Return to Tradd Street by White Karen

Author:White, Karen [White, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-01-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

By the middle of October, I was no closer to finding any of the answers I was seeking. The whole world seemed to be dragging its feet in sympathy: The exhumation request was still bogged down in paperwork, the final DNA results on the remains had not yet been completed, and the identity of my tormentor and the crying baby remained as elusive as ever.

Even the regular newspaper serials about the Vanderhorst house and the “interloper” had paused, moving on to other venerable Charleston families and their homes, just with a lot less salacious stories to tell. I imagined the reporter Suzy Dorf waiting like an alligator on a creek bed for the next tidbit to be thrown her way so she could write the next installment.

Nola remained with me, despite Jack’s best efforts to get her to reconsider, and I found myself enjoying the presence of a living, breathing person in the house—usually three, since Alston and Cooper Ravenel were frequent visitors. Nola saw Jack a lot, but true to his word, he avoided visiting her when I was home. Still, I’d taken him to see approximately one hundred and thirty houses in the Charleston area, as well as to my frequent doctor’s appointments. He was courteous and solicitous, but kept himself aloof and distant. Just as I’d asked.

From Nola I’d learned that he was making good progress on the Manigault murder book, and had found a new literary agent, who had big hopes that Jack would have a contract soon. I told myself that this explained Jack’s preoccupation when he was with me. Just in case, I asked Nola, who confirmed that there was no new female in his life. Not that it mattered to me, of course.

As I passed into my second trimester, my nausea subsided, as did most—although not all—of my skin woes. My hair became thick and shiny for the first time in my life, and my appetite returned with a vengeance. I’d started power-walking with Amelia and my mother, but even that didn’t offset the alarming amount of weight I seemed to be gaining by simple osmosis. I’d begun to regard appointments with Dr. Wise as being sent to the principal’s office.

The inertia of my earlier pregnancy also seemed to fade, spurring me into mommy nesting mode. It was as if my subconscious realized my earlier resolve to figure out what I wanted and fight for it had stagnated due to all the proverbial brick walls I kept hitting my head against. I needed to find something else to strategize, organize, and put on a spreadsheet. At least it would keep me too occupied to dwell on my complete failure to move forward in any aspect of my life.

As I pushed open my front door, notes from the piano danced out onto the piazza. I quietly let myself in, placing my shopping bags—acquired on a trip with Amelia and my mother to accessorize the nursery—in the vestibule before easing my swollen feet out of my heels and tiptoeing across the hall to the music room.

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