I won’t hurt you anymore, she thought. Without words, in gratitude and with love, it answered her.
Good God, it was alive, he was right. It was alive and it could hear her. It was in pain.
“It won’t take very long,” he said. “I’ll care for you with all my heart. You are my Eve, yet you are sinless. And once it’s born, then if you wish, you can die.”
She didn’t answer him. Why should she? For the first time in two months, there was someone else there to talk to. She turned her head away.
Thirteen
ANNE MARIE MAYFAIR sat stiffly on the smooth beige plastic couch in the hospital lobby. Mona saw her as soon as she came in. Anne Marie wore her funeral suit, still, of navy blue, and her usual prim blouse with its score of ruffles. She was reading a magazine, her legs crossed, her black glasses down on her nose, and there was something cute about her as always, with her black hair drawn back in a twist, and her small nose and mouth, and the big glasses made her look both stupid and intelligent.
She looked up as Mona approached. Mona pecked her on the cheek and then flopped down beside her.
“Did Ryan call you?” asked Anne Marie, her voice hushed and private though there were very few other people moving in the brightly lighted lobby. Elevator doors opened and closed in an alcove far away. The reception desk with its high impersonal counter was empty.
“You mean about Mother?” Mona said. She hated this place. It occurred to her that when she was very rich and a huge Mayfair Mogul with mutual funds in every sector of the economy, she would spend some time on interior design, trying to liven up places as sterile and cold as this. Then she thought of Mayfair Medical! Of course that plan had to go forward! She had to help Ryan. They couldn’t shut her out. She’d talk to Pierce about it tomorrow. She’d speak to Michael, soon as he felt a little better.
She looked at Anne Marie. “Ryan said Mother was in here.”
“Yes, well, she is, and according to the nurses she thinks we’re trying to permanently commit her. That’s what she told them this morning when they brought her in. She’s been asleep ever since they stuck a needle in her arm. The nurse is supposed to call me if she wakes up. What I meant was—did Ryan call you about Edith?”
“No, what happened to Edith?” Mona barely knew Edith. Edith was Lauren’s granddaughter, a timid belligerent recluse who lived on Esplanade Avenue and spent all her time with her cats, a predictable and boring woman, never went anywhere ever, not even to funerals apparently. Edith. What did she look like? Mona wasn’t sure.
Anne Marie sat up, slapped the magazine on the table, and pushed her glasses up against her pretty eyes. “Edith died this afternoon. Hemorrhage same as Gifford. Ryan says for none of the women in the family to be alone. It might be something genetic. We’re to be around people all the time. That way if something happens, we can call for help. Edith had been all alone, like Gifford.”
“You’re kidding me. You mean Edith Mayfair is dead? This really actually happened?”
“Yeah, I know. Believe me. Think how Lauren feels. Lauren went over there to scold her for not showing up at Gifford’s funeral. And there was Edith lying on the bathroom floor. Bled to death. And her cats were all around her licking up the blood.”
Mona didn’t say anything for a moment. She had to reflect, not only upon what she knew, but upon how much of it she could tell anybody else, and to what purpose. Partly she was simply shocked.
“You’re saying this was a uterine hemorrhage too.”
“Yeah, possible miscarriage, they said. I would say impossible on that, myself, knowing Edith. Same with Gifford. Neither could have been pregnant. They’re doing an autopsy this time. So at least the family is doing something other than burning candles and saying prayers, and giving each other the evil eye.”
“That’s good,” Mona said in a dull voice, drawing back into herself, hoping her cousin would keep quiet for a moment. No such luck.
“Look, everybody is very upset,” said Anne Marie. “But we have to follow the directive. A person can have a hemorrhage without it being a miscarriage, obviously. So don’t go off by yourself. If you feel faint, or any unusual physical symptoms, you need