Page 82 of Dreams of Falling
“They’re getting married,” Ceecee said with the same tone she’d have used to compliment her on her shoes or hairstyle.
“I know.” Bitty’s face was pinched, as if she’d just been forced to taste a bitter medicine. “I tried to talk Margaret out of it, to look for other solutions, but her mind is set. For her, it’s perfect. She gets a husband and a baby, all without shame. Her biggest worry is that the baby will be big when it’s born so no one will believe it’s premature.”
Bitty’s voice warbled, and Ceecee had to look away, knowing that if Bitty started crying again, there’d be no hope for either one of them.
“Friends forever, right?” Ceecee said, and tried to laugh, but it came out wrong.
“Don’t let her do this, Ceecee. Please don’t.”
Ceecee shook her head. “Boyd says he’s doing it for the baby’s sake.”
Bitty’s face was hard. “And Margaret is doing it for her own selfish reasons. If she loved you like she says she does, she wouldn’t do this.”
Ceecee could only stare at her friend, knowing everything she wanted to say had already been said. Every possible solution and outcome had already been dissected and discarded.
“She wants to see you,” Bitty said.
“Now?”
Bitty nodded. “It has to happen sooner or later, so you might as well get it over with. Do you want me to come with you?”
Ceecee shook her head. “No. I’d best do this alone.”
“I’ll be here when you get back. I’ll go ahead and pour some of Mr.Darlington’s scotch and have it waiting for you. You’re probably going to need it.”
Ceecee made her way up the elegant staircase, leaning on the banister because she wasn’t sure her legs could bear the weight of her grief. She made it to the wide upper hall, the tall doors on either end opened to create a cross-breeze that did almost nothing to alleviate the stifling heat. A maid came out of Margaret’s bedroom, carrying an untouched food tray. Her face was apologetic—either because of the untouched food or because she knew what was happening.
Ceecee stepped inside and stood in front of the door, blinking at the sudden darkness. The curtains had been drawn, and even though a ceiling fan and a floor fan were turned on high, they only shifted the stifling air around the room. Margaret sat in the middle of the bed, a pile of white lace-covered pillows behind her that matched the virginal white nightgown buttoned up to her neck. Her pale face almost blended into the bedding, and all Ceecee could think was,Good.
“You’re not dying,” Ceecee said, marching over to the large French doors that faced the river and throwing them open. A welcome breeze cooled her forehead, calming her. She spotted the Tree of Dreams across the yard and quickly turned her back on it.
“I’m so sorry, Ceecee. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” The voice coming from the woman on the bed wasn’t recognizable as Margaret’s. It was timid and hesitant, so unlike the forceful, confident tones of the friend she’d known and loved. It made Ceecee pause, feeling a moment of sympathy for the woman on the bed who’d lost so much.
But then she thought of Boyd, and what Margaret had done, and she continued her march around the room, throwing open curtains and turning on all the lamps. Because she still couldn’t get her nerves under control, she refilled the water glass on the bedside table, her hands shaking so badly, she thought she might drop it.
“Thank you,” Margaret said softly.
Ceecee didn’t respond but stood looking down at Margaret, her emotions ricocheting between pity, anger, and grief. “For what?” She knew, of course. She just wanted to hear Margaret say it.
But what Margaret said next wasn’t what she’d expected to hear at all. “For your loving and generous heart. For your sacrifice. For your friendship.”
Ceecee could only stare at her.
Margaret pressed a handkerchief to eyes that were bloodshot and sunken, a fact that Ceecee didn’t castigate herself for feeling good about. “I’ve done a terrible thing. To you. To Boyd. And I’m more sorry than I can ever say. But I can’t figure out another way out of this.”
Ceecee remembered the look on Boyd’s face as they’d sat under the Tree of Dreams, the dreams and plans she’d made for their life together. “So you’ve made up your mind, then. You’ve decided there is no alternative to ruining my life.”
A fresh torrent of tears cascaded down Margaret’s sallow cheeks. “I know there is no way I can ever make this up to you. If only it were just me. But it’s not. There’s another, innocent life to protect. It’s Reggie’s baby, and I owe it to his memory to do whatever I can to make sure his child is loved and cherished and taken care of for the rest of his or her life.”
Ceecee allowed her gaze to move down the bedclothes. Margaret’s slim frame showed no sign yet of the baby growing inside her. She felt the edges of her heart soften, curling like a rose petal. But not for Margaret. For the baby. She remembered what Boyd had said, and she felt a small stab of light filtering through her dark thoughts.
“I want to be godmother.”
Margaret looked up at her with a surprised and tear-stained face. “You do?”
“Yes. I do. I want to be an important part in this child’s life. You at least owe me that.”
Margaret nodded. “All right.” She attempted a smile, but it looked like a grimace on a skeleton hung out at Halloween. “I never imagined my life without you or Bitty. No matter what, I want you both in my life. And in my child’s life.”
