The Beach Quilt (18 page)

“Your room is really cool,” Cordelia said.

It was the first time she had been in Stevie's room since . . . well, come to think of it, she had never actually been inside Stevie's room, just glanced in from the hall on her way to Sarah's room.

Cordelia had gone to the Bauers' house to see if Sarah was around. She had found the front door unlocked, as it often was, and gone inside. There was no one on the first floor, so she had gone upstairs and found Sarah's room empty. And then Stevie had called out to her.

The room was smaller than Sarah's, but somehow it felt big, which Cordelia thought was weird. Maybe it had something to do with Stevie's personality. Stevie was only a kid, but she was one of those genuinely cool people, not an artificially hip sort. (There were some of them in school, and they were so studied and self-conscious! Really, Cordelia thought that they must be exhausted by the end of the day!)

There was a lot more stuff in Stevie's room than in Sarah's. On top of a big old dresser, there was a large shallow box filled with bangles and beaded bracelets. Next to it was one of those earring trees, hung with all sorts of funky earrings, some with dyed feathers, shiny glass beads, and bits of leather. Next to the display of earrings sat a slightly creepy glass head on top of which was perched a fanciful pink and orange silk hat, covered in some sort of netting. Stevie said that it was from the 1950s.

A stack of books leaned against one wall, the largest volumes on the bottom, the small paperback novels on top. At the very bottom of the pile were a few big art books. Stevie said she had gotten them from one of those fun secondhand bookstores that seemed to be all over the place now. She also had a large collection of books filled with sewing patterns and a handful of graphic novels. Cordelia had always thought that only boys read graphic novels but maybe not. Maybe they were very different from comic books, which were definitely a boy thing from what she could tell.

The bed was covered with a quilt Mrs. Bauer had made when Stevie was born. It was a crazy quilt, a kind of patchwork without a repeating pattern. Cordelia thought that the style suited Stevie. Things looked kind of jumbled at first glance, but when you took another look, you realized there was some method to the madness.

A plush panda bear was propped up against the pillows. Stevie explained that it belonged to Clarissa. “She likes to chew on his ears,” Stevie had said, and indeed, the panda's ears were ragged.

Clearly, Stevie's most precious possession was her sewing machine. It lived atop a sturdy wooden table in the very center of the room. Stevie explained that the machine was kind of old and didn't have some of the features she wanted, but that it worked just fine. Her mother had gotten it for her at a yard sale for only ten dollars.

Cordelia thought it was a tiny bit crazy to sew your own clothes when you could just ask your parents to take you to the mall, but she totally admired Stevie's skill and creativity. There was this one jacket she had made that was beyond awesome. It was a gorgeous shade of dark purple, like one of the wines Cordelia's mother liked, and the sleeves, which were tight from the shoulder, flared out at the wrists. If Stevie weren't so much slimmer, Cordelia would definitely have asked to borrow it.

At the moment, Stevie was sitting at the sewing table, one of the unfinished pieces for the baby's quilt in front of her. Clarissa was draped across her shoulders like a furry shawl. The cat's eyes were closed, but Cordelia wasn't sure she was actually asleep. She suspected that Clarissa was listening intently to everything the girls said. Maybe she even understood some of it. Clarissa was an eerie creature, no doubt about it.

“Where's Sarah?” Cordelia asked. “I thought maybe she'd want to hang out.”

“Out on one of her walks,” Stevie explained. “She'll probably want to walk to the hospital when she goes into labor.”

“Ugh. Don't worry. Your parents won't let her. I won't let her!”

“Oh, I know.” Stevie shrugged and Clarissa grumbled. “I was just exaggerating.”

Cordelia plopped down on the bed. “Hey,” she said, “did you like Justin?”

“No,” Stevie said promptly.

“Oh. Good. I mean, neither did I. This one time I got a weird feeling that he was looking at me a bit too, you know, closely. Like, maybe he thought I was hot or something.”

Stevie grimaced. “That's gross. Did he say anything to you?”

“No,” Cordelia admitted. “I thought afterward that maybe I imagined it. I mean, how awful if it were true. Anyway, mostly he just ignored me, which was fine.”

“I always got the feeling that Sarah kept him away from us, I mean, Mom, Dad, and me, on purpose. She never even invited him for dinner though my mom asked her to a lot of times.”

Cordelia thought about that. “Maybe Sarah thought he was afraid of your dad,” she suggested. “Your father might be kind of intimidating to a guy like Justin.”

“Justin is too dumb to be intimidated.”

Cordelia considered this, too, and decided that she agreed. “Do you think Sarah was embarrassed by him?”

“I don't think Sarah's the kind of person to be embarrassed by someone. I mean, she'd think it was unkind or something.”

That is true, too,
Cordelia thought. Stevie was so smart. “Well,” she said, “maybe she just wanted Justin all to herself.”

Stevie looked doubtful. “But why?”

Cordelia shrugged. “You know that saying, ‘Still waters run deep.' Maybe that describes Sarah. She looks all calm and ordinary, but there's a lot going on beneath the surface we just can't see.”

