One More Try

A Blessing in Disguise

"Is this? No it can't be. I can't. This... no, no, no..."
Jean felt as if she was about to faint when she saw the second line on the test. But it couldn't be more clear and deep down she knew that the test wasn't wrong. This explained everything, her moodiness, her crying spells (although that could have been her divorce), the morning sickness and all day nausea, the sudden aversions and cravings. And yet, this was probably the most stupid, reckless thing she'd ever done. Because this hadn't just happened, Jean knew that immaculate conception wasn't a thing in the 20th century. Jean had a reputation for being hard to please, moody, manipulative and difficult to work with, but getting pregnant by her ex husband, who happened to be the love of her life, on whom she had cheated and only finding out after signing the divorce papers? That was a new low, even for her standards. She was the worst. It was official now. Jean Horton was the absolute worst.
She couldn't tell Reginald, he wouldn't believe it was his anyway. And who could blame him, she'd cheated on him and treated him atrociously. She didn't even know why, Reginald Paget had been the first man to treat her with respect, who didn't drink too much or hit her or had any other vices. He was nice. Too nice for reckless Jean, she felt terrible. She'd felt terrible the entire time because she knew she loved him. It was just ridiculously hard to be vulnerable and let go of the whole "I am invincible"-act. Letting people in had never been her strong suit and letting Reg peek behind the curtain had scared her. Now she'd ruined everything, their relationship, her life, she'd broken his heart and, worst of all, she'd bring an innocent child into the mix. Poor thing, but getting rid of the baby wasn't an option she even considered.
Ironically, now that Jean knew for sure that she was pregnant, she felt at peace. Finally some certainty, she appreciated that. She'd never been a maternal person. Never wanted children, they were loud, rude and their sticky fingers ruined everything they touched. Still, for a split second, before her mind took over again, Jean felt a kind of love flood her body that she'd never felt before. She felt like she had someone on her team now. Someone to live for. Someone to fight for. The baby wouldn't be born into the perfect set of circumstances, but Jean was determined to give this child the best possible life, she knew that she could provide for the two of them without Reginald's help. Damn it, she was Jean Horton after all, deemed the Queen of Opera by various publications. She could do it, and she would.
After getting over the shock, Jean made herself a cup of tea and sat down, caressing her belly, even though there was nothing to feel or see yet. She knew that and felt a little silly, yet it felt like she was glowing from the inside. Her little secret, even though she knew she would have to share it eventually with at least a few people she trusted.
Later that day she called her doctor to make an appointment to make sure everything was okay. Next on her list her manager, who said she'd call her back. Jean strongly suspected that she needed a drink and honestly, she understood. Big news and such. Last but not least, she called her best (and to be honest, her only) friend, Cissy Robson. To Jean's great relief, Cissy was over the moon for her friend and offered her support. Unlike her best friend, Cissy was definitely a person who loved children. This was a relief, it takes a village to raise a child and Jean knew that she hadn't much of a village. To this day, the great Jean Horton hadn't really needed anyone but now she couldn't really help but feel a little lonely.

