Mark had already analyzed the bucket of oats. The report: strychnine mixed with oats.
Later Sheriff Gunderson showed up at the front door with his now familiar car. “Mrs. Krueger, a half-dozen people heard Joe say he wouldn’t have told that he saw you get in the car that night. What did he mean by that?”
“I don’t understand what he meant.”
“Mrs. Krueger, you were present a short time ago when Dr. Garrett admonished Joe for leaving the rat poison near the oats. You knew what effect it would have on Baron. You heard Dr. Garrett warn Joe that strychnine would drive Baron wild.”
“Did Dr. Garrett tell you that?”
“He told me that Joe had been careless with the rat poison and that you and Erich were present when he dressed Joe down.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing I can say, Mrs. Krueger. Joe claims he got the boxes mixed up. I don’t believe him. No one does.”
“Will Joe live?”
“Too soon to tell. Even if he does, he’ll be a mighty sick boy for a long time. If he makes it through the next three days, they’re moving him up to Mayo.” The sheriff turned to go. “Like his maw said, at least he’ll be safe up there.”
28
Caught up in the rhythm of her pregnancy, Jenny began counting days and weeks until the baby was due. In twelve weeks, in eleven weeks, in ten weeks, Erich would have a son. He would move back into their room. She would be well again. The talk in town would die out for lack of fresh fuel. The baby would look exactly like Erich.
The operation on Joe’s chest had been successful, though he would not leave Mayo Clinic until the end of August. Maude was staying in a furnished apartment near the hospital. Jenny knew that Erich was paying all the bills.
Now Erich rode Fire Maid when he took the girls riding. He never mentioned Baron to her. She did hear from Mark that Joe had persisted in his story that he must have mixed the poison in with the oats himself and that he had no idea what he’d meant when he talked about seeing Jenny that night.
She didn’t need Mark to tell her that no one believed him.
Erich was working less at the cabin and more on the farm with Clyde and the men. When she asked him about that he said, “I can’t quite get in the mood for painting.”
He was kind to her but remote. Always she felt that he was watching her. In the evenings they’d sit in the parlor and read. He rarely spoke to her, but when she glanced up, she’d see his eyes drop as though he didn’t want to be caught studying her.
About once a week Sheriff Gunderson would drop by, seemingly just to chat. “Let’s go over the night Kevin MacPartland came here, Mrs. Krueger.” Or he would speculate: “Joe has a real big crush on you, don’t he? Enough to make him pretty protective. Anything you feel like talking about, Mrs. Krueger?”
The sensation of someone being in the room with her at night was constant. Always the pattern was the same. She would start dreaming of being in the woods; something would come toward her, hover over her; she’d push out her hand and feel long hair, a woman’s hair. The sighing sound came next. She would fumble for the light and when she turned it on she’d be alone in the room.
Finally she told Dr. Elmendorf about the dream.
“How do you explain it?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She hesitated. “No, that’s not quite true. I always think it has something to do with Caroline.” She told him about Caroline, told him that everyone close to her seemed to have a sense of her presence.
“I’d guess that your imagination is playing tricks on you. Would you like me to arrange counseling?”
“No. I’m sure you’re right.”
She started to sleep with the light on in the room, then determinedly snapped it off. The bed was to the right of the door. The massive headboard was against the north wall. One side of the bed was close to the east wall of the room. She wondered if Erich would move the bed for her so that it was between the windows on the south wall. There would be more moonlight there. She’d be able to look out when she wasn’t sleeping. The corner where the bed was placed was terribly dark.
She knew better than to make the request.
One morning Beth asked, “Mommy, why didn’t you talk to me when you came into my room last night?”
“I didn’t come to you, Mouse.”
“Yes, you did!”
Was she sleepwalking?
The tiny flutters of life inside her seemed unlike the sturdy kicks she’d known from Beth and Tina. Let the baby be healthy, she pleaded in silent prayer. Let me give Erich his son.
