26

Ides of March

February was uneventful for both Lombard and Vera, aside from their own personal adjustments to the upcoming trial whose date they had yet to know of. Lombard was lying low and learning to bite his tongue whenever he heard people beginning to take Vera's side of the argument, telling himself the truth would eventually come out; unfortunately, this did nothing to stop the unnatural desires he felt. Vera was gradually recovering bit by bit through her counselling. She was beginning to realize what happened was not her fault and that if she felt all right with this decision, then she was making the right decision.

Vera's birthday fell on the ides of March. Her birthday was normally a day for happiness and celebration. This particular year, however, the atmosphere was far more sombre than usual.

"I'm glad to see you like the chocolate cake," said Evelyn, cutting up a slice for herself. "I had a hunch you would crave it."

"Thank you for being so considerate, Evelyn," said Vera, using a napkin to wipe some of the crumbs off the edge of her lips.

The family (and Hugo) was seated around the dining table in Evelyn's house, seated at a certain distance from one another.

"Hugo," spoke up her father, "exactly how do you plan on raising a child by yourself?"

"Well," said Hugo slowly, "I won't be entirely by myself. That girl I work with might drop by once in a while. And I might have my sister move up with me...maybe."

The conversation beginning to gain a bit more life, Mrs. Claythorne said, "You know, I think I know someone who lives up in Scotland who just might be able to help you with this child. Well, the woman Iknow won't help, but her son might. She has five children, you see; one son and four daughters, all of whom live together by the sea..."

Evelyn squeezed Vera's hand and said, "It's time for us to go."

Remembering what she had recently agreed to do on this day, Vera got up and followed Evelyn out the door, hoping this exercise really would work.

Lombard thought it was a rather nice day outside...so nice in fact, he felt like taking a short walk through a nearby forest. The sky was gray but not raining, nicely complimenting the deep shade of green in the trees and the chestnut-brown woodchips beneath his shoes.

It was actually a nice place to go, a great place to get away from it all. Here, he had peaceful, pleasant thoughts about life. He imagined himself back with Jennifer while still being great friends with Morley...and at peace with his mother...

Lombard was startled by the sound of footsteps. His hunting instincts told him to run behind the nearest tree, and he did so. He bent down, pressing his face against the rich bark, observing two people coming out of the corner of his eye.

He held back a laugh from the sheer coincidence of it: It was that whore and her crazy sister, walking down the same path Lombard found so peaceful. The whore looked even bigger than the last time he had seen her, almost as though she were carrying twins...he shuddered at such a thought.

He paused. He had a choice: He could turn back now without either one of them noticing, or follow them to see where they went and try again at waiting for the sister to leave before...before...well, he didn't know what it was he would do, but he'd figure it out!

Knowing this was beginning to peak obsession, Lombard, like the silent yet sleek panther, stalked the two women, taking care not to be seen or heard. He was thankful for all those years of mercenary work teaching him to be extra careful and to never let the enemy catch on.

"Are you sure about this, Evelyn?" said the voice of the woman set out to ruin his life.

"Dr. Bonet and I talked, and she thought this might be good for you," said the voice of the woman who would most likely kill Lombard if she ever laid eyes on him again.

"I feel a bit silly doing this," admitted the other voice.

Lombard grinned his wolf-like grin and settled in at a spot where he would not be seen, yet could see both women clearly. What were they going to do now? That, he was determined to find out.

"Just go ahead and do it," encouraged her sister. "Just say everything you wrote down."

"All right," said the whore reluctantly. She looked like a doe, alert and anxious of her surroundings...very attractive...

At last, the whore spoke: "I remember reading a story about a girl who had been raped in the paper a few years ago. She had been walking home late one night when she was grabbed by a much larger man, dragged down a dark alley, and she was raped and brutally beaten and left for dead. At the time, I first thought "how terrible it must be for that poor girl". Then I thought, "well, I don't have any jobs requiring me to go out late at night, nor do I go out at night myself, so as long as I keep myself safe, it'll never happen to me". If only I knew...it's one thing when it happens to someone else. And then...it happens to you. You're that girl people read about in the papers."

Lombard shifted himself a bit. This was getting to be rather...interesting.

"Do you remember seeing me?" said Vera, making it clear her message was directed at Lombard. "Do you remember seeing me dancing with Anthony Marston? Remember how he kept trying to kiss me, but I shied away from him? After having my heart broken all those years ago, I wanted to move past what had happened and find another man, to not feel trapped anymore, to just...love. I wanted to love again. And yet...I wasn't ready. I wanted to move on, but I wasn't ready to move on. I know you were there. Don't deny it, I know you saw me. I could see you smirking across the room. Let me ask you this...if you knew I wasn't ready to be kissed, what made you think I was ready to have sex?"

Lombard had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Vera couldn't possibly see him now, could she?

