The Shop on Blossom Street (21 page)

CAROL GIRARD

I
t’d been a week since Carol’s miscarriage. Doug slept soundly beside her, but she was wide awake. Staring at the digital display on the clock radio, she saw that it was 3:27 a.m. Knowing it would be impossible to fall back asleep, she stole quietly out of bed. Walking blindly in the dark, she made her way into the silent living room.

All her lost dreams, all her and Doug’s abandoned plans for the future, fell upon her like a collapsing building. There would be no baby. She wouldn’t cuddle an infant in her arms or know the joy of nursing her own baby at her breast.

An entire seven days had passed since the miscarriage and, other than that first dreadful night, Carol hadn’t stepped foot inside the baby’s nursery. She couldn’t; it was just too painful. The door had remained closed, and she was sure Doug hadn’t gone in there, either.

Over dinner last evening, he’d suggested they call the department store and arrange to have the baby furniture
returned. They had no reason to keep it, and while she knew her husband was only being practical, it felt as if he’d plunged a knife straight through her heart.

This couldn’t be happening. Not to them. They were so much in love and they were good people. Everyone who knew them said they’d make wonderful parents.

Carol had hoped this gut-wrenching agony would lessen with time. It’d only been a week, but the ache, the emptiness inside her, hadn’t even begun to dissipate. If anything, it’d grown worse. The only solace she’d found had been with her online support friends. They understood and had wept with her.

Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, Carol clamped her arms around her middle and started to rock in grief and pain and loss.

It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right. Rick, her irresponsible, reckless, immature brother, was able to father children he didn’t want with a woman he didn’t love. Where was the fairness in that? Where was the justice? That poor baby… Neither parent seemed to care.

Carol’s eyes flew open. A tingling sensation ran up and down her arms. Rick! Carol bolted off the sofa and hurried back into the bedroom. Intent on waking her husband, she leaped onto the bed.

“Doug, wake up!” she cried, kneeling over him.

Her husband ignored her and rolled onto his side.

“Doug!” she shouted, giddy with relief and joy. Hope could be a powerful drug and at the moment she was infused with it. “Doug, I have to talk to you.” She shook him urgently.

“Carol,” her husband protested, peering at the clock with one eye, “it’s the middle of the night!”

“I know…I know.” On her knees, she bent over him and kissed his neck. “You have to wake up.”

“Why?” he groaned.

“Because I have something very important to tell you.”

With reluctance marking every movement, Doug rolled onto his back and rubbed his face. He blinked and stared up at her, then frowned. “Is there a reason you’re smiling?”

She nodded, and leaning forward again, she hugged her husband.

“What happened?” Doug asked.

“I was sitting in the living room just now.” She stretched out her arm, her gestures wild with energy. “I was feeling so awful and thinking how unfair life is. I was so sure we’d have a baby and we didn’t and…and then I realized something and I had to wake you.”

Doug struggled into a sitting position so they were eye to eye.

“There’s going to be another baby for us,” she whispered.

“Hold on.” Doug shook his head. “You lost me.” He frowned as he studied her. “Are you talking about adoption?”

This was a familiar subject and with so few infants available, they knew their chances weren’t good. “Not just any baby. I’m talking about adopting Rick’s baby.”

“Your brother?”

She laughed. “Do you know any other Rick?”

“No, but he isn’t the one who’s pregnant.”

“I know, Lisa is. Or was it Kim? I don’t remember and really it doesn’t matter. Don’t you see? God meant for that baby to be ours.”

Doug wasn’t following her plan or if he was, he didn’t feel nearly as enthusiastic. He held her gaze and said gently, “Sweetheart, you’re not thinking straight.”

“I am,” Carol insisted. “It makes perfect sense. Can’t
you see? My brother has fathered a child he doesn’t want. He told me he has no intention of marrying the mother. This pregnancy was a shock to Lisa, too—or Kim. Whoever she is. She certainly wasn’t anticipating a child as a result of their affair. Rick told me himself she was using birth control.”

“Yes, but—”

“I know it all sounds very sudden, but I honestly feel this baby was no accident. This is
our
baby.”

Doug’s sigh echoed through the bedroom. “Honey…”

“The baby’s related to me. It won’t be like adopting a stranger’s child.”

