Stoner

And the scream came again, piercing and inexpressibly angry; they both turned to Edith, who looked back and forth, from one to the other, the eyes absent and cool above the screaming mouth. Stoner went across the room, stooped behind her, and lifted her upright; she was loose in his arms, and he had to support her weight.

"Edith!" he said sharply. "Be quiet."

She stiffened and pulled away from him. On trembling legs she stalked across the room and stood above Grace, who had not moved.

"You!" she spat. "Oh, my God. Oh, Gracie. How could you --oh, my God. Like your father. Your father's blood. Oh, yes. Filth. Filth--"

"Edith!" Stoner spoke more sharply and strode over to her. He placed his hands firmly on her upper arms and turned her away from Grace. "Go to the bathroom and throw some cold water on your face. Then go up to your room and lie down."

"Oh, Willy," Edith said pleadingly. "My own little baby. My very own. How could this happen? How could she--"

"Go on," Stoner said. "I'll call you after a while."

She tottered out of the room. Stoner looked after her without moving until he heard the tap water start in the bathroom. Then he turned to Grace, who remained looking up at him from the easy chair. He smiled at her briefly, walked across to Edith's work table, got a straight chair, brought it back, and placed it in front of Grace's chair, so that he could talk to her without looking down upon her upturned face.

"Now," he said, "why don't you tell me about it?"

She gave him her small soft smile. "There isn't much to tell," she said. "I'm pregnant."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I've been to a doctor. I just got the report this afternoon."

"Well," he said and awkwardly touched her hand. "You aren't to worry. Everything will be all right."

"Yes," she said.

He asked gently, "Do you want to tell me who the father is?"

"A student," she said. "At the University."

"Had you rather not tell me?"

"Oh, no," she said. "It doesn't make any difference. His name is Frye. Ed Frye. He's a sophomore. I believe he was in your freshman comp class last year."

"I don't remember him," Stoner said. "I don't remember him at all."

"I'm sorry, Father," Grace said. "It was stupid. He was a little drunk, and we didn't take--precautions."

Stoner looked away from her, at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Father. I've shocked you, haven't I?"

"No," Stoner said. "Surprised me, perhaps. We really haven't known each other very well these last few years, have we?"

She looked away and said uncomfortably, "Well--I suppose not."

"Do you--love this boy, Grace?"

"Oh, no," she said. "I really don't know him very well."

He nodded. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," she said. "It really doesn't matter. I don't want to be a bother."

They sat without speaking for a long time. Finally Stoner said, "Well, you aren't to worry. It will be all right. Whatever you decide--whatever you want to do, it will be all right."

"Yes," Grace said. She rose from the chair. Then she looked down at her father and said, "You and I, we can talk now."

"Yes," Stoner said. "We can talk."

She went out of the studio, and Stoner waited until he heard her bedroom door close upstairs. Then, before he went to his own room, he went softly upstairs and opened the door to Edith's bedroom. Edith was fast asleep, sprawled fully clothed on her bed, the bedside light harsh upon her face. Stoner turned the light out and went downstairs.

The next morning at breakfast Edith was almost cheerful; she gave no sign of her hysteria of the night before, and she spoke as if the future were a hypothetical problem to be solved. After she learned the name of the boy she said brightly, "Well, now. Do you think we ought to get in touch with the parents or should we talk to the boy first? Let's see--this is the last week in November. Let's say two weeks. We can make all the arrangements by then, maybe even a small chinch wedding. Gracie, what does your friend, what's his name--?"

"Edith," Stoner said. "Wait. You're taking too much for granted. Perhaps Grace and this young man don't want to get married. We need to talk it out with Grace."

"What's there to talk about? Of course they'll want to get married. After all, they--they-- Gracie, tell your father. Explain to him."

Grace said to him, "It doesn't matter, Father. It doesn't matter at all."

And it didn't matter, Stoner realized; Grace's eyes were fixed beyond him, into a distance she could not see and which she contemplated without curiosity. He remained silent and let his wife and daughter make their plans.