Michael’s Wife by Marlys Millhiser Page A

Devereaux.” Rolls of loose flesh sagged from the housekeeper’s arm as she raised it to wipe her cheek with her hand.
    â€œPaul wasn’t along when it happened?”
    â€œThey never took him with them. He was always in his books, that one. Maria did not like him.”
    â€œHer own son?”
    â€œOh, no. They were the same age, Maria and Paul. Paul was her stepson. His mother died before we came to this house. There is twenty years between Paul and Michael. Paul, he was never strong or big. He did not like to hunt or do man things with his father. When Michael came, his father was so proud of such a big healthy boy who could do such things. And Maria would sit in this chair and rock her baby, and she would play with him when he got older. They were so good together, those two.”
    â€œConsuela, why did you bring me here and tell me this?”
    The old woman got up from her chair and unlocked the door. “Because you are Mrs. Michael and you should know what he can do when he is hurt inside. And because you too are a mother.”
    Laurel was glad to return to the sun. She felt cold.

5
    The rest of the week went by with little comment about her dark past. They waited and watched her. Through it all—Janet’s bickering, Paul’s stiffness, Claire’s disdain—Laurel knew they were watching her and waiting for Michael.
    He was due home for the weekend and it would be left to him to force the issue. Whenever she saw Consuela, she thought of the dusty debris in the old nursery and felt panicky at the thought of Michael’s return.
    The new lab assistant joined them for lunch in the courtyard. Even he watched her, fumbling with his silverware, looking away when she stared back. She grew to loathe salads. As she slept less it became more difficult to avoid Jimmy and her own thoughts. Her memory refused to budge, and everything she learned about herself made her hate this Laurel the more. She began to think of herself as having two identities—herself as she wanted to be and this Laurel everyone thought she was.
    But Jimmy was the hardest to bear. At first he just seemed curious, but she soon suspected he was looking for a friend. His lot was not easy in this magnificent house with only adults for company. His needs were seen to, but he was expected to find love and companionship from toys too old for him and a TV set. Claire spent most of her time scolding him. Janet and Paul ignored him.
    One afternoon she found Consuela rocking Jimmy in his room. There was no rocking chair so the old woman sat on the bed rocking her body back and forth, crooning something gentle in Spanish. And Jimmy who sprawled on her ample lap, a thumb in his mouth, the other hand stroking her dress, gazed sleepily up at her face and looked as though this was all the heaven he would ever need. Laurel couldn’t sleep that night.
    Friday morning as she walked along the inside hall, she heard an enraged scream from Janet’s room at the head of the stairs.
    â€œClaire! Get that child out of here.”
    And Jimmy came running out of the door his eyes wide and his plump little face white with terror. Laurel caught him before he could reach the stairs. He shivered in her arms but didn’t cry.
    Janet stood in the doorway and Laurel was startled at the change in her appearance. She wore a filmy peignoir, but her hair was in a net, a greasy mixture smeared over her face and a strap under her chin. She was a sight to scare any child.
    â€œDon’t you ever come into this room again, brat!” The strap made her speak through her teeth with a nasty hissing sound.
    â€œPlease, he’s only a baby. You’ve scared him half to death. He could have tumbled down those stairs and.…”
    â€œOh, gone all motherly, have you? Well it’s more than a little late. Claire has orders to keep that … child out of my way. I don’t want to hear him, see him, or even think about