I took deep breaths and waited, but instead of hearing Gladys coming, I heard Henry rattling the door below. He came running back up to tell me the door below was locked.

"What? Why?" I moaned.

Henry gestured that he would go out the window, down and around to the front of the house for help.

"No, wait," I cried, holding out my hand. He stood, confused as I tried to think sensibly in the midst of suffering another contraction. It nearly took my breath away. I gasped and gasped, but I kept my hand up so Henry wouldn't leave the room.

I realized that if Henry went busting into the house exclaiming my predicament, everyone would know about my existence up here and the secret would be exposed. Gladys wouldn't go through with her part of our bargain. I couldn't let Henry do that.

When the contraction eased, I gestured for Henry to hand me the pen and paper on the dresser. He did so and I wrote, Mama, come quickly. Then I folded the paper and on the outside wrote, For Catherine Landry. Urgent. I pointed to it.

Henry looked at it, but shook his head. He didn't know who Mama was. But then he smiled at me and gestured that he would find out and get the note to her. He patted my hand and headed for the window. In moments he was over the railing and gone. All I could do was hope that the deaf-mute boy would find a way to Mama.

Another contraction came, but it was of shorter duration. It was followed by a longer respite and then the next contraction was bearable. I took my washcloth and cleaned off the blood. It seemed to be easing, too. As my pain and fear lessened, my thoughts went back to the door below and my anger intensified. Why had Gladys Tate decided to lock that door tonight of all nights?

Stronger, breathing easier, I rose and went to the top of the short stairway.

"Madame Tate!" I called. "Madame Tate!"

It seemed quite a while before I got any response, but finally I heard the key being turned in the lock below and saw the door open. She poked her head in and cried in a raspy loud whisper, "Quiet! You hear me? Quiet."

"Madame Tate, I need you right now," I said.

She stepped-into the hallway and gazed up at me. I was still clutching my stomach and bent over. She was in a formal black dress, wearing a diamond necklace with matching teardrop diamond earrings. Her hair was done up and she wore makeup.

"Lower your voice," she said.

"Why did you lock that door?"

"We have guests, business associates and their wives. I had to show them the house and be sure you didn't just pop out of here. What's wrong?"

"I'm bleeding," I said.

"What? Bleeding?" She paused. "We're bleeding!" she exclaimed, her face in a twisted grimace.

"No, we're not bleeding. I'm bleeding and I've been having contractions. Something's not right. Something's happening," I said.

"Oh, dear me. I have these guests. What will I do?"

"I've sent for Mama," I blurted without thinking. I was so angry about her worrying about her guests and not me, I didn't think.

"Sent for? How?"

"Never mind right now. Something's seriously wrong, I told you. I think I'm having a premature delivery. The contractions are starting again."

"Oh!" she cried, and suddenly clutched her own false stomach. "Contractions! Bleeding! The baby's coming . . . Octavious," she yelled. "Octavious. "She turned from the door, her hand on the jamb and bent over.

"Madame Tate!" I called. "Wait!"

"Octavious!"

She slammed the door shut and then I heard the key turn in the lock.

"Madame Tate!"

Another contraction came rushing through me, tightening so quickly this time, it felt more like a punch in the stomach. My lungs hurt. I tried to take a deep breath. The room began to spin and I lost my balance, stumbling to the right. I fell sideways, landing on the dollhouse, splintering and smashing it with the weight of my body, just managing to break my fall a little with my extended right hand. But the contraction was so severe, I couldn't get up. I lay there, sucking in air.

This close to the floor, I could hear the commotion below: footsteps followed by shouts and exclamations, Octavious's voice, the voices of servants, guests, and then Gladys Tate's moans. With her bedroom right below, I was able to hear her screams. I heard her scream, "Blood! Contractions!"

My own contraction subsided again. I struggled to sit up and then I crawled and pulled myself back to the bed. During my moments of relief, I prayed for Mama's imminent arrival and I asked God to forgive me for any sin I might have committed.

"Don't punish the baby," I pleaded.

