TW: miscarriage
Shelagh carefully opened the flat door.
Everything was silent, from far away, perhaps from the other side of the building, she could hear a radio on and the screams of children.
She looked well and saw a small, light blue living room, tastefully decorated, and a dining room with modern chairs and pictures hanging on the walls.
Daylight came through a window, not getting too bright due to thick blue curtains that blocked a bit of the sun's heat.
"Anna?" she called, wondering whether or not to set foot inside the house.
There was no answer.
She clutched the crumpled piece of paper in her sweaty hand, and set her medical bag on the floor so that both hands were free to read the paper.
The address was correct, the building too, the floor and flat number too.
"Anna?" she called again, and this time she heard a groan, a wail from somewhere inside the flat.
She pushed the door wide open, forgetting her bag there, and running inside. This time she could see that after the dining room, there was a small but orderly kitchen, where all the objects combined and seemed to have a military discipline of perfect order.
She felt again the agitation that had rocked her in the elevator, after her mad race on the bike that she practically stole from Sister Frances.
Her heart was pounding and her breathing was shallow, her ears and eyes sharpened, trying to find Anna. It was only a couple of seconds, which seemed like hours.
She heard a moan again, it was almost the guttural wail of a mortally wounded animal, and she ran, looking for the bathroom. The flat was small, she found the place right away, at the end of a dark corridor. It had the door open, and she could see the green bathtub curtain, with elegant bows, and the light coming through a small window.
She also saw, on the impeccable white tiles, a trickle of blood, which as she approached it turned into a river, at the end of which was Anna.
"Oh! Oh God!" was all she could say, a cry of surprise, a prayer of supplication.
Anna was leaning against the tub, her blond hair a tangle on her face hidden in her hands. She was in a messy ball of legs, shoes, and blood.
The sight sent a chill through her body. She had the misfortune of being the spectator of similar tragedies, they were all painful, they all had the cruel task of helping a woman to regain her life and vigorously clean the floors and clothes, to erase the evidence of something that no longer existed.
But this time was different.
Shelagh ran and knelt beside her, spreading her arms and Anna gave a terrible sob, a desperate cry and clung to her with the little strength she had.
Shelagh closed her eyes, unable to stop the tears, unable to tell herself that Anna was just a woman, another patient, another mother.
"I didn't know," she heard her repeat over and over again in her chest, "This time I didn't know, I didn't know."
Shelagh squeezed her lids, pulling Anna closer to her, stroking her blond hair.
"It's not your fault Anna, it's not your fault."
But Anna just shook her head against her chest and sobbed more, and Shelagh knew that nothing she said would take away the pain Anna was feeling.
A few minutes ago they had been talking in the coffee shop, Anna had said about her problems to conceive, to carry a pregnancy to term. Shelagh figured it out, because Anna had not explained much more.
"I didn't know," Anna said again, and Shelagh held her tighter, not caring about the cold bathroom floor and Anna's weight against her.
Then she pulled her apart when she realized what was happening.
"Anna look at me," she shook her, trying to prevent the woman from fainting, "Anna, look at me, come on."
But Anna just half-opened her eyes and started crying again.
Shelagh looked around her. Thin threads of blood ran at the tile joints, the toilet was the clear mark of a bloody hand.
And Anna, hugging Shelagh as if she were a lifebelt, had her flowery dress, which fit so well, turned into a wrinkled and stained rag, barely covering her bare legs where the blood had run.
Shelagh gulped, it was a lot of blood, and she did not even want to look in the toilet. Anna kept crying, uttering something unintelligible, until Shelagh realized that she was saying "I'm sorry."
This girl, always with those two words in her mouth, she thought.
Suddenly she felt guilty too. Perhaps all the contempt, all the nerves that she had caused Anna had this terrible result.
Anna seemed to hear her thoughts, because she stopped crying and raised her head. Her eyes were red, her lips parched and chapped, her face damp, her hair in a tangle.
"It's not your fault, Shelagh," she whispered barely, "It's mine. I should have known. It happened other times, why didn't I know now?"
"Easy," Shelagh took her face in her hands, "Easy Anna, it's not your fault. Don't say sorry. Come, I'll take you to bed."
Shelagh stood up and taking her by both arms, lifted her up. Anna's legs buckled, but she managed to hold on. Then, so that Anna would not see the bathroom scene, she hugged her against her chest and carried her like this, taking small steps, until she took her out of the bathroom.
"It's here," Anna pointed weakly with one hand.
Shelagh saw a room, which contrasted with the rest of the house due to the disorder of clothes. Anna groaned at the sight, but Shelagh smiled at her a little.
"Don't worry about it now, come."