The hot August afternoons dissolved into cool evenings. The woods held the first touches of gold. “It will be an early fall,” Rooney commented. “And by the time the leaves are all turned, your quilt will be finished. You can hang it in the dining room too.”
Jenny avoided Mark as much as possible, staying in the house whenever she glimpsed his station wagon parked near the office. Did he too believe she might have deliberately put poison in Baron’s feed? She felt she could not stand it if she sensed accusation from him too.
In early September, Erich invited Mark and Luke Garrett for dinner. He told her about it casually. “Luke’s going back to Florida until the holidays. I haven’t seen enough of him. Emily’s coming too. I can have Elsa stay and cook.”
“No, that’s the one thing I get to do around here.”
The first dinner party since the night Sheriff Gunderson had come to tell her Kevin was missing. She found herself looking forward to seeing Luke again. She knew Erich went over to the Garrett farm regularly. He’d taken Tina and Beth with him. He never cleared the outings with her anymore. He’d simply announce, “I’ll keep the girls out of your hair for the afternoon. Get a good rest, Jen.”
It wasn’t that she wanted to go. She didn’t want to run the risk of seeing any of the townspeople. How would they treat her? Smile to her face and gossip about her as she passed?
When Erich was away with the girls, she would take long walks on the farm. She would wander along the river and try not to think that Kevin’s car plunged over the bank just around that bend. She walked past the cemetery. Caroline’s grave was planted with summer flowers.
She found herself longing to slip into the woods, to find Erich’s cabin. Once she went fifty yards into them. The thick branches blotted out the sun. A fox passed her, brushing her legs, in pursuit of a rabbit. Startled, she’d turned back. Birds nesting in the trees sent up a flutter of protest as she passed.
She’d ordered some maternity clothes from a Dayton’s catalog. Nearly seven months pregnant, she thought, and my own clothes aren’t that much too tight. But the new blouses and slacks and skirts buoyed her spirits. She remembered how carefully she’d shopped when she was pregnant with Beth. She’d worn those same clothes for Tina. For this baby Erich had said, “Order as much as you want.”
The night of the dinner she wore an emerald-green two-piece silk dress with a white lace collar. It was simple and well-cut. She knew Erich liked her to wear green. It did something to her eyes. Like the aqua gown.
The Garretts and Emily came together. Jenny decided there seemed to be a new intimacy between Mark and Emily. They sat side by side on the couch. At one point Emily’s hand rested on Mark’s arm. Maybe they are engaged, she thought. The possibility brought a queer stab of pain. Why?
Emily was making a distinct effort to be pleasant. But it was hard to find common ground. She talked about the county fair. “Corny as they are, I always enjoy them. And everyone was talking about how darling your girls are.”
“Our girls,” Erich smiled. “Oh, by the way, you’ll all be glad to know the adoption is complete. The girls are legally and bindingly Kruegers.”
Jenny’d expected that, of course. But how long had Erich known? A few weeks ago he’d stopped asking her if she minded if he took the girls out. Was that the reason: they were “legally and bindingly Kruegers”?
Luke Garrett was very quiet. He
had chosen to sit in the wing chair. After a while Jenny understood why. It gave the clearest view of Caroline’s portrait. His eyes seldom strayed from it. What had he meant by that warning about accidents?
The dinner turned out well. She’d made tomato bisque from a recipe she found in an old cookbook in the kitchen. Luke raised his eyebrows. “Erich, if I’m not mistaken that must be the recipe your grandmother used when I was a boy. Excellent, Jenny.”
As though to make up for his earlier silence, Luke began reminiscing about his youth. “Your dad,” he said to Erich, “was as close to me growing up as you and Mark ever were.”
At ten o’clock they went home. Erich helped her to clear the table. He seemed pleased at the way the evening had gone. “Looks as though Mark and Emily are pretty close to an engagement,” he said. “Luke would be glad. He’s been after Mark to settle down.”
“I thought so too,” Jenny agreed. She tried to sound pleased but knew the effort was a failure.
