Love Lies Bleeding (20 page)

The fact was, she had vomited just about every morning for over a week. She felt weak and woozy and could never quite get rid of the sour taste in her mouth. But at the same time, she was voracious, devouring more in the past week than she had for months. She doubted the medical text could tell her if she’d come down with some sort of strange disease, but she did wonder about her symptoms. She had a sneaking suspicion, and it wasn’t good.

“I don’t see why not,” Olive replied, spearing a chunk of squash on her plate. “Father has so many. I doubt he would miss one. I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, dear. You’re a treasure. Are you excited?”

“I suppose I am,” Olive admitted. “But it is far away from home. And it will be dangerous near the battlefields. Aren’t you frightened at all?”

“A little. I’m more concerned about niceties. You know, indoor plumbing, my favorite face cream, that sort of thing. I’m spoiled in that respect, you know.”

Olive laughed, knowing Libbie’s love of luxury. She could never say no to a pretty hat, a new perfume, or some bauble. The reports from Europe were abysmal. Living with so much mud and gore and ugliness every day would be difficult for Libbie.

“How are things going with Tom?” Olive asked, lowering her voice a bit.

“Fine,” Libbie said.

“Libbie, what’s going on between you two? I don’t understand why you’re still seeing him when the rumor is that Stephen LaBarr is going to ask for your hand any day.”

“I like him. And he is fond of me.”

“Yes, but Stephen is also fond of you. Your parents are very fond of Stephen. You need to let the poor boy down easy, but you need to do it, Libbie. You’re not being very discreet about seeing him, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Libbie demanded.

“Just what I said. Don’t think people haven’t noticed you strolling around town with him. They’re starting to talk.”

“It hasn’t been often.”

“It doesn’t have to be for people to talk, Libbie. People don’t need excuses to ruin a girl’s reputation. I just want you to think about what you’re doing.”

At that moment, Birdie approached their table. “Well, ladies,” Birdie said, “anything for dessert?”

“Oh, some spiced pears, please!” Libbie said, “With lots of whipped cream on top, please Miss Birdie.”

Again, Olive marveled at Libbie’s new capacity for lunch.

The next day, Olive brought the book to Libbie at home. Juliana let her in, and she waited in the parlor. When Libbie came down to get her, she looked a bit peaked.

“Libbie dear, what is it?” Olive asked as they climbed the stairs to Libbie’s room.

“Must have been the chicken pie yesterday,” Libbie said, forgetting that Olive had eaten the same thing. “Maybe it was spoiled. I feel dreadful,” she said, sitting down on the bed.

“I doubt you’re going to want to read this right now, but I brought the book like you asked.” Olive set the book down and studied her friend. As usual, there was more going on in Libbie’s head than she could ever decipher, but her friend looked troubled and not at all well. “Perhaps some ginger tea would help. Shall I get Juliana to make you some, dear?” She sat and put an arm around Libbie, who was trembling.

“That would be nice,” Libbie said with a weak smile.

“I won’t be a moment.” She slipped out of the room, intent on making Libbie feel better. 

As soon as Olive left the room, Libbie’s fears could no longer be shelved. She flipped through the book, looking for some clue as to what her illness might be. At last, as she turned pages near the women’s anatomical section, she found information regarding puberty, reproduction, and gestation. There, her growing fear was confirmed.

“
Nausea gravidarum, also known as morning sickness, frequently occurs in women who are with child. Nausea and vomiting are an early indicator of pregnancy and may begin around the sixth week.”

Libbie felt faint. In fact, she thought she might pass out. With child? Could this be how it worked? That the physical need that had kept her going back to Tom was the one that had put her in this position? How could she have been so stupid? They’d been making love for weeks. If only she had attended some of the nursing seminars, perhaps she might have learned how having babies worked. When during her carefree summer had she become a woman with child? And even more important, how the hell could she once again become a woman without one? Her life was all planned out. The fancy dinner parties, being a senator’s wife, summer trips around the globe—they would all be a dream if she couldn’t figure out how to end this nightmare. If Stephen found out, everything would be ruined. She had to tell Tom. Together, they could figure this out.

