The Beach Quilt (27 page)

“Was it a nice walk?” Stevie asked when their mother had gone into the house.

“Yeah,” Sarah said. “I saw some really grotesque mushrooms, the kind that look like gargoyles. And I saw a mother deer and her fawn in the distance.”

“That sounds cool.”

Sarah smiled in spite of the fact that she felt embarrassed that Stevie had been a witness to the fight with their mother. She realized she knew so little about Stevie's life these days, what she was thinking, how she spent the time when she wasn't working with everyone else on the baby's quilt. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen Stevie's friends, Marly and Tara and Shannon, around in months. And when was the last time she had watched a movie with her sister or made ice-cream sodas or talked about a book they had both read? Was Stevie unhappy? Not knowing made Sarah unhappy.

“I'm sorry you had to hear that,” she said now. “Mom and I never used to fight. Now it seems like we're always at each other's throats.”

“Yeah. Mom's been a bit hyper lately. She probably didn't mean anything, you know, critical.”

“Maybe,” Sarah admitted. “It's just that she's become so overprotective lately. Anyway, I'm sorry. This all must be so hard on you.”

Stevie shrugged and stuck her hands in the back pockets of her black-and-white-striped pants. Sarah thought that they were new; at least, she hadn't noticed them before.

“And I've only been thinking about me and my problems. I'm sorry, Stevie. I hope you're not feeling ignored around here.”

Stevie shook her head now. “It's no big deal. Well, what I mean is don't worry about me. I'm fine.”

“Are you sure, Stevie?”

“Yeah. You know, I could go on a walk with you sometime.”

Sarah smiled. She was touched by her sister's offer. “You wouldn't rather hang out with your friends?”

“Well, I like hanging out with my friends, but I like hanging out with you, too. Besides, maybe Mom won't freak out so much if she knows someone's with you.”

“You'll be my protector?” she asked with a smile. “My knight in shining armor?”
Well,
she thought,
Justin certainly hadn't been.

Stevie straightened her shoulders. “I'm pretty tough when I need to be.”

“Well, I hope you wouldn't need to be! By the way, are those new pants? They're really nice.”

“Sort of new. I made them about a month ago. I've worn them a few times.”

“I'm sorry. I guess I just never noticed them before.”

“I've been spending some time with Cordelia,” Stevie said suddenly. “But I guess you know that.”

“Really?” Sarah was genuinely surprised at this news, and also, she realized, a tiny bit jealous. “No, I didn't know. That's great. I mean, what with me being so . . . so preoccupied and all. I guess I haven't been a very good friend to her.”

“She never complains.” Stevie smiled. “She's really kind of fun.”

“I know! She's so different from me in some ways. But I guess maybe that's why we're friends. Though sometimes I think she must find me boring.”

“No. I think she finds you kind of fascinating. I think she admires your being so smart. She says you're an intellectual.”

Sarah smiled ruefully. “Maybe someday,” she said. But when? How could she focus on training her mind with a child to support? She might not make it to college until her thirties, if ever. She would definitely never make it to law or nursing school. A wave of depression washed over Sarah. It was something that happened so often, every halfway pleasant moment interrupted by a rush of fear and sadness.

“I should apologize to Mom,” she said now. “I guess someday I'll be just like her. I mean, crazy worried about my child. Maybe it's inevitable.”

Stevie smiled. “That's kind of a scary thought. But isn't it one of those clichés, that we all turn into our parents eventually?”

“Well, things could be worse. Mom and Dad are pretty great.”

“Yeah, we really don't have anything to complain about, do we? Well, not much. There was that time when Mom got that really awful haircut, remember?”

Sarah pretended to shudder. “That really was terrible, wasn't it? And I was so embarrassed to be seen with her! How mean of me. But I was only twelve. I guess most twelve-year-olds are embarrassed by their parents no matter what they do or how cool they are.”

Sarah paused, stunned, because it had just occurred to her that before too long,
she
would have a child who would be embarrassed by her very presence in the room. Sarah didn't know how she would possibly handle being hated by the very person she loved the most, even if that “hate” was just a passing adolescent mood.

“What's wrong?” Stevie asked. “You look kind of weird suddenly. Are you sure you weren't bit by some evil poisonous insect on your walk?”

Sarah forced a smile. “No evil poisonous insect. Let's go in. I'm starved.”

“And,” Stevie said, “we don't want Mom to start freaking again.”

They had finished dinner some time ago. Cordelia had gone off to watch a few episodes of
Fashion Foot Soldiers
she had taped (the show had to do with shoes and boots, of course), and Jack had lingered at the kitchen table with Adelaide, where she had finally told him about her mother's e-mail. Not the part that had criticized him but all the rest. Understandably, he was furious.

“Will you let me confront her?” he asked. “She has some colossal nerve treating you so badly.”

“But what could you possibly say?”

“I could tell her to leave my wife the hell alone.”

Adelaide smiled sadly. “I don't think it will do any good, Jack. She's not going to change at this point in her life. But thank you. Thank you very much.”

