The woman laughed, a dry cackle that shook her bony frame. “Don’t you recognize me, Deirdre?”
Deirdre stumbled backward in surprise. Familiar green eyes blinked at her slowly. “Hannah?”
“Come in, silly goose,” Hannah said in what was meant to be a coy manner, but instead had the opposite effect.
She followed Hannah into the dark house. Inside, filth surrounded her. Empty milk bottles sat near the door, seeping viscous liquid onto the Oriental rug. Maggots crowded one of the bottle necks, writhing in an orgiastic mass. Deirdre’s gorge rose at the sight.
“I do apologize for the mess!” Hannah said lightly, over her shoulder. “Mary quit months ago, so I’ve had to mind things on my own.”
“Where’s Mr.Bledsoe?”
“He’s likely still out west. He’s invested all we have in the Frisco rail line. I haven’t seen him since the baby died.”
“I was sorry to hear about that, ma’am,” Deirdre said, genuinely. “Collin was a fine boy.”
“Oh, yes, yes he was.” Hannah sighed heavily and led Deirdre through to the parlor. The tabletops were stacked with unopened mail and newspapers. Empty cups tinged with dry tea and plates crusted over with food lay atop every surface. Deirdre gingerly pushed aside a tin of cookies to sit, and a mouse crawled out, squeaking at her in irritation before scurrying away.
She had seen grief. She knew the bitter taste of her own melancholy. But never had she fallen to this depth.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs.Bledsoe. But this ain’t somethin’ I was expecting to see.” Deirdre gestured at the once-fine surroundings. “Are you all right?”
Hannah sat heavily on the cluttered divan, tears springing to her eyes. “No. Isn’t it obvious?”
“I can help you set things back to right. That’s why I’m here. To show my gratitude for what you did for me, just like I promised. Pa’s headed out west again and I need the work.”
“Did you like Aunt Beryl’s school?”
Deirdre blushed, remembering Esme and the lazy Charleston afternoons they’d lain tangled together. “Yes, ma’am. I sure did. I learned a lot. And I’m much obliged to you for sending me there.”
“I heard about your mother’s passing. I’m so sorry about that.”
“Well.” Deirdre cleared her throat. “She’s in a better place. No longer in pain.”
“That’s what folks say. But all I can think about is my baby in the cold ground. I want to dig him up sometimes. Did you know, Deirdre? I read in the magazines that Mr.Lincoln did that with his son, after he died. That he went to Willie’s tomb, took him out of his casket, and held him. Talked to him. Couldn’t let go. My daddy didn’t much care for the man, but I understand why he would do such a thing. It’s so very hard to let go.”
Deirdre didn’t quite know how to respond. “But it looks like you’ve got another on the way. Won’t take the place of Collin, but it’ll surely help you mend.”
“I’m not sure it works like that. Besides, this one’s different. It’s not Billy’s baby. Nobody knows that. Nobody even knows I’m expecting.”
The color drained from Deirdre’s face. “Hannah ... I ...”
“Oh, what have I done!” Hannah burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands.
“Who ... whose baby is it?”
“It’s the groom’s baby—Mr.Blake. We got to talking one night, over whiskey, shortly after you left for Charleston. I’d been so lonely, so sad. And he listened.” Hannah’s mouth wrenched. “Being with him chased the misery away for a little while. The loneliness. Shouldn’t I have a little bit of happiness, Deirdre?”
“I think ... I think I know some manner of what you’re talking about.” Deirdre thought of her sweet stolen moments with Esme, and how delicious it had been to give in to her urges. But Deirdre had no husband to bind her. She was free to do whatever she wished. Though her husband was absent, Hannah was still a wife. “Where’s Mr.Blake now?”
“Oh, he left, of course. They always leave, don’t they?” Hannah’s lip trembled and her skeletal hand rubbed her belly. “I wasn’t expecting this. Especially so soon after Collin. By the time I figured it out, it was too late to do anything about it. No one knows except you. No one else can ever know. My daddy would disown me if Billy divorced me. I don’t know what he’ll do if he comes back and finds me like this.”
“I see.”
“Now that you’re here, things will be all right, won’t they, Deirdre? You’ll help me figure it all out?”
Deirdre glanced out the hazy windows, at the rubbish crowding the edges of the room. The scent in the house was overpowering—moist and heavy, like meat gone to spoil. It would be a daunting task, recovering the house from Hannah’s melancholic neglect. But what else could she do? Being Hannah’s companion would give her purpose. And money, besides. Money that might someday return her to Charleston, where she could live with Esme and her husband—if Esme could ever forgive her for the way they’d parted. She’d write to her. Beg for understanding. There might be a chance. Hope was all she had left to cling to.
She reached out to grasp Hannah’s frail hand. “We’ll fix things, Hannah. We will.”
