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Green Spring Mountains, the Old Friend Far Away
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After twelve hours of contractions, I finally got through to Alfred on the phone. "She's here. The little girl you always wanted." There was a long silence before he said, "Got it. We'll talk later." ...
章節（4）
第1章
After twelve hours of contractions, I finally got through to Alfred Finley.
"She's here. The little girl you always wanted."
There was a long silence before he said,
"Got it. We'll talk later."
By the time the busy tone came, the tears had already run down into the pillow.
I looked down at the crumpled little face beside me.
"Vivienne Sutton, Daddy's busy. He'll come see us soon."
The woman in the next bed was on the phone too.
"Honey, you bought three different brands of changing pads. That's way too much!"
She hung up and waved the screen at me.
"My husband started stocking up three months ago. He practically wanted to move the whole baby store home."
Then her eyes flicked to my empty bedside table, paused, and she said nothing more.
That one look said everything.
That night I held my daughter and turned over and over, unable to sleep.
I sent one more message.
"She has your eyes. Come see her."
No reply.
At midnight, quick footsteps came down the hallway.
Jeanette Winfield sat up at once, her voice all delight.
"He's here, he's here!"
The door swung open.
A man walked in fast, flowers and a thermos in his hands.
Jeanette reached out, smiling.
"What took you so long? Your son and I have been waiting forever."
He bent down and kissed her forehead, then straightened up.
The instant he saw me, he froze where he stood.
I looked at him too.
At the man who had told me he was away on business.
I suddenly laughed.
Laughed until the tears fell.
1
There was a note stuck to the thermos in Alfred's hand.
【You worked so hard, Jeanette. Edmund Finley is wonderful too.】
He'd even picked the name.
When I was six months pregnant, Alfred had pressed his hand to my belly and said if it was a girl we'd call her Vivienne.
"After the first frost the whole world turns clear and clean. I want our daughter's whole life to be that pure."
But now he held Jeanette's son, palm against the baby's back, moving so gently it was like he was afraid the child would break.
Vivienne woke beside me.
She was hungry and started to cry, and Alfred heard it.
But he didn't turn his head.
The smile on Jeanette's face slowly froze.
She looked at the stiff line of his profile.
"Alfred, do you know her?"
I held my daughter and waited for him to speak.
He just moved his eyes away and said quietly, "Someone who helped me once."
Six years of marriage.
Twelve hours of labor.
In the end it was worth only that one line.
I remembered the year he first took over the company, when the city development project stalled and the bank froze every account.
I transferred every cent of savings I'd built up before we married into his account.
Three hundred seventy thousand, not even a spare dollar held back.
That night he held me and said,
"Emily Stephens, once the project takes off, I'll give you the best life there is."
The nurse pushed the door open, two forms in her hands.
She went to Jeanette's bed first.
"The baby's birth information is all recorded. We just need your signature to confirm the father's name."
Alfred took the pen.
His name went down on the birth record of Jeanette's son.
The nurse paused when she turned to the second form.
She looked at me, then at Alfred.
"Ms. Stephens has listed the same man as the father. Could you confirm?"
The room went quiet.
Jeanette's face went white.
She stared at Alfred, her lips shaking.
"Her baby is yours too?"
Alfred didn't answer.
I clutched the swaddle. Vivienne was still crying.
At last Alfred glanced at her.
"Leave it blank for now."
The baby in Jeanette's arms stirred.
Alfred turned at once to soothe him, patting gently.
"Don't disturb Jeanette. She needs to rest."
The nurse stood there, awkward, and held the form out to me. "Ms. Stephens, we'll leave the father's name blank for the time being."
But her father was standing two meters away, holding someone else's son.
While I was pregnant I used to imagine it.
Whether Alfred would be the first to hold her on the day she was born.
I never imagined he wouldn't even put his name to her.
Vivienne cried harder.
The nurse frowned and touched her cheek.
"The baby's blood sugar is a little low. Did the family bring formula?"
I opened my mouth and couldn't speak.
I had nothing.
It wasn't that I hadn't wanted to prepare.
It was that Alfred had said he would bring all of it.
The suitcase by Jeanette's bed was still open.
Bottles, a warmer, diapers, a wrap, tiny clothes.
Every item brand-new and neatly arranged, even the colors matched.
Alfred was silent a few seconds, then took a small can of formula out of the case.
Jeanette caught the cuff of his sleeve.
Her eyes went red, her voice small and wronged.
"Alfred, Edmund's stomach is weak. The doctor said we can't just switch his formula."
Alfred's hand stopped in midair.
A few seconds later he put the formula back.
