Mother (18 page)

“No kidding. I’m glad she was busy. Did you tell her about the baby?”

“Nope. I doubt she has any idea you can find out a baby’s gender this early through a blood test, and I’m not about to tell her.” She grinned.

“So, what about you?” Jason stood to retrieve plates and silverware. “Is everything tip-top?”

She frowned. “I’m still on the high risk side and have to take it easy - no heavy lifting, plenty of rest. That will go on for the duration of the pregnancy, I’m afraid, but nothing’s wrong.” She used a spatula to cut the lasagna into large squares.

“What about your fatigue?”

“It’s normal, and Dr. Putnam prescribed Vitamin B shots for it.”

“Injections?”

She nodded. “I start taking them immediately.”

The lasagna squares became pools of steaming fragrant goo on the plates; she hadn't given it time to cool, but she didn’t care. “It’s still too soon to know many details, but the baby’s developing at a healthy rate.” She looked at the plate of goop. “Should we set these in the fridge for a minute?”

Jason shook his head. “Let’s blow on them instead. I’m starving!”

“Me, too!”

They took their seats. Claire watched her husband beaming at her, his bright eyes full of life and love. She was certain their son would be beautiful.
I hope he has Jason’s blue eyes.
“I want to tell Dad,” Claire said.

“Why don’t we visit after dinner?”

“Let’s. I also want to ask Mother about Mr. Anton.”

Jason cocked his head. “Mr. Anton?”

“The teddy bear my brother saved for me when Mother was on a rampage, remember?”

Jason scoffed. “Good luck finding anything in that house.”

“Exactly. But I’d really like to find that bear.” She smiled. “For our son.”

Jason blew on his lasagna and pushed it around with his fork.
 

Claire looked at her plate, which was still too hot to bother with. “So …?” she asked. “Michael?”

Jason blinked at her, the emotion on his face betraying how touched he was. “As long as that’s what you really like.”

Michael. For Jason’s father. Claire wanted Jason to have that.
It’s the perfect name for him.
Michael Frederick Holbrook. Or maybe Michael Scott. Claire didn’t care. As long as the baby was healthy, he could be named Egbert or Cecil.
But of course I wouldn’t do that to our son,
she thought.
Our son.
Claire’s eyes filled with tears of joy. She blinked them away.

Mother was at her Ladies Auxiliary meeting when Claire and Jason entered the house. Jason watched Claire rifle through a kitchen drawer and pull out a big set of keys. “Spares,” she told him. “Come on.”
 

Upstairs, Claire knocked on the door. “Dad? Are you awake?”

After a moment, he answered, though it was hard to understand him.

Claire tried likely keys and, miracle of miracles, the fifth one worked. The door opened and they entered.

The old man looked the same, crooked and frail, but his eyes were alert and he managed to say something that sounded like “Hello.”

“Hi, Dad!” Claire went to him and kissed his cheek. “I’ve missed you. Mother seems to want to keep you all to herself.”

His eyes sharpened. He nodded his head. “Yeaaah.”

“Do you prefer just seeing Mother?”

“Noooo!” He shook his head vehemently.

“I’ll talk to her about it.”

Another strong shake. “No! No!”

“But-”

“No!”

Claire glanced at Jason. “I wonder what’s going on.”

“Good question. Your dad obviously doesn’t want your mother to know we’ve been here.”

“Yeaaah.”

Jason nodded, looking at Fred Martin. “So tell him our good news. I’m going to snoop a little.”

The old man understood and nodded. .

There was a writing desk on one wall and Jason opened the top drawer. It was completely empty except for a lone GI Joe action figure. Jason tried the other drawers; they held nothing but several Gideon bibles Prissy had probably filched from hotel rooms. He wondered how many bibles were in the house.
Hundreds, probably.  

The chest of drawers yielded nothing but clothing. Then he spotted a trashcan near the bed.
 

“You’re going to have a grandson,” he heard Claire say.
 

The old man made happy sounds.
 

Jason set the trashcan on the desk chair and dug through it, coming up with a couple of pill bottles, several hypodermics, and empty injection bottles. He didn’t try to make out the labels, but he pocketed the several bottles and dumped everything else back in the trash. That’s when he heard a car pull up.

“Your mother’s home,” he said.

“Go!” Frederick ordered.

