such a noble reason. It might be purely selfish. You
would have to understand it might be just for the money.”
Kiera busied herself clearing up the tea
things. “I honestly wouldn’t care why,” she said. “I wouldn’t ask
any questions. I would just be so happy, so utterly ecstatic, to
have a child.” She looked away dreamily. “I know I’m a very
fortunate person. I grew up with every advantage and I have more
money than I’ll ever need. I have Nick and I have this house. So
you see, I won’t be suicidal or anything if you don’t want to do
it. I’ll go on living and try to forget ...”
“Yes?”
“Oh hell. What I meant to say is, I don’t
want to put any pressure on you. There is absolutely no reason to
feel sorry for me.”
“I understand that.”
“But please, take as long as you need to
think it over. Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
“Oh yes, I’d love to.”
I was too jittery to take in very much as
Kiera pointed out the kitchen and back stairs, the dining room,
powder room and library. But my overall reaction was an even
greater longing to stay in that magnificent place. We climbed the
wide spiral staircase of golden pine in the front hall, and Kiera
showed me her room, the bathroom, a spare bedroom used as a
quilting room, a guest room, and finally, what would be my
room.
Angled into a corner between two wide windows
stood a wooden spool bed, painted a soft blue, the headboard
stenciled with vines and roses. Covering it was a quilt worked in
deep rich blues and greens, which I couldn’t resist rushing right
over to touch.
“That’s copied from a quilt Phoebe’s mother
made years ago,” Kiera said.
“You made it?”
“With Phoebe’s help. We’ve only just
finished. The pattern’s called Fox and Geese, or sometimes Crosses
and Losses. Anyway, we don’t eat dinner until about eight, so
you’ve plenty of time to look around or take a walk. Please make
yourself at home – feel free.”
She left me then, and I stood there admiring
the room. The walls were papered in a tiny blue and white print,
the windows dressed in white ruffled curtains. One window faced
north to a rocky cove edged by a strip of silvery sand, which
glistened in the afternoon sun. The other overlooked the circular
front drive.
I found the room so welcoming I wanted to
move right in It even had a fireplace, with a basket of logs and
kindling ready on the tiled hearth. I pictured myself going down to
the library for a book, then lighting the fire, climbing into the
high spool bed and pulling the delicious quilt up over me. I
imagined reading like that for hours on a winter night with the
baby curled up inside me.
The baby?
What was I thinking? I had to force myself to
break the spell. It would be ridiculous to go and have a baby just
because I liked this house and this room. What I needed was to go
for a run. I changed and stuffed my clothes and pack into the pine
armoire.
After stretching, I followed the driveway
back to the road to Airdrie Bay and ran until the village was in
sight. How charming and inviting it looked. Then I turned and ran
back, this time passing the Malagash gardens, taking a path that
led down through some sea-stunted firs to the shore.
On this, the south side of the point, there
was no sand, only mounds of lumpish gray rock, barnacled and
blackened with wet around the edges. The outgoing tide had exposed
slimy masses of greenish-brown seaweed tangled around bits of
garbage. The air smelt of iodine and dead fish. I perched on a rock
to rest, watching screaming gulls swoop to attack whatever
unfortunate sea creatures the tide had uncovered.
I thought about Kiera and everything she’d
said. Should I trust her, just because I liked her? Should I even
trust Nick? And why was he so desperate to have a child anyway? He
hadn’t been such a happy kid himself. His mother had run off when
he was only three, and he’d been raised by his bitter bully of a
father. But of course
would have to understand it might be just for the money.”
Kiera busied herself clearing up the tea
things. “I honestly wouldn’t care why,” she said. “I wouldn’t ask
any questions. I would just be so happy, so utterly ecstatic, to
have a child.” She looked away dreamily. “I know I’m a very
fortunate person. I grew up with every advantage and I have more
money than I’ll ever need. I have Nick and I have this house. So
you see, I won’t be suicidal or anything if you don’t want to do
it. I’ll go on living and try to forget ...”
“Yes?”
“Oh hell. What I meant to say is, I don’t
want to put any pressure on you. There is absolutely no reason to
feel sorry for me.”
“I understand that.”
“But please, take as long as you need to
think it over. Would you like to see the rest of the house?”
“Oh yes, I’d love to.”
I was too jittery to take in very much as
Kiera pointed out the kitchen and back stairs, the dining room,
powder room and library. But my overall reaction was an even
greater longing to stay in that magnificent place. We climbed the
wide spiral staircase of golden pine in the front hall, and Kiera
showed me her room, the bathroom, a spare bedroom used as a
quilting room, a guest room, and finally, what would be my
room.
Angled into a corner between two wide windows
stood a wooden spool bed, painted a soft blue, the headboard
stenciled with vines and roses. Covering it was a quilt worked in
deep rich blues and greens, which I couldn’t resist rushing right
over to touch.
“That’s copied from a quilt Phoebe’s mother
made years ago,” Kiera said.
“You made it?”
“With Phoebe’s help. We’ve only just
finished. The pattern’s called Fox and Geese, or sometimes Crosses
and Losses. Anyway, we don’t eat dinner until about eight, so
you’ve plenty of time to look around or take a walk. Please make
yourself at home – feel free.”
She left me then, and I stood there admiring
the room. The walls were papered in a tiny blue and white print,
the windows dressed in white ruffled curtains. One window faced
north to a rocky cove edged by a strip of silvery sand, which
glistened in the afternoon sun. The other overlooked the circular
front drive.
I found the room so welcoming I wanted to
move right in It even had a fireplace, with a basket of logs and
kindling ready on the tiled hearth. I pictured myself going down to
the library for a book, then lighting the fire, climbing into the
high spool bed and pulling the delicious quilt up over me. I
imagined reading like that for hours on a winter night with the
baby curled up inside me.
The baby?
What was I thinking? I had to force myself to
break the spell. It would be ridiculous to go and have a baby just
because I liked this house and this room. What I needed was to go
for a run. I changed and stuffed my clothes and pack into the pine
armoire.
After stretching, I followed the driveway
back to the road to Airdrie Bay and ran until the village was in
sight. How charming and inviting it looked. Then I turned and ran
back, this time passing the Malagash gardens, taking a path that
led down through some sea-stunted firs to the shore.
On this, the south side of the point, there
was no sand, only mounds of lumpish gray rock, barnacled and
blackened with wet around the edges. The outgoing tide had exposed
slimy masses of greenish-brown seaweed tangled around bits of
garbage. The air smelt of iodine and dead fish. I perched on a rock
to rest, watching screaming gulls swoop to attack whatever
unfortunate sea creatures the tide had uncovered.
I thought about Kiera and everything she’d
said. Should I trust her, just because I liked her? Should I even
trust Nick? And why was he so desperate to have a child anyway? He
hadn’t been such a happy kid himself. His mother had run off when
he was only three, and he’d been raised by his bitter bully of a
father. But of course
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