“Yeah. Actually, that does sound like her.”

“Well, it doesn't matter now. I mean, whatever was going on in Sarah's head when she fell for Justin.”

“But maybe it does,” Stevie said after a moment.

“What do you mean?”

Stevie frowned and looked down at her hands. “I shouldn't even say this. It sounds so horrible. But if Sarah could make this really big mistake once, I mean, going out with a guy like Justin in the first place, someone who was so wrong for her, and then . . . and then, getting pregnant, maybe she'll make another really big mistake. Then what will happen to her life? What if Mom and Dad aren't around? Who will take care of her then? Who will take care of the baby? I guess I could, if I was old enough. . . .”

Cordelia frowned. Poor Stevie. She wondered if Mrs. Bauer knew how worried she was about her sister. She wondered—maybe unfairly—if anyone in the Bauer house even noticed Stevie anymore.

“I don't think you should worry about needing to take care of your sister or the baby,” she said finally. “Anyway, I think Sarah learned her lesson, like my father says. I'd be surprised if she ever goes out with another guy again!”

Stevie smiled but halfheartedly.

“Seriously,” Cordelia went on. “It's not your job to do anything else but be Stevie Bauer right now, this very minute. Just be almost fourteen.”

Stevie smiled more fully now. “What's the job description for being almost fourteen?”

Cordelia smiled back. “Be moody, eat a lot of sugar, and sleep late on weekends.”

“Oh,” Stevie said confidently, “I can do that!”

“Here's your change.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, taking the twenty-seven cents the woman behind the counter handed her.

Sarah's mother had dropped her off in downtown Ogunquit while she ran an errand. Sarah had been craving chocolate, and her mom had given her ten dollars to spend at Harbor Candy Shop.

“If you're going to indulge,” she had said to Sarah, “do it right.”

So Sarah had bought a cellophane bag of nonpareils (she would give half to Stevie) and two cashew and chocolate turtles (she would eat them both herself) and a big piece of bark studded with nuts and dried fruit. She had spent almost the entire ten dollars and felt a bit bad about that, but a bite of a turtle magically erased all guilt.

Sarah took her purchases outside. Tourists were beginning to flood Ogunquit, but Maine Street was still passable. Later in the season, it would be impossibly dense with people and the road would be jammed with cars moving at a snail's pace.

It was hard to believe that it was summer already, and that in two months her baby would be born. The past few months had been challenging, especially as her pregnancy had become general knowledge. There had been some unpleasant moments, like what had happened with Mrs. Blanchard, and one incident at school had really hurt her deeply. But Mr. Kane had acted swiftly, and the girl who had taunted Sarah with an abominable word had been punished without the whole school knowing what had happened. In fact, Cordelia hadn't even learned about the incident. If she had, she might have done something silly. You could say that Cordelia sometimes acted irrationally, but you could never say that her heart wasn't in the right place.

Sarah chomped on a nonpareil. Physically, she felt pretty good. Maybe that was a consequence of being young and healthy to start with. And emotionally or psychologically, well, she was definitely in a better place than she had been back in the winter. She was still terrified of the prospect of becoming a mother at such a young age, but now, she was also excited about it. Maybe not all the time, but sometimes, like when she and her mother and sister and Mrs. Kane and Cordelia were working on the quilt together. And she only felt depressed or panicked a few times a week now.

Suddenly, Sarah noticed a girl halfway up the street. She looked about Sarah's age, and she was definitely pregnant. She was staring at the window display in one of the high-end gift shops. Her blond hair was dolloped with areas of green dye, but other than that she looked totally ordinary in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

Sarah bit her lip. From the start, she had shied away from being around other girls in her situation—no support group for her—and she had come to regret it, not a lot, but a little. She knew that she had been unfairly judging all other pregnant teenagers. There
had
to be some who, like her, were aware of the gravity of their situation. Like maybe that girl staring at the fancy handmade soaps and overpriced throw pillows.

It couldn't hurt to say hello, could it? Maybe they would strike up a conversation, just a brief one, but one that might make them both feel good. After all, they were united by some pretty important factors. They were teenagers and they were pregnant. That had to give them enough in common to make a connection. Maybe.

Plus, Sarah, thought, she could offer the girl some chocolate.

Sarah walked toward the girl with a tentative smile but came to a dead halt within a yard when the girl took a pack of cigarettes from her purse. She opened her mouth to blurt something to the effect of, “Oh, you really shouldn't—” when the girl, sensing her presence, turned toward her.

“What are you looking at?” she spat.

Sarah shook her head. “Nothing. I mean, I just—”

“You were just going to tell me I shouldn't be smoking?”

“No. Well, yes, I guess . . .”

The girl stepped closer to Sarah and lowered her voice. “Listen, bitch,” she hissed. “Back off. I have a right to live my own life without people telling me what's good for me or bad for me.”

“But, the baby—”

The girl laughed and nodded at Sarah's middle. “Like you were smart enough not to get pregnant? You're no better than I am. You have no right to preach to me.”

