The Four Seasons (33 page)

Jilly smiled, taking her first easy breath. “Me, too. I was told
when I started looking for you that it might go quickly, but I didn't know how quickly.”

“I have a thousand questions but I can't think of one of them.”

“Now I know why they advised me to write them down. All I can think right now is how wonderful it is just to hear your voice.” She paused, giving Anne Marie a chance to speak. When she didn't, she tried filling in the long silence. “I could begin by telling you that you have your grandmother's name. Ann.”

“Really?” She sounded very surprised. “Did you give me that name?”

“No. I…” She didn't want to tell Anne Marie that she wasn't given a name at birth, rather like Pirate Pete had not been named for lack of attachment. “Your adoptive mother chose your name.”

“You mean my mother.”

Jilly cringed, squeezing her eyes tight. Darn, she hadn't meant to get into that. “Yes!” she replied quickly. “I was just trying to be clear about who I was talking about.”

“I think I should be clear about this, too. Right away,” Anne Marie said with more firmness in her voice than Jilly had heard yet. “I have a mother. I don't need another. That's not what this is about.”

“Of course not.” Jilly reached frantically for her pack of cigarettes on the bed. Her hands were shaking so violently that she had to shake out a couple of cigarettes to grab hold of one. While she lit up, she listened as Anne Marie's words riddled her like bullets.

“When I started looking for my birth mother, it wasn't to replace my mother. She's been wonderful. Is wonderful. I love her very much. I just wanted to know more about myself. And my roots, you know? My biological family.” She paused. “And I wondered about you. I didn't know anything about you.” Her
tone revealed a hint of hurt and anger that Jilly hadn't tried to contact her sooner.

There was a roaring in Jilly's ears and all she could reply was a stuttered, “No, no, how could you know anything about me? Everything was so locked up, like state secrets.”

Jilly berated herself for being a fool. Everything Anne Marie wanted to know could have been mailed to her in an envelope and they both could have been spared this painful conversation.

Anne Marie had the grace to laugh, even if it was a bit forced. “It
was
like state secrets, wasn't it? It took me two years just to find out that I got my red hair from you.” She laughed again, and this time it sounded a bit more real. “That was nice to know.”

“I'm sorry, “Jilly said haltingly into the telephone. The black receiver felt as heavy as lead. “I didn't mean to imply…That is, please believe I'm not trying to interfere in your life. I'd never try to wedge myself between you and your…” God, she almost said
adoptive mother
again. What the hell did she call her? “Your mother,” she forced out. She dragged hard on her cigarette all the while praying,
Please, God, don't let me cry
. “It's just that I'm having such a hard time trying to figure out what to call people. Adoptive mother, birth mother, real mother…it's all rather confusing.”

“Tell me about it.”

At last! A sliver of commiseration. Jilly put down her cigarette.

“Anne is my grandmother's name on my father's side,” Anne Marie began again. Her voice was conciliatory. “My mother's mother's name is Marie.”

“You have an aunt Meredith, but we called her Merry.” Oh, no, the tears were beginning to well up again. She couldn't even
begin
to explain Merry's connection to this odyssey.

“Do I have other aunts or uncles?”

“Two aunts. Beatrice and Rose. Meredith passed away recently.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“We all are. You would have liked her.”

“Any uncles?”

“No. Just the four girls. You also have a cousin. Hannah. She's fifteen and another redhead. When you're ready, they'd all love to meet you.”

“I don't have any brothers or sisters, but I have lots of cousins. Seven. And a husband. I'm married.”

“Wonderful. Though I shouldn't be surprised. You're twenty-six, after all.” Jilly laughed lightly. “Still, it's hard to believe.”

“Did you wonder why I started this search for you?”

Jilly picked up her cigarette and leaned back in her chair, wondering where this was headed. “No,” she said hesitatingly. Was Anne Marie ill? She thought of Ann Josephine Neville and felt a wave of prickles travel along her spine. “Then again, I haven't had time to wonder. I only just found out about the match this morning, like you. All day long I couldn't get past the idea that I'd be hearing your voice.”

“I started the search three years ago. I wanted to know my medical history. Because I was pregnant.”

Jilly clutched the phone tighter as the news hit her. She reeled with it, slumping back in her chair, her cigarette dangling from limp fingers. This couldn't be true. Suddenly she was a mother
and
a grandmother?

“Hello?”