In October it became sharply colder. Biting winds stripped the trees of their autumn finery; frost dulled the grass to brown; rain became icy. The furnace hummed constantly now. Every morning Erich started a fire in the kitchen stove. Beth and Tina came to breakfast wrapped in warm robes, eagerly anticipating the first snowfall.
Jenny seldom left the house. The long walks were too tiring and Dr. Elmendorf advised against them. Her legs cramped frequently and she was afraid of falling. Rooney came to visit every afternoon. Between them they’d made a layette for the baby. “I’ll never sew properly,” Jenny sighed, but even so it was gratifying to make simple kimonos from the flowered cloth that Rooney ordered from town.
It was Rooney who showed Jenny the corner of the attic where the Krueger bassinette was covered with sheets. “I’ll make a new skirt for it,” Rooney said. The activity seemed to brighten her and for days at a time she was never confused.
“I’ll put the bassinette in Erich’s old room,” she told Rooney. “I don’t want to move the girls and the other rooms are too far away. I’d be afraid I wouldn’t hear the baby at night.”
“That’s what Caroline said,” Rooney volunteered. “You know Erich’s room used to be part of the master bedroom, kind of an alcove of it. Caroline put the bassinette and baby dresser there. John didn’t like having the baby in his room. Said he didn’t have a big house so he’d have to tiptoe around an infant. That’s when they put the partition in.”
“The partition?”
“Didn’t Erich ever tell you that? Your bed used to be on the south wall. Behind the headboard where it is now is the sliding wall.”
“Show me, Rooney.”
They went upstairs to Erich’s old room. “Course you can’t open it from your side with the headboard there,” Rooney said, “But look-see.” She pushed the high-back rocker aside and pointed to a recessed handle in the wallpaper. “Just watch how easy it works.”
Noiselessly the panel slid open. “Caroline had it made like that so when Erich was bigger you could just close off the two rooms. My Clyde made the partition and Josh Brothers helped him. Didn’t they do a good job? Would you ever guess it was there?”
Jenny stood in the opening. She was behind the headboard of her bed. She leaned over. That was why she had felt a presence, reached out, touched a face. She remembered the constant sensation of long hair. Rooney’s hair removed from that tight bun was surely quite long. “Rooney,” she tried to sound casual, “do you ever come into this room and open the partition at night? Maybe look in at me?”
“I don’t think I do. But, Jenny . . .” Rooney put her lips to Jenny’s ear. “I wouldn’t tell Clyde because he’d think I’m crazy. Sometimes he scares me. He talks about putting me away for my own good. But, Jenny, I’ve seen Caroline walking around the farm at night these last few months. Once I followed her here to the house and she came up the back stairs. That’s why I keep thinking if Caroline is able to come back, maybe my Arden will be here soon too.”
29
This time it wasn’t false labor. Quietly Jenny lay in bed timing the contractions. From ten minutes apart for two hours, they suddenly accelerated to five-minute intervals. Jenny patted the small mound in her abdomen. We’ve made it, young Mr. Krueger, she thought. For a while I wasn’t sure we would.
Dr. Elmendorf had been cautiously pleased on her last visit. “The baby is about five pounds,” he said. “I’d wish it bigger but that’s a comfortable weight. Frankly I was sure you were going to deliver prematurely.” He’d done a scan. “You’re right, Mrs. Krueger. You’re going to have a boy.”
She went down the hall to call Erich. The door of his bedroom was closed. She never went there. Hesitating she knocked. “Erich,” she called softly.
There was no answer. Could he have gone to the cabin during the night? He’d started painting again but always came home for dinner. Even if he went back to the cabin for the evening he returned to the house at some point.
She’d asked him about the panel that separated his old room from the master bedroom. “My God, Jen, I’d forgotten all about it. Why do you get the idea someone has been opening it? I’ll bet Rooney is in and out of this place more than we realize. I warned you against getting so cozy with her.”
She hadn’t dared tell him that Rooney talked about seeing Caroline.