She's right,
Sarah thought.
I don't.

The girl tossed her cigarette at Sarah's feet and walked off.

Numbly, Sarah ground out the burning cigarette with the toe of her sneaker. She couldn't be sure that no one had witnessed the encounter. The street was busy, but people seemed to be minding their own business. She hoped that they were because she felt massively stupid.

She had been right all along. She
was
alone and different. There was no fellowship for her with other girls in her situation. Worse was the fact that in the eyes of society she was a loser, a screwup. She thought back to the last few weeks of school. Just as term papers were due and exams were happening, she had come down with a nasty stomach flu and had been forced to miss several days of classes. Her final grades had suffered a bit as a result, in spite of her concentrated hard work.

Sarah knew that a college admissions board would see this dip as a sign of laziness. She knew that a college admissions board wouldn't care about cutting slack for a pregnant sixteen-year-old. Why
should
they care?

Sarah had never wanted any special treatment; she had always believed in fair play, and she had always been unusually self-sufficient. She had never been the sort to go crying to Mommy the moment her will was thwarted; in fact, she had often been the one to whom others turned in a time of need.

But now, things were different. Now, at some point in almost every day, she felt the urgent need to grasp for a life support before she drowned in her own chaos. Had she suddenly become a weak person? Could you, in the space of a few months, become a person you could hardly recognize?

It seemed that you could.

“Sarah? Sarah!”

Sarah startled and realized that she had been staring blankly at her mother's car, and at her mother, calling her name and waving.

She went over to the curb and got into the front seat.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked, a frown of concern on her face.

Sarah nodded. “Fine,” she said.

“Good. I don't want us to be late for our quilting time with Cordelia and her mom.”

“And Stevie,” Sarah added automatically.

“Yes. And Stevie.”

The tinkling of the bell over the door alerted Adelaide to the arrival of a customer. Except that it wasn't a customer. It was her daughter.

“This is a surprise,” she said. “A pleasant surprise.”

“Dad dropped me off.” Cordelia looked around the shop. “Where's Mrs. Bauer?”

“She had an errand to run.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Why is it good?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you about something. I suppose it could wait until tonight when you get home but . . .” Cordelia shrugged. “I'm kind of worried about Stevie.”

Adelaide felt a tightening in her chest. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well,” Cordelia began, looking over her shoulder and then back again. “Promise me you won't say anything?”

“Now, how can I promise that without knowing what it is you're going to tell me? Did something bad happen to Stevie? Did someone hurt her? Because then I'll have to—”

“Oh, nothing bad happened,” Cordelia said quickly. “Really. It's just that Stevie told me she's worried about the future. She feels she might have to be responsible for Sarah someday, and the baby, like if her parents aren't around. And, if Sarah makes another—you know, mistake.”

Adelaide felt enormously relieved. Her imagination had scurried into overdrive for a moment. Still, she felt sorry for Stevie. “Oh, the poor girl,” she said. “She shouldn't be burdened with fears like that.”

“That's what I told her. That she should just concentrate on being a kid while she can. But Stevie's like Sarah. She's a deep thinker.” Cordelia smiled a bit. “Unlike me!”

“Well, deep thinking is all well and good until it becomes a morbid obsession.”

“Oh, I don't think Stevie's anywhere near morbid obsession ! But I do feel bad for her. She told me she hasn't talked to her friends about Sarah's situation.”

“Did she say why?” Adelaide asked.
Maybe,
she thought,
Stevie felt embarrassed by her sister. Or maybe she was trying to protect her sister's privacy.

Cordelia sighed. “Not really. Maybe she thinks they won't have anything helpful to say. But I guess she thinks
I'll
have something helpful to say—someday.”

“Well, she trusts you, and that's a good thing. But listen, if she says anything that frightens you, or if you think she's in real trouble, you have to promise to tell me.”

“I promise,” Cordelia agreed. “Okay, I guess I'll head home now. Or maybe I'll go down to the beach for a while, if you don't need me here.”

“No, go ahead,” Adelaide said. “Things are slow today. But why don't you come back at six and we can drive home together.”

Cordelia waved and went off.

Adelaide
had
noticed that her daughter was spending more time with Stevie than she had before Sarah had gotten pregnant, apart from their quilting sessions that was, but she had supposed they were simply passing the time, talking about trivial things or watching Clarissa do her acrobatics. She hadn't considered that Stevie might be sharing serious emotional concerns. She hadn't considered that Cordelia might be doing the very same thing.

Adelaide paused. She wondered if she should talk to Cindy about Stevie's worries. But no, that would be breaking a confidence (two actually—Stevie's to Cordelia, and Cordelia's to her) and, quite possibly, interfering where she had no right to interfere. If Stevie found out, she might feel she could no longer trust Cordelia and that would be a bad thing. As long as Stevie had Cordelia in whom to confide—and as long as Cordelia kept her promise to come to her mother with anything that seriously disturbed her—Stevie should be okay. At least, Adelaide hoped that she would be.