To-morrow Morning (Parrish)/Chapter 3
OF COURSE they had had lots of dinner parties before, but none so important as this evening's, because Mr. Donner was coming, and Joe said they must make a good impression on him—he could be so helpful in a business way. He was interested in mines—silver mines. Kate would have been more impressed if they had been gold mines, silver seemed rather half-hearted; but she could see that Joe, who usually entertained his guests as easily as a blossoming apple tree entertains the bees, was really nervous about to-night.
That was why everything was going wrong, she thought, pulling the rather frost-bitten chrysanthemums out of their bowl and beginning to rearrange them. They had looked pretty in Miss Smith's back yard, springing and looping in a twilight dim with the smoke of autumn bonfires; she could make them sound pretty in her mind. "Sprays of copper and cream-colored hardy chrysanthemums." But here, in a silver bowl on the dinner table, they just looked stiff and scrubby.
That was the way she looked, too, she thought, struggling up through the orange-pink corded silk. Not a bit of color in her face, between those two sunset clouds of sleeves, and her hair as dull as if she'd used it to dust the furniture with. And she'd go on getting uglier and uglier now, for months and months, and feeling worse and worse
She was standing by the stove, an apron over her dress, frying croutons, when she heard the front door slam, and a moment later Joe's cold fresh face was against her scorched one.
"I stopped at Clark's and got some roses for the centerpiece."
"Oh, Joe! They're so expensive! And I've got the table all fixed!"
"Well, we can change it—we want things extra nice to-night. I will, Kate."
"No—Joe! Joe! Wait! Annie, can you just finish these? Don't let them get too brown. Joe! You go and get dressed, or you won't be ready."
And that kept him out of the way a little while. But when he was dressed he was wandering into the kitchen to ask if there was enough champagne on the ice, and where the decanter for the brandy was, until Lizzie was nearly distracted. And changing the dinner cards—Mrs. Cuthbert wasn't amusing enough to be on Mr. Donner's other side; Mrs. Palmer wasn't pretty enough.
"Where did you put Mrs. Martine, Kate?"
"Now, you're sure you understand, Annie? Light the candles just the very last minute before you announce dinner, and you will be careful of the candle shades?"
"Yes, ma'am, just like all the other times."
"And you remember what comes first?"
"Yes'm, caveat on toast."
"Kate?"
"What is it, Joe? . . . On your left."
"How about putting her on Donner's other side? Look, Kate, I've put Mrs. Martine here."
"That makes Mr. and Mrs. Palmer sit together."
"Oh, so it does. I guess we'll have to leave it the way you"
"Joe Green! Oh"
His outstretched hand knocked over a glass of water. The gray stain widened. Kate burst into tears.
"Why, Katie! It's only water!"
"It's ruined the table, and it's too late to do anything now. And I simply slaved to make it look pretty"
"But it's fine—all the little dinner cards you painted, and everything"
"It's ruined!" Kate sobbed.
"Just let Lizzie mop this up"
"Lizzie! If Lizzie manages to get through cooking the dinner I'll be thankful. She has one of her sick headaches— Look out, Joe! If you'll just get out of the way. And Annie Sullivan and I have had to do pretty nearly everything. Joe! Joe! Don't take one of the dinner napkins"
"Stop crying, Katie! Hurry and wash your face!"
"Oh, I wish I was dead!" she wailed, running upstairs, sopping her eyes with hot water, hardly getting down again before Mrs. Martine was announced.
So handsome and sparkling, she made Kate feel more plain and ill and stupid than ever. Mrs. Martine tactfully ignoring Kate's floury nose and red eyelids, talking smilingly to Joe about "your little wife," being charming to Mr. Donner, and making Kate long to step on her heliotrope train as they went in to dinner.
They filled the small dining room so full that heads bowed like poppies in a windy wheatfield as the platter of guinea chicken went round. Kate pretended to eat, pretended to know what Mr. Donner was talking about, turning to him a face of fixed brightness, while her toes curled in their satin slippers. That soufflé, that soufflé! Why had she ever let Joe persuade her to have a soufflé to-night, instead of nice safe ice cream from Goff's? Joe said ice cream wasn't interesting enough for Mr. Donner, but she couldn't believe there was anyone in the world who wouldn't be interested in ice cream. Lizzie did make good soufflés, but she never had made one for a dinner party before, only for supper when they had something simple like cold meat and she had nothing else on her mind. And to-night, with her headache! Kate saw a black sunken crust, with swimmy liquid underneath
Joe didn't seem to be worrying any more—of course not, with Mrs. Martine leaning all over him, half out of her dress. But I'm sorry I was so cross to you before dinner, Joe. And the tea-roses are lovely, a million times prettier than those horrid old chrysanthemums. But I did feel so sick
"Is this your first Westlake winter, Mrs. Green?"
"Yes, my very first."
"You'll find our climate rather severe, I'm afraid."
