IX. Seven Months
Finally, after two weeks, the rain had stopped. Victor and Victoria were spending the first sunny day in August out in the garden. While Victoria sat on one of the stone benches, her eyes closed and her face tilted up to catch the sunshine, Victor was pruning what remained of the summertime flowers.
"Which are you hoping for? A boy or a girl?" Victoria asked suddenly. Victor looked over at her, pausing for a moment. In thinking about it, he couldn't believe that they hadn't discussed this yet.
"Oh, I'll be happy either way," Victor replied. "It really doesn't matter to me. What about you?"
"A girl," Victoria said immediately. Victor smiled at her, cocking an eyebrow. Quickly she amended, "But of course I'll be just as happy with a son." Sighing contentedly, she leaned back a little farther. "I simply think I know more about girls--and I'd like very much to be able to raise a girl in a way...well..."
"Differently than the way you were raised?" Victor finished for her. Victoria opened her eyes, glancing over at him with a small smile.
"Yes, I suppose that's what I mean," she said. They were both silent for a moment, and Victor wondered if she was thinking along the same lines he was--about how they'd like their own family to be. Neither of them wanted repeats of their own childhoods, but Victor couldn't help but think that it was perhaps inevitable. Still, as Victoria had pointed out the last time they'd talked about raising their child, Victor and Victoria had turned out to be completely different than their parents. And their marriage was unlike anything the village had ever seen before. Who could really say what sort of person the baby would grow up to be, what sort of parents he and Victoria would be? All Victor knew was that he'd liked what he'd seen at Hildegarde's house, and so had Victoria. Ideally, that was the sort of home they'd like to make. He just hoped they were equipped for it.
Or rather, that he was equipped for it. It seemed as though Victoria could do anything. She was so kind and gentle. Tough, though, as well, when the situation called for it. Yes, he felt that Victoria was well equipped for parenthood...and he found himself hoping that he would measure up.
"Victor, are you all right?" Victoria asked, a note of concern in her voice. Unsure of what she meant, he turned to her.
"Yes, I'm fine. Why?"
"You've just clipped the entire top off of that hedge," she replied, pointing. Looking down, Victor saw that she was right--while he'd been thinking, he'd forgotten that he was wielding hedge clippers. There was now a lopsided hole in one of the tall hedges that he'd been growing almost since the day they'd moved in. Making a tuh sort of noise, he glanced back and forth between the clippers and the hedge. Now he had four nice, even hedges, and one misfit. Oh well, Victor thought, shrugging to himself, though he was a bit disappointed. It gives the garden character.
"I was just thinking," Victor finally said, responding to Victoria's question. "I think I'd prefer a girl, as well." Victoria already knew that he was a bit nervous about his impending fatherhood--she'd spent several of the past rainy days talking it over with him, listening to him, reassuring him (oddly, though, she hadn't confessed to any fears of her own, even though Victor had asked many times). He felt he should give her some new information.
"Any particular reason?" Victoria asked, sounding truly interested. Now Victor fumbled a little, feeling suddenly embarrassed.
"It's just...well...what if we had a son, and he..." Victor turned away, staring at the hedge clippers in his hands. "Turned out like me?" he finished in a rush. Behind him, he heard Victoria stand up and take a few steps toward him. Soon enough he felt her hands on his back, and her cheek against his arm.
"What in the world do you mean?" she asked, sounding tired. Victor knew how much she disliked it when he got into his self-deprecating moods. But he couldn't help it. Growing up, he hadn't exactly been encouraged to like himself all that much...neither had Victoria, come to think of it. How did she manage to be so sure of herself? It was a trait that Victor both admired and envied in her. Nonetheless, Victor couldn't help but have visions of his own son being shy and introverted, different from everyone else. True, that would mean he'd fit in marvelously with Victor and Victoria, but what about the bigger picture? Being different wasn't exactly a picnic...Victor suddenly found himself looking at the hedge he'd just massacred. He was still staring at it when Victoria spoke next.
"Don't talk that way," she said in a comforting tone. "I'd welcome a son who was like you. There's nothing the matter with you. I like you," she finished, and Victor could hear the smile in her voice.
"For that matter," she added after a moment, "What if we had a daughter that was like me?" Victor twisted his head a bit to look down at her, a bit surprised.
"That would be wonderful," he said. "I think the world needs more people like you. Another Victoria would be a real asset." Victoria laughed quietly into his arm.
"And so would another Victor," she declared, ending the conversation and leaving Victor with a very warm feeling. After giving his back one more pat, Victoria headed back to her bench.
"Perhaps it will be another Victor," she said after a while. Seeing Victor's questioning look, she explained, "I was just thinking--shall we name a son Victor?"
"No, I don't think so," he replied slowly.
"Why ever not?"
"If we named the baby after one of us, it would get confusing," Victor pointed out. He turned back to pruning the flowers as he continued, "And what if it becomes a tradition? Suppose we live long enough to see our great-grandchildren--"
"Great-grandchildren!" Victoria interrupted, sounding delighted.