"My husband couldn't find a shirt this morning..."
She did not finish the sentence because was shaking, her toes were turning purple and she looked like she was going to faint at any moment.
Shelagh sat her on an empty chair, and quickly gathered the clothes on the bed and tossed them on another chair, across the room.
She found a shawl hanging there so she took it and wrapped it around Anna, running her hands quickly up her arms to warm her.
"Do you feel pain?"
Anna nodded several times. Then she spoke, not a whisper, but a dry, husky voice.
"I feel like I've been ripped apart. I thought I was going to die. Well, maybe I will."
"No, you will not. Where can I find clean clothes for you?"
Anna pointed with her chin at the closet.
"Second drawer."
Shelagh quickly found underwear and a clean nightgown. She went to the bathroom and moistened a towel, but when she returned, Anna was standing, taking her dress off.
"No, no, sit down, you can fall. You have lost a lot of blood."
"I know that," she said in an indifferent voice, looking at the dress that was now just another puddle on the floor.
"Anna I'm a nurse, let me help you."
But Anna snatched the wet towel from her and wiped each of her fingers with blood, not looking at Shelagh. She swallowed hard, unable to move or do anything.
"You can go if you want, I'm fine. I'm sorry I took you out of your work."
She put both hands on Anna's shoulders, noticing how small they were. In fact, Anna seemed to have gotten smaller in just an hour.
"Let me help you, Anna."
Anna looked up at her with tears. Some fell. Her lower lip trembled. She opened her mouth, but Shelagh cut her off.
"Don't say "I'm sorry" again. Come, come to bed, I'll help you."
Shelagh pulled the covers away from and sat her down gently. She could see that Anna swallowed the pain. Shelagh sat on the edge of the bed, dropping the now stained towel to the floor.
"Anna you need medical attention. You probably haven't…" she thought the way to say it, but she did not find any, "... pushed everything out."
"No, no," she suddenly seemed scared, "No please, Shelagh don't call the hospital. I've been through it, no."
Shelagh tried to imagine what had happened in the past, but she heard Anna swallow hard, her eyes panicking.
"In the hospitals, the doctors...they do everything and nobody tells you what's going on, the nurses don't even look at you. And it hurts, it hurts a lot. Please don't call, I can handle it on my own, I did that last time it happened. Please, Shelagh," she was hyperventilating now and Shelagh took one of her hands.
"Anna," she squeezed the hand, "Anna, I won't do that, don't worry. Breathe, come on, breathe slowly. I will not call any hospital. Do you remember I told you that my husband is a doctor?"
"No, no, please..." Anna shook her head, struggling to get out of Shelagh's hand.
"Anna, I'll be here with you. Can you trust me? No one will hurt you."
Anna took a breath, seemed to calm down a bit. She nodded.
"I'll call him, I'll be here with you. And then if you need more attention, we'll take you to the maternity home. It is not like the hospital there, everyone is very friendly. Everything will be fine."
Anna took a shaky breath and Shelagh knew she was wrong again.
"No Shelagh, it won't be fine," she said, looking at her feet.
Shelagh stood up, took the nightgown, and helped Anna dress into it.
"I know that everything will not be fine but I will make sure that what is in my hands is fine."
Anna's eyes filled with tears, but there was a small, almost imperceptible smile.
"Thanks."
Shelagh smiled at her.
"I'm going to get my bag, and I'll give you something for the pain."
She returned to the living room, the bag still by the door. She closed the door and looked for something she could give Anna for the pain. On the floor, she found the crumpled piece of paper with Anna's address, which she had given her a month ago and which Shelagh, despite her doubts and wishes, kept in her bag and never threw it away. She was grateful she had not, because Anna just asked for help and then Shelagh heard nothing more, except for the thud of the phone's receiver falling and hitting something.
Returning to the bedroom, she saw Anna in a fetal position, her back turned to the door. Her sobs were muffled by the pillow, one hand on her belly.
Shelagh sat on the edge of the bed, put a hand on her shoulder, and Anna turned.
"Take this," she gave her a pill and took the glass of water that was on the nightstand. Anna sniffed shakily and then lied on the bed, staring at the ceiling, her eyes dark and sad.
"I tried to keep this from happening again," she whispered, her voice sounding like sand, "We were so careful with John... We tried not to let me go through the same thing over and over again. I thought we were succeeding, it hasn't happened for a long time, and I'm older, I'm not supposed to conceive anymore. I always found out and was happy, but afraid, until it happened. This time I didn't even know, and I don't know which is worse, knowing and waiting for it to happen, or not knowing and being surprised like this."
Shelagh stroked one of her cold hands.
