"Surely he's too tiny. Mama, too new."
She laughed at me and glanced at Baby Celeste, who looked to be laughing at me as well.
"It's especially when we are as helpless as he is that evil has its way with us.Ill do what has to be done to make sure it hasn't happened and won't, but as always. Noble, you have to help me, help me and Baby Celeste. It would be horrible if we exposed her to anything terrible, if we were negligent, would it not? Well?"
"Yes. Mama."
"Finish your garden work. We have a lot to do, a lot to do."
She turned back to the baby. I watched her for a moment and then went outside.
Just as I turned toward the garden. I heard Betsy's scream of frustration come pouring out of the opened window in her room.
It was shrill and desperate, but it was caught up in the breeze and carried off to die away in the forest where no one could help her.
For a moment I felt like screaming myself, like being some sort of relay runner, accepting her cry and carrying it forward. After all. I had been crying out myself, but containing it within my own troubled heart. I was caught somewhere between wanting to ally myself with Betsy and with being loyal to Mama. I took the hoe in my hands and began to work again. Don't think, I told myself. don't think.
Work.
Perhaps that was what Betsy finally told herself as well. Later, when she emerged from her bedroom and descended the stairs, she was wearing one of the clean, conservative dresses that had been hanging in her closet. She had bathed and brushed her hair, pinning it back. She wore no makeup. Dry-eyed and pale, she looked in on her sleeping baby. Mama had placed him between two large pillows on the sofa, and he did look contented. After that. Betsy went into the kitchen and began to bring in the place settings, the silverware, and the dishes and glasses for our dinner. She worked quietly, carefully. obediently. To me she moved like someone under a spell, walking in her sleep. but Mama was pleased.
"We'll make do with what we have," she declared at dinner. "We'll take care of each other and well make your father proud yet," she told Betsy, who ate methodically.
"How can he be proud if he's dead?" she asked Mama.
Mama smiled at her, smiled at me, smiled at Baby Celeste. "The dearly departed see us. The ones we love are always with us. Death dies the moment our hearts stop. It holds us only an instant."
Betsy smirked. It was easy to see what she was thinking, but she wisely kept it to herself. All she did was glance at me with some hope that in my face she would find some sympathy and agreement. Terrified that she might. I quickly looked away. Our first dinner without Dave passed with no further comment or question. Toward the end of the meal, we heard Panther cry and Mama told Betsy to see to him.
"He probably needs a diaper change." "I know," Betsy quipped.
"Then you know to do it," Mama told her, "When you're done, see to clearing off the table."
"What about the baby?"
"Ill see to him," Mama said. "Noble, go upstairs to the turret room and find Baby Celestes crib. Set it up in Betsy's room for her. I'll bring in the bedding soon and prepare the crib."
"Yes, Mama." I said.
Betsy shook her head at me and then went to change Panther's diaper.
"How lucky you are," Mama told her later, "that we have everything your baby needs here::
"Yeah. I'm the luckiest girl in the world,- Betsy said dryly. Mama smiled. "You don't know how true that is."
Betsy's first night back was difficult for all of us, although Mama never acknowledged it. No sooner had we all gone to bed than Panther began to wail. He cried and cried. I kept expecting Mama to get up to see to him, but she kept her bedroom door shut. Finally, I rose and went to Betsy's door.
"Is something wrong?" I waited, but all I heard was the baby's crying. For a long moment. I couldn't decide whether to return to my room or open her door. The baby's wailing didn't subside. Still. Mama didn't rise and come out to see what was wrong. I heard Betsy's groan. so I slowly opened her door and peered into the room.
Mama had put candles in both her windows. The glow of light spilled over the bed. where I saw Betsy lying with her hands over her ears. I stepped in slowly.
"Betsy?"
Panther did seem to be in some agony. I drew closer and finally Betsy looked my way and removed her hands from her ears.
"What's wrong with him?"
"What's wrong? Look at the stupid crib your mother set up."