Sparrow Migrations (21 page)

The plover’s last peep faded. Robby looked at his father. Straight in the eye.

“OK, deal. In June.”

Seeing Richard’s car pull into the garage, Brett unconsciously lifted her fingers from her laptop to her lips, biting her nails. Despite his declaration at dinner, Richard had retreated even further into church business as April had become May. Amanda sequestered herself at school as much as possible. Bivouacked in the former guest room, Brett barely remembered the freedom and giddiness she’d felt moving in. Richard’s grace had left her with an abiding sense of nausea. He was opening the kitchen door.

“Hi.”

He nodded.
He can’t even bring himself to speak to me
, Brett thought, noticing how haggard her husband looked. For the first time, sympathy flickered. All Richard wanted was to go back, back to the way their lives were. And it would never happen. Nor was there solace in memories, since he now knew their perfect Christian family had been a mirage. At least she had the hope of a happier future. She was already trying some of Elizabeth’s suggestions, like fresh produce donations, and the meals were running more smoothly and attracting more guests than ever before.

Richard walked around the kitchen counter, carefully keeping a perimeter between them, into the living room and dropped into his chair.

“So, what would you do with two cases of lettuce, eight pounds of carrots, half a case of bananas, and a lot of cherry tomatoes?” Brett twisted on the counter stool, speaking to the back of his head. “Marge just called after produce pickup rounds. That’s tonight’s haul from the restaurants and grocery stores.”

Richard didn’t reply, staring into space, away from her.

“Salad, yes, that’s what I was thinking, too. The bananas could be a take-along, or, if they’re really brown, baked into something. I—”

Richard cleared his throat, turning to face her. “Brett, this isn’t working.”

“What do you mean?”

“This lifestyle.”

“It’s not a
lifestyle
, Richard. You make it sound like—I don’t know—a decorating theme. It’s my life.”
That I’m actually living for the first time
, she thought silently.

“That’s what it feels like. We’ve been married for eighteen years. Together for twenty. Now, all of a sudden, you say it’s all been a fraud.”

All of a sudden.
Brett stood and walked into the living room, facing her husband, her fists curled on her hips. “Do you think I would throw twenty years away on a whim, Richard?”

“Not the Brett I married. But the Brett I married wouldn’t have lied for years, either.”

“Richard, you’re making this impossible!” Brett threw up her hands. “You’re angry about me lying, but you don’t want to hear the truth, either. I can’t win for losing.”

“I guess that’s how you would see it. All about you,” Richard said.

Through Brett’s tears, his face blurred.
He was so wrong. So unfair. For twenty years it had been about nothing but him. And Amanda.

“You know, you’re not the man I married anymore, either. The man who took me on a mission trip, taught me about servant leadership and social justice, he disappeared years ago,” Brett said hotly. “All you care about is being on the marquee in front of the church. Pastor Stevens. You admitted it yourself at dinner.”

Richard looked chagrined, then shrugged.

“It wouldn’t matter if I was just the same, would it? You’re the one who says it’s nature, not nurture.”

Brett was silent. Richard nodded with grim satisfaction.

“Well, fine. I’m washing my hands of it. You’ve made your decision. It’s between you and God now. But I’m not tolerating sinfulness under my roof anymore.” He shook his head, leveling her with his eyes. “You move back upstairs. Or out.”

TWENTY-TWO

O
K, Deborah. Hop up on the table.”

It was her third appointment with the OB and the first ultrasound since her pregnancy was confirmed. She hadn’t been in this room yet or had this technician, whose scrubs top was covered with scattered rainbows.

Deborah wondered if Dr. Dunn required cheerily themed attire as a subconscious positive reinforcement. At the end of this first trimester, she was almost ready to allow herself to believe she would finally become a mother. Almost ready to believe it wouldn’t be taken away again. Still, fear vied with anticipation as top of mind. She wanted to see the baby. Yet indulging would destroy her last fig leaf of protection. If something went wrong from here on, after she’d seen her baby, Deborah didn’t know whether she could recover.

The technician pushed the power switch on a large flat screen TV angled toward the exam table.

“I’m Kristy,” she introduced herself briskly, settling herself on the wheeled stool. “Just lean back now and pull up your shirt and unbutton your pants for me, please. I’m going to tuck this paper liner in here so we don’t get any of the gel on your clothes.” She rolled away from Deborah on the stool to the counter and pulled on rubber gloves, then took up the tube of gel.

Deborah looked down at her belly, which had thickened but not yet swelled. “This will be a little cold,” Kristy warned as she squirted, then smeared it around. “All right. Let’s see what we can see.”

Holding a wand that looked like a tire gauge to Deborah, she began moving it in slow circles around Deborah’s belly. The wand felt warm through the thick gel. The television screen changed from black to a pulsing, grayish-blue hue. “Is that the baby?” Deborah asked, leaning forward.

