The Gilded Hour

? ? ?

TRAFFIC WAS LIGHT so early on a Sunday morning, which was a very good thing considering how far they had to go. The New York School for the Deaf and Dumb was well out of the city at 165th Street, an hour and a half away in good traffic. Alone she would have had to take at least two trains, with long waits in between connections.

She leaned back and felt herself relaxing. For the next little time they had nothing to worry about, and only themselves to amuse. She said, “You are a useful creature.”

Jack gave her a long, thoughtful glance. “Am I supposed to return the compliment, or will that irritate you?”

“You know how useful I am,” she said. “I can’t really cook, at least not the way I’d need to cook to keep you fed. I don’t clean, I barely sew, I’ve never done a full load of laundry.”

“I can’t do any of those things either.”

“But you can hitch a wagon, and clean a gun, and repair a broken window. You mended the strap on my shoe, built a coatrack for the front hall. I believe you could have done most of the work on the house yourself, with sufficient time. You negotiated the purchase too. No, unless you need surgery or dosing I’m very much useless. There’s a term in German that suits me exactly. I’m a Fachidiot. I know a huge amount about one thing, and I’m idiotically uninformed about everything else. It’s a good thing we have household help or you’d be going to work hungry, in wrinkled clothes.”

“We’ve had this discussion before,” Jack said. “And we can keep having it, until you believe that I like what I’ve got and I’m not going anywhere. Your brother was a boy in a bad situation and he let you down. That’s not me, and you know it.”

“Not everything is about my brother,” she said, a little huffily.

He glanced at her, his expression cool. “Not everything,” he said finally. “But this is. Stop trying to talk me into giving up on you. It won’t work.”

Anna wanted to protest, but she remembered quite suddenly a conversation with her aunt, and not so very long ago. She had predicted exactly this, that Anna would try to isolate herself from Jack. The thought struck her with almost palpable force, and it took a few minutes for her to regain her composure. For the first time she had the idea that with Jack’s help she might someday come to understand the boy her brother had been and to forgive the decisions he had made.

“You’re right,” she said finally. “I’ve been testing you without even realizing it. I apologize.”

He glanced at her, his expression guarded at first. Then he smiled and took her hand, raised it to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles.

“You know,” he said. “We don’t have to go to the school today. It’s waited this long. How about a picnic in Central Park instead? We could let Bonny stretch her legs and then go sit by one of the lakes.”

It did sound like a very good idea, and she said so. “But I think we have to do it today, Jack. It would be a week or more before we get another chance.”

? ? ?

HE ASKED HER about the school for the deaf, and Anna told him the little she knew. “They have an excellent reputation. I’ve never had a patient from there, but Sophie has and she liked the place. The children are well looked after and there were no signs of abuse.”

“You think a lot about the welfare of children.”

Anna’s head came around quite quickly. “Does that surprise you, given the work I do?”

“Not in the least. I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t want you to get mad.”

“Not a very hopeful start,” she said, but she produced a single dimple, which he took as encouragement.

“I’m wondering if there are many women who would rather not have children, if they had a choice.”

“Are you asking about me?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about Janine Campbell and the others.”

Her gaze shifted and lost its focus. She was letting her mind lead her, following whatever images and words and ideas it presented. Many of them beyond his understanding.

She said, “Really you want to know if women are mentally destined to become mothers. I think the answer is no. It’s primarily a matter of what a girl is raised to believe is right and normal. I’m sure there are many women who would prefer not to have children, but few of them are honest with themselves about that. They know of two ways to be female: to marry and raise families, or to never marry and forgo children. The third and fourth possibilities are not something any woman would plan for. Infertility is a terrible burden for some, but worse still—”

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