"Emily, the hospital has spare milk. Make do for now."
I looked at him.
"That's your daughter."
He frowned. "I know."
I held Vivienne, shaking with sobs, and something inside me was hollow.
Jeanette's eyes reddened further. "Alfred, I really didn't know—"
"Don't dwell on it."
Alfred cut her off, his voice very gentle.
"You just gave birth. You mustn't cry."
When he looked back at me his voice turned cold.
"Emily, don't make a scene here."
I was in pain for twelve hours.
Signed the surgical risk consent alone.
Was wheeled into the delivery room alone.
Called him alone after the baby was born.
And in the end, it was just making a scene.
I looked at him and suddenly felt so tired.
I pushed the birth information form back into the nurse's hands.
"Leave the father's name blank. Not for now."
"From now on there's no need to fill it in at all."
第2章
The next morning Jeanette was moved upstairs to a private VIP suite.
Nurses came and went, a night nurse never left her side, and five nutritious meals arrived on schedule every day.
Old Mrs. Finley sent someone over with a gold locket.
It was engraved with the name Edmund, and a photo of it went straight into the family group chat.
I woke up downstairs.
There was nothing on my nightstand but a glass of plain water gone stone cold.
Vivienne was crying with hunger.
She was so small that after two sucks she had no strength left, her cry thin as a kitten's.
A nurse helped me shift her into position to feed.
"Where's the family? Why isn't anyone here with you?"
I kept my head down.
"He's away on business."
At noon, Zoe Finley came.
The first thing she did was look at the crib.
"A girl?"
I held Vivienne and said nothing.
Behind Zoe came the night nurse, a breast pump in her hand.
Something in me dropped hard.
Zoe glanced at the door. "Shut it."
The night nurse reached back and locked it.
Zoe's eyes settled on my chest.
"Jeanette doesn't have enough milk, and Edmund's broken out in a rash from two different formulas. The nurse says your milk's already come in. Pump some for Edmund to tide him over."
My whole body went rigid.
"What did you say?"
Zoe frowned. "They're both Alfred's blood. Edmund is the eldest grandson. What's the harm in sparing him a feed?"
I held Vivienne tighter.
"My milk is for my daughter."
Zoe's face darkened.
"Emily, don't push your luck. Girls are hardy. Missing one meal won't hurt her. Edmund is the root of the Finley line. Nothing can go wrong with him."
The night nurse carried the machine toward me.
"Miss Stephens, just cooperate. It'll be quick."
The instant her hand touched the collar of my gown,
I grabbed that glass of cold water off the nightstand and threw it at her.
Zoe's voice went shrill. "Have you lost your mind!"
Footsteps came from the hall.
Alfred pushed the door open.
He saw the broken glass on the floor first, then Zoe's livid face.
"What's going on?"
Zoe said coldly, "I asked her to pump a little milk for Edmund, and she's acting like I'm trying to kill her."
Alfred looked at me.
"Emily, it's one feed."
Whatever I'd still been holding on to inside came apart for good.
Vivienne's lips had gone white with hunger, her crying rising and falling in waves.
Alfred just stood there, as if he couldn't hear any of it.
I braced myself and tried to get out of bed.
The moment I moved, the wound tore pain up from my lower belly, and cold sweat soaked through the back of my gown in an instant.
Alfred reached out to steady me.
I threw his hand off with everything I had.
"Don't touch me!"
"Your Finleys want an eldest grandson, go find his real mother and figure it out."
"Stop trying to take the food out of my daughter's mouth."
Zoe raised her hand and slapped me.
Alfred's brow drew together.
But he didn't stop her.
He only lowered his voice. "Mom, she just gave birth."
Zoe sneered.
"This much temper right after giving birth. Let her actually raise the child and there'll be no living with her later."
Half my face had gone numb.
Vivienne cried until her lips turned purple, her voice growing weaker and weaker.
I panicked.
I held her and patted her without stopping, calling out to my baby again and again.
The nurse finally pushed the door open.
She saw the red mark on my face and the breast pump on the floor, and her expression changed on the spot.
"What do you think you're doing? She's a new mother, not twenty-four hours postpartum. Who gave you permission to operate a breast pump on your own?"
Zoe's face stayed cold. "Family business. No need to trouble yourself."
The nurse was shaking with anger. "This is a hospital, not your home."
Alfred told the night nurse to pack up the machine.
The nurse turned and went to call the doctor on duty.
Before she left, Zoe fixed her eyes on me.
"You'd better behave yourself. Make a scene out of this, and this child can forget ever setting foot inside the Finley door."
