"I should head home," Vivian finally said and stood abruptly.
They had been sitting in the Leta’s living room for a long time after returning from Vivian’s doctor’s appointment, and mother was concerned about daughter, but also relieved. For the past hour at least Vivian had nearly been clinging to her, and the close contact made Leta feel trapped.
“Are you sure?” Leta inquired. She really did care that her daughter had returned to her strong emotional centeredness.
“Yes,” Vivian replied. “Ed will be wanting his supper, and Mother Metzker will be worried. She expected my return for Don a couple of hours ago.”
“I can telephone them,” Leta offered, “Ed and his mother, if you need me to.”
“No,” Vivian said firmly. “I can go.”
For a moment, Leta saw the little girl in her daughter’s eyes, the one who stared at her with such uncertainty all those years ago when informed that they were moving into a different residence for a little while to stop the fighting between mother and father. It was such a terrible time for Leta that she didn’t recognize her daughter’s anguish then, but she saw this anguish, plain as day, and hoped, even prayed, that she would never have to see it again.
The look on Vivian’s face was one of disappointment, anger and shame with blame dancing around the edges. She was mostly blaming herself and ashamed of what she had done. That it was psychological, the doctor explained, made it all the more painful. He called it hysterical pregnancy. For over two months, Vivian had used her powerful mind to convince her body that she was going to have a baby. She had exhibited all the signs—morning sickness, breast sensitivity, weight gain and menstrual disruption. After several years of failed attempts, Vivian was joyful at the pregnancy. Her son Don was already nine, and she had hoped to have at least three children by then—boys and girls. But life had so far handed her only one item on the family plate. Somehow she had convinced herself and her body that she was at last pregnant, and this child was going to be born. However, she was wrong. Finding out she had manufactured it all with her mind was devastating. But Vivian had already lived through much. This event, while truly devastating, would be survived.
And just as quickly as it came, the look disappeared, and the poised and mature woman returned.
“Thanks, Mother,” Vivian said, “for the lemonade. For everything.”
“Of course, darling,” Leta said with her warmest voice. “Now, I’ll be checking in with you later. And if you need me, telephone me immediately.”
“I will.”
Vivian collected her purse, and Leta walked her to the car. Although quiet, she walked with purpose. Yes, Vivian would make it home.
Once inside, Vivian looked up at her.
“Will you call Mother Metzker for me?” she requested. “To ask if Don can stay there for supper. Tell her Ed and I will pick him up before it gets too late.”
“Of course,” Leta replied. “Drive safely.”
“But don’t tell her,” Vivian urged.
“Of course not,” Leta agreed.
She stood in the driveway until Vivian’s automobile had turned the corner and disappeared.
“Dear Lord,” she prayed, “please be with my daughter and son-in-law as they struggle with this.” She took the handkerchief she had been holding and dabbed her wet eyes. Before she realized what she was doing, she was walking down the street to the farm, where over the summer she had spent many afternoons.
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