Rachel was saying, “He told me you were his soul mate. For a time, I had hoped he was mine, I suppose. Funny, I almost envy you, sitting there, the widow.”
She looked directly at Olivia. She was a no-nonsense person, in her khaki trousers and sensible haircut and flat walking shoes. David never spoke badly of Rachel. But he had laughed at how organized she was, how practical. She was someone who knew about mulching a garden and how to use vinegar as a cleaning product; someone who put up preserves and knew how to fish and ski and change a flat tire. Rachel was sensible. She was a fourth-generation Californian. Her ancestors had arrived there in wagon trains.
Rachel leaned toward Olivia, her long, tanned arms reaching across the table.
“The thing is,” she said, “you can’t keep this girl. You have to notify the authorities.” She lowered her already-smooth low voice and added, “You’re not in any frame of mind to make such big decisions. That’s clear.”
That was clear? Olivia wondered how she must seem to this self-assured woman, this widow once removed.
“Excuse me?” Olivia said.
“The girl,” Rachel said, impatient. “Her parents must be worried sick. And this boy. Ben? He needs to be held accountable.”
“Don’t you think I’ve taken care of that?” Olivia said. She had planned to call Ben’s parents—or to call John Adams in Bedford Hills, New York. But it was the fucking Fourth of July. Someone named John Adams would be off doing something patriotic.
“It’s irresponsible,” Rachel said.
And the way she said it, the largeness of her words, made Olivia think that Rachel thought all of it was irresponsible—not just Ruby, but David getting hit by that car and dying, and even the meager way that Olivia had carried on since, though of course Rachel had no idea what Olivia had done these months.
“Look,” Olivia said, and now it was she who lowered her voice, afraid Ruby would hear what she was about to say. “I’ve talked to her mother. You have no idea what she’s like.” She wanted to explain about the ruddy-faced mother—a drinker, maybe—and her willingness to dump Ruby and the baby on Olivia or anyone who might take her in. But she was too worried that Ruby would hear her, so she just shook her head.
“She’s just a child,” Rachel said, as if Olivia had not told her anything. “Please. And you’re promising her solutions that aren’t in anyone’s best interest.”
Olivia was aware of movement somewhere behind her. It was Ruby, of course. She had not gone upstairs at all. Instead, she’d stayed, hidden.
Rachel heard Ruby, too.
The girl’s footsteps hurrying up the stairs echoed in the kitchen.
“I think she needs some space to really consider what she’s doing. You don’t want a young woman out in the world wondering about her choices, regretting a snap decision—”
“It isn’t a snap decision!” Olivia said, her own voice anything but calm. “I’m helping her!”
“Then you won’t mind if I talk to her?” Rachel said.
“It’s a free country,” Olivia said, but Rachel was already up, on her way to Ruby.
Olivia waited for Rachel to get upstairs, then quietly followed, hiding in the dark hallway outside Ruby’s room. It was her turn to eavesdrop.
“What were you afraid we were going to say?” Rachel asked Ruby, who was pretending to watch television.
Ruby shrugged, kept her eyes focused on the screen.
“May I touch your stomach?” Rachel said. “Just kind of check on the baby?”
Olivia did not hear Ruby’s answer, but she watched as Rachel stood and placed her hands on the girl’s belly. Olivia was reminded of healers she’d once seen in a documentary, women who used their hands to stop bleeding, heal sores, take away pain.
“I hope it’s a boy,” Ruby said eagerly. “I would like that. A boy like Ben.”
Rachel removed from her neck the thin silver chain with a small cross hanging from it.
“It feels like a boy,” Rachel said. “Let’s see what the universe says.”
Olivia fought back a laugh. The universe? And here she was, so convinced of Rachel’s common sense. But of course, like David, she probably placed a mirror at the front door, refused to put beds against the wall, hung tinkling wind chimes out front, all to keep her environment in harmony. Olivia had relented to David’s wishes, and look where it had gotten her. Look where it had gotten him.
Rachel held the cross above Ruby’s stomach. Even crouched in the hallway, Olivia could see it sway back and forth, in a straight line.
“Yes,” Rachel said. “It’s a boy. Girls move in a circle. Like this.” She swung the chain in a circular motion. “So they say.”
Ruby was grinning. Her hands cupped her stomach; Olivia was always surprised how big she looked lying down.
“Hey, Sage,” Ruby cooed. “My man. You almost ready to meet the world?”
This was the first time she’d heard Ruby do this, talk to the baby, sound like a mother.
“Sage?” Rachel said. “What a good name.”