The bright sun woke Agnes up the next morning. Her head throbbed. Where was she? She turned her head away from the window and moaned. Good Lord, she wasn’t wearing a nightgown … how common to sleep, well, she couldn’t even think the word – without undergarments. She must be lying in Norman’s bed. She remembered yesterday – the quick wedding, dinner after the wedding, salmon and too much champagne. She’d fretted over the expense.
Agnes’s stomach lurched. She peeked out the covers and looked about the room. So orderly, even her clothes all folded nicely and placed on top of the dresser. Good, the door was shut – she could reach for her nightgown. Her breasts flopped over the covers and she had to expose her rear end. What if Mama could see her now? She’d simply die.
Shouldn’t her new husband be here beside her? Why’d he leave her alone, her and the baby she’d been carrying eight weeks? Agnes heard the sound of clanging pots from the other side of the door. Norman must be making her breakfast, how romantic! She rose from bed, but a sudden wave of nausea sent a breath of unpleasant air into her throat – and then the scent of bacon made her stomach lurch. To the bathroom, every second mattered!
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