Cursing expansively, Kurt released her and was gone. Lauren leaned weakly against the back of one of the chairs, her head spinning, her knees trembling and threatening to buckle beneath her.
When she heard the front door closing after Olivia and Carson had bade the Vandivers goodbye, she crept upstairs to the sanctuary of her room. She was violently ill in the bathroom.
* * *
Lauren hung her head over the basin in the bathroom and retched dryly, her stomach having been emptied the night before. The muscles in her throat constricted and painfully urged something to come up and relieve the racking nausea. When the spasms finally subsided, she fell weakly back into her bed.
She thought the illness which had overcome her the night before had been the direct result of her encounter with Kurt. That her nausea had carried over to the morning must mean that she had a minor ailment of the stomach. In fact, she hadn’t felt well for several days, she realized now.
Each morning, an uncharacteristic lethargy accompanied her out of bed. It pressed upon her head and grew heavier as it shrouded the length of her entire body. The simple chores of arising and dressing seemed insurmountable burdens. The weight of her hairbrush as she drew it through her hair caused her arms to fall weakly to her sides. When she brushed her teeth each morning, bile rose up in the back of her throat, and the smell of breakfast wasn’t at all appetizing. Though she ate sparingly, her stomach felt full and bloated and continued to feel like that even when she was hungry.
Lauren’s spirit was ill because of the rift that had come between her and Jared. The idea that soon the heinous plan dreamed up by Olivia and seconded by Parker Vandiver would be put into action was sickening, and she decided that her physical ailments must be manifestations of her mental upheaval.
Rosa’s smooth brown face gazed down at Lauren with concern. “The señora is not well this morning?” She brushed a few stray tendrils of hair away from Lauren’s pale cheek as she lay back on her pillows.
“No, I don’t feel very well. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I have no energy, food makes me sick, even the thought of it makes me sick. I feel so puffy and…” Her voice trailed off, lacking the energy to continue.
Rosa scrutinized her mistress pensively. “When did you last bleed?” she asked softly.
Lauren blushed furiously, but she tried to remember. The process of thinking seemed not worth the effort it required. “I… I don’t recall. I was still at Keypoint. It was sometime in late January. I remember because Gloria had just had the babies and she and I—”
“Señora, don’t you see?” Rosa interrupted her excitedly, “It’s been two months. You are going to have a baby.”
The words fell like stones on her ears, rolled to her aching stomach and almost caused it to revolt again. A baby! That was impossible. She tried to sit up, as if negating her weakness, ignoring the symptoms, could eliminate the malady.
“No, Rosa. I couldn’t be with child. It’s something else, I’m certain.”
As she looked at her friend for confirmation, she saw only the beaming smile, the gladness at their discovery. Yet Lauren felt an inexplicable wave of sadness, for she knew one day she would have to leave Jared. To Rosa’s consternation, she burst into tears and buried her face in the cook’s plump bosom, weeping uncontrollably.
It was a long time before the tears stopped and, when they did, Lauren was embarrassed by her sudden show of emotion.
“I’m sorry, Rosa. I couldn’t help it.”
“It is another symptom of women in your condition, Señora. The tears will make you feel better. Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, that sounds nice,” Lauren mumbled absently as she rose from the bed and walked to the window. Rosa was shuffling out of the room to fetch the tea when Lauren called her back. She didn’t turn around and her voice was soft as she requested, “Rosa, don’t tell anyone about the… the baby… just yet. Please.”
“I understand, Señora Lauren.” Rosa closed the door behind her.
* * *
Lauren kept her secret, though she longed to talk to Gloria. She took long walks around the gardens outside even when she didn’t feel like it, but her face remained pale and wan. Dark shadows circled her eyes. If Jared noticed her listlessness and lack of appetite when he saw her in brief snatches, he didn’t mention it. Olivia acted as if she weren’t there.
When Lauren saw Jared for the first time after she had learned of her pregnancy, her heart warmed with love for a few moments before the chill of gloom settled over it again. She had given little thought to their “arrangement” since the marriage had been consummated. Now, she was forced to think about it.
Jared had said that the railroad would be completed by the end of the summer or early fall. The baby would come, if she calculated correctly, around the first of November. She couldn’t hide her pregnancy until the railroad was finished and then leave according to the bargain. What would happen to her baby? She would take him with her, of course, but finding work to support herself would be harder to do with a baby. She could live for several years on the twenty thousand dollars Olivia had promised her if she were frugal, but what then?
The Prathers had urged her in their letter to return to them. She had written back telling them of Ben’s death, her marriage to Jared—omitting the details—of her family and friends at Keypoint. The missive had been warm and loving, but she knew she could never return to their staid, dull life. Where could she live with her baby?
The one thought that plagued her was that she would never be able to take her baby with her. She might well be providing the next Lockett heir. Try as she might, she couldn’t decide how Jared and Olivia would feel about her child. Of one thing she was sure—nothing and no one would separate her from her baby. She already loved it, was protective of it, and it was probably the only part of Jared she would have after her usefulness to the Locketts’ enterprise had ended.
A small glimmer of hope refused to dim on the horizon of her mind. While Jared had never spoken of love, she had read tenderness in his eyes, seen an affection there as he watched her. Surely he felt some
fondness for her. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was all she had.
But as she met his closed, remote face at each of their fleeting encounters, that hope began to diminish.
* * *