The Jewels of Tessa Kent by Judith Krantz Read Free Book Online

knowing that they’d never be allowed tobe together again after this stolen moment in the locker room of the Sacred Heart gym.
    “Can’t you at least send me a message when the baby’s born, so I’ll know you’re okay?” Mimi asked.
    “I’ll try, but don’t write back, whatever you do. I’ll know how you feel, I’ll know you’re thinking of me.”
    “I’ll tell you one thing,” Mimi sobbed, “I’m not going to have sex until I’m married.”
    “I’m not going to have sex ever.”
    “Don’t be such a dope.”
    “Oh, Mimi. I’ll never forget you.”
    The months in Reseda passed more slowly than Teresa would have believed possible. She couldn’t go to school, nor could she walk around window shopping on any of the main streets of the nearby small towns where a decidedly pregnant teenager would turn heads.
    Throughout the long winter months of her pregnancy she was a prisoner at home, with only the few uplifting paperbacks her mother grudgingly bought her, the local newspaper, and daytime television to keep her company. She was allowed to walk back and forth in those areas of the backyard that were screened from the neighbors, but otherwise there was nothing to do but wait, often alone, since her mother had bought a small, secondhand car and distracted herself by driving around the never-never land of Beverly Hills, on the other side of the Mulholland pass. She never asked Teresa to go with her on these drives and Teresa didn’t dare to suggest it, although, once in the car, she wouldn’t have been noticed.
    Teresa’s most lonely moment of each week came on Sunday morning when her parents got into her father’s car and left her alone while they went to mass in the Reseda Catholic Church. She longed to be allowed to go with them, parched for the human contact and warmth of the service, aching for the consolation of communion, but of course it was impossible to show herself and arouse curiosity.
    “Isn’t it a sin for me to miss mass, especially on the Holy Days of Obligation?” she asked her mother, still permitting herself a crumb of hope.
    “You’re sick with the baby, you’re allowed to miss it,” her mother snapped. “You know that perfectly well. You’re a hypocrite to worry about such minor sins under the circumstances.”
    Teresa lived for the single Friday or Saturday night each weekend when her father took her out for a drive after dark, stopping at a place that served ice cream sodas at the car. He would touch her hand gently from time to time, but, silent man that he was, he had become even more reserved. Teresa wanted desperately to throw herself into Sandor’s arms and be held there and comforted, as she had been, from time to time, when she was a little girl with a little sorrow, but she felt his deep reluctance to touch her because of her swollen breasts and her swollen belly.
    She sat quietly by his side, her head turned away, so he wouldn’t see the tears of wishful need that filled her eyes. Her only experience with friendly touch was what she could extract from hugging herself tightly in her own arms or patting her stomach gently as she lay in bed at night and whispering to the dark room, “It’s going to be all right, little baby, it’s going to be all right.”
    Teresa tried to attract as little of Agnes’s attention as possible, since her mother’s rage had only deepened with the isolation and the strangeness of California. Once Teresa’s morning sickness had passed, she felt her robust health return. Neither mother nor daughter mentioned the need to see a doctor until Teresa felt the child move within her.
    “Oh! It just kicked me,” Teresa exclaimed, with excitement and wonder.
    “Isn’t that nice for you.” Agnes turned away, shaking her head in disgust.
    “Shouldn’t I go to a doctor, just to see if everything’s all right?”
    “You look fine to me.” She was twice as beautiful as ever, Agnes thought, the lines of her features were immaculate,