Page 55
Story: Fallen Hearts (Casteel 3)
"Ya suppose right. I'm seein' the fanciest, most expensive docta I kin. This baby's gettin' only the best. I already told him where ta send the bills.
"So." She smiled and sat across from me. "I take it ya had yer little talk wit' Logan."
"I'm not here to argue with you, Fanny. What happened, happened. There's no way we can be sure this early that the baby is indeed Logan's, but--"
"Fancy talkin', aren't ya? No way ya kin be sure. Suppose ta mean I sleep around wit' jus' anyone, huh? Well, I don't care how fancy ya kin talk now, ya can't talk yer way out of the truth. I haven't seen Randall for nearly a month a Sundays an' I haven't been wit' any man other than Logan. Doctor's kin tell when a baby's been made, Heaven. An' Logan Stonewall made this one," she said, jabbing her stomach. I winced.
I had come here hoping to be tough and determined, to present her with an offer and leave with some dignity, but as usual, Fanny was beyond being embarrassed or frightened. Her eyes burned back at me with stubborn, arrogant pleasure.
"I don't propose we go through any test to see what is true and what isn't, Fanny. It would only hurt everyone."
"Ya don't propose . . ." She sat back, smiling like a mad wildcat. "Well, what do ya propose, Heaven Leigh?" Her black eyes narrowed until the whites were only glimmers between her heavily lashed lids.
"Naturally, we'll take care of all the medical bills."
"Naturally. And?"
"And provide a sum to support the child and its needs . .
"And its needs includes me," she said. "I ain't a pin cushion ta prick and poke and forget about, ya know. I mean ta be treated like a woman with class, jus' like you," she said, putting her fists on her hips and spreading her legs. "Who do ya think ya are, anyway, comin' in here and offerin' jus' ta take care of the baby's needs? Yer husband comes ta me becuz ya ain't there when he needs love and tenderness and now there's hell ta pay. I gotta live with the child, don't I? gotta be tied down, don't I? I ain't gonna be able ta go around lookin' for a new man."
"Fanny," I said, smiling at her, "are you sure you want to keep this child?"
"Oh, I see what yer gettin' at. Think ya kin come in here and make me a single, one-time offa, huh? Get the baby and pretend it's yers, maybe, huh? An' then I'd have no claims ta anythin' more, right? Smart . . . only I ain't dumb no more, not dumb as I was when the Reverend took my Darcy."
"But you just said yourself how difficult it's going to be for you to have a child, and you're right. It will restrict you."
She smiled, and when Fanny smiled, even a wicked, hateful smile, her white teeth flashed brilliantly in contrast to her Indian coloring.
"I'll take that chance," she said.
"But what kind of a mother will you be for this child?" I asked, taking the most reasonable tone I could, even though it took great effort to control my anger.
Her dark eyes narrowed again.
"Now, don'cha go and start that stuff again, Heaven Leigh. It was an excuse ya had when ya couldn't get my Darcy back from Reverend Wise."
"It's not an excuse, Fanny," I said, still speaking softly. She sat back and studied me. Then she shook her head.
"Ya jus' like Pa, ain'cha? Ready ta buy and sell children, do anythin' that'll make things easier for ya."
"That's not it, not it at all," I said. How could she suggest such a thing? I wasn't looking out for myself, I was worried about what she would do to a child.
"Sure it is. Ya'll pay me a sum for the child and then go and give it away, won'tcha? Won'tcha?" she demanded.
"No. That wasn't my intent."
"Well, I don' care what ya intent was. The answer is no. I'm keepin' the baby and Logan and ya are payin' me ta keep it well. It'll be as good as any of yer kids'll be and it'll go ta the finest schools and wear the finest clothes, ya understand me, Heaven?"
"I see," I said. "So what do you propose?" I asked. The question, demanding something specific from her, took her off guard. She just blinked at me a moment. "How much do you think we should send you a month, Fanny?"
"I don' know. I suppose . . . fifteen hundred. No, two thousand."
"Two thousand dollars a month?"
She studied me to see if I was happy or sad about the amount, but I kept my face expressionless.
"Well, ole Mallory was sendin' me fifteen hundred, but that was me without a child. Better make it twenty-five hundred," she said. "I want it on the first of the month, promptly. Shouldn't be no hardship for ya, Heaven. Not with ya all buildin' this big factory here in Winnerow and all."
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