“I'm here. I'm just…overwhelmed,” she replied haltingly, trying to find her voice as tears of emotion flooded her eyes. She reached up to wipe her face and clumsily dropped her cigarette. “Oh, no, wait,” she blurted into the phone, leaping up to sweep the cigarette from her lap. She bent over to pick it up, dropping the receiver from her trembling hands. She grabbed for it, calling into the receiver, “I'm still here! I just dropped a
cigarette. Hello?” She jabbed the cigarette into the ashtray while clutching the phone with her other hand.

“I'm here. I…I didn't mean to shock you,” Anne Marie said with a tone of self-defense. “I thought you'd be pleased.”

“Oh, I am, I am!” Jilly blurted out, placing her palm on her forehead. She took a deep breath. “It's just that, well, it is a bit of a shock. I still think of
you
as a baby. I'm trying to imagine my baby having a baby now.” She laughed brokenly and was relieved beyond words to hear Anne Marie join in.

“Her name is Lauren and she's two and a half now. She's gorgeous and bright and the best little girl. We feel blessed.”

“I'm sure she's wonderful,” Jilly replied, sitting back in her chair and regaining her composure.

“Are you sitting down?” Anne Marie asked with a lilt in her voice.

Jilly grabbed for her wineglass. “I am now.”

“Another is on the way. The baby's due next month.”

“Two! Why, I'm delighted!” Two grandchildren? How could the years have flown by so quickly? She was pained by the flashing realization that she'd never seen her own little girl's first steps, or walked her to the classroom on her first day of school, or witnessed her walk down the aisle on her wedding day. All this and so much more was lost to her.

And yet, she thought, maybe having grandchildren was like getting a second chance.

“Your parents must be so delighted,” she said, wonder still in her voice. “Speaking of which, do your parents know about our contact?”

“Oh, yes. At least, my mother does. My father died years ago, but he would've been happy for me. Mom's very supportive and completely understands why I wanted to meet you.”

“Thank her for me,” Jilly said honestly.

“I will. Thanks. Well, it's getting late and I have to go. Lauren won't fall asleep tonight. I think she senses something is up. Would you like me to send pictures of her? And me, of course.”

Jilly's breath caught in her throat. Was this it? Information exchanged via mail? A few pictures? Wouldn't there be a meeting?

“You know we're in Hodges, don't you?” she asked with hesitation. “That's quite close to Green Bay. Not much more than an hour.”

There was a short but strained pause. “Yes, I know. They told me. Actually, it's less than an hour.” Her nervous laugh again. “Talk about another act of fate.”

Jilly thought that she could dance around this question for a while or just jump right in. “Why don't we go along with fate? Would you like to arrange a meeting? I know I would love to meet you. And my grandchild, of course.”

“Uh, yes. Sure.”

Her hesitancy pained Jilly. She held her breath.

Anne Marie exhaled hers. “Look, I have to admit this is all a little sudden. When I got the call this morning, I didn't know what to think. I wanted—prayed—that we'd find each other. But now I'm so pregnant and…” Her voice trailed off.

Jilly twisted the phone cord tight around her fingers. “I understand. We could wait.” She squeezed her eyes tight.

“No. Let's meet.”

Jilly leaned back, sighing in relief. “I have to admit it would have been hard for me to wait. Waiting is not my strong suit. We're just in a motel here, so why don't we come down to De Pere? We can meet at a neutral place if you like. Perhaps I could take you to lunch?”

“I'd like that.” But her voice was hesitant again.

“You can pick anyplace you like. Someplace you love.”

“Well, there is a nice French restaurant in Green Bay. The Left Bank.”

“Perfect. I can leave here tomorrow morning. Shall we meet at The Left Bank at, say, one o'clock? Or am I rushing things too much? Can you go out to lunch so far in your pregnancy?”

“Oh, sure. I'm fine. But I waddle and I'll eat like a horse. I think maybe it's better that we meet right away. That way I won't chew my nails worrying. And pretty soon I'll just be thinking about the baby and all. I'll still be nervous, but at least not for as long.”

She laughed again, and Jilly realized with a burst of happiness that she now could recognize her daughter's laugh.

“You won't be able to miss me,” Anne Marie said with ease. “I'll be the elephant in the red dress.”

Jilly liked her sense of humor, so much like her own. She even sounded like a Season, with the same breathy voice. “I can't tell you how much this means to me. I've waited a very long time just for this much.” Jilly stopped herself. She hadn't meant to get emotional. It just slipped out.

“Me, too,” Anne Marie responded with appropriate seriousness.

“Well then. Until tomorrow.”

“Goodbye.”