When my next contraction came, I muffled my cries by putting my closed fist in my mouth and biting down on my own knuckles and fingers. I couldn't let the people below hear me, not that they would have with all the noise Gladys Tate was making. It was strangely like an echo of my own inner screams and shouts of agony. It was as if my pain did travel through the floor and ceiling below until it settled in her so she could sense when to cry out and when to be silent.

I never found out how Henry located Mama, but he did so. To me it seemed like hours and hours before she came, but later I realized it had been less than an hour. I heard her voice below first and then I heard doors slam and the landing grow very quiet. Soon after, the door below was opened and Mama came bounding up the stairs. I was never so happy to see her face.

I told her what had been happening. She examined me and looked at the bloodstained sheets.

"What's it all mean, Mama?"

"The baby's been stirring a lot. He wants to be born sooner, honey.”

"Is it going to happen right now?"

"It's hard to say exactly when, but maybe very soon," she replied. "Maybe very soon."

She sat back and held my hand.

"I think I passed out from one of the contractions, Mama. I can't remember how long ago the last one occurred."

She nodded -aid looked around, seeing the crushed dollhouse. "You fell on that?"

"Yes, Mama."

"You can't be alone anymore, honey, and I don't want you up here any longer. That woman wants you in her bedroom, now anyway," she added with a smirk. "I don't know what she did to herself, but she had blood on her thigh when I was brought up to see her

"Who was that boy you sent?"

"His name's Henry. He works here. I didn't want Gladys Tate to find out that he knows I'm here, but I was desperate, Mama."

"Let's not worry about what she thinks anymore, honey. I want to bring you downstairs where you'll be more comfortable and things will be easier."

I saw in her eyes that she was more worried than she wanted me to believe.

"Will the baby die, Mama?"

"Babies can be born early and be strong, honey."

"But it's usually the other way, isn't it? It's my fault," I moaned. "I wanted to be out of here so much, I forced the baby to hurry."

"Nonsense," she said.

"It doesn't deserve this. It's not the baby's fault. It didn't ask to be born this way," I wailed.

"Gabrielle, stop this right now," Mama commanded. Her face was firm, her eyes blazing with authority. "If you're going to lie there and worry about everything, you'll make it harder and more dangerous for both you and the baby, honey. Trust in God now. It will be what He wants, and we will do what we can. This is not the time to be weak."

I swallowed back my tears and nodded.

"I'm sorry, Mama."

"Okay, honey."

"Where's Daddy?"

"Your father is downstairs with Octavious Tate. He jumped for joy when he heard you might be giving birth."

"Why?"

"Another opportunity to ask for more money. He's been sitting on this like a fat hen on a fat egg, just waiting for the chance to put the squeeze on the man. I don't know who to dislike more for it, your father for his greed or Octavious Tate for what he's done to you. The man deserves to have your father on his back, but your father ain't doing this to get justice for you. I'm sure he's gambled away most of what he took from the Tates and got himself into new debt."

"It just gets worse and worse, Mama. Maybe it was all my fault."

"Nonsense, and don't you even think it," she snapped. "Oui, it's hard, but like any storm, it will come to an end and the sun will shine again for you, Gabrielle." She wiped away the strands of hair dampened with my sweat. "Can you stand or should I go get those scoundrels to help carry you down?"

"Let me try first," I said.

"Good girl."

She helped me to my feet.

"Suddenly my stomach feels ten pounds heavier, Mama, and my legs feel like two sticks of lard."

Mama laughed. I breathed easier. With her at my side now, I wasn't afraid.

Of course, I was still like someone poling in the canal for the first time. I was excited and anxious to do well, but I didn't know what was around the next bend.


8

  Mine for a Moment

In anticipation of my arrival, Gladys Tate had Octavious move a second bed into her room and place it beside her bed. Mama said she heard Gladys tell Octavious to tell the servants it was for Mama because she would have to be at Gladys Tate's side continually now. Neither Mama nor I understood why Gladys didn't just move to another room for the time being or put me into one of the guest rooms, but the bed had been prepared and was waiting. After I entered the room, the door was kept locked and only Octavious and Mama were to be permitted into the room. Gladys insisted the curtains be kept closed, and of course, she ordered us to keep our voices down.

Gladys was impressed with how difficult it was for me to come down the stairs to her room and the effort it took to get me comfortably situated in the bed.