Now she pushed open the door to the room he’d been using and reached for the light. The bed was made. Erich wasn’t here.
She’d have to get to the hospital. It was only four o’clock. There wouldn’t be anyone up until seven. Unless . . .
Padding softly on bare feet down the wide foyer, Jenny passed the closed doors of the other bedrooms. Erich would never use any of those except . . .
Cautiously she opened the door of his old room. The Little League trophy on the dresser glistened in the moonlight. The bassinette, now frothy with a yellow silk skirt overlaid with white net, was next to the bed.
The bedcovers were rumpled. Erich was asleep, his body hunched in his favorite fetal position. His hand was thrown over the bassinette as though he’d fallen asleep holding it. Something Rooney had said came back to her. “I can see Caroline rocking that bassinette by the hour with Erich fussing in it. I used to tell him he was lucky to have had such a patient mother.”
“Erich,” Jenny whispered, touching his shoulder.
His eyes flew open. He jumped up. “Jenny, what’s the matter?”
“I think I’d better get to the hospital.” He got out of bed quickly, put his arms around her. “Something told me to come in here tonight, to be near you. I fell asleep thinking how wonderful it will be when our little boy is in that bassinette.”
It had been weeks since he had touched her. She had not realized how starved she had been for the feeling of arms around her. She reached up her hands to his face.
In the dark her fingers felt the curve of his face, the softness of his eyelids.
She shivered.
“What is it, dear? Are you all right?”
She sighed. “I don’t know why but just for a minute I was so frightened. You’d think this was my first baby, wouldn’t you?”
The overhead light in the delivery room was very bright. It hurt her eyes. She was slipping in and out of consciousness. Erich, masked and coated like the doctors and nurses, was watching her. Why did Erich watch her all the time?
A last rush of pain. Now, she thought, now. Dr. Elmendorf held up a small, limp body. All of them bending over it. “Oxygen.”
The baby had to be all right. “Give him to me.” But her lips didn’t form the words. She couldn’t move her lips.
“Let me see him,” Erich said. He sounded anxious, nervous. Then she heard his dismayed whisper. “He has hair like the girls, dark red hair!”
When she opened her eyes again the room was dark. A nurse was sitting by the bed.
“The baby?”
“He’ll be fine,” the nurse said soothingly. “He just gave us a little scare. Try to sleep.”
“
My husband?”
“He’s gone home.”
What was it Erich had said in the delivery room? She couldn’t remember.
She drifted in and out of sleep. In the morning a pediatrician came in. “I’m Dr. Bovitch. The baby’s lungs aren’t fully developed. He’s in trouble but we’ll pull him through, Mother. I promise you that. However, since you gave your religion as Roman Catholic we thought it best to have him baptized last night.”
“Is he that sick? I want to see him.”
“You can walk down to the nursery in a little while. We can’t take him out of the oxygen yet. Kevin’s a beautiful little baby, Mrs. Krueger.”
“Kevin!”
“Yes. Before the priest baptized him he asked your husband what you planned to call him. That is right, isn’t it? Kevin MacPartland Krueger?”
Erich came in with an armful of long-stemmed red roses. “Jenny, Jenny, they say he’ll make it. The baby will make it. When I went home I spent the night crying. I thought it was hopeless.”
“Why did you tell them his name was Kevin MacPartland?”
“Darling, they said they didn’t think he’d survive more than a few hours. I thought we’d save the name Erich for a son who would live. It was the only other name that came to my mind. I thought you’d be pleased.”
“Change it.”
“Of course, darling. He’ll be Erich Krueger the fifth on his birth certificate.”
The week she was in the hospital Jenny forced herself to eat, husbanded her strength, pushed back the depression that sapped her energy. After the fourth day they took the baby out of oxygen and let her hold him. He was so frail. Her being ached with tenderness as his mouth reached for her breast. She had not nursed Beth or Tina. It had been too important to get back to work. But to this child she could give all her time, all her energy.