"Well, yes. Just imagine the family reunions--someone would call for Victor and ten people would come running. No," he said, bending to pick up the prunings, "I just don't think it's a good idea."
They'd already decided that, in the event the baby was a girl, her middle name would be Emily. But they both wanted her to have a first name all her own. Victoria had been ready with a suggestion about the possibility of a boy--his middle initial could simply be "E," and they'd leave it alone unless asked directly about its origins. But they hadn't yet talked about possibilities for first names. Victor had a few ideas, and he was sure Victoria did, as well.
"Well, what would you like to name a boy?" Victoria asked, as though reading his mind. Victor set the hedge clippers on the ground alongside the pile of prunings before joining her on the bench. He put a hand on her stomach, and felt the now-familiar (but no less remarkable) movements. Maybe it would help him think.
"How about George?" Victor suggested. Victoria nodded.
"Yes, I like that name. But I've always been partial to Charles, myself. Or Edward."
"Edward?" Victor repeated dubiously.
"What's wrong with that?" Victoria sounded amused rather than insulted. Victor simply shrugged.
"I just don't like the name Edward," he replied apologetically. It had been her idea, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings.
"Why not?" Before he could answer, Victoria smiled widely and said, "Wait, don't tell me. You have the same irrational hatred for the name Edward as you do for Gilbert and Sullivan."
"It's not irrational," Victor replied, quick to defend himself. "And I don't hate them--it's simply that I think it's silly to ask people to sing at roughly four hundred beats per second. What's more, their music is all a lot of flash with no real heart or feeling to it."
"I'm sorry, now I've upset you."
"No, you haven't. Gilbert and Sullivan have."
"Please, forget I said anything," Victoria said, patting his hand. Victor smiled, and laid a hand over hers.
"Henry's a nice name," she said, back to business. "Or Timothy, perhaps."
"I think I like Charles," Victor replied, making Victoria smile widely again. He'd run out of ideas for the moment, anyway.
"What about girls?" Victoria asked. For a moment or two they were quiet, thinking.
"Catherine, I think," she finally said. "With a 'C', not a 'K.'" Victor grinned at her.
"Don't tell me," he said, lifting her hand to kiss it, "You have the same irrational hatred for the letter 'K' as I have for Gilbert and Sullivan."
"Catherine with a 'C' is more elegant," she replied through a small laugh. "And 'Anne' should always have an 'e', in my opinion."
She'd obviously given this a lot more thought than Victor had previously believed. Stroking her fingers, he tried to come up with some more suggestions.
"How about names that start with 'V'?" he finally said. Victoria thought for a moment.
"Wouldn't that make us sound a bit like a troupe of circus performers or something?" she replied, sounding doubtful. "I mean, if we all had names that began with the same letter. Besides, how many names are there that begin with 'V'?"
"Well, we've already ruled out 'Victor' and 'Victoria,'" Victor said. He glanced around the garden for inspiration.
"There's Violet."
"Vera."
"Vaughn."
"Eugh, no."
"All right...Vincent."
"Venus."
"Don't you think that's an awful lot for a girl to live up to?" Victor asked.
"It just popped into my head. This is harder than I thought. Hmm...Vernon?"
"I don't think so. How about Viola?"
"People would make jokes. 'What are you planning on naming the next one, Armonica?'"
"By 'people,' do you mean my father?"
That made them both laugh quietly, their heads bowed together. In other words, one of those very soft, intimate laughs that Victor enjoyed very much. Once they'd stopped, Victoria leaned back a little.
"Out of those choices," she said, "I think I like Vincent, Vera, and Viola best." Victor nodded his agreement.
"Let's see, then--we'd be Victor, Victoria, Vincent, Vera, and Viola Van Dort," he said, ticking off the names on his fingers as he spoke. He looked at his hand, and then at Victoria.
"You're right, that does sound like a troupe of circus performers," he said.
"Any other suggestions?" Victoria asked, taking his hand again. Victor thought for a moment.
"How about Lydia? I've always thought it a pretty name."
"It is pretty," Victoria agreed. "Lydia Van Dort," she said slowly, trying it out. Then she smiled. "I like it."
"And Charles for a boy," Victor replied, returning her wide smile. The decisions were sealed with a gentle, quick kiss.
"I'd best be getting back inside now," Victoria murmured after they pulled apart. "I think I'll lie down for a while, if you don't mind."
"Of course not. Let me help you up." Carefully, with Victor's help, Victoria eased herself off of the bench and headed for the house.
He watched as Victoria made her way slowly toward the porch steps. Her normally dainty, quick step had slowed over the past few weeks, and she often kept her hands resting on her abdomen when she walked now. Victor just sat for another moment or two, feeling a wave of warmth and affection as his eyes followed Victoria's progress.
Before getting up--Victoria was almost to the steps now, and she could probably use some help--Victor looked over at the church. It seemed very small from this distance. Very soon, Lydia or Charles Van Dort would be christened there, as amazing as that seemed. Then his gaze drifted to the woods that housed the cemetery, and finally up to the sky.
Wherever you are, Victor thought with a small smile, I hope you're as happy as I am.