Claire kissed him on the cheek then they fled, stopping only to lock the door. Downstairs, she dropped the keys in the drawer an instant before Prissy walked in, dressed in a pale peach pantsuit with a pastel yellow scarf threaded under the lapels. Her makeup was perfect and not a strand of her black hair dared move. Prissy’s outfit, with its padded shoulders, looked dated.

“Well, Car-Claire! What are you doing here? Jason? You two look like you’ve been running.”
 

“Actually,” Jason said in his smoothest pilot’s voice, “we just got back from a very brisk walk and decided to stop and see you before we went upstairs.”
Now please fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Claire looked at him and suppressed a smile. She always liked his pilot’s voice. It was sexy, she said.

Priscilla looked suspicious. “Mm-hmm. But you could see that my car wasn’t here.”

“I had to pee,” Claire said. “I couldn’t wait, okay? The doctor said it’s normal.”

Prissy eyed them both, then nodded. “Sit.” She indicated the kitchen table. “Would you like some juice? Or tea? Perhaps something stronger for you, Jason?”

“Sure,” Jason said. “I’d love a cup of tea.”
Something that will get the taste of that rancid perfume out of my mouth.
 

“Me too,” Claire said.

“Good. I’ll just check on your father, and then we’ll sit down and chat over some nice green tea. I want to hear all about this wonderful new doctor of yours.” She spoke with a sneer as she put the kettle on. “Be right back.”

As soon as he heard her on the stairs, Jason looked to Claire. “Will she know we were in there?”

“I doubt it. You didn’t mess anything up, right?”

“Right. I found some drug bottles in the trash - I put a couple in my pocket. They were on the bottom under a lot of tissue, so she’d have to look hard to see that I took them.”

“I don’t think she will.” Claire leaned closer to his ear. “What kind of drugs?”

“I don’t know. I figured we could look at them up upstairs.”

“Good idea. Find anything else?”

“Bibles in the desk. A little green army man. There’s no paper or stationery or pens or pencils. He’s unable to write?”

Claire glanced toward the stairs. “It might be difficult, but I think he can write. How else can he communicate?”
 

“I don’t know. I didn’t see anything to read, either. No magazines or books. Just that tiny ancient television and it wasn’t even plugged in.”

“I need to do something about it.”

“How?” Jason asked. “You can’t let your mother know.”

“I know. I have to think about it, Jason, but I do know something’s really wrong. He has to be in torment up there - it’s so boring. It would drive me mad.”

Jason looked at her. “It would drive anyone mad.”

“We need to find out-” They heard Prissy starting down the stairs and waited while she was in the living room. Then Claire sighed as the turntable started and the Andrews Sisters melodiously warned against sitting under the apple tree with the wrong woman.
 

“Poor Frederick, such a dear, sweet man,” Prissy said as she slipped into the kitchen and poured boiling water into pale pink china tea cups painted with tiny sprays of pastel snapdragons. She added a tea bag to each and carried them to the table. “Give it time to steep.”

“How many years has Mr. Martin been incapacitated?” Jason asked as she sat down.

“Well, it just seems like forever. Ca-Claire was only three when he had his little accident.”

Little?
Jason’s mind boggled. “It must have been very hard on you, Prissy.”

Her look spoke of extended suffering. “It still is, but as long as the poor man fights, I’ll be at his side, just as I’ve always been.” She swirled the tea bag. “I don’t know if my daughter told you or not, but I used to work as a nurse at Snapdragon General - the hospital where your baby will undoubtedly be born. It’s a nice place.”

“Yes, of course Claire told me. So have you.”
More than once.

“Well, it’s a good thing nursing is my chosen profession. I might’ve retired from the hospital, but I’ve kept my license up so I can properly take care of Car-Claire’s daddy.” She brought her teacup to her lips, then paused, lost in thought, “I’ve prayed about it, and the Lord has assured me it was my destiny.” She turned her washed-out amber eyes on Jason. “He only gives us as much as we can handle, you know.”

“Uh, sure.”

“It’s my cross to bear,” Prissy went on. “I sometimes wish the good Lord didn’t have so much faith in me.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you keep him locked up in his room all the time?”

“Hush, girl!” Prissy’s eyes flashed. “You obviously don’t know what you’re talking about. He
prefers
to be there. It makes him feel safe.”

