Free Legacy of Silence by Belva Plain

angrily, roughly, with the back of her hand. “I’m so ashamed. What a clumsy thing to do with one’s life. I’m so ashamed.”
    The doctor, handing her a tissue, spoke mildly. “I know. In your milieu it’s not supposed to happen. But it happens.”
    Your milieu
. She sees my dress, Caroline thought, the proper, dark summer dress that one wears in the city. No doubt things are the same here as at home. People recognize each other’s differences the way Jake recognized my accent.
    “Your parents, if things go well for them, and I pray that they will, will not cast you away, my dear. It will be hard for you all, but it will work out. In the meantime, take very good care of yourself. If you move away from here, find a doctor and do what you’re told. You’re a beautiful young woman, and beauty always helps.”
    “So?” asked Lore when they were out on the sidewalk.
    “So, you were right.”
    “I thought so.”
    Caroline lowered her head. In a few months’ time, she would most likely not even be able to see her feet.
    “I’ve made a mess of things,” she said.
    “Well, it happened, and there’s no sense mourning over it.”
    On the return ride they were quiet again. A hot wind, bearing grit and smelling of chemicals, blew in at the windows. The streets were doleful. This was not the other New York of the photographs, the leafy avenues and grand vistas through which they had passed a few days ago.
    “We need to think about money,” Lore said. “That’s number two on the list.”
    “I should think we have to see the refugee committee about where to go.”
    They couldn’t possibly stay here. The poorest little town, a log cabin—did they still have log cabins in America?—with trees and grass and sky, would make it easier to bear whatever would have to be borne.
    “First we need money. No matter what they say about it, we owe the Sandlers a little something. Then, no matter where we go, we’ll need to pay rent. I wonder whether Jake has any idea how we can best sell the rings. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has. He’s a practical man.”
    “Practical like you, Lore. What would I do here without you? I’m a useless dependent, a fool, a burden even to myself.” And there in the taxicab, Caroline broke into soundless weeping.

    O N a pillow, gathering all the room’s meager light, lay the four rings. There was a sapphire, two diamonds—one of them glorious even to an amateur’s eyes, the other less so—and a ruby. Lore caressed them one by one.
    “Your mama said she had always loved rubies. She called them lovers’ gems. Heart’s blood, she said. I think it hurt your father that he couldn’t let her keep this.”
    When Lore put it on her own finger, it went only as far as the knuckle. “My hands are too big. You try it. Hold your hand up, so I can see.”
    It meant nothing to Caroline. A sparkle, that was all. It was hard to believe that this small object could be worth more than a decent house.
    “Which do you like better, Caroline, this or the round diamond? It’s almost flawless, worth a fortune.”
    “To tell you the truth, I can easily do without either. I can name a few things I need much more. Things like a peaceful mind.”
    Lore put the rings away and sighed. “Well, some lucky women are going to be wearing them. I asked Jake for advice about selling them. He’s got a friend who’ll come over this week and price them for us. He works for one of the best jewelry stores in the city. Then we’ll know enough not to be cheated.”
    “I’ll leave it to you, Lore. It’s not that I’m lazy. I just can’t seem to think. My brain’s sick.” She flung herself down on the bed. “Oh, Lore, I don’t wantthis baby. I don’t want any baby now, but especially not this one. What shall I do with it? Will I hate it? I’m afraid I will, because I hate it now. I hate the way it was—was made.”
    The little grove. Crickets and stars and sweet grass. Made for lovers, he said, lying to