Child of Her Heart. Irene Brand

Bryon? Is he excited?”

      “He’s a little slow to catch on to the idea,” Sonya said dryly. “How are Dad and the rest of the family?”

      “Everything is fine here.” Her mother rambled on about news of the family in Ohio, and Sonya made the proper responses when her mother paused.

      “Say, Mother, I’m expecting a call from Bryon, so maybe we shouldn’t talk any longer.”

      “Is he away?”

      “Yes, on a business trip.”

      “But you always go with him. Are you sure you’re all right, or are you keeping something from me?”

      With a laugh, Sonya tried to assure her mother. “You’re borrowing trouble. I told you, I’m fine.”

      “I want to be there for the birth. You say the baby is due in March?”

      “Yes, around the first of the month. Goodbye, Mother. Thanks for calling.”

      Sonya terminated the conversation with relief. Bryon was sure to telephone in a few minutes, and she wanted the line open.

      While she waited for the phone to ring again, Sonya surveyed her surroundings. Plush brown sectional furniture rested on a beige carpet. The draperies picked up both the brown and beige tones of the other furnishings. A superscreen television stood in one corner of the room with two reclining chairs arranged around it Bryon’s golf and bowling trophies dominated the mantelpiece. Most of the wall hangings had been gifts from Bryon’s parents, as were the two antique oriental vases on the end tables. Mrs. Dixon had found the vases in China when they had stopped there on their round-the-world tour last year.

      “Be careful of these, Sonya,” her mother-in-law cautioned. “If Tom knew what I paid for them, he would cancel my credit cards.”

      With trembling hands Sonya lifted a framed portrait standing beside one of the vases. Their wedding picture! All of her friends had been envious because she had been the one Bryon had chosen—he was considered the catch of the university campus.

      It was not only the splendor of his tall, well-muscled body that made Bryon attractive, but he was handsome, as well. His eyes and hair were brown, his teeth straight and startlingly white, and he possessed a personal magnetism that had captivated Sonya at their first meeting.

      Sonya’s blond beauty marked a vivid contrast to Bryon, although she, too, was rather tall with a slender body. In the picture her large blue eyes gleamed soft and gentle and happy. Long blond hair hung loosely over her shoulders. Sonya fingered the short curls covering her head now and wished she had never complied with Bryon’s wishes that she cut her hair.

      When the phone hadn’t rung by ten o’clock, Sonya prepared a vegetable salad and turkey sandwich and took them to the living room. She placed the food on a snack tray and went back for a cup of hot tea. She avoided the dining area, although she should have been accustomed to eating alone, after the past six weeks.

      Sonya turned on the television to watch the news while she ate. She had no interest in what was happening outside her own walls, but she needed to hear the sound of a human voice.

      While she watched the numerous commercials leading up to the newscast, Sonya couldn’t forget the crushed letter lying beside the couch.

      “Good evening,” the anchorwoman’s voice entered the room. Sonya listened as the anchorwoman reported the world’s events, yet Sonya’s thoughts kept returning to the crisis in her own life.

      The doorbell rang, and Sonya eagerly flipped off the television. Had Bryon forgotten his key? She ran to the door and jerked it open, kicking the letter to one side as she did so.

      “Bryon, what do you think—” Sonya began, but the words died in her mouth. “Oh, hello, Leta, I thought Bryon had forgotten his key again.”

      Sonya didn’t want to be rude to her neighbor, who owned the apartment building and lived across the hall, but could she possibly listen to Leta’s problems tonight?

      “Are you busy, Sonya?” Leta Barton’s dark eyes wore a woebegone expression, and Sonya couldn’t turn her away.

      “No, come on in. I’m waiting on a call from Bryon.”

      “I thought he was due home yesterday.”

      “I thought so, too, but apparently I was mistaken in the date. Do you want a sandwich or some tea? I’m having a late dinner tonight.”

      “I’m too mad to eat, but I’ll take some tea.”

      Sonya brought a cup and the pot of tea and placed them on the table in front of Leta. “Help yourself.” Sonya sat down opposite her friend, who had curled her petite frame into a roomy chair. Leta looked lovely as usual, Sonya noticed, with her coffee-brown skin and dark hair complemented by the rust and gold hues of her stylish autumn dress.

      “That woman has been bothering me again,” Leta said.

      In the two years they had lived beside Leta, her neighbor had gone through a second divorce, and Sonya had been obliged to hear a blow-by-blow description of each shattering episode.

      “She follows me around. Everywhere I go, she’s there. If she wants my ex, she’s welcome to him, but I want her to leave me alone.”

      Sonya had often given Leta advice on how to deal with her marital affairs, but tonight any suggestions she might offer seemed almost laughable.

      “I’m sorry you’re having these problems, Leta, but I don’t know what you can do about it.”

      “I’m going to protect myself—that’s what. I’ll go to the police and get a court order of protection, and if she comes near me again, she’ll have a court official to deal with. She stole my man, and now she’s trying to drive me crazy.” Her black eyes sparkled, and she poured another cup of tea.

      Sonya knew Leta wasn’t serious. She had listened to her vent her frustrations before.

      “Surely she must have some reason for her behavior.”

      “She’s jealous because the judge awarded me a huge settlement so I can live in this luxury apartment She thought when she got my husband, she would get all of his money, but my lawyer took care of that. With these apartments, I’m set for life.” Leta laughed delightedly.

      “Then if you’re fixed for life,” Sonya advised, “you shouldn’t bother about her. If you just ignore her, maybe she’ll leave you alone.”

      Leta took a swig of tea and stood up. “Oh, I’d never make trouble for her. My ex-husband will bring her enough grief, believe me. But it does help me to let off steam talking that way. Thanks for listening.” As she started toward the door, Leta saw the crumpled letter. She stooped to pick it up and handed it to Sonya.

      “You’d better put that in the wastepaper basket. You know how touchy Bryon is about a messy apartment.”

      The letter felt like a hot potato, and Sonya had the urge to throw it from her again. She locked the door behind Leta, and with the paper still in her hand, she paced the floor for several minutes. The smell of tea and salad dressing was strong in the room, so she stuck the paper in her pocket, took the dishes to the kitchen and placed them in the dishwasher.

      Maybe I was mistaken. Perhaps it didn’t say what I thought it did. She took the sheet from her pocket and straightened it.

      Dear Sonya,

      I want out! Since you’re so delighted with the little cherub, you can have it all to yourself. I won’t be coming back. Pack my clothes, and I’ll notify you where to send them. It was fun while it lasted.

      Bryon

      Again she thought of her dad’s remark about the blister. Had he realized even then that Bryon would be an unstable husband? Her parents had objected to her marriage, but she had thought it was because she had left college at the end of her sophmore year