"Anna, did you have pain today, or yesterday?"
"Migraine. I'm used to it, sometimes it happens. And today pain, but I thought it was my period, it is more or less the date. I didn't imagine..." she sniffed, shaking her head, "I once asked a doctor to do something. There is an operation... Well, I'm sure you know about it. It serves not to conceive. And he told me that before I need permits, and they only practiced it on women with many children. What children can I have, if I lose them?"
"There are birth control pills. I will help you get them."
"And do they work? I don't want to be separated from John, but I don't want to go through this again...It's so cruel!"
Tears broke out again and Shelagh took a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to her. Anna wiped her cheeks, then doubled over in pain.
"Quiet Anna, I'll call my husband."
Shelagh ran into the living room, looking for the phone. She found it, it was in a corner, the receiver hung up. There were blood stains next to it and on the carpet.
She dialed a number that she knew by heart and was greeted by the voice of Miss Higgings.
"I'm Shelagh. I need to talk to Patrick," she said abruptly when she heard a plaintive moan from Anna coming from the bedroom. "It's urgent."
"Oh, in a minute Mrs. Turner."
She waited impatiently until she heard her husband's voice.
"Shelagh? I thought you were here."
"I'm with Anna, write down the address I'll give you."
"Anna? Is she…?"
"Yes, she is. She had a miscarriage and needs care at the maternity home. Come as fast as you can."
"But…"
"Patrick please!"
"Oh sorry, sorry, tell me the address, I'll be there in a few minutes."
She gave him the address and then hung up without saying goodbye. She breathed, trying to calm her heart but also her mind.
She looked everywhere. The whole flat seemed to have Anna's touch and delicacy, her presence seemed to shine in every corner. It was difficult to relate someone like that to the person who was crying in bed. Because she knew Anna was crying, she could hear her, but she did not want to go there, she wanted to give her space because, after all, Shelagh was a stranger.
A gold-framed picture on a small polished piece of furniture caught her eye. There was Anna, serious but with eyes bright with joy, posing with a group of people among which was the Queen herself. Shelagh smiled, it was true.
Next to the picture frame she saw another: Anna, in a white dress, with a perfect smile that combined with the happiness from her gaze, and next to her, a man: Joseph. Her father looked on with his usual sullen expression, but with the same sparkle as Anna's in his eyes. He had a dark suit and a bouquet of flowers on his lapel.
Her breathing quickened. For some reason she could not look away at that framed piece of paper, which seemed to scream at her that Joseph made a choice. He was a father and a best man, he gave Anna a wedding, he gave her to a husband.
With Shelagh he did not do the same.
She heard a sob and turned around. Her feet tingled, ready to run out of there. It was easy to go away and disappear. But she could not do that.
So she squared her shoulders and went into the kitchen. She opened all the cabinet doors until she found a bucket, a cloth, and bleach.
With all that in hand, she went to the bathroom, and began cleaning.
She kept her word, Anna already knew Shelagh Turner was like that.
When she hugged her in the bathroom and Anna felt her stroking her hair and whispering to her to calm down, it was like feeling her mother again. It was strange, she was the oldest, she was the one who should take care of Shelagh, but her sister took care to another level. For a moment, Anna thought that Shelagh was there because she was her sister and not a nurse.
Now Anna could hear her footsteps and her crying, because she could hear her cry while cleaning the bathroom.
She wanted to yell at Shelagh that she should not do that, but she had no voice. She began to doze off, presumably from the pill Shelagh had given her, but she was startled when she heard a male voice. She cowered in fear.
She looked toward the door, saw the man and Shelagh whispering something to him. Then she saw her come in, with a sad smile that Anna could tell was causing a lot of work to put on her face.
"Anna, this is my husband, Dr. Turner."
Shelagh's husband had a kind face and she could see in his eyes that he really hurt what had happened. Shelagh said something, technical words that Anna did not understand.
Then she sat on the edge of the bed.
"Anna, he'll check you out. Don't worry, I'll be here with you. Do you want me to call your husband?"
"No, no, he's very busy, today Sinatra arrives."
She saw Shelagh's husband raise his eyebrows, then a small smile.
"He's a hotel manager," Shelagh explained, then turned back to Anna. "Well, whatever you want. May l?"
Anna saw Shelagh take her nightgown and nodded. Shelagh lifted it carefully, and Anna saw that there was more blood.
"Oh no, no, please…"
"Easy Anna," Shelagh stood up, her place was taken by her husband, but she stayed by her side.
Dr. Turner's hands were cold, and she pressed her lids together at the sensation and pain.
"Hurts?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
Shelagh said more things in strange words, her husband seemed to agree.