The door closed again.
Only Alfred and I were left in the room.
He stood at the foot of the bed.
"Emily, this ends here. No more of this."
I held Vivienne and didn't look at him again.
第3章
On the third day, the Finley relatives were coming to the hospital to see the baby.
Old Mrs. Finley had a nurse's aide wheel me and Vivienne up to the outer room of the VIP suite.
The outer room was meant for whoever stayed to keep watch, separated from the inner room by nothing but a cloth curtain.
A set of clothes came with us.
A staff badge pinned at the chest.
【Temporary Nurse's Aide】
Alfred stood beside the curtain, not meeting my eyes.
“There are a lot of elders here today. Change into this first.”
I stared at the clothes.
“In the circle of Finley family and friends, Jeanette has always been Mrs. Finley. And today they're filming Edmund's one-month record. A scene right now doesn't do anyone any good.”
I thought of four years ago, back when the company's cash flow snapped.
He'd sat on the living room floor, holding my hands, and said:
“Emily, just hold on a little longer. Once we get through this, I'll make everything up to you.”
Now he had it in him to give someone else flowers and a suite. All he had for me was a nurse's aide uniform.
My throat went tight.
“Just today?”
Alfred seemed to let out a breath.
“Just today.”
Laughter drifted out from the inner room.
Jeanette came out, supported by the night nurse.
She saw the clothes beside me, and the corner of her mouth curved.
“Don't blame Alfred, Miss Stephens. He's only thinking of the bigger picture.”
She came closer, bent to tuck the corner of the blanket, and dropped her voice so only I could hear.
“Emily, you don't actually think one marriage certificate is enough, do you?”
My fingers trembled.
She had already straightened up, eyes reddening as she turned back to Alfred.
“Alfred, is Miss Stephens upset? Shouldn't I have come over to talk to her?”
Alfred looked at me.
I wanted to explain, but his expression was tired and irritated.
I swallowed the words.
“No.”
Jeanette let out a soft sigh.
“Then let me have a look at the baby. She is Alfred's daughter, after all.”
She reached out to touch Vivienne.
Vivienne had been sleeping lightly, and the moment Jeanette touched her, she started to cry.
I instinctively pushed her hand away.
The next second Jeanette staggered back two steps and hit the low cabinet behind her.
She clutched her belly, and the tears came at once.
“Miss Stephens, I only wanted to see the baby. Why did you push me?”
Alfred rushed over to steady her.
“Emily.”
I held the crying Vivienne. “I didn't push her.”
Jeanette leaned into his arms, sobbing until her shoulders shook.
“Never mind. She just gave birth, her emotions are all over the place. I won't hold it against her.”
Old Mrs. Finley's face went livid.
“Jeanette's barely out of her recovery period, and she could still raise a hand to her.”
Behind the curtain, the relatives started whispering.
“That's the woman?”
“Looks quiet enough. Nasty streak, though.”
Alfred was only checking Jeanette for injuries.
After a long while he lifted his head.
“Apologize to Jeanette.”
I looked at him.
If I argued, would he only find me more of a nuisance.
Would he stop leaving even this last bit of room for Vivienne.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
“I'm sorry.”
Jeanette rested against Alfred, her lashes lowered.
The corner of her mouth tilted up, so faint it was almost nothing.
Old Mrs. Finley gave a cold snort. “Owning up sooner would have spared us all this trouble.”
She had someone draw the curtain shut.
The suite was split into two worlds.
That side held flowers, blessings, the eldest grandson.
This side held me, Vivienne, half a cup of cold water, and a nurse's aide uniform crushed in my hand.
In the inner room, the photographer asked in a low voice. “Mr. Finley, do we keep filming?”
Alfred's voice came through the curtain. “Keep going.”
The room grew lively again.
“Edmund really looks like Alfred.”
“Time to start calling you Mrs. Finley, isn't it?”
Jeanette laughed weakly. “Don't say things like that.”
Alfred didn't deny it.
I sat on my side of the curtain, taking in every word.
My phone lit up.
The Finley Group's official page had pushed out a post.
【Alfred Finley, heir to the Finley Group, welcomes his firstborn son; the Winfield Pharmaceuticals heiress and baby are both doing well.】
The comments were all congratulations for Jeanette and the family's eldest grandson.
When the filming was done, Alfred pushed through the curtain, a gift envelope in his hand.
“This is from my mother, for the baby.”
He set the envelope on the nightstand, his tone softening.
“Emily, today was hard on you. But Jeanette isn't well, and Edmund is so small. Don't provoke her again.”
I opened the envelope.