Jason prayed Claire wouldn’t let on they’d been in Frederick’s room again. And she didn’t.
 

“What does he do all day?” she asked as the Andrews Sisters continued their torment. “Does he have books? A TV?”

“Of course, dear. He loves his TV. I’m afraid he has trouble reading - his eyes don’t maintain focus well-”

That’s not true
. At least short term, Jason had seen him focus just fine.

“-but I read to him for half an hour at least once a day. He watches television all the time. He has an oversized remote so he can change the channels himself.”

“What are you reading now, Mother?” Claire’s voice had that too-sweet edge that told Jason she was going in for the kill. He shot her a warning glance.
 

“Why,
Great Expectations
, dear. He loves that story so much that we reread it nearly every year.”

Claire nodded. “Does he have any favorite television shows?”

“Oh, yes. He likes
Wheel of Fortune
,
Tomorrow’s Singing Stars
, and
The Golden Girls
. He loves those old reruns, you know.” Prissy cracked a smile. It looked painful. “He also enjoys
The God Club with Reverend Bobby Felcher
. I put it on for him Sunday mornings since it’s too hard for him to go to church himself.” She sighed. “He misses that, you know. At least when he remembers ...”

It looked like steam was about to shoot from Claire’s ears. “Why can’t he go to church with you? Why don’t you install one of those stair-chairs so he can ride down easily? Maybe take him for walks, too, let him see something once in a while, take him out in the sun, for Christ’s sake? Mother, you have plenty of money. You could even have an elevator installed. It’s cruel to leave him up there all the time.”

Prissy flashed Claire a look of contempt. “Perhaps if you’d been around these past ten years, you’d have a better understanding of your father’s condition. As it is-”

Jason cleared his throat. “Claire? Weren’t you going to ask your mom about your teddy bear, Mr. Anthon?”

Claire’s jaw flexed and the ice in Prissy’s eyes melted so quickly it was as if it had never been there. That rapid switch, Jason was sure, was borne of years of practice. “Oh, yes. Of course I remember your teddy.” She laughed. “You carried that ragged old thing around with you everywhere.”

“Is he still around somewhere?”
 

“Oh, yes!” said Prissy, rubbing the golden beads of her hair necklace. “I have a few ideas of where it might be, and as soon as I’m done with all of these projects I’m in the middle of, I’ll start looking.” Her red lips curled up in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
 

“I can look for him.”

“No, no, no. I’ll find it. Now, tell me about the doctor visit.”

“It was fine,” Claire said between clenched teeth. “Everything’s just fine, Mother.”

Prissy nodded. “Good. Do you plan to find out the baby’s gender?”

Claire had been right. Prissy wasn’t aware of the new blood tests.

Claire opened her mouth, but Jason knew that whatever was about to come out wasn’t going to be pleasant. “She’s still a high risk,” he interrupted. “We have to keep an eye on her blood pressure and it’s probably a little high right now.” He turned to Claire. “We should get back upstairs.”

He saw the flush of anger in his wife’s cheeks, but she didn’t argue.

“Yes,” said Prissy, fiddling with her scarf. “We mustn’t upset our little girl.” She blinked, no trace of enmity in her expression.

Claire’s cheeks were crimson as Jason led her from the room. She sputtered, but allowed him to guide her out.

“That bitch,” said Claire as they left the big white house.
 

“Just let it go, sweetheart.”

She pulled away from Jason and turned to face him. “And you. How dare you tell her that I’m high risk?”

“But-”

“When she sees weakness, she pounces.” Claire started up the stairs to the apartment. “She’ll use it against me, Jason, mark my words. Is it too much to ask that you keep her out of our business?”
A part of her knew she was overreacting, that she shouldn’t be taking her frustrations out on her husband, but another part of her argued that she was right: Mother loved nothing more than seeing weakness. At the top of the stairs, she withdrew the key and opened the door.

“Look.” Jason placed a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t fucking
touch
me!” Claire jerked away from his hand and turned the key, letting herself in. He didn’t follow and when she turned, she saw him standing outside the door, his mouth open, his eyes imploring. That’s when it occurred to her.
This is what Mother wants: to turn us against each other. This is exactly what I warned Jason about and now I’m the one letting it happen.
Tears sprang. “Jason. I’m sorry.” The tears slipped now and she wiped them away. “I’m sorry, I just get so upset lately.”