Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

lowered her voice and looked toward Agnes's room. "Agnes is upset. After she went looking for you and you were nowhere to be found, she became very panicky. You forgot to sign out. Every time someone's not where he or she is supposed to be, she thinks they might have run off like Bones did. Where were you?"
    "I went to his apartment and told him," I said.
    "And?"
    "He's not upset or angry. In fact, he's happy about it. Oh Trisha, we're going to get married."
    "What? When?"
    "In about two months."
    "But what about school, your career?"
    "It won't interfere. He's figuring it all out. He's so wonderful about it and he doesn't care about what kind of an expense it will be to hire a nanny while I continue with my career. He's always wanted a child," I continued, embellishing on my fabrication, a fabrication that had become a romantic dream to me. "He was sorry that he and his first wife never had any children.
    "But I must keep it all a secret for a while longer, Trisha, so please don't tell a soul any of this. Will you promise?"
    "Of course, I promise, but you can't hide it forever," she reminded me. She stared at me a moment and then shook her head, smiling. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
    "Oh yes," I said. "More than you could ever know. I'll finally have a family, my own family, and even though we have a nanny to help, I'll never neglect my child or let him or her feel unloved."
    "Then I'm happy for you," Trisha said, taking my hand.
    "Thank you."
    We hugged.
    "But you had better go to Agnes's room and let her know you're back," Trisha said. "She's probably rifling through her chest of costumes right now, trying to find the appropriate one for a new tragedy."
    I left her and went to Agnes's room. Just as I was about to knock on the door, however, I heard voices within. Someone else was in there with Agnes.
    "It's always been like this for you," the other woman said. "You do something to drive them away. You might as well make up your mind—you will die a spinster and you have no one to blame but yourself."
    "That's unfair," Agnes said. "I did nothing to drive him off. You drove him off; it was you and your jealous ways."
    "Me?"
    Who was in there? I wondered. What were they talking about? It wasn't about me. I turned to walk away when Mrs. Liddy stepped out of her room.
    "Oh, m'dear, where have you been? Agnes was so worried. Come to tell her, have you?"
    "I . . . yes, but, she's busy; she has company," I said.
    "Company?" Mrs. Liddy raised her eyebrows. Then she smiled. "Oh, no. Just knock," she advised. "Go on."
    I did as she said and Agnes opened the door. She wore a dark red peignoir and had her hair down. Her cheeks looked streaked by tears. When I looked past her, I saw there was no one else in the room. I looked back at Mrs. Liddy, who nodded slightly, her eyes closed. Then I realized: the other voice—it had been Agnes creating her own dialogue, rehearsing some scene from some play she had been in.
    "Well, where have you been, young lady?" she said, folding her arms under her bosom and snapping her shoulders back. "You didn't sign out, nor did you tell anyone you were going anywhere.
    "Well, where were you, Dawn? Why weren't you at dinner when you said you would be?" Her eyes took on a glassy stare, her pale hands trembling as they unfolded and fluttered up from her waist to her throat. "Only Mrs. Liddy prevented me from calling your grandmother."
    "I'm sorry, Agnes. I was on my way to dinner when I remembered to call a friend who is in some terrible personal trouble. She was overwrought and I had to rush out to go to her before she did something terrible to herself," I emphasized, my eyes wide.
    "Oh, dear," Agnes said, pressing her clasped hands to her breasts. I was correct in assuming the high drama would be something she could appreciate, but Mrs. Liddy looked very skeptical and tilted her head as she sucked in a corner of her mouth.
    "I'm sorry," I repeated, turning back to Agnes quickly.
    "Yes. Is everything all right now?"
    "Oh yes, yes," I said, now thinking of myself. "Everything is . . . perfect."
    And it was as far as I was concerned. Gradually, in the weeks that passed between Thanksgiving and the Christmas holiday, my morning sickness lessened and lessened until it came to an end entirely. In fact, I began to feel unusually well and found myself more energetic than ever. When I gazed at myself in the mirror, I thought I'd never looked more radiant. My eyes sparkled with a brightness they