Family Matters

Shortly before Leonard and Charlotte’s trip, we were invited to Leonard’s grandmother’s eightieth birthday celebration. My heart held out a small hope that perhaps, surrounded by family, Leonard would soften his stance on the pregnancy. Perhaps he would finally see me as an equal partner in our marriage, not just a convenient companion overshadowed by Charlotte's constant presence.

The morning of his grandmother's party dawned bright and clear, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions swirling within me. As I stood before the mirror, carefully applying my makeup, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and hope. 

Smoothing down my dress, a elegant emerald green number that I hoped would impress Leonard's family, my hand lingered over my still-flat stomach. Our secret was there, growing stronger each day, and I longed to share it with Leonard. But every time I tried, something – or someone – always seemed to get in the way.

How naive I was to think this day would be any different.

We were in the car, driving to his grandmother's house, when Leonard's phone rang. The cheerful ringtone seemed to mock me, for I already knew who it would be before Leonard even glanced at the screen.

"It's Charlotte," he said, his voice instantly taking on that warm, concerned tone he reserved only for her. Without waiting for my response, he answered the call and listened. "Hey, Charlotte. Of course, we'd be happy to pick you up. We'll be there in about twenty minutes."

I bit my lip, knowing that agreeing would add at least thirty minutes to our journey. "Won't that make us late for your grandmother's party?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

Leonard barely spared me a glance as he replied, "It'll be fine. Grandma won't mind if we're a little late. She loves Charlotte and she needs us, Claire."

I sat in silence as Leonard took the exit that would lead us to Charlotte's house, feeling once again like a passenger not just in the car, but in my own marriage. The detour took us through a picturesque neighborhood, all manicured lawns and stately homes. Under different circumstances, I might have enjoyed the view. Today, each passing minute felt like another nail in the coffin of my hopes for this day.

When we finally arrived at Charlotte's house – a sprawling mansion that made me feel small and insignificant – I watched as Leonard practically leapt from the car. Charlotte was waiting on the broad front porch, a broad smile on her face. He rushed to Charlotte's side with an eagerness I couldn't remember him ever showing for me.

As Leonard tenderly lifted Charlotte into his arms, the crack in my heart opened a little more. The care with which he handled her, the soft words he murmured that I couldn't quite catch – it all spoke of an intimacy that I, his wife, felt increasingly shut out from.

Leonard walked to the front passenger seat and frowned when I made no motion to move to the back seat. Leonard frowned but settled Charlotte in the back without saying anything. The look that flashed across Charlotte’s face, however, was pure venom. She quickly veiled the look from Leonard with a sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Claire, darling," she cooed, her voice dripping with false warmth, "it's so good to see you. I hope you don't mind me tagging along. I just couldn't bear to miss Grammy Parker’s birthday."

I forced a smile, grateful for the years of practice I'd had in hiding my true feelings. "Of course not, Charlotte. It's always a pleasure to have you with us."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but what else could I say? That I resented her constant presence in our lives? That I wished, just for once, to have my husband to myself on a family occasion? No, those truths would have to remain unspoken, locked away with so many others.

The rest of the drive was tense, at least for me. Charlotte filled the air with cheerful chatter, regaling us with stories of her latest physiotherapy sessions and the progress she was making. Leonard responded warmly, asking questions and offering encouragement. I sat in silence, feeling more and more like an outsider in my own marriage.

As Charlotte described a particularly challenging therapy session, Leonard reached back to pat her knee comfortingly. The casual intimacy of the gesture made my chest tighten. When was the last time he had offered me such easy comfort? I couldn’t remember. If anything, since he’d heard about the baby, he seemed to avoid touching me at all.

We finally arrived at Leonard's grandmother's house, a charming country estate that spoke of old money and family history. As Leonard helped Charlotte into her wheelchair, I took a moment to smooth down my dress and plaster on a smile. I could do this. I could get through this day.

The moment we entered the house, we were surrounded by family. Leonard's grandmother, a dignified woman with kind eyes, greeted me warmly. His sister, Amelia, gave me a sympathetic smile that spoke volumes and a little eye roll as she hugged me. But from Leonard's parents, I could feel waves of disapproval radiating towards me. They’d never fully approved of me. Their eyes always seemed to say, "A secretary? Really, Leonard? You could have done so much better."

I swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to defend myself. Yes, I had been Leonard's secretary. But I was also a talented architect, a loving wife, and now, though they didn't know it yet, the mother of their future grandchild. Surely that counted for something?

But as the party progressed, it became clear that in this family's eyes, there was only one star – and it wasn't me. Charlotte, ensconced in her wheelchair like a queen on a throne, held court in the living room. Everyone, save for Amelia, doted on her, exclaiming over her bravery and strength.

"Oh, Charlotte, dear," Leonard's mother gushed, "you're looking so well. The new treatment must be working wonders!"

Charlotte smiled modestly. "It's been challenging, but I'm determined to walk again. Leonard has been such a rock through it all."

I watched from the sidelines as Leonard hovered near her, attentive to her every need. He fetched her drinks, adjusted her shawl, laughed at her jokes. It was as if I didn't exist.

As the afternoon wore on, I found myself retreating to quiet corners, pretending to drink the celebratory champagne I had been given. I caught Amelia watching me a few times, her brow furrowed in concern, but I avoided her gaze. I didn't trust myself to maintain my composure if faced with genuine kindness.

It was during one of these moments of solitude that Charlotte approached me, her smile as sharp as a knife. "Claire, darling," she said, her voice pitched to carry, "would you mind terribly taking me for a little walk outside? The fresh air would do me good, I think."

I hesitated, every instinct screaming at me to refuse. But I could feel the eyes of the family on us, and I knew I had no choice. "Of course, Charlotte," I said, forcing a smile. "I'd be happy to."

As I wheeled her out onto the expansive grounds, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking into a trap. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawn, and a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature ran down my spine.

We reached a downhill slope, and Charlotte's mask finally slipped. She turned to look at me, all pretense of friendliness gone from her face. "You know, Claire," she said, her voice dripping with disdain, "after all these years, you've really just been taking care of Leonard for me. Once my legs are healed, I'll be the one marrying him. You're just keeping his bed warm."