Chapter 9

By the end of October, as was proper for her time, Bettina no longer left the house. It wasn’t considered appropriate for her to be seen in public in her condition, and she accepted it without complaint. But she looked profoundly depressed whenever Sybil saw her at dinner, which wasn’t often. She remained very ill and violently nauseous throughout the pregnancy. Her mother said she still threw up several times a day and could barely eat. It sounded awful to Sybil, who’d had easy pregnancies with all three of her children.

“I don’t think I could have done that,” Sybil said sympathetically when Gwyneth came to visit her in her office. Sybil was trying to work on her book, but still with little success. There was always too much going on with Blake, the kids, or at night with their friends they shared the house with. They had dinner with the Butterfields two or three nights a week, and usually went out once a week to a restaurant with clients or one of Blake’s associates from work. They had a full life.

“I was very sick with Josiah,” Gwyneth said and looked sad as she said it, she missed him so much. They were having a beautiful portrait done of him in his uniform, from a photograph that had been taken right before he left. “I had less trouble with the girls,” she commented. “And I was in bed for six months with Magnus so I wouldn’t lose him. He came early, and hopped around all the time. He was in such a rush to be born.” She smiled at the memory.

“Do you think Bettina’s baby is all right? She eats almost nothing. She can’t be getting much nourishment.”

“The doctor has come to see her several times, and he says she’s fine, and the baby is quite small.” That didn’t sound good to Sybil, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to worry her friend. They had their own way of dealing with things, according to the times they lived in. And a small baby would make for an easier birth. She would have the baby at home with a midwife in attendance, and a nurse who would stay on. It was how Gwyneth had given birth to her babies too. She said Magnus had almost fallen out, he was so anxious to arrive, and had come three weeks early, which could have been dangerous, but all had gone well, and she was sure it would for Bettina too. She was young and strong, in spite of how ill she had been for months.

“Is Bert feeling better about it?” Sybil asked Gwyneth, and handed her the cup of tea Alicia had brought for her. She couldn’t justify asking for two cups of tea when she appeared to be alone.

“Not really,” she said honestly. “But he’s relaxed a little. He feels sorry for her. Apparently, her husband’s family wants nothing to do with her. They were afraid she’d ask them for money. And they’re devastated over their son. So are we over ours,” she said simply. “They’re not going to help Bettina or the baby. We’ll take care of both of them, of course, but no man is going to want her.” She had said it before. But Sybil knew differently and wanted to give her friend hope without telling her the future.

“There are going to be lots of young widows with children after the war. That will change things. And the baby will be legitimate, they were married.” For five months. An illegitimate child would have been much harder for a new man to accept, or even impossible in their social world.

“I suppose so,” Gwyneth said, looking out the window with a sad expression, thinking about Josiah. “How’s your book?”

“Slow.” Sybil smiled.

But, much more exciting than her book, Blake’s business was going extremely well. They had a new influx of money from a group of venture capitalists, and they were broadening their goals, since the model was working well. It was liable to be a huge hit, with enormous profits for them all.

Blake discussed it with Bert again that night, who warned him about the risks. “Don’t be too greedy,” he said seriously. “Don’t stretch farther than you should.”

“It’s hard to resist,” Blake said sincerely, but he knew Bert was right. They talked about it for a while, and Bert expressed his opinion as best he could, based on his understanding of their plans, which he said were foreign to him. But it always surprised Blake that many of the principles and the dangers were the same, no matter the century.

The two families spent Thanksgiving together, and Angus came down the grand staircase before dinner, playing the bagpipes, with Rupert following him, howling. It was hard to decide which sound was worse. The entire group sat waiting for him, and he walked around the table three times, with ear-shattering results. Violet, Augusta’s pug, jumped into her lap and buried her head in Augusta’s arms to avoid the noise. It was a blessed relief when he stopped.

“Wonderful, Angus, thank you,” Augusta praised her brother, and Phillips walked in with an enormous turkey on a silver platter. There was stuffing, sweet and mashed potatoes, half a dozen different vegetables, popovers, cranberry jelly, and all the trimmings, and excellent wine from Bert’s cellar.

It was the Gregorys’ first Thanksgiving with the Butterfields. They were going to spend Christmas together too, and then the Gregorys were planning to go to Aspen between Christmas and New Year’s. They had rented a house there. And Andrew was coming home for three weeks. They were all looking forward to it. Angus had sent him a list of his favorite pubs around the campus, with no understanding that they might not still be there seventy years later in his own time, not to mention a century later for Andy.