"Let's take you to the maternity home. You need a..."
"I know," she tightened her eyelids. "Is it necessary?"
"We will do everything so that you don't have discomfort. And Shelagh will be there with you."
She saw the exchange of glances between them. The doctor stood up.
"I'll wait in the living room."
Shelagh nodded, followed him, and then quickly came back and opened the closet, from which she took out another nightgown and a jacket that Anna was going to tell her it was new and that she wanted to reserve for a happier occasion, but she did not have the strength to talk so much.
"I'll help you get dressed and we'll take you in the car."
Anna let Shelagh and her efficiency and training take control of her own body. Shelagh changed her quickly, and then she carried the stained nightgown into the bathroom.
"Throw it," said Anna, sitting on the bed, "Throw everything, these sheets, the dress, everything. I don't want any of this."
Shelagh nodded without saying anything, and helped her to her feet. Then she led her into the living room.
"Stay here while I do what you asked me."
"But I can help you..."
"No, you must rest."
Anna nodded, letting her do. The doctor was standing by the door, helping her to sit on one of the dining room chairs, and smiled pityingly at her.
Shelagh seemed to barely take two seconds, she appeared with a bag where she had kept everything that Anna did not want to see anymore. There was no point in wetting and scrubbing, bleach and bleach, trying to erase the stains of something that she could not erase from her mind.
She did not want all that to stay there either, she did not want her husband to see it and even less her son.
She suddenly remembered. Her son.
"Johnny," she stammered. "Johnny is at school."
Shelagh walked over, put the bag on the floor, and helped her up. Anna felt that she could not control her body, that she was trembling nervously.
"I know. When I pick up my daughters, I'll take care of him too."
"No, he can stay with the neighbor, she is working now but she can..."
"I'll take him with me, the teacher knows me. There will be no problems."
"I still want to write him a note, he will not understand what happened, he only has me and his father!"
"When we are at the maternity home, you will write him a note and I will give it to him, I will make sure he is okay."
"But what will you say?" she asked, feeling terrible anguish. She had forgotten her son, her only living son, to think of another who did not even exist.
"Anna, calm down. It will not be the first time that I return home with children who are not mine," she saw her smile at her husband, he replied with a wide smile.
"Anna, your son will be fine, don't worry."
She blinked at the familiarity with which he treated her, as if he had known her for a long time. Maybe Shelagh told him a lot about her.
That, far from calming her, made her even more uneasy: Shelagh hated her, and now she was here, with her husband, because she, Anna, forced her to come to her house. Without a doubt, Shelagh would be hate her more than ever.
But she did not seem to. Because when they left the flat and entered the elevator Anna felt Shelagh's arm holding her against her body preventing her from reeling with the dizziness that the vertical travel was causing her.
Outside, the sun and warm air hit her, almost mocking her situation. In the park in front of the building, several children were playing and shouting. Anna shivered with cold.
Shelagh's husband opened the back door of the car, Shelagh helped her in and sat next to her.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice sweet.
Anna nodded a little.
"We'll be there soon," Shelagh rubbed Anna's arms, tightened the new jacket against her body.
It was true, it was not far, but she felt that with each meter that the car moved, everything seemed more blurred and dark.
Shelagh grabbed her face, yelled for her husband to hurry up, her voice scared.
Anna rested her head on Shelagh's shoulder, listening far away as Shelagh tearfully asked her to hold on, that everything would be alright, although Anna could feel more blood coming down, running everywhere. None of that was right.
Then it was all dark.
Shelagh stayed in a corner, next to the bathroom. A scared and lonely girl again, trying to regulate her breathing and the images in her head.
Patrick walked over to her, spread his arms around her and pulled her close to his chest.
"She's fine now," he whispered in her ear, and she nodded. Patrick pulled her away, looked intently into her face. "Are you okay?"
"Yes...No...I don't know."
He kissed her hair, hugged her again.
"She lost a lot of blood and will need a transfusion after curettage. Shelagh, I can tell Trixie or Valerie to join her."
"No Patrick, she trusts me."
It was quite a statement. Anna, the person she wanted to disappear from her life and stop tormenting her with the past, now fully trusted her and Shelagh felt that she could not interpose her pain with Anna's pain.
"You are very brave," he whispered in her ear.
She did not respond, just pulled away from him a little.
"I need to change, my uniform is stained with blood. I'll go in a minute."
Patrick waited for her and together they walked to a room where Anna was a little sleepy. Nurse Crane accompanied them too, and Anna became alert, looking at them in panic.
"Easy Anna, she's just a friend," Shelagh whispered, looking at Nurse Crane, who smiled compassionately.