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The next few months were hard, but Jean managed to keep a low profile and arrange everything for her baby's arrival. She would keep the child a secret, it was one thing that the media made her life a living hell, but the baby had no say in this. Hiding her growing bump became more and more tricky, but she couldn't rest until everything was perfect for the arrival of her baby. She bought a townhouse in London, in addition to her manor in Cornwall so her child could grow up in a big, beautiful city, with good schools and hopefully many opportunities. She also bought lots of little clothes, mostly neutral as she wanted to keep the baby's sex a surprise. Only after the nursery had been painted, furniture had been built and curtains chosen Jean allowed herself to rest. Now she finally felt like she was ready.
Mid-October Jean Horton safely delivered a healthy baby girl. She named the child Ophelia Catherine, Catherine as she knew it was Reg's late mother's name and Ophelia because to her, it was the prettiest Shakespearean name. To Jean, her little girl was the most beautiful and perfect child in the world, so different from the noisy brats she'd known before. Ophelia was Jean's perfect little angel. There couldn't possibly be a prettier child in the world and indeed, Ophelia was a pretty baby. She had a head full of dark hair and the most mesmerising blue-green eyes. Jean could spend hours watching her baby in the crib, observing the tiny hands that grabbed anything that came near them, the chubby arms and legs and the teeny tiny feet. She loved the special baby smell and the happy baby babbles. She loved her baby's toothless grins and giggles. And whenever Ophelia cried, Jean was besides herself, and rushed to make things better, she never wanted her precious little girl to have a reason to cry. She sang to her for hours and the baby loved it. They soon developed a very close bond, they became a team, just as Jean had wanted. Soon, she could tell from her daughter's cries what the little one needed. All in all, Ophelia, or Pheli, was a content and easy baby who didn't cry a lot. She loved attention and was really alert. It was probably wishful thinking, but Jean seemed to find many of Reginald's mannerisms in her, no, their daughter. Just like him, the little girl had mellowed her mother. Never in her life had Jean tried harder to be a better person, at least to those around her.
Not many people knew about Ophelia's existence, only the doctors, Cissy, who was her godmother and the nanny Jean had hired. A nanny? It hadn't been easy for her, but Jean was back in rehearsals for a new production in late November. She adored her baby, but she also loved her job and more importantly, nobody could know something had changed. She had to pretend that everything was the way it had been, even though her life had been so fundamentally changed.
Jean had taken the summer off as usual, the rest of her absence had been explained by working on an album. Which was true, she had made arrangements for the recording sessions and started practicing. Still, she needed to get back to the stage as audiences had, as one of her teachers had once said, "a bad memory". Jean had to stay relevant, not just for her own sake but also in order to be able to provide for her daughter.
It hurt her to leave Ophelia alone so much. She was pumping milk for her, even though she couldn't feed it to her in person. Jean hated thinking about how the nanny got to feed Pheli, give her a kiss goodnight and cuddle with her. She would never say anything about it though, Jean was a professional through and through, but she was jealous.
Whenever she had time, she spent it at home, with her baby instead of partying, eating out or on shopping sprees like she used to. Cissy kept them company a lot, she didn't mind that her friend had changed. It would be a lie to say that Jean wasn't hurt by many of her old acquaintances dropping her when she changed her lifestyle. But she had her darling baby, so in the end, she felt that it was alright.
One thing Jean couldn't get over, no matter how happy she was about her baby and how full her heart was, was the fact that she missed Reg dreadfully. Witnessing Ophelia develop and grow every day was just wonderful to watch, an absolute miracle and Jean was sad that Reg didn't even know what he was missing. The amount of guilt she felt almost crushed her. In addition to this, Jean was sad for Ophelia, because not having a father was a terrible burden. Growing up without a father wasn't something she wanted for her daughter. Yet, with every passing day it seemed even more impossible to ever tell Reginald the truth. The lies, guilt and sadness kept her up many nights.
Last but not least, Jean was sad because she missed him. She missed Reg for who he was, she missed him as her lover, advisor, partner, friend, protector, co-parent, even as a colleague. She had ruined everything. Back then, Jean hadn't seen any other way, she'd been scared of being vulnerable, she had been looking for anonymous thrills that didn't mean a thing but made her adrenaline soar. Different men had promised exactly that and Jean had been dumb enough to accept. It had never been the thrill she had hoped for, it had alway left her feeling empty and tired, sad and confused. So of course she'd stopped and tried to look forward and forget, she wished she'd had the chance to talk to Reg before the press had found out and made everything public. But it was too late, much too late. Still, Jean tortured herself with ifs and woulds and coulds, night after night while her baby was sleeping in the crib next to her bed.
The only thing Jean felt she could do was writing letters and making scrapbook after scrapbook to document Ophelia's progress. She wrote a letter to Reg almost every night. First and foremost about Ophelia, even about the tiniest things she did and achieved, so that maybe one day he could at least read about them. And she wrote him love notes, passionate, desperate, longing love notes, because at least the paper was patient enough to hear what nobody else wanted to hear anymore. While she knew she wouldn't be able to face Reginald in real life and tried her best to avoid him at all costs, Jean still couldn't seem to get over him and she caught herself wondering whether he was still thinking about her from time to time. She sure was.