“I’m sorry, Mother.” Dear God, would her mother go to her grave defending that man? She said abruptly, “Where is Charlie?”
“In Mexico, I believe. He writes occasionally. I’m not quite certain what he’s doing.”
He probably writes when he needs money, Byrony thought, but she didn’t say it. “And your husband?”
“He’s in town. He’ll be home soon.”
Byrony clasped her mother’s careworn hands. “There isn’t enough money for you to hire someone to help you?”
“Not yet,” Alice said cheerfully. “But your father has plans, you know.”
“I know,” Byrony said. Things never changed, she thought. Her mother wouldn’t allow her to do anything. She sat at the small kitchen table watching her peel potatoes.
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
Alice wheeled around, her tired eyes lighting. You must have been so beautiful once, Byrony thought, pain flowing though her. Was life ever fair?
“That’s wonderful. Oh, my darling girl, let me get you a cup of tea. When? Do you feel well?”
Byrony laughed. “I feel disgustingly healthy. I felt a royal bout of nausea but once, and that was during a storm near Panama that left all the passengers hanging over the railing. I am just fine, Mother. Indeed, the voyage here was depressingly boring, but for that one storm. The baby is due in about five and a half months,” she added, answering another question she saw in her mother’s eyes.
“I’m going to be a grandmother,” Alice said with relish. “How marvelous. Will you remain here, Byrony, until the baby is born?”
She said very gently, “I’m sorry, but I must return to San Francisco. I have an excellent doctor there, Saint Morris is his name. He’ll take very good care of me, I promise you. And I have other good friends as well. One woman, her name is Chauncey, she has a little girl and will help me, I’m certain.”
“But what about Ira?”
“He and Irene don’t bother me. They keep a goodly distance. Actually, Ira is someone to pity. He found himself in a terrible situation and I suppose he did what he thought he had to do to save himself and his half-sister. He does love her, you know.”
“As I said, he still sends money every month.”
“He should,” Byrony said in a clipped voice. “It was part of the agreement.”
“So, you’re back.”
Both women turned at the sneering voice. Madison DeWitt stood in the kitchen doorway, his hands over his chest. He’d added flesh, Byrony thought, observing him, and doubtless he needed to bathe.
“Did your precious husband kick you out?” her father asked, furious at the distaste he saw on her face.
Byrony saw her mother raise her hands in a pleading gesture, and said coldly, “Which precious husband are you referring to?”
“Don’t shoot off your mouth to me, girl.”
“Madison, please—”
“Shut up, Alice. What are you doing here, girl?”
“Visiting my mother.”
“As long as you’re here in my house, you little slut, you’ll keep a respectful tongue in your mouth.”
“She’s pregnant, Madison.”
Byrony suffered in silence while her father ran his leering gaze over her body.
“Whose is this one?”
“Why, I’m really not sure. With a slut, there are so many men. We’ll have to wait to see the child’s features.”