Jilly was reluctant to put down the phone, afraid to lose the slender line of connection between herself and her daughter. She held the receiver to her breast and just sat quiet and still for a long time.

B
IRDIE LOOKED AROUND THE
little motel room that was as drab today as when they'd arrived. She hadn't purchased odds and ends at the antique shops or added color, as Rose had. Hannah didn't care what the room looked like and this was not the trip for Birdie to clean and decorate. She'd done plenty of that in her home and look where it had gotten her. On this trip she was cleaning the inside of herself. Now that the trip was coming to an end, she felt she'd done a pretty good job rearranging the mental furniture. Just being able to admit that her marriage was failing was proof enough.

She sat by the telephone but didn't reach for it. She'd decided to take Jilly's advice and work to get Dennis back. She
wanted
him back. She was accustomed to his body next to hers in their bed, to him making the coffee in the morning while she buttered the toast. She liked that they shared the chores around the house. He was good with his hands and handled the painting, caulking and repairs. She was better at electrical problems, fixing appliances and changing lightbulbs. She paid
the bills. He played the stock market. They were so comfortable together.

She wanted to make love again, too. Maybe her hormones were back in line, or maybe she just realized how much she loved him. But did he still love her? she wondered.

Dennis had called her a nag. It was a horrible word that rhymed with hag and drew the same images. When he'd left Evanston, she'd thought he was entirely to blame for their argument. She'd called him a withdrawer, which was really just another expression for coward. That argument was one in a long, continuous game that they'd been playing for years, she realized now. The Blaming Game. She couldn't remember who started it and it didn't really matter. They both played it. They both were getting good at it. All that she wanted now was for the cruel game to end so that they could try to change and get back to the place they were before.

She'd given this a lot of thought. She realized at last that she was powerless to change Dennis. And when she thought about it honestly, she didn't want to try anymore. But she could begin to change herself.

She wouldn't nag. She wouldn't tell him what to do. And she'd swallow her pride and not be angry with him for not returning her calls. If Jilly could find the courage to call Anne Marie, then she could damn well call her husband.

She picked up the phone and called her home number. It rang and rang, without the answering machine picking up. Where could he be? There was school tomorrow. The longer it rang, the more her disappointment grew. But she was determined, and she let it ring on. She was slipping her shoe off from her foot when she heard his voice.

“Hello?”

She froze, trying to make certain it wasn't the answering machine. “Dennis?”

“Yes.”

“It's me. Birdie.”

There was a pause. “I know.”

So his anger was still white-hot. “I'm surprised you still recognize my voice. But then again, I've left enough messages for you to remember it.” She spoke in an airy manner, but she doubted he was fooled.

“I got the messages.”

She took a deep breath, telling herself to hear the hurt in his anger, not the meanness.

“Where are you? Hannah was due back in school last Monday.” His voice was level.

“I know. That's why I'm calling. We're still in Hodges and were planning on coming back today.”

“Were?”

“Our plans changed. We can't leave just yet. Dennis, Jilly just made contact with Spring! Or, rather, Anne Marie. That's her daughter's name.”

There was a long silence.

“Dennis?”

“I'm here. So,” he said, exhaling. “She found her.”

He didn't sound very happy about it. Even if he didn't like Jilly, he could be happy for her. For all of them. She tried to tap down the spark of anger.

“Just today. In fact, she's on the phone with her now.”

“I'm surprised she found her. I didn't think she would.”

“We were lucky. Everything just clicked.” She felt a sticky tension between them that distance only thickened. She tried again.

“And Dennis, you'd be so proud of Hannah. It's like she's
grown up overnight. She's been so mature and so giving—she's giving one hundred and ten percent.”

“That ought to make you happy.”

Birdie heard his sarcasm and had to take a breath. “It has,” she replied evenly. “But only because it's making her happy. She feels good about herself for a change. We're
both
feeling good about ourselves, actually. We're not fighting all the time anymore. Sometimes we still do, but it's different. Not so nasty. She's told me how she feels and believe it or not, I've told her how I feel. Remember how I used to say I couldn't be her mother and her friend? Well, I was wrong. It's very sweet to listen to her tell me her thoughts and not feel like I'm her judge and jury. We're really talking.”

“Must be nice.”

Again the sarcasm. She squeezed her eyes tight, wondering if it was too late after all. “Maybe we can try talking when I come home,” she said tentatively.

There was a pause. “When would that be?”

“Soon. Hannah and I want to see this thing to the end.” She spoke rapidly, twisting the phone cord. “Anne Marie lives only an hour from here, in the Green Bay area. So we'd like to spend another night, maybe two. Just to meet her. I mean, after all this we'd like to see her. Then we'll come home.”