Vera took a deep breath and said, her voice shaking, "I wasn't ready. I don't care if you felt you had to sleep with me, I wasn't ready. I'm not like most women who willingly give their virginity away just to get men to like them. I actually wanted to wait until I found someone I really was in love with. I...I did not love you, nor did I say or do anything to suggest I loved you. I had a few conversations with you, sure, but I did not love you."

Her voice was breaking up, but she swallowed and kept on going: "Do you honestly think I liked having a stranger I barely knew undressing me? Did you think I didn't feel embarrassed or terrified, even? I honestly thought you were going to kill me when you were done with me. Even though you did not...I have days where I wish you had."

She had to take another swallow before saying, "After the island...after I reported you...I thought it was behind me and that all I had to do now was find a good lawyer and wait for the trial. But you never left me. I saw you every night in my dreams. I felt you on top of me and inside of me. I hear myself trying to get you to stop, I feel the terrible pain and then...I wake up. I'm in my room. It's over...physically. But it never left me, mentally. Even when the trial's over and the baby is born and given away, it will never leave me. I'm getting better now, bit by bit. And yet...I don't think it will ever truly leave me."

Vera buried her face in her hands and started sobbing, her sister putting one arm around her. Lombard felt nauseous, yet oddly numb. It was beginning to come back to him now...he had been drunk, but he remembered...he had been lying in bed, wondering how on earth he had gotten himself into this mess and then...there was a knock on the door...

Vera lifted her face from her hands and went on, tears pouring down her face, "I am almost certain I will get past this and find another man. Even so...I'll never be able to have the white wedding I've always dreamed of. I will never be able to honestly say to this man that this is my first time. And as if that's not bad enough...I always wanted to be a mother. After I got over my initial disgust upon finding out where babies come from, I thought the idea of having a little baby to take care of and call my own was wonderful. I wanted my first child to come from a moment of pure love, and for this child to actually be wanted. Instead..."

Her voice broke up and she took another deep breath. "Instead, it's a child from rape. And it's a child I don't want. When this baby is born, it is going to a family that does want it. I don't want to raise a child that feels it isn't wanted by its own mother. Even if I tried to care for it, I'm in absolutely no condition to raise a child right now. I can barely take care of myself, let alone an innocent baby who doesn't deserve to be brought into the world this way."

She wiped the tears from her eyes. "What would I say if the child asked about its father? Or how would I explain the story behind its conception when it grew older?" She said in a quieter voice, "I wanted to bring a child of love into this world, Mr. Lombard, a child that would feel loved by its parents. Not a child of rape, a child that isn't wanted by either of its parents. If abortion didn't go against my morals, I'd do it to spare the child such suffering. But because it goes against everything I believe in, I will see this pregnancy through. And hopefully, this child will be happier with its adoptive parents than it ever could be with me."

Lombard sat absolutely still, waiting for Vera to say something else. He was too stunned to get up and walk away from this. The memories had stopped coming and now, here he was, sitting here feeling...cold.

The sister came up to Vera and gently put one hand on her shoulder. "Feel better?" she said softly.

"Yes," said Vera dully. "It does feel good to get it all out." Then, "Let's go home."

Lombard waited for the two women to leave. Fearing of accidentally running into them, he stayed behind, not sure of what to think.

Lombard returned home one hour later to crawl into bed and lie down, trying to make sense of what he had heard. He was beginning to remember what his mother had told him: "Philip, if you ever hear that poor girl crying, I want you to stop and listen, really listen. Listen to her sobs. Don't try to comfort her, but just listen."

And he had...and he didn't know what to feel. He looked back on Christmas morning, when he had that awful stomach pain. He was beginning to realize what his condition was called: Guilt.

There was a knock on the door, but it sounded too rough to be that of his mother's, or of Morley's. He got up and walked out his room, down the hall, and to the door. He opened it and found two police officers standing in the doorway. One of them said, "Are you Philip Lombard?"

"Yes," said Lombard slowly. "Why?"

The other officer said, "We are here to talk to you about the rape charges pressed against you in August of 1939."

When Evelyn and Vera came home, two other officers were waiting for Vera in Evelyn's living room for the very same reason. In addition to being given a subpoena, she was informed of the basic trial procedures and given a precise date for the trial: April twenty-ninth.

"So it's not that big a deal, then," said Vera when the officers left. "I'm due on the twenty-fourth of April, and the trial will come five days later. By then, the baby will be born and given up, so we don't have to worry about that little detail."

"Don't count on it, Vera," said her mother warningly. "Women seldom give birth on their precise due date. You were due on the thirteenth of March, and came out two days later."

"True," said Vera, "but maybe this baby can wait after the trial."

"Good luck with that!" chuckled Mr. Claythorne. Then, "So how did your trip down to the forest go?"

"I feel better," said Vera. "Dr. Bonet was right; it did help. It's queer, you know; somehow, it felt as though he was there, actually listening to me." She smiled. "It's a bit absurd, really. How would he really have reacted if he had heard me?"