’ll put it back where it belongs.”

She sighed slightly as she stared at the lovely antique. It was a peace offering from Mike—a bribe, really. It was intended to make her forget the fight yesterday. Of course she had accepted the gift and Mike’s apologies. But she didn’t believe for a minute that he hadn’t meant the things he’d said. She’d never trust him again, and she’d never forget his awful accusations.

“Shall I bring a trunk down from the ballroom?” Leslie suggested, warming to the task of entertaining her mother. “I could ask Mike to help me.”

“No, he’s very busy, honey. We shouldn’t bother him unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“I could ask Mr. Fischer,” Leslie offered, noticing how her mother had brightened when she’d mentioned the trunk. “I’m sure Mr. Fischer would be glad to help me.”

“Yes . . . that would be fine.” Karen spoke absently, her eyes on the miniature. Mike had carried it up here last night and placed it strategically where she could see it from the bed. She supposed it was his way of priming her for all the work that had to be done on the house. Mike didn’t seem to realize that she needed no coercion to go back to work. She was eager to get on with the renovation. It was the only thing that made her happy lately.

She reached out to finger the glass case, her touch almost a caress. How she wished it were 1900 again. She’d be dressed in rich silks and laces. She could walk around this house and see for herself exactly how it was arranged. Perhaps she’d have become friendly with Dorthea and they could have confided in each other. She identified more and more with Dorthea these days—her unhappy love for an unworthy man, her feelings of being cast off, abandoned. Still, she imagined life in this house must have been much easier then. Amelia Appleton had a full staff of household help, and her husband was rich. What she wouldn’t give to turn back the clock for just a day.

Leslie pushed the trunk next to the bed so Karen could see. She propped pillows behind her mother’s back and helped her sit upright. Then she opened the lid and both of them peered inside.

“Here’s a bunch of old letters, Mom.” Leslie picked up the bundle and handed it to Karen. “Maybe there’s something in them about Dorthea and her baby.”

“That’s odd. These letters have never been opened. They’re addressed to Amelia, see?”

“I bet Mr. Appleton put them away and never gave them to her,” Leslie suggested. “This is his trunk; his name is on the lid. Maybe he hid them for some reason.”

The letters were arranged by date. It gave Karen a strange feeling to tear open the old envelopes and read them for the first time.

“They’re from Dorthea!” Karen gasped as she glanced at the signature. “Look, Leslie, this one’s from San Francisco.”

“Read it to me, Mom.” Leslie clasped her hands together and sat on the edge of the bed. She listened attentively as Karen began to read.

“But her mother never got the letter!” Leslie twisted her hands nervously. “Oh, Mom! What happened to Dorthea?”

“This one’s almost five months later.” Karen read quickly.

Karen swallowed past the lump in her throat and blinked away a tear. Dorthea was frightened and alone. She knew what the girl was going through, pregnant and deserted. Karen was sure that Amelia would have forgiven her daughter, but these letters had never been opened. Dorthea’s pleas for help were never heard. William Appleton was a hardhearted man to hide them from his wife.

“Here’s the next one.” Karen’s voice was shaking as she opened it.

“Poor Dorthea! She wants to come home so badly.” Karen sighed. “I’m so glad the baby is all right.”

“There’s something heavy in this one.” Leslie handed her mother the last envelope. “Hurry and open it, Mom.”

Karen noticed there was a lapse of ten years between this letter and the last. She tore open the envelope and a tintype fell out. It was a picture of a somber-faced blond boy, approximately Leslie’s age. He was standing stiffly by a chair, facing the camera directly. Dorthea was sitting in the chair, holding his hand, looking even more beautiful than in her portrait over the fireplace.

“He looks like me!” Leslie bent closer to look. “See, Mom? Dorthea’s son looks just like me!”

Karen nodded. Leslie was right. The boy bore an uncanny resemblance to Leslie.

“Can I keep it, Mom?” Leslie’s voice was eager. “It would look great on my dresser!”

Karen nodded again and handed her the tintype. She swallowed and sighed heavily. Reading Dorthea’s letters made her feel like crying. The story was so real to her that Dorthea’s pain was her own. They were alike in so many ways, and now Karen was living in her home. Every time she touched a piece of antique furniture or finished a room exactly as it had been in Dorthea’s day, she wished that Dorthea were alive somewhere, so she could return to her home and find it hadn’t changed, at all.

“I think I’ll rest for a while, honey.” Karen forced a smile. “We can go through the rest of the trunk later. Can you find something else to do for an hour or so?”

“Sure, Mom.” Leslie closed the lid of the trunk and put the letters on her mother’s night table. “I’ll go up to the tower room. I haven’t been up there in ages.”

Leslie shut the door quietly and hurried down the hall. She bounded up the steps two at a time and arrived in her favorite room, panting. She flopped down on a pillow and looked at the tintype again. Yes, she looked like Dorthea’s son.

Gently Leslie removed the picture from its paper folder. She turned it over and saw there were words on the back.

CHRISTOPHER APPLETON, MAY 1901.

“Christopher!” Leslie gasped and stared at the inscription for a long moment. Christopher Appleton was her friend, her ghost! And this was a picture of him when he was alive! Leslie was so stunned she could barely think. She looked just like her ghost. No wonder he had picked her for his special friend.