There was another reason Adelaide didn't want Jack getting involved. She was afraid that her mother might turn her nastiness on
him
, too. Jack's ego was pretty tough, but still, he did not need that sort of grief.

“Cordelia's still not meeting my eye,” she said now. “It's like I told her I'd been in jail for murder.”

“She'll come around.”

Adelaide laughed a little wildly. “What is it about me, Jack? My mother hates me. My daughter hates me.”

“No one hates you, Adelaide,” Jack said, taking her hand. “Your mother is just deficient in the maternal instinct department. Sorry, but it's true. Cordelia is just being a teenager. Be patient with her.”

“I'm trying, really.”

“Good. On another topic, I tried to talk with Joe earlier.”

“About what?” Adelaide asked.

“Plans for Sarah to finish high school. Plans for her going on to college.”

Jack was well positioned to know a lot about Sarah and her potential. She was very smart and a very good student, and even though there was little academic bent to her home life, Jack had always felt certain that with a little encouragement Sarah could get into an academically sound college. As for the cost, well, he and the school counselors would help her with applications for financial aid and scholarships. If necessary, they would encourage her to attend a junior college for the first two years and then transfer to a four-year school.

But now, Sarah's future was in jeopardy.

“And?” she asked.

“And he politely but firmly declined to discuss his daughter's future. And since we were in his workshop surrounded by implements of destruction, I let it drop.”

“Well, he is a classic old-time Mainer,” Adelaide pointed out. “Private and self-sufficient and proud.”

“That man might prove too proud for his own good one day.”

“He's not stupid, Jack.”

Jack sighed. “I didn't say that he was. But sometimes it's a lot smarter to ask for help than to try to tackle a complicated problem on your own. It's a lot smarter to admit you don't have all the answers before things get out of hand.”

“That's true. But it's also smart to know when you can't force someone to face a problem on your time line or to do what
you
think is best for them to do. I learned my lesson with Cindy when I tried to push the idea of an adoption.”

“Yeah. You're right. Interesting, isn't it?” Jack mused. “Sarah gets pregnant, and we all wind up learning some tough lessons.”

“No person is an island.”

“And it takes a village. Well, I don't know about you but I could stand a little levity. How about we watch an episode of
Arrested Development
?”

Adelaide smiled. “Good idea. We'll laugh at the absurdity, and our own lives will seem so much more normal.”

Cindy was poaching a chicken bought from a local farm in order to make a curry chicken salad for dinner. It was a family favorite. (Even Clarissa liked it, though she avoided the raisins by picking them out with one long, needlelike nail.) The carcass and assorted vegetables would go toward making chicken stock. Her mother had taught her the beauty and value of a good homemade stock, and not just for making soup.

“Yum, curry chicken salad!”

Cindy looked around to see Sarah coming in to the kitchen. “Someday,” she said, “you'll probably be bored with it.”

“Never.”

Sarah had apologized after their latest conflict. Cindy had apologized as well. Neither was one to hold a grudge.

“Mom?” Sarah asked, taking a seat at the table. “Be honest, okay.”

“Okay.” Cindy never liked it when people began a conversation by extracting this promise. She always hoped that she
could
be honest, but sometimes, well, sometimes honesty was not the best policy.

“What would my grandmother have thought about my situation?” Sarah asked.

Thankfully, Cindy didn't have to lie. “Oh, well,” she said promptly, “I think she'd be worried about your future, and the baby's future. But she would have loved to work on the baby's quilt, and she would have been fully supportive of you. Of that I'm entirely sure.”

“Unlike Grandpa?”

“Well . . . your grandfather is different.”

“I never asked what he said when you told him I was pregnant.”

“He said that he wished you luck.”

“That's all?”

“Yes.” It was the truth.

“Oh.” Sarah attempted a smile. “I guess it could have been worse.”

“He's not a bad man, you know. He's just—different from your father.”

“I know. I wonder what Grandma would think about his being married to someone so much younger than he is. Someone with teenagers.”

Cindy had often pondered the very same question. “I think,” she said, “that she would want your grandfather to be happy. But I also think she would want him to spend some time with his grandchildren.”

“And his daughter?” Sarah asked with a small smile.

“I guess she would want that, too. I do miss him, even though he was never very demonstrative with either my mother or me.” And maybe, Cindy thought, that was why she had married a man who, though quiet, was also very generous with his affection.

“I wonder if he'll come to see his great-grandchild.”

“I hope so,” Cindy said, but she wondered if she meant that.

“I'll ask him to visit. His wife too. She could come if she wants to.”

“Of course,” Cindy said.

“They would probably have to stay in Stevie's room. The baby will be with me, of course. We'd have to borrow a sleeping bag or an air mattress for Stevie . . .”

“Well, I wouldn't worry about that now,” Cindy suggested.

“I'm not worried. Just thinking ahead. I'd like the baby to know his uncle Jonas, too, and his aunt Marie. Maybe they would visit us sometime.”

“And his cousins in Brunswick? Ben and Jill and their children?”

“Of course,” Sarah said. “Maybe the baby will bring everyone in the family closer together. Or do you think I'm being silly? Is that just wishful thinking?”

