“Plenty of time for that later,” he’d say, or, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
I didn’t push. As the pregnancy soothed me into a state of contented lethargy, I slept late, took afternoon naps, and browsed through books I couldn’t seem to finish. What little energy I had was focused on the summer fête at the end of July. This was the event the Lemonts were known for, and I decided to embrace a public role in it, despite my condition and Hannah’s objections. I insisted my name be added to the invitations as cohostess, spent hours sketching designs for a new dress, discussed the menu with Edna, and memorized the family tree of every Chicago socialite on the guest list. When I’d come to the party last summer, I’d been a nobody, underestimated and ignored. This time would be different.
I remembered Ma’s stories of the boat trip from Ireland when she was a girl, how she believed that in America people could create their own destinies. I thought of Blanche, a small-town girl putting all her hopes in big-city dreams. Of Hannah, a doctor’s daughter who married one of the richest men in town. They’d all invented new versions of themselves—why couldn’t I? The Lemonts’ fête would be the debut of a new, sophisticated version of Kate Lemont, the kind of wife no one would look down on.
I was nervous on the day itself, of course, and self-conscious about my size and whether I looked ridiculous in my lilac cotton dress. But it wasn’t long before I was showered with unexpected—but very welcome—expressions of goodwill. Guests smiled at my round belly and gave me congratulatory hugs. Elderly neighbors cooed over me, Matthew’s friends joked about whether I trusted him to hold a newborn, and elegant young mothers commiserated about swollen feet and backaches. “Poor thing,” I heard one of Marjorie’s friends whisper as I walked past, but she said it with an air of kindly concern rather than disdain. A vast improvement on how I’d been treated before.
“Will you be having the baby at home?” Eva asked as I mingled on the terrace. “I imagine the Lemonts are very traditional that way.”
“Oh no,” I said. “Lake Forest Hospital.”
“Thank goodness!” Eva’s sister Violet—tiny, reddish blonde, peppy—was visiting from New York. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “I don’t know what I would have done without ether when I had my Gracie.”
“Make sure you have a modern doctor,” urged another woman. Lois? Yes, that was it. The wife of one of Matthew’s friends from Yale. “Some of the older ones still think childbirth is supposed to be painful. Our punishment for Eve’s original sin and all that.”
“As if we don’t endure enough as it is!” Violet said. “It took Eva nearly two days with Tommy, isn’t that right?”
Eva nodded solemnly. “I was in bed for weeks afterward. Barely able to walk.”
“No one ever warns you about”—Violet glanced around, then continued in a whisper—“what happens to your nether regions. I wouldn’t let Stewart touch me for months!”
The women burst into laughter, and I managed a nervous smile. Inside, I felt queasy.
“Stop scaring Kate,” Eva ordered. She turned and placed her hand on my arm. “You’ll be fine. My nanny has a friend looking for a place. Used to work for one of the Armors. I’ll send you her references.”
“You won’t need a nanny for the first year at least,” Lois interjected. “A night nurse and a day nurse for babies—that’s what works best.”
As the women’s chipper voices chattered on, I couldn’t help but remember an earlier version of myself, looking at a group like this and thinking I’d never belong. Now, these same women were welcoming me into their sisterhood.
I saw Matthew through the crowd and tried to catch his eye, but he was looking straight ahead, walking determinedly toward the lakefront path. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it if I hadn’t seen Marjorie scurrying after him, her expression pained. I’d been craving a cold drink, and I waved over one of the waiters Hannah had hired for the day.
I sipped my lemonade and wondered why Matthew would walk away in the middle of the party. Marjorie stumbled at the edge of the terrace and swayed as she tried to right herself. Had she been drinking? Matthew headed north; if he knew Marjorie was behind him, he gave no indication. I watched their figures drift out of view.
“. . . so generous,” Eva was saying. “What do you think, Kate? Will you join me and the children at the beach tomorrow?”
“Excuse me.” I put down my glass. “I’ll be right back.”
I told myself I wasn’t spying. I was just curious about where they were going. My tight shoes and bulky midsection slowed me down more than I expected, and by the time I arrived at the Temple, Matthew and Marjorie had disappeared. The baby wriggled inside my stomach, a sensation that always took me aback. I stepped inside the Temple and looked up at the carvings that ran around the perimeter. I thought of Dr. Rieger’s book, of crazed women who’d kill to protect their secrets. There was nothing sinister about the figures I was looking at: they were dancing, playing flutes, enjoying themselves. This, I realized, was the most joyous piece of art at Lakecrest.
I was about to turn back toward the house when I saw Matthew on the bluff; he must have walked up from the lake. Marjorie followed soon after, shouting his name. He stopped suddenly, and she careened into him, her hands reaching out to clutch his arm and waist. She pulled herself closer. She raised her face and pressed her lips against his in a passionate, ravenous kiss.
Later, the thought of it sickened me. But at the time, as I watched it happen, my first thought was how perfect they looked together. Artemis and Apollo, the golden twins. How could I ever compete with such perfection?
Matthew wriggled out of her embrace and ran a hand across his face. Marjorie was talking, and Matthew was shaking his head, stepping backward, trying to get away. The path they were on led past the Temple, and I realized with horror that they’d see me any minute. The only way to avoid them was to run in the opposite direction. Toward the Labyrinth.
I stumbled off, my thoughts racing. I told myself whatever I’d seen was Marjorie’s fault, that she’d tricked Matthew into it. He’d stopped her.
But not right away. Not nearly fast enough.
I began to run. The Labyrinth, for once, didn’t scare me. It was a refuge, welcoming me in. I careened along the passageways, all my effort spent on moving forward. To escape from what I’d seen. My shoes pinched my toes and cut into the backs of my feet. The baby wriggled, nagging me to slow down. All I could think of was reaching the center, resting on one of the benches until I could decide what to do next.
On I went, along paths that grew darker as the sky above turned an ominous gray. The ground was uneven and overrun with weeds; I stumbled into a wall, and the jagged brick surface scraped a bloody trail down my arm.