“Oh, Eugene, she’s magnificent.” I wanted to reach out and touch her.
Lady stepped forward, pushing the foal slightly behind her as if to protect her from me.
“It’s okay, Lady, I’m just looking,” I said.
“She’s been tending to her, watching over her while she sleeps, the little one hasn’t left her dam’s side.”
“When was she born?”
“Yesterday. Lady barely needed any help, she knew exactly what to do. The filly came out hoofs first, her nose resting on her legs, back up, just as she should. They bonded right away. Little one nursed quickly, and she stood herself up within thirty minutes of being born.”
“A strong one,” I said quietly. “I knew she would be.”
“Once she stood, she was a bit too excited, wobbling around her dam for a good hour, getting used to her legs. She didn’t want to get any rest, but Lady got her settled. You should be able to go in there soon and see them, but we’re letting them alone for now.”
Eugene seemed so proud of them both.
“Does she have a name?” I asked.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Miss Olive. We asked Mr. Carmichael, but he insisted that you should be the one to name her. He said you’d like that.”
I felt my eyes go glassy. “That’s sweet,” I said. “But I wouldn’t know what to name her. I don’t have any experience with that kind of thing, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“You don’t have to have experience to name a horse.” He laughed. “You just have to look at her and say whatever first comes to your mind when you see her.”
I stared at her for a moment. “Grace,” I said. “That’s what I think of when I see her.”
“Well, then, I think we have a name.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Eugene, for taking such good care of them. You’ve done a fine job.”
Back at the cabin, I downed a shot of whiskey, then lay back on the bed.
I tried to picture what would happen if I followed Ruthie’s advice and was honest with Archie, what would happen to me if he heard the news and left me. I’d never been afraid of the future before. Unlike some of the girls who’d been terrified of getting too old or finding themselves on the street the minute they turned the dreaded three-oh, I had always believed, maybe naïvely, that everything would work out and I’d be just fine. I hadn’t thrown myself at those stage-door johnnies; sure, I’d let them take me out, but I hadn’t been desperate to get married, I hadn’t been scared that I’d lose my beauty, my figure, my youthful ways. I’d somehow believed that I’d make it, but now I wasn’t quite so sure.
I thought back to those first days in theFolliesdressing roomsand hearing some of the girls talk about getting older, as if they were all going to catch scarlet fever and drop dead on their thirtieth birthdays. It had seemed so far away. One of the principals had turned and caught me eavesdropping. “Just you wait and see,” she’d said. “You may be one of the youngest chicks in the coop now, but it creeps up on you fast. You’ll be staring thirty in the eye before you know it.”
I’d thought she was wrong. It had seemed like a lifetime from where I was then. If I weren’t getting married and leaving the stage now, how much longer would Ziegfeld even keep me around? I wondered. When he had fresh, new, interesting-looking seventeen-, eighteen-, and nineteen-year-olds knocking down his door just as I had, would he still want me then?
When I pictured life without Archie, it was bleak and miserable. I’d be alone, heartbroken, regretful, and soon enough I’d be out of work. I’d be broke, an old maid. Childless. What would I be good for? A governess, perhaps—if a family would even take me, a former show girl. It would be a fitting punishment, to take care of someone else’s children. But I couldn’t do what I knew I should, I simply couldn’t tell him.
I heard the front door open, and Archie walked into the bedroom in his fishing gear. He looked so handsome, his cheeks slightly pink from the sun, his hair tousled.
“Olive!” he exclaimed, surprised and smiling. “I’m so happy you’re back, I missed you like mad.” He strode over to the bed and hugged me, long and hard, but then he stopped himself. “I should change, I smell like a fisherman. Give me two minutes.”
I walked to the living room and poured Archie a whiskey, refilledmy glass while I was there, then walked out to the porch and sat on the wooden bench, feeling strangely still.
“Much better,” Archie said a few moments later, coming up to me and taking me in his arms. “God, I missed you.” He squeezed me, gave me a kiss and then took a deep inhale as if breathing me in. I handed him his drink and he sat down next to me. “So how was the grand finale?” he asked.
“Good.” I nodded. “It was good.”
“Good? That’s it? Was it not well attended?”
“No, it was fine, a full house.”
“Well, that’s better than good, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said. “Better than good.”