"Don't worry, lass. I'll help the doctor, and Nurse Turner will be with you."
Shelagh punctuated Nurse Crane's words by taking one of Anna's pale hands and squeezing gently.
Anna seemed to calm down, and then came the most painful part of everything. Shelagh stood by her side, squeezing her hand, explaining in simple words what she could explain without her voice showing that at that moment she was not professional but only human. She wanted to cry, she saw this so many times and yet she did not get used to the pain of a mother. Anna's eyes, always so much like Joseph's, were now simply Anna's eyes. A suffering woman.
Luckily, it all ended quickly and Patrick took off his gloves, looking at Shelagh, he nodded.
"We'll take you to a room just for you," he told her, Anna half-opened her eyes.
"Why?"
The cry of a newborn baby was heard and Anna seemed to understand everything.
"Oh, I see," then her head moved to either side, she looked worried, "What time is it? Johnny..."
"There are still a couple of hours left, don't worry."
She and Nurse Crane accommodated her in a small room, quite far from the mothers who had been able to give birth and have her children in their arms. Nurse Crane looked at Shelagh all the time, searching for an explanation, knowing that Anna was not just another patient. Shelagh ignored her looks, she was not prepared for someone to know what was happening in her life and the older nurse seemed to understand, because she quietly withdrew, leaving them alone.
"If you're going to pick up Johnny..." Anna began, shifting on the bed, swallowing a groan of pain.
"Calm down Ana, I..."
"No, you should know, he likes to have a snack after school, milk and cocoa and ..." her voice broke, she was on the verge of a panic attack. Shelagh took her hands.
"Quiet Anna, he'll be fine. You'll be fine."
Anna raised her eyes to her.
"I shouldn't have called you, Shelagh. But I was so scared, I don't know anyone here, and I really thought that this would be worse, that I would die...I only remembered what you told me this morning. I didn't do it to annoy you. I don't want to bother you in your life. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"Oh Anna, don't ask for more forgiveness. You are not to blame for anything. Please don't keep blaming yourself," Shelagh tried to smile at her, but a tear fell and she wiped it away quickly, so that Anna would not see it, even though she was sure she saw it.
Shelagh could not keep hearing that this fragile woman, who seemed good and noble, kept carrying things that were not her fault. Not when she had just seen her in such a terrible state, not when she thought that...
She swallowed hard, a lump tangled in her throat. Now that everything was over, she saw everything clearer: when she found Anna in the bathroom, she thought she was going to die. She was not dead because she was crying and screaming, but Shelagh thought Anna could die. And when Anna started to lose more blood in the car and she turned pale, her purple lips, her icy skin, Shelagh really thought, that Anna was dead.
The thought of losing Anna seemed terrifying to her now, and just a couple of hours ago, the thought of never seeing Anna again would have meant relief and peace in her life.
"So do you believe me? Do you believe what I told you when I looked for you? I didn't know anything, neither did my mother. Please Shelagh, forgive me for everything. Do you believe me?"
Shelagh sighed, removed her glasses, and wiped her eyes.
"Yes, I think so," she answered without looking at her. "Now calm down please, you need to rest."
She covered her with a blanket and left the room without saying anything else.
A dry voice spoke in her head. Joseph. His laugh, his drunken words. She saw the image of him, arm in arm with Anna dressed as a bride. A chill ran down her spine.
"Dear, come here," she heard a whisper behind her, and before she could respond, she found herself surrounded by Sister Julienne's arms.
Shelagh closed her eyes and cried into Julienne's shoulder all the fear and pain that she had accumulated.
"She's doing it out of pity. I'm a poor woman to her."
Her dry whisper was barely heard in the solitude of the room.
But she seemed so affected, so sincere. Shelagh was the very image of compassion and gentleness. She did not look like Joseph's daughter at all.
"I'm sure her mother was a saint."
The pain in her abdomen returned, reminding her why she was here. The anguish returned as well.
She thought of Johnny, he would be confused when he saw a strange woman come to school for him. He was just like his father, so he would be filled with worry.
She thought of John. Again, tell him that she was a failure, that something was still wrong with her and that they would always be a family of three, as long as she did not die in one of these terrible episodes that were getting worse.
She was already seeing in her mind his worried face, his sad and brittle voice, his guilt. We should have been more careful, we shouldn't have moved here, I shouldn't have accepted the job, I should have looked after you and protected you. Nothing is your fault, nothing is wrong with you, I love you as you are.
Anna heard a knock on the door and without waiting for her to answer, the door opened and a nun entered.
She feared them, she always did. In her family they were never religious, and as a child she always feared the reverends and the nuns, and the churches with their gloomy bells, and its choirs.