When Olive brought the tea back upstairs, Libbie took a grateful sip, the seed of an idea forming in her head. Only after Olive left did Libbie allow herself the luxury of sobbing into George’s soft neck.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ithaca, New York
August 1986

August 27, 1916

Dear Diary,

The courtship with Tom has run its course. He has to know, of course, but it will be difficult to tell him. Stephen and I are practically betrothed, and he returns to town soon. All good things come to an end, as they say, and in a situation like mine, I have no other option. Stephen does not know of our courting or anything else, thank goodness, since he has been in New York City so much of the time. And he will not know. I’m determined of it. What a horror. The slightest misstep could spell trouble for me. I’ll meet with Tom tomorrow.

L.

Frank re-read the diary, this time with Linda helping him look over everything. Once again, they’d gotten take-out from Ling’s Pagoda, and as they sat finishing up their Mu Shu, they pored over the entries together, second guessing themselves.

“Or anything else…” Frank trailed off. It was unclear whether Libbie was being dramatic or if something else was going on.

With a woman’s eye, Linda suddenly sat bolt upright, chopsticks poised in mid-air.

“Frank, look at this.
Her situation
. Could Libbie have been pregnant? Obviously, she’s involved with two guys, so that’s complicated, but you said LaBarr saw them in a car, going at it like rabbits,” she said.

Frank felt like a fool for not seeing it before. Leave it to a woman to pick up on the nuance he couldn’t.

“Now, normally, girls in that ‘situation’ years ago just married the boy who’d put them in the awkward position of being pregnant before marriage,” Linda continued. “Children arrived four to eight months after the wedding and were called premature. But try to imagine what it might have been like for her. For a rich girl being courted by real money like LaBarr, a pregnancy by a poor guy like Tom would have meant the end of everything. No engagement, no marriage, and maybe no parents. It sounds like they might have disowned her if they found out. She would have had to leave town, their good name protected with a story like ‘visiting relatives back east’ or ‘staying with an aunt out west.’ Now, we don’t know exactly when Stephen saw them together, but she doesn’t sound desperate here, just nervous. She didn’t know yet that she’d been found out.” Linda took a long swig of her Pepsi and looked at him with triumph.

“Here, she says she’s going to break it off with him on August twenty-seventh, but we know they had to have met again,” Linda said, pointing at the entry. “Probably on September seventeenth. But what happened in between?”

Ithaca, New York
September 4, 1916

As the flivver bounced along its regular route to Buttermilk Falls, Tom couldn’t help but notice how quiet Libbie was. Usually, she prattled on and on about literature, poetry, nursing, her friendship with Olive, and school chums he would never meet. Tonight, she said very little at all. He concentrated on driving but wished he knew how to draw her out. Only heaven knew what kind of mood she was in. He had learned not to annoy her if he could help it.

As he pulled the car to a stop at their favorite spot, Libbie glanced over at him with glistening eyes. He could see that she was fighting not to cry.

“Libbie, sweetest, what is it?” He pulled her close to him, wanting to offer her comfort, but felt himself growing hard right away. The location, the mood, her toilet water in his nostrils had all become a signal for him to leave common sense in the dust and ravish her. But now was not the time.

“I’ve been sick this week. And last,” she said.

He searched her eyes to figure out what she was telling him.

“In the mornings,” she continued.

He nodded, still not understanding. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back as he embraced her, not knowing what else to do.

“My cycle…is…stopped.”

“Have you seen a doctor? I hope it’s nothing serious, darling Libbie.”

She reared back and glared at him. “Serious? Of course it’s serious. I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” he repeated, stunned. “How? When?”

