|Subject: Chapter 312 - Part 1
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Date Posted: Wednesday, November 07, 07:01:02am
In reply to:
's message, "Chapter 307 - Part 1 (16 and above)" on Monday, October 22, 07:10:11am
Dreams in the Dark (312/318)
by Katherine Gilbert
It was unbearable. It had been three tense, unbearably-lengthy weeks since the last time she had heard from him--a nerve-wracking eternity of waiting. Every day, she had been watching the post, jumping every time the phone rang. Even worse, she was starting to listen for footsteps outside, was terrified that the dreaded telegram might arrive any second. She could no longer convince herself that she even knew whether he were alive or dead. She no longer seemed to understand anything at all.
It was this truth which was tormenting the poor woman the most, the silence a torture unlike any she had ever known. Although she now dimly remembered the days when she had been waiting in terror for Hillinger's attack, they seemed warm and lovely in comparison. At least then she had known that her Michael was beside her, had had no suspicion that he was gone. But now . . .
She was shuddering again, as she continued another of her letters to him. Already, in the silence since his last one, she had written him two more. While she realized, logically, that he had little time left over from his duties, and that the ocean was large--would take time to cross with the mail--she was no more encouraged. The only connection she had was to write to him--and pray that he might one day be able to answer.
It was with this thought in mind that she started another missive--hoping that she didn't sound half so whiny as she felt. With her luck, he was simply growing annoyed with the letters, didn't *want* to write back; she took a deep breath, as she began. But knowing that such fears were probably the *good* option wouldn't help her now.
My dearest, dearest Michael,
I miss you. I miss you so much I think I must be becoming slightly crazy from it. Days and weeks pass, and still I hear nothing from you. All I have are my terrible fears about your fate.
I'm sorry for these words, my love; I know I'm probably annoying you with all these constant worries, with my pleas for an answer. I know you're busy, know there's no time left to spend coddling my idiot fears. But that nightmare I told you about several weeks ago hasn't left me. I'm still so afraid that something's happened to you. If only there were some word, some way to know that you're still okay. But all I have is silence, and the strain of it is killing me.
Lord, I'm sorry for writing this, sorry to place all my burdens on you--even sorrier for being such a whiny little girl. I know that wasn't what you bargained on, when you married me. And I'm *trying* to be strong, I promise. But the fear of not knowing anything is driving me to despair.
Once more, I'm sorry to send you all of this. I know you say that you want all my thoughts, but I'm afraid that you'll regret that bargain, once you see them. All I can do, lately, is wring my hands and worry. Please tell me you're alive. Please tell me you're well. The more I think about it, the more afraid I become. All I can do lately is fret.
Okay, I'm going to try to tell you something other than this here. I've made myself a promise that I would; you've heard the rest far too often already. I hate to think of you receiving these whiny letters, when you're looking for some sort of pleasant distraction from the weight of your duties. I'm not being a very good wife to you at all.
Let me change the subject, then, to focus on the one thing I *think* I'm doing somewhat correctly. The doctors have told me that my due date is pretty soon; originally, they predicted that it would be today--but that doesn't, at least thus far, seem to be the case. I feel the same as ever--fat and tired and worried but not the least bit ready to bear this child yet. Well, I'm ready in spirit--but our son doesn't seem to be cooperating. He seems perfectly willing to stay exactly where he is for good.
Sorry. That's probably a far too dour image. I apologize. But I still think that our doctors have made a mistake in their predictions. Of course, it would probably be much easier if I had some idea when our child had actually been conceived. But, then again, I think I like the fact that there's a great deal of time to choose from there.
This truth is making my calculations of our son's arrival a little difficult--but don't think for *a moment* that I regret the memories. If there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that our child was created in love. Sadly, that's more than most of us can say, so I'll try to settle myself on this bit of encouragement.
Anyway, I've gotten off track. All of this was meant to say that I'm still intensely pregnant and wondering daily when our child will ever deign to make his debut to the world. Still, we're both well--but I *am* reaching the point where I'd like to go ahead and be a mother, instead of just a mother-to-be.
Of course, I know this change will be difficult without you here. I can manage, yes, but I suspect it will make me miss you even more. To see your features in miniature, without you beside me to hold me, might well break my heart. But I told myself that I wasn't going to get all maudlin again.
I'm sorry for that slip. Let me change subjects again. As you know, Helmut and Kate were thinking of children lately, too, and there's definitely news on that front. Kate is now expecting, probably sometime in January. Her whole household seems to be anticipating the arrival. They seem a little unsure, as I guess any of us are this first time around, but they're mostly happy. It's all down to the group debates over the name.
Kate is fortunate, as well, to have someone like Terry beside her. Apparently, her maid knows a good deal about such things and is helping her along at every step. Even their constant houseguest, Rene, is cheering her on. So everything there is going at least as well as could be expected.
Still, this is only a little of the news we've had around here, of late. Let me catch you up a little more.
I don't mean to gossip, but I've been reading a lot of stories in Hedda's columns lately about that producer, Bauer. Apparently, she found out a few nasty stories about him and his interactions with several other Hollywood types. He's fallen into extreme disfavor around town--typically, not entirely for what he's done but for bringing this sort of negative attention to everyone. Whether he'll get any more pictures made is pretty questionable now.
I find it difficult to feel sorry about this, given how rude he always was. Still, he did apparently try to spread some sort of unpleasant rumors about Kate and her husband, but Hedda, thankfully, wasn't buying them. Given the nature of a few of them, they were pretty unbelievable, especially with a baby on the way. But I suppose that someone whose crimes finally come to light isn't going to be particularly discriminating about the truth.
Anyway, I guess this is all more than you really need to know. Still, everything here is, generally, going pretty well. There's even a little odd news. Do you remember Rene's ex-wife, Anna? I've mostly just heard about her, not all of it good. Apparently, though, she's joined a convent! According to Rene, who went to visit her, she's quite happy with the decision, so I suppose that's all for the best.
Oh! There's a little news about Susan, as well. It seems that she and Andrew have dated a few times, and not just the kind that the studio arranges. Still, she came to visit the other day and told me that she isn't certain that she wants to go on with the relationship any further. Maybe that's for the best. Now that Peter and Angie are going to get married--did I tell you about that? What *is* happening to my memory?--she's probably going to be focusing more on being a bridesmaid than a bride.
Good Lord. I'm just a fount of useless gossip, aren't I? That's just what every husband longs for in a wife. I'm sorry. Let me refocus on what's happening around me. That's always what you say, in your kind way, that you're the most interested in, anyway.
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