I bend down close. “Everything is going to be all right, I promise. I need you to go upstairs and wait for me.”
No.
I can’t make her go. And I won’t drag Kat up the stairs to her room. And, anyway, perhaps it is best if Belinda sees how much the child is devoted to me, just in case Belinda is Martin’s rightful wife, and therefore Kat’s rightful stepmother.
“All right,” I tell her. “Just for a few minutes.”
We enter the room. Belinda is sitting forward on the sofa, breathing heavily, eyes closed. I sit next to her. Kat, still standing, sidles up to me.
“Here,” I say, extending the glass of water.
Belinda opens her eyes. She looks at the glass, at me. At Kat. Fresh tears pool as she stares at my daughter. Then she turns her gaze away and glances at the vomit at her feet.
“I’m sorry about the mess.”
“It doesn’t matter. Here. Drink the water.”
Belinda reaches for the cup and drinks the water down.
I extend my hand for the empty glass. “More?”
She shakes her head and rubs at a tearstained cheek. “Who is that?” she says, nodding to Kat.
I put my arm around Kat’s middle and pull her inches closer. “This is Katharine. We call her Kat.”
Belinda stares at Kat for a moment as more tears puddle and then slide down her cheeks. “I don’t know what any of this means,” she says.
I regard her for a moment. “You’re sure the man in that photograph is your husband?”
A weak sob claws its way out of Belinda’s throat as she says, “Yes.”
“You’re quite sure?”
Belinda looks down at the portrait. The surface is vomit speckled, but Martin’s image is clear. “No one has eyes like that but him.”
Indeed, no one does. But then Belinda looks at Kat. No one else but his daughter, that is.
Belinda puts a hand to her mouth.
“Do you need me to call for a doctor?” I ask. “We have a telephone.”
Belinda shakes her head. “I need to know what is happening. Where is my husband?”
I inhale and then let my breath out slowly. “I don’t know where he is. There are many things I don’t know right now, but I do know that you and I need to talk. There are things I need to tell you and there are things you need to tell me.”
Belinda glances again at Kat. “Is she yours and his?”
“My... Martin was married before. To a woman named Candace, and he and she had a little girl. But Candace became very sick and now she’s in heaven with the angels.”
“He had...anotherwife?!” This fresh news seems to pierce the woman like a blade.
“Yes.” I keep my tone even and controlled, for Kat’s sake. “Kat is six; she’ll be seven in a couple of months. She doesn’t say very much, Belinda, but she’s very smart. I think we should have that tea and Kat can work on some puzzles while we talk. You can tell me all about your husband, James, all right? Can you do that?”
Belinda glances from me to the child and back. “How will that help?”
I turn to Kat. “I need you to go up to your room and work on some puzzles, love. Mrs. Bigelow and I are going to have tea and talk for a bit. There’s a good girl.”
Kat, who hasn’t taken her eyes off Belinda the entire time, lowers her gaze to Belinda’s protruding stomach.
