a child? And if I did survive? What then? I had never thought of myself as a mother. Why hadnât I?
Matthew was entirely occupied with his work and perhaps did not notice his wifeâs mortal fear. And thenârather quicklyâhis case was won. Of course Matthew was the younger, assisting prosecutor. Nonetheless, it was quite an impressive and celebrated win for such a young attorney. Do you remember? McFarlene was hanged in New Haven. Matthew was even present for the executionâcan you imagine? Despiteâor perhaps because ofâmy own (I presumed) imminent death, I longed to hear the details.
Was there a look of dread or a look of peace on McFarleneâs face as he walked his final steps? Did he have any last words? Did his neck make a snapping noise after the trap was sprung? Is it true that the eyes bulge out in the terminal moments? Is it a purely physical response to the ropeâs constriction, or is it perhaps a final begging sort of gestureâbegging to see just one more moment of life on Earth?
I suppose Matthew would not have been able to answer about the eyes since the convictâs face is always covered. In any case, he would not have wished to answer any such questions. He surely would have been troubled to hear them out of the mouth of his sweet young bride. Besides, my condition made him regard me with even more delicacy than before.
Once the âunpleasant businessâ (as Matthew often called the execution) was over, Matthew was entrusted with ever more important cases. We enjoyed a respectable, even enviable, position in New Haven society.
We were the model of a happy young family, poised for even more auspicious times. At least, I believe that is how we appeared . There was a darkness growing inside me by then, however. I hid it well, but I pictured it often as a black tulipâlike the ones I used to see with Father at his friend Mr. Cogdillâs grand greenhouse.
Strong and pointed foliage unfurling. Petals with all the beauty of a crowâs plumage.
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Chapter 11
Haverton, Connecticut
December 5, 2014
T he wind was freezing, but the sun was shining. And we needed paper towels. At least, as much as you could really need paper towels. It was a decent enough excuse to walk to the nearby convenience store. Lucy was usually pretty happy rolling around in her covered stroller, and I was usually happy if there was a coffee in its cupholderâeven if it was convenience store coffee.
I made my way back slowly, pushing the stroller one-handed as I sipped. As I took the corner to our street, the strollerâs plastic wheels groaned painfully over the gravel on the sidewalk and refused to straighten. I had to put down the coffee for a moment and use both hands to reorient the stroller in the right direction. Coffee splattered out of the cupâs little sip-hole, and I muttered a couple of curse words under my breath.
As I picked up the cup and continued toward home, I saw that our neighbor was watching me from her driveway.
Patty, I had to remind myself. She looked so uncannily like Liza Minnelli that L names always came to my head first when I grasped for her name.
âTiiiii-naaaaaahâ Patty called when she saw me looking back at her. Patty seemed to keep her cat on a tight meal schedule. âTime for breakfast!â âTime for lunch!â âTime for din-din!â she called consistently at eight, one, and six oâclock. Chad had recently claimed that heâd heard her calling âTina, time for your bath!â Pattyâwho was divorced, in her sixties, and, in her words, âstill waiting for grandbabiesââalways seemed eager to interact with Lucy.
âHi there,â I called as we approached her driveway.
âHello,â Patty said. âI saw you walk by when you left. I hope you two didnât go too far in this windy weather.â
âJust to SmartMart.â
Patty nodded. âCan I say
C. J. Fallowfield, Book Cover By Design, Karen J
Michael Bracken, Elizabeth Coldwell, Sommer Marsden