anyone since we’ve been in Louisiana either. I put a hand to my forehead in an attempt to make sense of all this. Lindsey has her driver’s license, but she never really goes anywhere. When she does, she isn’t gone long and she’s never out at night. I drop my hand to my lap. This has to be a prank. Is it April Fool’s Day? No, that was last month.
“I have a picture of my baby.” Lindsey reaches into a side pocket in her dress and pulls out an ultrasound photo. She puts the small picture in my hand, and I expect to see an image like when Fern showed me the first ultrasound of her baby. I think I’m going to see something that looks like a nugget with flippers, but the glossy image in my hand is of a fully formed baby sucking its thumb.
“His name is Frankie.”
I let that sink in. Frankie. A baby. A real person.
“When is this baby due?”
“September ninth.”
My math skills are about as good as my measurement skills. “Which makes you how far along?”
“Nineteen weeks.”
“What’s that in months?”
“Five.”
I don’t have to be in the mood for math to figure out she was two months pregnant when I hired her. I wonder if she knew. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I wanted to tell you when you called in February, but I knew you wouldn’t have hired me.”
That answers that question. “You were right.” For the first time since Lindsey entered our lives, I’m angry with her. She lied to me by omission and betrayed my trust.
“I’ve been afraid to tell. I’m afraid you might fire me.”
“You’re right about that, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Lindsey says again, and tears fill her eyes.
“You knew when I hired you that I needed someone on board for the long haul.” I stand and walk toward the door. I thought we were close, that we had each other’s backs. Now I have three months left with her, at best. “I trusted you.”
“What are you going to do?”
I look back at her and at my mother’s face still pinched with anger. This is a mess. “I don’t know,” I say as I walk from the room, hardly noticing the temporary railing as I climb the stairs. Lindsey’s eagerness to leave Washington makes sense now. She had a baby on board and wanted to get as far away as possible.
It’s still early, but I strip down to my bra and panties and crawl into bed. There have been innumerable bad days in the past few months—the flight to New Orleans, the first night in Sutton Hall, casket shopping at Bergeron Funeral Home—but today tops them all. It started with Mom thinking that I’m going to be cool with killing her and ended with Lindsey thinking I’m going to be cool with a baby named Frankie.
“Lou Ann.” Lindsey knocks and pushes open the door at the same time.
I turn on my side away from her. I don’t want to see her right now.
“I’m sorry. I should have done things different, but it just got crazy. When you called in February, I was staring at an e.p.t. stick, and you seemed like the answer to all my problems.”
“And here I thought you were the answer to mine.” I roll onto my back and look up at her. “I depend on you to help with Mom. You’re my rock when everything goes insane around here. Did you think about the position your pregnancy puts me in?” Her silence is my answer. “What about your family?”
“They’d never accept Frankie.” Lindsey sits on the side of my bed. “And every baby should be born into a family that can’t wait to welcome it.”
“What about Frankie’s father? I’m assuming you told him.”
She shrugs and looks away. “He doesn’t want the responsibility.”
Well, that makes him an irresponsible asshole, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s kept this baby a secret since I hired her. It’s not a small secret, either.
“It’s just Frankie and me.”
“No, it’s not.” I sit up. “It’s you and Frankie and my sick mother.”
“I can still give the same quality of care to Patricia that I’ve—”
“No, you can’t,” I interrupt. “If Mother falls and needs help getting up, you can’t help her. Once the baby is born, you can’t take care of Mom and a newborn at the same time.”
“I think I can.”
“Don’t be naive.”
She looks down at her hands resting on her round stomach. “I’m sorry.”