The food was delicious and everyone was in good spirits, despite the heavy losses they had suffered that year. Bert led them in prayer before they began eating, and they still found things to be grateful for, especially their close friendship. Bettina was beginning to look a little healthier as her pregnancy came to an end. She had five weeks left. Gwyneth was frantically knitting little sweaters and caps, while Augusta embroidered tiny nightgowns with white rosebuds on them that would work for either sex. They would put the baby in dresses for the first few months whether she had a girl or a boy.

Caroline and Lucy were excited about the baby, and so was Sybil. Magnus and Charlie showed no interest in it at all.

“I suppose it will keep us all up yowling at night,” Angus commented. “I’ll play the bagpipes for it to calm down,” he promised.

“Please don’t,” Augusta said firmly, as they all winced at the thought. Bert still hadn’t made peace with the idea of his daughter having the grandchild of an immigrant fish-restaurant owner who wanted nothing to do with his daughter, for fear it would cost them something. And they had never gotten over the slight of the Butterfields thinking them unsuitable, and were taking it out on Bettina as revenge, and punishing her. Bert wondered if they’d feel differently if she had a boy, and he suspected that would be the case. It made him think of Josiah, and he wished they had a child of his now, but there had been none. It made them regret he hadn’t married, although he was young.

Their Thanksgiving meal was a long one, with warm feelings of friendship among them, and at the end of the evening, they all hugged one another, and Augusta even embraced Sybil, although most of the time she ignored her or complained about what she wore, which was never right according to Augusta. She always said that Caroline looked like a dancer on a music box with the outfits she had on at dinner.

Bettina could hardly move when she got up from the meal. Her belly was huge now, in a red velvet dress Gwyneth had had made for her, although she wore black most of the time, suited to her being a widow. Gwyneth had worn black for Josiah since he died. She had done the same for Magnus for a year when he’d died twelve years before.

They said good night to each other, heavily sated by the meal and good wine. Bert and Blake clapped each other on the back, and Sybil and Gwyneth hugged, and then they quietly left the room and vanished, as the Gregorys wandered up the stairs, groaning about how full they were.

“I feel like Bettina,” Sybil said, laughing, and Blake said nostalgically that he wished it were them having a baby, and she looked surprised. He had always wanted a fourth child, although he hadn’t said it for a while. But Sybil felt that three was enough.

“One more would be nice,” he said wistfully. “A little girl.” But at nearly forty, she didn’t want to do it again. “It would keep us young.”

“Speak for yourself,” she said, as they walked into their bedroom, after a really wonderful evening with their friends.

They lay in bed a little while later, talking about nothing in particular, and feeling close to each other. And then he mentioned Bettina again.

“I feel sorry for her, having that baby alone. It won’t be easy.”

“I don’t think she’s happy about it,” Sybil said thoughtfully. “I think she realizes she made a mistake and acted in haste to defy her parents, and she regrets it. But it’s too late now. Maybe the baby will cheer her up.”

“Her father thinks no one will want her now, with a child,” Blake said, thinking about it.

“Gwyneth says the same thing, but we know that’s not true. And there will be lots of young widows with children after the war. This war will change things for everyone. It will even make it all right for women to work, if the breadwinners are gone.”

“You’re beginning to sound like them,” he said, and she laughed.

They fell asleep and woke up late the next morning, and had a relaxing weekend with their children. The Butterfields did the same. It was a perfect Thanksgiving for them all.

December was busy for Sybil, getting ready for Christmas and for Andy to come home. She had presents for everyone, including the Butterfields. The two families got together to decorate an enormous tree in the ballroom, as the Butterfields had always done. Charlie and Blake went to pick up a tree, and they all worked on it, hanging decorations they found in the garage. Bert had told them where they were. Alicia’s husband, José, helped them, as the Gregorys chatted with each other and people he couldn’t see. He decided that Alicia was right and they were all slightly crazy.

“They all have imaginary friends,” she had told him, “even the grown-ups.” But the Gregorys paid them well and were kind employers, so he didn’t care if they talked to themselves, and told Alicia not to pay attention to it either. It was none of their business if they were eccentric.

On Christmas morning, they all gathered in the ballroom, and everyone’s presents had found their way there. The Gregorys had exchanged a few presents on Christmas Eve as they always did, but they’d decided to follow Butterfield tradition this year, and exchange their presents with them on Christmas Day. Phillips served eggnog, with the adults’ portions laced with brandy, and Magnus and Charlie took a sip before they got caught, and Phillips pretended not to notice. He was very fond of the boys.