Cindy was pretty sure that it
was
wishful thinking, but what she said was, “No. A baby can work all sorts of miracles.”

Sarah smiled. “Thanks, Mom,” she said. “I'll set the table for dinner.”

“What do you have?” Sarah asked.

The girls were sitting on a bench at the top of the beach; it was their lunch break. Cordelia unwrapped her sandwich.

“Turkey and Swiss cheese. With Miracle Whip, of course. Mayonnaise is totally boring.”

“I've got peanut butter and grape jelly. Lately, I can't get enough peanut butter and grape jelly. Talk about boring!”

“At least it's good for you,” Cordelia said. “My mom has this brownie recipe that uses peanut butter. It's awesome. Seriously fattening, though.”

“Mmm,” Sarah mumbled. “She made them for my birthday last year.”

For a few minutes, Cordelia ate her sandwich and watched an adorable little boy, about two she guessed, playing in the sand. He was wearing a blue bonnet to protect his wee head from the sun. His arms and legs were adorably chunky, and he had a little Buddha belly. Cordelia wanted to squeeze him. She wondered if her half-brother had been that awesomely cute when he was little.

“I found out something really big,” she blurted. “About my mother.”

Sarah looked over at her. “Is she okay?”

“Oh, she's fine. It's something that happened a long time ago.”

“How did you find out?” Sarah asked. “And don't say you were snooping through her things!”

“I would never do that,” Cordelia protested, even though she had been tempted once or twice, just out of natural curiosity. But her mother kept her stuff so orderly, Cordelia knew she would be found out in a minute. “She told me.”

“Is it a secret? I mean, does anyone else know?”

Cordelia's conscience pricked at her. She knew that she should say yes, it's a secret, because she felt that it was. It was so big that it had to be. Instead, she said, “No, it's okay if I tell you. You just can't tell anyone else, okay? Not even your mother.”

Sarah, mouth full again, nodded.

Cordelia looked again at the little boy in the blue hat. “When my mom had just graduated from high school she had a baby,” she said. “A boy. And she gave him up for adoption.”

The moment the words had left Cordelia's mouth, her conscience did more than prick at her. It stabbed at her. She knew she had done wrong. The secret had absolutely not been hers to reveal. Telling Sarah about her mother's past was an act of betrayal; it was an act of childish anger. But it was too late to take back the words that had been spoken.

“Wow,” Sarah said after a moment. “Your poor mother.”

“Yeah, well, poor me, too!” Cordelia was aware that she sounded sulky, but she couldn't seem to help it. Besides, somehow sand had gotten into her sandwich. That was always really annoying.

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

“I could have had a brother! I mean, a brother I could have actually known!”

Sarah laughed. “Doubtful. If your mother had kept the baby, she probably never would have met your dad and you never would have been born. Do you think she'd have had the freedom to take a vacation in Ogunquit—that's how she met your dad, right?—if she was supporting a child all on her own?”

Cordelia brushed aside this objection, though it had the ring of sense to it. A lot of what Sarah said had the ring of truth to it. Sometimes, Cordelia found this as annoying as sand in her sandwich.

“It's different for every person,” Sarah went on, with, Cordelia thought, a very smug air of wisdom. “You can't judge another's choice. You weren't there. It was a different time and place. And you're not her.”

“I can't believe you're defending my mother in this!”

“I'm not defending her,” Sarah argued. “That would imply she had done something wrong and needed defending.”

Cordelia frowned. Why did Sarah always have to have a reasonable answer to other people's unreasonable behavior?

“I mean, if she could give away one baby, what was to stop her from giving away another? Like me?” Cordelia winced at her own words. She knew that her mother had not done what she had done lightly. She knew she had suffered and was probably still suffering.

“Yeah, but that didn't happen, did it? Come on, Cordelia. Don't be silly.”

Cordelia looked back to where she had last seen the toddler. He and his mother were gone. Suddenly, it all felt like too much. Too much change, too much sadness, too much loss. “I wish you weren't having this baby,” she blurted. “I wish you had—”

“What?” Sarah asked quietly. “You wish I had what?”

Cordelia bit her lip. There was no way she could bring herself to say, “I wish you had had an abortion. I wish you had had a miscarriage.” It would be too, too cruel. Instead, she said, “I wish that you had never gotten pregnant.”

“But I did. And there's no point in wishing for something you can't have. Besides, now that I am pregnant, now that I know there's this little person in me, I don't want it any other way. I wouldn't turn back time. He's mine now. Can you understand that? We're bonded forever, no matter what happens.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia said. “I understand.” But she wasn't sure that she could understand, not really, not like Sarah could.

They finished their lunch in a slightly uncomfortable silence. Cordelia supposed she should get used to uncomfortable silences. There would always be a river of difference between them now. Well, it was better than not having Sarah as a friend at all. And, it was inevitable that their lives would go in different directions; she knew that well enough. She had just never expected it to happen so soon.

“We'd better get back to the shop,” Sarah said. “Help me up?”

Cordelia smiled, stood, and reached for Sarah's hand. “With pleasure,” she said. “How about I buy us each a cookie on the way back?”

“As long as mine has peanut butter in it.”