"Yes, I expect I'll feel as if I were making a dahsh for the North Pole every time I go out."
"Dahsh!" She could have burst into tears again! That's what came of trying to use a broad a, like Joe and Mr. Donner, and she couldn't say, "I know better, really, only I'm nervous." Her face flamed as she turned to Mr. Cuthbert, uncomforted by the superlative soufflé, a golden-brown balloon still gently heaving.
But at last the guests had gone, except Mrs. Martine. Quarter past eleven, and her herdic, ordered for half past ten, hadn't come yet.
"O'Leary's forgotten me, and I mustn't wait any longer. Now, nonsense, Joe. I won't hear of it. It's just a step, and bright moonlight. Mrs. Green! What are we going to do with this obstinate husband of yours?"
"I really want a breath of fresh air."
"Well, you're an angel, and I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. It's been so lovely, Mrs. Green. Look at that moon! Don't stand in the door with your bare neck. Joey, did you ever see such a moon?"
The front gate clicked. Joey, did you ever see such a moon? Kate banged the fire screen in front of the soft ash of vermilion and gray, and caught up a forgotten coffee cup from the top of the piano. Joey, did you ever see such a moon? The orange-pink roses had opened wide in the warm room, showing their golden hearts. She put them in deep water, brushing her hot face against their coolness. Tears stung into her eyes.
She was hungry—she hadn't been able to eat anything at dinner. She found some left-over cheese straws, and ate one. How could she have said dahsh? Oh, she was tired! And to-night, of all nights, after what Doctor Wells had told her that morning, Joe had left her alone. She bit into another cheese straw, while the tears poured down her face, but she couldn't swallow it. Her head went down on the kitchen table.
I want to go to bed, but I'm too tired—too tired ever to move again. Lots of women die when they have babies—perhaps I will. Oh, I'm so scared, I really am scared. Joe, why aren't you here? I need you
She began to relax. The warm quiet kitchen surrounded her, still and safe. The guinea chicken must have been good. Mr. Donner had two helps. Oh, that awful broad "a"! And Joe's roses were so pretty. Perhaps I'd better ask Mrs. Driggs over to lunch to-morrow, so as not to waste them—she's always a little touchy after we've had a dinner party, and if there's enough guinea chicken to cream
Tock tock tock tock. She couldn't see the clock, but she knew it was late. She must get up to bed before Joe came home from his moonlight gallivanting. And while her body stayed motionless she saw herself climbing the stairs, taking off her tea-rose-colored gown, getting into the wide lonely bed.
Oh, I'm so lonely! My little precious baby, I'll love you so much; you'll comfort mother in her loneliness. How will Joe feel when I tell him? Oh, how can I tell him? I don't know how, I don't know how! How could he have gone off with another woman to-night of all nights, after I'd slaved and slaved to have the dinner nice for him, when I felt so dreadfully? I don't believe she ever ordered the herdic at all.
The front door shut, and Joe called her.
"Kate! Katie! Where are you?"
Then she heard him in the dining room, and made herself begin to sob again.
"Why, my Katie! What are you doing out here in the kitchen? What's the matter?"
"N-nothing."
"Tell me, darling."
"Nothing. Oh, Joe! I'm so hideous and stupid, and I feel so sick, and I wanted to tell you something, and you went off with her"
"Kate, you're crazy! You're lovely looking."
She lifted her face, mottled from crying, a strand of hair stuck to her wet cheek, her eyes and nose red and swollen, and saw that he miraculously meant it.
"I had to go home with her, you know I did, but I nearly cracked my jaw trying to keep from yawning, I was so sleepy."
"Oh, Joey!"
"Here's my handkerchief—blow!"
And suddenly, laughing, crying, arms tight about his neck, it was the easiest thing in the world to tell him.
"We're going to have a baby!"
If I live to be a million I'll never be so happy again, she thought, her wet cheek against his cheek, their arms around each other, close, close together in the heart of their crystal moment.
"She'll be like her mother, darling."
"No, he's going to be like you."
"Oh, Kate, I love you!"
"Joey, I was so cross to you before dinner. I'll never be cross to you again."
"You're perfect"
"The roses were so pretty, so much prettier than those old chrysanthemums—and you were right about ice cream, Joey. Mr. Donner said he was so glad we didn't have it; he said it always gave him a pain between his eyebrows. Oh, Joe, I do love you!"
"You made him have a splendid time. I know he's going to help me, Kate. I'm going to make lots of money so that you and the baby can have everything in the world. Now you must come to bed, my sweet; you're tired."
"Yes, I'll come." Her wet crumpled handkerchief, falling as she got up, reminded her that once, unbelievably, she had been jealous, had doubted Joe's love for her, and she made him a little present in atonement.
"Mrs. Martine looked awfully pretty to-night."
And Joe gave her a present, too, saying, beautifully:
"She's getting much too fat."