She instinctively flinched, then saw the nun's smile.
"Hello, don't be scared," the nun seemed to have read the fear, "I'm also a nurse. I just wanted to see how you are."
"Fine," she whispered, loosening the grip on her fist with the blankets.
"My name is Sister Julienne, I just want to see if you lose more blood."
"Shelagh?" Anna hated herself, because her voice came out exactly like that of a child asking for her mother. But Shelagh was the only person she knew here, the only person she trusted.
The nun smiled a little, as if she knew something that Anna did not.
"Shelagh is taking care of other people, she told me to take care of you. May l?" she pointed to the blankets.
Anna rolled over, lying flat on her back and the nun gently pulled the covers away from her and touched her belly.
"It hurts?"
"Yes a bit."
"It is normal. If you want to go to the bathroom you can do it, and if you see a bit of blood don't panic."
"I know," she swallowed. She had already been through these things, she knew everything. She was an expert, a sad and unsuccessful expert in the art of losing children.
The nun smiled, her smile trying to sound reassuring, although there was sadness in her eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Anna," she said barely, then covered her with the blankets again. "Do you need anything?"
"I need to write a note to my son. I want him to know that I'm fine, he's at school."
"Yes, Shelagh will go for him," said the nun, "I'll bring you a pencil and paper."
Sister Julienne left quietly, then came back, the same way. She helped Anna sit up and Anna took the pencil and scribbled a note. She tried to keep it as short as possible, because with each word, the tears threatened to come out stronger. When she finished she handed the things over to the nun.
"I'll give it to Shelagh right now, don't worry."
With another small smile, Sister Julienne left.
Anna looked at the ceiling, and let the tears flow.
"So that boy will come with us?" May asked, looking suspiciously at her mother.
Shelagh smiled at both girls, leaning toward them.
"Yes, and I want you to be very nice to him. Oh, there he is."
She straightened up and walked over to little Johnny, who was looking everywhere disoriented. Her heart clenched at the sight of him and she gave him a smile that the boy did not respond to.
"Hi Johnny, I'm Shelagh, I'm…" she thought what to say to him, what word to choose. She opted for the simplest,"...I'm a friend of your mom Anna. She told me to pick you up from school today."
"My mom says I shouldn't talk to strangers." The boy looked over her shoulder, searching with fear for his mother.
"I know, but she gave me this note for you," she handed him the paper, with mistrust the boy opened and read it.
Then he looked up at her.
"My mom doesn't have any friends here."
"Well, we became friends in the last few days."
"And where is she? I want my mom," his voice trailed off, and Shelagh looked around, trying to find a way to convince him. The teacher approached.
"Mrs Turner, is something wrong?"
"Johnny's mother told me to pick him up at school. She is busy, she cannot come. She gave me a note for him."
The teacher looked at the boy, smiled at him.
"Can I read it?" the boy let the teacher look the note, the teacher smiled, "Johnny, Mrs Turner won't hurt you, she is a very good lady. Go with her."
Still unconvinced, the boy folded the paper, placed it in his pocket, and looked at Shelagh.
"We will go home, they are my daughters, maybe you know them." Shelagh pointed to Angela and May, who were looking at the boy with the same suspicion that he at them.
Reluctantly, the boy took her hand and Shelagh said goodbye to the teacher.
"And where is my mom?"
"She had to do some very complicated things in the town hall."
"Mmm, a while ago she had to go there. And when will she come back?"
Shelagh gulped, smiled at him.
"Is that a baby?" Johnny released her hand and walked over to Teddy's cart.
"Yes, his name is Teddy."
"He's my brother." Protectively, Angela stood next to Johnny, looking at him with challenging eyes.
"Come on children, let's have a snack. Johnny, do you want milk? We have cocoa in our home."
"Yes! I like that!" bouncing, Johnny walked alongside her.
The mistrust between the children very soon disappeared and they came to the house running and laughing. Shelagh sighed, she was exhausted but she wished Johnny would stay active so he would not ask questions.
In the living room, lying on the couch and watching television, was Timothy. The boy raised his eyebrows when he saw Johnny.
"Mom, another child? Every time you go out you come back with a new child."
"I'll explain later, Tim." She ignored his sarcasm and quickly began to heat milk for the children, but Tim left his TV show and walked over to her.
"Mom, what happened? You look…"
"I said I'll explain later, Timothy."
"That's a lie, you and dad never explain anything to me," the boy looked at his siblings and the unknown child who ran and played in the garden, "Who is he?"
"Enough, Timothy," she replied, keeping her temper at bay.
"But mom, I also live in this house and…!"
