Free After the Fire by Belva Plain

interest them. He spoke in his usual vivid fashion.
    “It was a totally unnecessary accident—no seat belts. He went through the windshield on the passenger side. I can't begin to describe his face. Can you imagine, a whole life psychologically transformed after that? A young man with everything to live for? You can believe I was shaking in my shoes when Grump—that's Malcolm Grumboldt, chief of the service—told me to take over. Of course he was right at my elbow, and he would have stopped me in a second if I'd been doing anything wrong. But thank God, it went well.”
    “Don't know how you do it,” said Jim, admiring his son-in-law. “When was this?”
    “Yesterday afternoon.” Gerald smiled. “My nerves were still twitching, even when I got home.”
    And that, thought Hyacinth, is for my benefit. Shall I say it now?
    Francine was still examining her. “Is there anything wrong with your eyes? They look awfully tired or swollen or something.”
    No, not now.
    “I seem to have developed an allergy. It's nothing much, just comes and goes.”
    “Oh, tell them,” Gerald intervened, as if he were coaxing. “All right then, if you won't, I will. Hyacinth is pregnant and hasn't been feeling one hundred percent.”
    Her startled stare asked him what trick this might be. And then came the gasps of delight.
    “Darling!” cried Francine. “Why didn't you say anything? Why, that's marvelous!”
    Gerald said, “You women, so they tell me, like to keep it secret until you're sure everything's all right.”
    Then came that dreadful, uncontrollable flush again. It burned its way up Hyacinth's neck. What did he mean by this? She waited for him to go on with an account of their quarrel, their fight, their break. But he did not.
    Jim, rising to kiss her on the forehead, became emotional. “There's something about a daughter's having a baby that's different somehow, although it shouldn't be, I guess. Oh, your grandmother will be so pleased to be a ‘great’ again.”
    Francine, having kissed Hy, remembered to kiss Gerald, too. “Lucky baby,” she told him. “Not everyone's child these days has such good parents. Now, Hyacinth,will you let me buy the layette? I love to shop for baby things.”
    She loves to shop, period. What am I supposed to say now?
Hy sat there in dismay.
    “Now you'll really have to stop smoking,” Francine said. Her smile was loving. It had been a long time since she had, even casually, criticized anything about her daughter, her hair or makeup or smoking. And Hyacinth understood that that had been because she was so pleased, so grateful that the marriage had turned out to be wonderful after all.
    Gently, sick at heart, she replied, “Of course I will. I threw away every cigarette in the house the moment I knew. I intend to take good care of this baby,” she added, with a straight look at Gerald.
    Then there were questions about finding another apartment, about getting a larger car to replace the little red one, and whether to buy or lease it—an hour's worth of kind and loving questions.
    “We have a long time to wait,” Gerald said at last, “although Hyacinth has already made some preparations. Where's the panda? Go get it, Hyacinth.”
    So she had to bring out the clumsy thing that that morning she had stuffed away on the top shelf in the hall closet. Humming and singing the “Blue Danube” waltz, Jim circled the room with the panda, and everyone except Hyacinth laughed, everyone except Hyacinth had more champagne, and everyone said what a wonderful day this was, until it became time to take the parents back to their hotel for the night.
    “Come ride along, Hy. We're flying home early in themorning, and we won't be seeing you for a while,” Jim urged.
    But Francine contradicted him. “Let Hyacinth stay here. I think she's tired.”
    “I am, a little.” I'm not tired, Hy thought. I'm torn to pieces, that's all.
    She was putting the cream cake into the refrigerator when Francine