Both sets of parents had told them that Santa Claus had left the presents during the night, and they still believed it. Charlie got a new bicycle from his parents, and they had bought one for Magnus too, a bright red one, and he loved it, and rode it around the ballroom and the Christmas tree as fast as he dared.

Everyone else loved their gifts too. Bettina received a number of them for the baby, all handmade by her female relatives. Augusta and Gwyneth were in a frenzy of knitting and sewing these days. She said she felt like an elephant now, and the midwife had said the baby was a good size and could come at any time. Bettina just wanted it over, and the baby in her arms and out of her body. It felt as though it had been there forever, making her feel sick.

The two families shared another big dinner that night, and the next morning, the Gregorys left for Aspen, with all their ski equipment and clothes. They planned to come back the morning of New Year’s Eve, so they could see in the New Year together. They had received other invitations, but they wanted to spend it with the Butterfields, who had become like family to them now. And Sybil had bought a new silver dress for the occasion.

They had a wonderful week in Aspen, and skied together a lot of the time. Andy was full of stories about school in Scotland, and he picked up lots of girls on the slopes and went out at night. And he and Caroline talked about colleges a lot. She had applied to ten of them, and wanted to stay in the west if she could. Stanford was her first choice, and then UCLA. She wasn’t ready to go as far afield as her brother, although he loved Edinburgh.

Their faces were tanned with goggle marks from skiing and they were happy and rested when they got back to San Francisco at noon on New Year’s Eve.

When they came downstairs that night, Sybil was wearing her new silver evening gown, and Blake said she looked spectacular. Gwyneth was in black lace with jet beads all over it and looked like a John Singer Sargent painting with her upswept hair and a long string of diamonds around her neck and at her ears. Augusta had worn black velvet and was very dignified. And Blake had surprised Sybil and bought a set of tails. He had decided he could use them for dinner at the house, and wore them for the first time that night.

“Finally!” Augusta said with approval when she saw him. “It took you long enough,” she teased him, and then she told him how handsome he was, and Sybil agreed. Augusta liked Blake. He was always respectful and attentive to her.

They played charades after dinner, and then adjourned to the ballroom to dance. They used the music system the Gregorys had installed, and Blake swept Sybil away for the first dance, as the children watched and giggled. Bettina felt like a whale in a black velvet gown she could barely get into. She had outgrown everything she owned, but she looked pretty and young, and very maternal, with her enormous round belly under the dress. Gwyneth and Bert danced, and then stepped out onto the terrace in the moonlight, and they were both thinking of their son. They walked back into the ballroom to join the others, and as they did, Josiah came through the ballroom doorway in his uniform, waving at everyone. He was back! Everyone gave a cheer to greet him. It was cause for celebration, and Blake and Sybil smiled at each other, happy for their friends.

“There is something so perfect about their world,” Blake said as he danced with her again. “It all comes full circle in the end. You don’t have to wait to find out what happens and how it all turns out. We already know. Maybe the secret is that we can’t influence their world, in the past, but they can still influence ours, by what we learn from them. Maybe that’s right and the way it should be.”

They all kissed each other at midnight, and embraced Josiah, who looked more handsome than ever in his uniform. Everyone was thrilled to have him home. It had taken him four months to get back to them. Sybil wondered if Bettina’s husband would join them too. But this wasn’t his home, and he knew he hadn’t been welcome here. There was no mention of ghosts in Bettina’s book, and almost no mention of Tony, although he was her daughter’s father. But since her second husband had adopted her, Tony had faded rapidly from her life. And she wasn’t alone for very long, before Louis de Lambertin appeared.

Josiah danced with all of them, his sister Bettina too, in spite of her enormous shape, but she only danced to celebrate his return for a few minutes before she sat down. And then he danced with Lucy, and Caroline, who looked lovely in a midnight blue satin dress and high heels, with her blond hair piled on top of her head.

“They’ll have to marry her off soon,” Augusta said to Gwyneth, watching her. “She’s growing up fast.” She had just turned seventeen, and Augusta thought the time was right, and said as much to Gwyneth, who laughed. She knew that Sybil wouldn’t have agreed. Their ideas about when girls should marry were very different from what Gwyneth and her mother were used to.

Everyone was exhausted when they left the ballroom at three A.M. A new year had begun. Bert had toasted 1918 at midnight, and he hoped it would be an exceptional year for all of them. It had been the perfect way to see in the new year, and Josiah was home again. What more could they ask?