“Lean back, please. I need you to remain still.” Deborah leaned back, her eyes never straying from the screen. “That’s your uterus. I’m trying to find the baby inside. Let’s try a little lower.”

Deborah felt her pants tugged down farther, the wand brushing just above her pubic bone. “Ah. There we are.”

A white, comma-shaped blob floated onto the screen. Instinctively trying to see better, Deborah sat up again. The picture flickered and disappeared. She leaned back before Kristy could correct her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Can you get it back again? Please try to get it back.”

“Relax,” Kristy resumed the wand’s slow motion. The blob reappeared, larger and closer this time. Deborah could see tiny webbed fingers and toes protruding from what looked like stunted arms and legs. “Ah, she’s giving us a profile. Good girl,” Kristy murmured.

“You can tell it’s a girl?” Deborah asked. Kristy paused and squinted.

“Well, I don’t see anything that would indicate a boy. How far along are you, again?”

“About twelve weeks.”

“Right. Too early to say officially, then. I guess that was just a reflex. You seem like you’re going to have a girl. Working here, you get a feeling for these kinds of things.”

With a red laser pointer, she indicated the baby’s eye socket and ear. A throbbing white dot was the heartbeat. Deborah could see the bump of the nose, and a big belly. Then, after freezing the image on the screen, Kristy wiped the gel off.

“You’re all done. How many prints would you like?”

“Excuse me?” Deborah’s eyes were fixed on the screen, but her mind was thinking about Christopher. She had imagined this moment so many times, sharing their first glimpse of their child. It was never supposed to be her first glimpse of their child. But Christopher knew nothing of the appointment; she was meeting Julia at the smoothie shop afterward to debrief. He would say that was another consequence of her unilateral decision to go ahead with the transfer. But hadn’t he acted just as unilaterally in moving out?

“How many prints would you like? People usually want a few, for family members.”

Deborah winced. So far, she was the only family her child was assured. Christopher would point out even that wasn’t guaranteed, given Helen’s diagnosis. “Two will be fine,” she said, still watching the screen.

“Two it is.” Kristy peeled off her gloves and regarded Deborah with her hands on her hips. “OK. You need a few more minutes to look at your baby. We’re not busy. You go ahead. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you,” Deborah whispered, dimly aware of being left alone. She slid off the table and approached the screen, thoughts of Christopher fading. Her baby was real.
Her baby
. The image was like a magnetic field, drawing her inexorably toward it. There in black and white, curled up on a forty-inch screen, was a baby she could recognize, even without Kristy’s guided laser tour.

With her palm she could cover the magnified image of the head. She traced along the spine, and then rested her finger over the tiny hands. It was a crystalline moment, one that captured the essence of motherhood: to protect and nurture and love, ferociously and unconditionally. Physically, the baby looked almost alien. Yet Deborah felt instantaneous attachment. Christopher should be here, she thought. Seeing is loving, no matter what secrets were within the invisible double helix that twined inside.

“Hello, baby girl,” she said softly. “I can’t wait to meet you.”

At the reception desk, Kristy handed her the pictures. “We’ll probably see you again in another six weeks or so. Be able to tell if I was right about a daughter by then.”

“I’ll be here,” Deborah said.

Her cell phone rang as she stepped outside with her two-dimensional treasures.

“I’m running late. Be there in fifteen minutes,” Julia said.

“OK.”

“How did it go?”

“Perfect.” Deborah answered. She carefully stepped around a puddle, not wanting to disturb the cluster of sparrows splashing there. “Just perfect.”

“Welcome to Ithaca, Brett. We’re so glad to have you here.”

“Thank you.” Brett shook hands with Pastor Susan Ellis. “Call me Pastor Sue,” said the chair of the Ithaca Interfaith Alliance board of trustees, who had posted the Alliance’s director position on Elizabeth’s website.

“This is Julia Adams, another board member and volunteer,” Pastor Sue continued. “She’ll be participating in the interview today, too.” Brett shook hands with a very pregnant woman who looked to be in her late thirties.

“Pleased to meet you both. I’m glad to be here, too,” Brett said automatically. How long had it been since she’d done a job interview? Years, no question. But she didn’t feel as nervous as she’d expected around these two. They were in Pastor Sue’s office, a cramped cinder block box that reminded her of Richard’s.

Still, there was plenty of adrenaline pumping. This job seemed so perfect. Foreordained, even. She’d visited the website a few times without luck before this posting came up, within two weeks of Richard’s ultimatum. Ithaca was barely a hundred miles from Scranton. An easy weekend drive for Amanda, who was at driver’s training at that very moment. And in the state of New York, home to a host of drama schools.