"He is my sister's son!" she spat, then stopped, scared. Tim looked at her the same way.
"What?! You have a sister?"
"Yes. For the love of God, can you wait for me to collect my mind and then ask the questions? I'm exhausted!"
The door opened, Patrick entered.
"What's happening here?" he asked, looking at his son and his wife.
Tim lowered his head.
"I'm going," he whispered.
A sob broke from Shelagh as she mechanically tried to continue preparing food for the children.
"Here, leave me," Patrick pushed her away from the kitchen, and hugged her, "Let's go to the bedroom. Tim, take care of the children and stop giving trouble."
"No," she said, "He can't, besides I just yelled at him and..."
"Don't worry mom. It was also my fault for being bothering you," the boy smiled at her, continued with the food.
She smiled at him, her eldest son was always a light in her life, always kind and with a big heart. She wiped her eyes, Patrick took her to the bedroom, as they went up the stairs she could hear the happy voices of her children and the child that was her nephew.
Patrick sat her on the bed, she took several breaths.
"Better?"
She nodded several times.
"I should call her husband, she gave me the hotel number."
"Is she fine?"
"Yes, she is, but it's better for her to spend the night there. I'll call him, tell him what happened and where his son is."
"Good."
"Are you okay, love?"
She shrugged and Patrick sat down next to her.
"I'm sorry about everything that's happening to you, you didn't want anything with her and now...I don't understand how she asked you for help."
"Today we had a chat in the new coffee shop. I invited her, we talk a lot. I gave her the number of the surgery, so if she had a problem, or her son or husband, she could call us. I don't know why I did it, but I'm grateful for doing it."
He took her chin and placed a soft kiss on her lips.
"I always say that you have the biggest heart of all."
"No Patrick, if I had it I wouldn't feel like that, so strange. I wouldn't have treated her the way I did. She is not to blame for anything, I cannot put all the blame on her."
He gave her another little kiss on her lips.
"I understand you."
"I know," she hugged his waist. "And that helps me a lot."
Patrick kissed her hair and sighed.
"Well, I'll call this man."
She stood up.
"I'll leave you alone."
However, when she closed the bedroom door, she listened as Patrick spoke to Anna's husband. He tried to explain to as best he could not to upset him, and then he had to explain who he was, and why Johnny was at Shelagh's house.
"Yes, Mr. Bates. Shelagh Turner, his wife's sister."
Her heart pounded in her chest at that. She slipped into the kitchen, the children's laughter was a little balm. May, Angela and Johnny already seemed like good friends, and Teddy and Timothy also seemed to be having fun with the new kid.
"Auntie Shelagh, can I wash my hands?"
Shelagh felt a chill. The boy was standing next to her, his hands sticky with chocolate. She looked at her children, they all seemed to ignore what was happening except Timothy who looked at them puzzled.
She smiled at Johnny, leaned toward him.
"Sure, the bathroom is there," she pointed out.
The boy looked to the bathroom door, then looked at her.
"Can you help me? I'll get my shirt wet."
Shelagh smiled, unbuttoned the cuffs of his school shirt and rolled up the sleeves on his slim little arms. The boy thanked her and ran to the bathroom, then quickly joined the game Angela and May were planning together in the garden. Shelagh watched him, she did not know how Johnny's father was, but she could tell that the boy had the face and hair of his mother, and something sweet in his voice that reminded her of Anna.
Patrick hurried down the stairs.
"The poor man is terrified. He will go to the maternity home first, so I will go there, to explain and reassure him."
Shelagh nodded, then froze again when Johnny Bates ran into the kitchen.
"Auntie Shelagh!" he exclaimed, running towards her with a smile identical to that of his mother.
The arms of her husband were always a refuge. He gave her protection, love, he understood her. They were her place in the world, the space to which she belonged.
However, there were times when John's arms could not comfort her or isolate her from the world.
He held her tight, whispered in her ear, but her pain remained nailed there, reminding her that John could not do anything against her damn body that stabbed her over and over again.
He pulled away, cupped her face with both hands.
"I'm sorry I didn't call you," Anna apologized, he shook his head, tears running down his cheeks. She felt that she adored him, he never had a problem showing his pain or his emotion, and if he needed to cry he did it, he never hid behind a mask.
"You must not apologize for anything, my love. Thank God you are safe and sound."
"I'm not."
"I know honey, but if I had lost you..." He shook his head, hugged her again.
"I feel selfish crying about this, we already have the best son in the world."
"Anna, no," he broke away from her, he looked at her seriously. "Don't say that. What happened was terrible. It doesn't matter if we only have Johnny, or ten kids. Don't feel bad because you cry when you lose a child when you have another."
