The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer by Joyce Reardon

Author:Joyce Reardon [Reardon, Joyce]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4013-9763-0
Publisher: Disney Book Group
Published: 2001-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

I return to your pages now after a brief and wonderful reunion with Sukeena. She made no objections to my suggestion of visiting Madame Lu, and to my relief will make the arrangements herself, having struck up something of a friendship with Tina’s handmaid, the woman named Gwen who joined us before.

27 SEPTEMBER 1909—MADAME LU’S

I can see now that John’s fascination with his heir is fading. He finds the smells, the crying, the spit-up, even the breast-feeding a bit too much to take. (This, despite the two nannies—one, a wet nurse who feeds Adam at night.) I suspect that when Adam is eight or nine—an age for hunting and fishing and the like—my husband’s affections may rekindle, but for the time being he is absent, showing no interest in the boy whatsoever. His dawdling attentions lavished on me during my pregnancy are a thing of the past as well. I have carried his child. His firstborn was a boy. My purpose is served, I fear. Were I to have known that this was the life destined for me, I might have expressed reservations in consummating this marriage. Now, however, it is far too late for such decisions. I can only make the best—or the worst—of the situation. I labor for the higher ground, fearing the results if John and I entrench ourselves for a protracted battle.

I will ask my husband back to my bed as soon as I feel my body recovers fully from childbirth. I see now that my joy and happiness in life is to come from the children. (Adam gives me more joy in my heart than I have ever felt. He is nothing short of a miracle. I have reason to live. Reason to love!) If I am here to make babies, make babies I shall, even though I alternate between loving my husband and despising him. Adam Rimbauer holds a place special and dear in my heart that no other person shall ever come close to occupying. I can’t imagine this feeling multiplied by four or five! I can’t wait! I long for the sound of many small feet scurrying about this house! Damn John Rimbauer. I shall make a life for myself in spite of his womanizing ways.

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