“We appreciate you taking the time to come up,” Pastor Sue said. “We’ll talk here, then go over to Immaculate Conception—that’s the Catholic church scheduled to host tonight’s dinner—so you can see some of our operation. Hopefully we’ll have you back on the road home by seven.”

“Because I’ll need to be in bed by then, too,” added Julia, smiling and touching her belly in a gesture Brett remembered herself.

“When are you due?”

“August first. Less than two months.”

“I’ve been telling her she’s got to work on her timing. She’ll be sweating out the dog days,” Pastor Sue said.

“Congratulations.” Brett leaned forward eagerly. “It’s really a coincidence to be meeting with you. I’ve been wanting to try out an idea to expand your fundraising and volunteer base.”

“The sooner we do both, the better,” Pastor Sue said.

“Yes, go on, please, Brett.” Julia nodded.

“You can do it by offering meal delivery to new mothers.”

Julia and Pastor Sue raised four eyebrows back at her.

“It’s not my own idea,” Brett added quickly. “I visited another church that implemented a program like that with a lot of success.”

She summarized the Stork Express program Elizabeth had started in Charlotte.

“You’re already doing meal preparation and delivery here. So without requiring any new resources—beyond more food—the Stork Express program expands the Alliance’s reach and reputation among an entirely new audience, one that can help sustain it.” She took a breath.

“What’s such a wonderful coincidence is that you’re already plugged into the new mom community.” Brett nodded at Julia. “That would give us a head start.”

Neither she nor Pastor Sue had said a word, though both scribbled notes as Brett talked. Suddenly conscious of the silence, Brett felt her nerves return. She hadn’t even let them ask the first question before she started rattling on.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you have questions for me.”

Pastor Sue and Julia exchanged a look. Brett thought she detected an almost imperceptible nod. Pastor Sue turned and focused on her.

“We do.” She paused. “I’ve never done this with a job candidate so quickly, but you make quite a first impression. You’re creative, you’re eager, you’re connected, you’re smart. You’re exactly who we need at the Alliance. When can you start?”

Brett blinked. Was she serious?

“Excuse me, I’m not sure I understand. We haven’t even finished the interview. You’re offering me the job?”

“I am.” Pastor Sue nodded. “Our executive committee empowered me to make an immediate offer, to the right candidate, of course. But I imagine you’d probably like to see a little more of the Alliance operation first. Why don’t we head over to Immaculate Conception right now? We’ll take the scenic route and show you a little bit of Ithaca, too.”

“All right,” Brett agreed, feeling a bit dazed.

Julia drove and doubled as tour guide. “You can’t come to Ithaca and not see Cornell University. Of course, I’m biased. It’s my alma mater and paycheck provider now.”

“Don’t forget Ithaca College,” Pastor Sue said from the backseat. “Remember, we’re headed to George’s place.”

“George is our board member representing Immaculate Conception. He’s a pretty popular professor at Ithaca College. English Lit,” Julia said. “Education is pretty much Ithaca’s biggest industry. The K-12 schools have a great reputation, too.”

“Do they?” Brett said neutrally.

“Careful, Julia,” Pastor Sue said from the backseat.

“I know, I know.” Julia waved her hand and rested it on her belly again. “We can’t ask you about children. But for me, right now, schools are so important. So I’m just saying,
in case
it would happen to be important for you, the schools here are very good. Public and private.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” Brett said. She looked out the window. Amanda would be a senior this fall. A bad time to start a new school. But could Brett really move away and leave her in Scranton? In the abstract, the idea of weekend visits seemed ideal, a year not so long. Now that the job appeared to be hers for the taking, Brett didn’t feel so sure of the happily-ever-after ending. Her track record predicting outcomes where Amanda was concerned hadn’t been very good lately, either.

Yet Richard’s ultimatum was real. This job was an excellent match for her skills. A parent with New York residency could be a real plus for Amanda in just a year. And if she was completely honest, Brett admitted she liked the idea of a fresh start in a new place. So it all came down to timing. Would it play in her favor, or against?
Sign, sign, everywhere a sign.
Brett pressed her head to the window and scanned Ithaca’s leafy streets for one.

Deborah wrapped her hands around the teacup at Campus Cantonese, enjoying the sensation of heat seeping through the thick china into her palms. It was barely summer, but the air-conditioning in the restaurant was giving her goose bumps.

Then again, maybe it was because Christopher would show up any minute.

Since he had moved into the vacant visiting faculty apartment, they had spoken on the phone a few times, mostly to negotiate logistics about their shared bank accounts. Otherwise, Deborah left him alone, giving him the space and time he’d said he needed. She filled her days with work, yoga, outings with Julia, and planning for the baby. Moments of anxiety and feeling overwhelmed still blindsided her. At work, Phillip was still an ass. But she had a sharp, new, black-and-white vision of her future.