"But..." She felt the anguish again. Her feelings were inexplicable, and now that John was in front of her everything was in a whirlpool and every feeling was rushing out of her to the light, "I should be grateful to have Johnny."
"And you are, darling. There is no more dedicated mother than you."
"And then why does this hurt so much?"
"Anna."
He sat next to her on the bed, laid his cane on a chair. He wiped her tears away and took a deep breath. She knew that he was preparing what to say to her, how to tell her in the best way possible. He always took care of her.
"Anna, love. Some nurses explained to me what happened. I'm so sorry I wasn't there with you. They told me it was a terrible thing. You went through something horrible, and it's not the first time. It's logical that you feel bad and sad. The other times, you knew you were pregnant, there was illusion. There was love for a new member of this family, someone created out of our love, and then that faded. Now you didn't even know. That we have Johnny doesn't change this. So cry all you need, complain, insult God or me, no one but you has the right to be sad and angry."
She nodded, wiped away more tears, and squeezed his hands.
"Thank you, John."
When her tears seemed to dry and her sobs fell silent, and they only shared a few minutes of silence together, Anna cleared her throat and spoke:
"Shelagh told me that there are contraceptives, pills that don't fail like our methods. She can get them."
John looked at her and nodded. He combed a few strands of her hair with his fingers, giving her time to think better.
"She... She was very good to me. She helped me. I know she does it because she's a nurse but I can't help but think that she did it too because...Maybe...It doesn't matter. I shouldn't worry about it now."
"I'm glad you could trust her. Everyone here seems very kind. And she maybe she did it because she has esteem for you."
She denied several times, but he cupped her chin so he could see her eyes.
"Anna, love, you are a good person, and that anyone can tell. She can care for you. It is not impossible."
"Today we talked, before this happened. It felt almost real, like a friendship. We chat, we laugh. Later, I think we both realized that there are other things in between and I'm an intrusion into her life. But then all of this happened," her voice cracked, she swallowed hard, "she told me she believes me. That she knows it's not my fault, nor is it Mom's fault."
"That's good."
"Even so I don't want to continue bothering her."
"Anna, enough thinking about that, you must rest. Tomorrow will be another day, and maybe you can talk to her, when both of you are calmer."
She let her husband help her lie down, she smiled when he kissed her forehead.
"John, you must go with Johnny, he is at Shelagh's house and I don't want him to feel worried."
The door opened a bit, Anna saw Shelagh's husband. John stood up.
"Oh sorry, I tried to get here earlier but my car broke down," he apologized. He reached his hand out to John, who squeezed it firmly. "I'm Dr Turner."
"Nice to meet you, John Bates is my name. How is my son?"
"He is playing with my children, don't worry. My wife confirmed that they were doing their homework."
Anna breathed more relieved knowing that.
"Thank you Doctor."
Anna saw John squeeze the handle of his cane. Then he looked at the doctor.
"I want to know if she'll be okay."
"Sure, tomorrow morning she can go home. A week of rest will do her good. We can take care of Johnny," he said it with a sincere and kind smile, but Anna panicked. She did not want to continue to be a nuisance to Shelagh. John spoke before she could refuse.
"No doctor, I'll take care of him," John answered, "I'm his father and I can take care of him and my wife. Work can wait, the two of them come first."
"Well, you can count on us when you need it. I'll take you to my house, to pick up Johnny. I'll go see some patients, I'll be back in a minute," Dr. Turner left, clearly it was all an excuse to leave them alone again.
"John, you must work, you can't stay home with me. Besides, I'll be fine, I'll just stay in bed."
"Anna, I'll take care of you. It's partly my fault."
"What do you say?"
"I didn't take care of you enough, we didn't avoid…" he sighed, shaking his head.
"John, we love each other, and you always take care of me. This is not our fault, or maybe it's my body's fault or I don't know. But I will not be separated from you."
He kissed her softly on her lips, then made sure she was warm and comfortable with the blankets.
"Sleep my love, see you tomorrow. I'll be here very early."
"Sleep you too. Take care of Johnny, don't give him greasy food or anything sugary and make sure he brushes his teeth."
He smiled, kissed her again.
"I will do that. Anna, tomorrow I will begin what is necessary for us to move. There must be, I'm sure, some vacancy or other job far from here. We will start over, away from everything that annoys or hurts you."
She barely smiled. She did not want to force him to leave his job. Nor was there anything or anyone in Poplar to harm her. They were all kind, even Shelagh was kind.
But Anna insisted on leaving, and she knew that it was best.
When she saw her husband slowly walk away and close the door behind him, she took a deep breath and released it.
"I'm sorry," she whispered once more, before falling asleep.