“We’ve been…doing it…for a month or two now. It happened during that time. But I don’t know how it all works.” It had been a physical need in her, but she wasn’t sure about calling it love. In fact, she wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

“I confess I don’t know much either. There are devices you can buy, I believe, prophylactic devices, but I was ashamed. In case we had been seen together, I was afraid of compromising your honor.”

“Because actually being pregnant doesn’t compromise my honor at all,” she snapped.

“Libbie, please don’t be harsh. You were very forward with me, as you’ll recall. It’s hard for a man to resist such advances. From a woman as beautiful as you, it’s impossible. It’s not fair to blame me alone. We each share some responsibility in this. We must think of a way to handle it now that the deed is done.”

“And what would that be?”

“Why, I’ll marry you, that’s all. We’ve discussed it before.”

“We have? I think you mean you have.”

Feeling as though he’d been punched, he nonetheless continued. “I’ve mentioned several times how much I adore you and how I plan on furthering myself at the clockworks. I could make a good life for us. Honest, I could.”

She laughed bitterly. “And what of my parents? My friends? They’ll all know. There is no way I can stay in Ithaca married to you. I’ll be a laughingstock. Everyone will know I was too stupid to wait until I married to have relations with anyone. ‘There she goes,’ they’ll say. ‘There’s Libbie Morgan, who got knocked up by the poor boy at the clockworks. Look at the hovel she lives in. What a step down for her. Why do you suppose she was so stupid?’ I’ll be just like Gertrude Morel.”

“So we’ll leave. We’ll elope. No one need be the wiser. We just won’t return. I can find another job somewhere else. We could go to Buffalo, New York City, or even San Francisco. We can lose ourselves in the big city.”

“And live in a filthy tenement with a passel of brats? You must be crazy. I won’t lower myself to live in a cheap apartment with you.”

“You have so many more appealing options right now.” His nerves were fraying. Here he was, offering the way out that any respectable girl would jump at. Yet, she still clung to her rich girl’s arrogance about his station.

“I have plenty of choices,” she lied. “None of them involve slums and poverty.”

“If we stay in Ithaca, everyone will know you’ve been giving yourself to me like a common tramp for months. Is that what you want?” he asked, finally reaching the end of his patience.

The blow caught Tom by surprise, an open-handed slap that made his teeth vibrate and his entire cheek throb. Massaging the reddened area, he looked over and saw her glaring at him.

“I was your tramp? Is that what you think?” Her eyes blazed.

“You can’t help yourself,” he stated. “It’s like a sickness with you.”

“One which you very much enjoyed,” she spat.

“A man does not say no to a beautiful woman who throws herself at him. One who wants it multiple times a night. One who persists in remaining a lady to all of society but is a harlot in the bedroom.” So this was how men ended up doing stupid things for pretty women. He was in a ridiculous position because of her and because of his own weakness. Now she had all but taken a knife and cut out his heart with a doctor’s precision.

“What do you mean, bedroom? We’ve been doing it in a car,” she said.

Her haughty manner was infuriating.

“Yes, and what does that say about the rich girl, so convinced of her place in life that she gives herself to a poor man every other night in a car?” At this point, he was happy to give back at least some of what she was giving to him. “Jimmy was right about you.”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed to slits.

“He could see the real you, just from the way you walk and talk and act—that you were no lady. He goes to Miss Rosie’s all the time. So I suppose he knows something about whores.”

“You miserable bastard. You would have done anything for me. Anything. Just like any man in this town would do anything for me. I can have anyone I want with a snap of my finger. But stupid me, I ended up with you instead.”

“Correction. You could have
had
anyone. But no one will want you in your present condition. Which is why my offer is still the best one you’ll see.”

She snorted. He could see she was angry at herself but furious at him for putting her in this position.

“I know what we can do…” she said. Once again, she moved in close to Tom, tempting him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. It was like flipping a switch. Five seconds before, she’d been an iceberg, lambasting him for everything that had gone wrong in her life. Now, she was once again luring him in with her kittenish voice and hot breath in his ear.