There was no money inside.
Just a bank card and a note.
【Take the money and go. Don't let the child learn to be as low as you.】
Alfred saw the line clearly, and his face changed.
“This wasn't my idea.”
I raised my head to look at him.
“Then how long do you want me to keep taking it?”
He froze.
From the inner room came Jeanette's crying again.
Alfred glanced back, his brows drawing together.
“We'll talk later.”
He left anyway.
The curtain fell back into place.
I sat where I was, holding Vivienne, my tears falling one drop at a time onto her swaddling.
第4章
By the fourth day my fever had climbed to a hundred and two.
A nurse came to me with a form.
"For a fever over a hundred and two, we need a family member to authorize the medication."
I called Alfred.
The first call, the second call, no answer.
The third went straight to a dead line.
Half an hour later, Jeanette posted to her feed.
In the photo, Alfred stood at the floor-to-ceiling window with Edmund in his arms.
The caption read:
【Daddy got the baby to sleep for the first time. Clumsy hands, but so gentle.】
I stared at that photo for a long time.
I remembered him holding my hand, telling me,
"Emily, once the project takes off, I'll put you in the finest house we can find. Our child will have the brightest room in it."
Now the project had taken off.
The finest house went to Jeanette.
The brightest room went to her son.
My daughter lay in an ordinary ward.
The father's line on her records blank, and even a can of formula had to be given up for someone else.
At three in the afternoon, Alfred finally showed up.
A lawyer in a suit followed behind him.
When the folder landed on my bedside table, the fever pulled the room in and out of darkness.
First page, a nondisclosure agreement.
Second page, a custody agreement.
Third page, a draft divorce agreement.
The terms were spelled out plainly.
Our daughter would take my surname.
The father's information would not be disclosed.
I was not to interfere, in any form, with the normal family life of Alfred and Jeanette.
"Normal family."
Those two words worked like a dull blade, cutting into my chest, one stroke at a time.
They had flowers, a suite, a party for the eldest grandson.
Vivienne and I were to be hidden away.
No crying, no scenes, no one allowed to know.
Alfred pushed a bank card across to me.
"Eight million, plus a house in Savannah. Vivienne's schooling from here on, I'll cover all of it."
Vivienne stirred in my arms.
Her tiny hand gripped the collar of my hospital gown, gripped it tight.
Alfred sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Emily, it's not that I don't want you two. After the eldest-grandson party tonight, I'll take you and the baby to the postpartum care center myself. From now on I'll have your whole life arranged."
My marriage, my daughter, six years of everything I had swallowed down.
In his mouth it was only a problem that needed arranging.
The lawyer held out a receipt for me to sign.
"Ms. Stephens, just your signature here."
I took the pen, my fingers shaking so hard I could barely hold it.
The moment I finished writing my name,
Alfred visibly let out a breath.
He thought I'd accepted it.
His phone rang.
Jeanette's voice came through the speaker, thick with tears.
"Alfred, Edmund spit up. Your mother says you have to be at the party tonight."
Alfred glanced at me.
For one instant there was hesitation in that look.
I held Vivienne and waited, quietly.
Waited for him to hang up.
Waited for him to say he wouldn't go tonight.
Waited for him to say he'd stay with us first.
He stood up.
"Emily, I'll be back soon."
I nodded.
"Okay."
After the door closed, sitting there on the bed, all at once I understood everything.
You don't stop loving someone in a single moment.
It's the times you wait and no one comes, the times you're left behind, one after another.
Until at last you don't dare wait anymore.
At eight that evening, the Finley family's eldest-grandson party started right on time.
A Finley relative posted to their feed, then deleted it a few minutes later.
But I'd taken a screenshot.
In the video, Alfred stood beside Jeanette with Edmund in his arms, and someone, wine glass in hand, laughed and asked,
"Alfred, that woman at the hospital, how are you handling her? She won't bring trouble to the old house, will she?"
Alfred was quiet for two seconds.
"She can't leave me."
Someone nearby laughed. "You're that sure?"
Alfred set down his glass, his voice low.
"She's gone through six hard years with me. What she's most afraid of is me not wanting her. I'll smooth things over, and she'll come around."
The video ended there.
I set the phone down and looked at Vivienne for a long time.
So he had known all along.
That I was afraid of being left.
That I couldn't let go of those six years.
That one look back from him and I'd soften.
That was why he'd dared to make me endure it, again and again.
To make me hold my newborn daughter and step aside for them.
I wiped the tears off my face.
Wrapped Vivienne up snug.
At four in the morning, the first express train from New York bound south pulled out of the station.