“No. You know as well as I that Hannah's grades haven't been good. It's been a struggle with her all year just to keep on track. This will screw things up good. She's had her vacation. I want her home. Now.”

His voice was harsh and it stung that he specifically said he wanted Hannah home. He didn't mention whether he gave a damn if Birdie came with her. “She'll learn a lot more about life in the next few days than she will in school. This is important to her. She can miss a couple more days. Come on, Dennis, we don't need to be so inflexible all the time. We need to
loosen up.” She couldn't believe these words were coming out of her mouth, or that she meant them. Nor, she imagined, could Dennis.

“I'm tired of always being the flexible one,” he replied with anger. “I've asked you to come home and you won't. One of us has to budge. And it ain't going to be me.”

Ah, so this was the stand he'd decided to take. But it was true. He was usually the one who changed his plans. Birdie's schedule always took precedence since she was the main breadwinner in the family. One of the things she'd always loved most about him was his reasonable nature. Had she driven him to fight back? A wave of guilt made her want to tell him yes, she would come home immediately. But a stronger voice told her that she couldn't, not yet.

“Dennis, you have no idea what's been going on here. What I've been going through.”

“You have no idea what I've been going through, either.”

Birdie thought of Jilly's advice to remember that he was a man and not a child, but it was hard when they were playing tit for tat.

“Okay, you're right, I don't know what you've been going through,” she said, making a last effort. “I tried to talk to you but you didn't return my calls. So tell me, what have you been up to?”

“I've been on a motorcycle trip.”

She almost laughed. “What?”

“A bike trip. I told you I might. I've always wanted to go on one and I thought what the hell?”

Birdie conjured the image of Dennis back in leather and on a motorbike. It took her far back to when she'd first set eyes on him and fallen head over heels.

“I'd love to have seen that,” she said, hearing her smile in her voice. “I always liked seeing you on a bike. It's been a long time. Must've been fun,” she added lamely.

There was a pause and she imagined he was regrouping, having expected a pithy comment.

“Nah,” he replied. “It was cold as hell.” His anger seemed to have deflated but he was still testy. “I headed south a bit along the Mississippi, then just came back home. It's not really biking weather yet.” He skipped a beat. “But I bought the bike.”

She could hear the challenge in his voice. “What's this?” she asked teasingly. “A male menopause thing?”

“I dunno. Maybe.”

“Okay. That's fair. Maybe we're both going through a few changes.”

“We could use a few.”

There wasn't any sarcasm in that. If anything, she thought she caught a hint of hope. “You're right. We could.” She took a chance. “When I come home, will you give me a ride?” Those were the words she'd used as a kid that summer when she hung around him as he waited for Jilly. She knew by the length of the pause that he'd remembered.

“Come home now, Birdie,” he said. His voice was strained. Even pleading.

“I'm almost done. I have to finish this with Jilly.”

“Let Jilly finish her own problems. You can't always be there to save everyone.”

“I know! Really I do. That's what's happening here that you don't understand. I'm not saving Jilly. She's saving me. And Hannah. And Rose. We're all saving one another. We're close again, like we used to be, and it's changing us. I wish I could explain it better, but I'm not sure I understand it myself. I'm beginning to feel like my old self. Energized. Hopeful.” She reached up to touch her red hair along her neck. “I meant what I said about wanting to try and talk again. You were right about that. We didn't talk. And I have so many things I need to talk to you about.”

She waited, but he didn't respond. The silence stretched and she clutched the phone tightly in her hand. “Please say you'll be there for us when we get home. Hannah needs you. But I need you more. Be there—for
me
.”

Closing her eyes tight, she silently mouthed the word,
please
….

She heard his sigh rumble over the wire, then his voice came, soft but firm in decision. “I'll be here.”

Late that night Jilly lay in the crook of Rajiv's shoulder. His long fingers stroked her spine, luxuriously moving up and down in a soothing pattern while their bodies cooled. She'd told him that she was leaving in the morning and he'd reacted as she expected he would, without so many words as with a grasping, frenzied passion in his lovemaking that spoke eloquently of his true feelings for her.

Rajiv still kept his soul barred from her, locked behind his unfailing civility and intelligence. As her fingers flexed against his chest, she had to hold herself back from forming fists and
pounding him with them, crying tears and begging him to tell her that he loved her.

“You're so quiet,” she said to him, moving her head on his chest to look at his face. “Are you meditating?”