“Making love can sometimes cause things to happen. Bad things. But in reality, good things,” she said.

Tom was shocked at how matter-of-fact she sounded. Although he pushed her hands away, she released the buttons on his trousers and manipulated him with her hand until he was ready, then she pushed her skirts aside and rode him with new assurance. She would be rid of this thing soon, and no one would be the wiser.

Dizzy beneath her, Tom rode the crest of his climax as she beat his head against the car’s seat cushion in her intensity. She had no conscience. Here he was, talking of marrying her, and she was determined to destroy the life inside her by pounding it to oblivion. He had never seen her quite so intent on what she was doing. It frightened him.

“There,” she said, climbing off him as nonchalantly as if she had just sewn on a button or set a pie in the oven. She grabbed a corner of the blanket to wipe herself, then straightened her skirts. “A few more times like that should do the trick,” she said. “Now, take me home.”

To her dismay, Libbie discovered that the life inside her was far more determined to be born than she gave it credit for. She supplemented the trauma from the flivver meeting with multitudes of steaming hot baths where she scrubbed so much that her skin turned red and raw. The nausea continued, and her appetite increased until she could barely fit into her skirts and shirtwaists. She snapped at Maude, at Juliana, and even poor George, who would gaze up at her with his sad chocolate eyes and let out a heavy sigh before lying down to doze once more. A few days later, the rumor was confirmed. Stephen LaBarr had neglected family bonds and promises in Ithaca and found himself a debutante in Manhattan instead, and they had become engaged. At that, she was close to despair.

The worst part was that she heard the news from that nasty Phoebe Hill, who had always been jealous of her. She’d been headed downtown to return some library books and had run into the unpleasant girl outside the semi-Romanesque style building on Tioga Street.

Phoebe was the daughter of the town librarian, a plain sparrow with dishwater hair, unremarkable gray eyes, and a figure that would surely run to fat in her later years. She wore a shapeless dress in the most unflattering shade of orange imaginable. How could she think that awful rusty tone would be attractive with her coloring? Even in her present condition, Libbie knew she was far more beautiful than this drab friend of Maude’s.

“Oh Libbie!” the girl said in a wheedling voice. “How are you? Have you been busy since graduation? Wasn’t the ceremony delightful?”

“Hello, Phoebe,” Libbie said, trying to contain her irritation. “Yes, it was. I’ve been busy. Olive and I will be leaving soon for William Smith’s.”

“Did you hear the big news?”

“What news?”

“Why, it’s shocking! Stephen LaBarr is engaged! To a debutante in Manhattan! Can you imagine?”

Libbie tried to hide her shock by remaining quiet for a moment. She wanted to smack the cloying smile off Phoebe’s face. She wondered if Maude had put the little prig up to this. But then she thought twice and realized that if she knew, Mousy Maude had to be crying into her pillow at that very moment. Stephen with a Manhattan debutante meant that Maude would never see him again. And that had to be the hardest of all for her to swallow.

Phoebe clearly watched her for signs that her little arrow had hit the mark. It smarted even more when she added the solemn, “Oh dear Libbie, I’m so sorry. He was all but promised to you, wasn’t he? What sort of cad is he to do something like that, with your fathers being in business together and everything?”

Libbie couldn’t resist at least one barb in return. “Oh dear, indeed. That poor deb. What a boring life she’ll lead. The man is as dull as dirt.”

“But look at all the money she’ll have to be bored with. I’d not mind at all being bored like that. Ta-ta, Libbie!” Phoebe called as she sashayed the rest of the way down Cayuga Street, leaving Libbie fuming in front of the library.

Libbie was lucky that when she returned home, she did it to an empty house. Several pieces of china bric-a-brac met violent ends when she hurled them across the room in her fury. A collection of porcelain shards littered the corner of her room.