he added with a nod. “And I do not need the distraction of the city at the moment. I am content to sit here and mend the nets and think about my good fortune instead.”
“You and Anethe are settling in well then?”
“Yes, Maren, you have seen this.”
“She is very agreeable,” I said. “And she is pleasant to look upon. But she has a lot to learn about keeping a house. I suppose she will learn that here.”
“She can’t fail with such a good teacher,” Evan said, stabbing his spoon in my direction. I winced, for I thought sometimes that his new jocularity was overbearing and not really suited to him, however happy he had become.
“Maren, you have turned yourself into a first-rate cook,” he said. “If I do not watch myself, I will grow fat from your cook-ing.”
“You are already fat from your happiness,” I said to him.
He laughed a kind of self-congratulatory laugh. “That is overweight I would not mind carrying,” he said, “but you are growing fat as well, and with luck you may grow fatter still.” I think my brother may actually have winked at me.
I got up at once and went to the stove.
“I mean that you will one day give us all some good news,” he said amiably.
Still I said nothing.
“Maren, what is it?” he asked. “Have I said something wrong?”
I struggled for a moment over the wisdom of answering my brother, but I had waited for so long to speak with him, and I did not see when I would easily have another opportunity.
“I cannot have a child,” I said, turning, and looking at him steadily.
He looked away toward the south window, through which one could see across the harbor and over to Star. I did not know if he was simply taken aback, or if he was chastising himself for so carelessly bringing up a painful subject. I saw, when he turned his head, that the silver-blond hair was thinning at the crown. He looked up. “Are you sure of this, Maren? Have you been to a doctor?”
“I have no need of doctors. Four years have been proof enough. And, truth to tell, I am not so surprised. It is something I have suspected all my life, or at least since…”
I hesitated.
“Since our mother died,” I said quietly.
Evan put down his spoon, and brought his hand up to the lower half of his face.
“You remember,” I said.
He did not answer me.
“You remember,” I said, in a slightly more distinct voice.
“I remember,” he replied.
“And I have thought,” I said quickly, “that my illness after that time and the simultaneous onset of my womanhood…”
He began to rub the underside of his chin with his forefinger.
“That is to say, the beginning of my monthly curse…”
He suddenly took his napkin from his lap and put it on the table. “These are not matters of which we should speak, Maren,” he said, interrupting me. “I am sorry to have brought up such a private subject. It is entirely my fault. But I do want to say to you that there can be no possible cause and effect between the events of that time and the state of your” — he hesitated at the word — “womb. This is a subject for doctors and for your husband at the very least. Also, I think that sometimes such difficulties may result from a state of mind as well as a state of bodily health.”
“Are you saying I am barren because I have wished it so?” I asked sharply, for I was more than a little piqued at this glib remark on a matter he can have known so very little about.
“No, no, Maren,” he said hastily. “No, no, I have no authority to say such things. It’s just that I…” He paused. “Your marriage to John is a happy one?”
“We have managed,” I said.
“I mean,” he said, with a small, awkward flutter of his hand, “in the matter of a child…”
“Do you mean, does my husband put his seed into me with regularity?” I asked, shocking him, for he colored instantly and darkly.
He stood up in a state of confusion, and I was immediately remorseful and angry with myself for causing him this discomfort. I went to him and put my arms about his neck. He separated my hands from behind his neck and held my arms by their wrists, and I leaned against his chest.
My eyes filled with tears. Perhaps it was the proximity of his familiar body and