The door opened and I heard the familiar sound of a cane hitting the floor before I saw Evelyn enter the room.
“Do you need to do a sweep of the room? No, you don’t. So, you will wait out here while I talk to my future granddaughter,” she said to someone in the hallway before shutting the door. “God damn security guard would check my toilet for a threat if I let him,” she huffed before turning her attention to me. “Hello, dear.”
“Evelyn, hi.” I sat up straighter in bed, running my hand over the sloppy ponytail I had thrown my hair into after my shower.
“Can I have a seat?” She pointed with her cane to the armchair next to the bed.
“Of course.”
She nodded, making her way to the chair and lowering herself, getting comfortable.
“How are you doing? Going stir crazy yet?” She smiled.
I huffed. “Not just yet, but I’m getting there.”
“I had to have a short hospital stay a few years ago.Pneumonia. I thought by day three I would start pulling my hairs out one by one just to give me something to do.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I loved Evelyn, with her spunk and attitude and mind all her own. Even knowing that she had been queen at one time, she still seemed down to Earth and accessible. She was the type of queen I could only hope to become.
We fell into conversation about the books we were reading and how Rosie had won four rounds of poker in a row at their last lesson. She filled me in on the gossip going around the Golden Gals’ circle, including how Mildred had planned a beautiful surprise anniversary getaway to Tuscany for her and Ida’s forty-fifth anniversary, but Hilda and Polly refused to let them go alone so they planned a trip for the same week to find themselves some “Italian Stallions.”
Our conversation stalled out when another nurse came in to refill my IV fluids and take my vitals…again. Once she left, we sat in silence for a few minutes before Evelyn cleared her throat.
“I don’t know if you remember this, but Francis and I were forced to get engaged because of the marriage law. I was such a menace about it. But you know, I’m happy with the way things all worked out. You have handled it much better than I did.”
Her words were yet another punch to the gut. I was so tired of crying but couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
“I didn’t handle it well at all.” I sniffed loudly. “It was all an act. Oliver and I were never really in love. Well, not at first. It was just a ruse to keep the Council happy until he could get the marriage law repealed. But then, you know, we fell in love. And then I went and passed out during a Council meeting and made a fool of myself and the family. And now I’m just so afraid that I’m saddling him with my brokenbody. Maybe this is just karma for lying to everyone for months.”
“Oh, honey.” She pulled a handkerchief from her handbag and passed it to me. I wiped the tears from my face, trying to surreptitiously also wipe the snot from under my nose.
“It’s sweet that you think it was all fake and that you fell in love after you concocted this hair-brained scheme.”
My eyes shot up. “What?”
“Adelaide, dear. I was at almost every event during the competition. I saw the way he looked at you, how he lit up when you walked into the room. I have never seen him more at ease and himself than when he was with you. Did you know that none of the other contestants met the family during the palace tour? But he specifically requested that Isobel join you for tea that day?”
I blinked. “He did?”
“Yes. And do you know why? Because he wanted you to be his queen and he wanted his family’s approval. Not that he needed it; we loved you from the very beginning. You have the true makings to be a great queen and the best partner for our Ollie.”
I hadn’t realized at the time that I was special to Oliver. I had spent so much time avoiding him at all costs during the courtship that I had neglected to see what was right in front of me.
“Evelyn, that means so much. But…there’s more. I’m not sure if I’m worthy to be queen.”
She crooked an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”
The secret that I had held for so long flowed from my lips. I explained to her my history, how I had received the diagnosis, what it meant for my future and having a family, and how it was connected to being in the hospital.
Evelyn listened in silence, letting me speak. When I was finished, she quietly reached into her handbag, pulling out a worn leatherbound notebook. She slipped off the elastic band holding it closed and pulled a long piece of paper from the center of the journal. The page was faded and worn; all I could make out was a series of squiggles.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“This is the heartbeat of the first baby I carried.” Then she pulled out a second piece of paper. “And this is from the day that we learned she was no longer with us.” She turned the sheet toward me, showing the static line bisecting the page, no heartbeat in sight.
“Evelyn, I’m so sorry,” I breathed. “I didn’t know that you lost a child.”
“I’ve lost three, actually.” She brought out two more sheets of heartbeats and then one ultrasound picture. “Leroy was born between these two.” She held up the sonogram and one of the heartbeats.