“And you think Rick will agree to this?” Clearly Doug had his doubts.

“Agree?” she repeated, laughing again. “I think he’d leap at the chance to escape child support payments. Furthermore, I want to assure him that neither one of us will ever tell Ellie that this baby is his biological child. We’d give him our word on that, wouldn’t we?”

“Yes, sure.”

“If he ever gets back together with Ellie, he can rest assured that our lips are sealed.”

“What about the baby’s mother?” he asked. “She has some say in this.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Carol said. “She’s going to have to take several weeks off work and we should be willing to compensate her for any lost wages.”

Doug lifted his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “I suppose we could make that offer.”

“I could go back to work to help pay for whatever she wants.”

“That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why not?” Carol protested. Already he was objecting
to her plans and it was crucial that he feel as certain about all of this as she did.

“You can’t go back to work for just a few months and then quit again. If you do return to the brokerage, it has to be with the understanding that you only intend to work a set amount of time.”

He was right, but that didn’t thwart her hopes—or her plans. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this adoption work. Just promise you’ll support me.”

“Honey, you know I will.”

“This baby is ours. I can feel it in my heart.” Needing to convince him, she lifted his hand and held it.

Doug closed his eyes and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was afraid—she was, too—but the certainty that this was how things were meant to be overshadowed her fears.

“You’re afraid we’re setting ourselves up for disappointment, aren’t you?”

Doug nodded. “I hate to see you put yourself through this. What if it’s another dead end?”

“I’m the one who should be worrying about that, don’t you think?” Despite Doug’s concern, she was convinced her brother would like the idea.

“Should I call Rick, or do you want to do it?” Doug asked.

Joyfully, Carol tossed her arms around her husband’s neck. “I’ll phone him first thing in the morning and explain everything.” She still hadn’t heard from Rick, not since that evening he’d told her about the pregnancy. By now, he would have received from her parents the devastating report of the miscarriage. Carol realized he purposely hadn’t called or written her. He wouldn’t know what to say and it was easier to ignore her pain. Her brother tended to take the route of least resistance, which
was something she hadn’t learned about him until recently.

“Can I go back to sleep now?” Doug asked and without waiting for a response, he slid down and pulled the sheet and comforter up to his ears.

Carol felt herself slip from her alert, energetic state into sudden tiredness. She got under the covers, too, burying her head in the pillow. Doug was on his side and she cuddled against him spoon-fashion, draping her arm over his waist.

Tired though she was, her head swam with thoughts of this child and what the adoption would bring to their lives. The old proverb was right: God never closes a door without opening a window. That window was wide open. She’d just had to stand in front of it for a few moments to feel the winds of change. She finally understood what should have been obvious all along.

ALIX TOWNSEND

A
lix dumped her dirty T-shirts into the washing machine, added soap and inserted quarters into the proper slots. She had enough shirts from rock bands and concerts to last her a full two weeks. With the old-lady underwear Jacqueline had insisted on buying her, Alix now had the same number of panties as she did T-shirts.

To save money, Alix and Laurel combined their dirty clothes and took turns hauling the bags down to the Laundromat. It was Alix’s turn to deal with the laundry and she hated it, which was one reason she went there early Monday morning. She’d feel like a success if one day she was rich enough to afford her own washer and dryer.

Sitting on the hard plastic chair, she reached for a magazine. The date on the issue of
People
was Christmas a year ago and Alix set it aside once she realized she’d read it on her previous visit. In fact, she’d read everything the Laundromat had to offer.

Crossing her arms, she stretched out her legs and closed her eyes. She smiled as she thought about Jacqueline. Her friend meant well, but there was no way in hell Alix was going to try on a knit dress. One look at the price tag and she’d nearly passed out. That dress and sweater combination cost over a thousand bucks. A thousand bucks for a dress? That was crazy!

Her experience at the hairdresser’s had been even worse. The French woman with the heavy accent refused to listen to anything Alix said. She had her own ideas of what needed to be done and simply dismissed Alix’s instructions. By the time Desiree, or whatever her name was, had finished, Alix was ready to scream. To be fair, her hair did look fairly decent—if she’d wanted to resemble that Brady Bunch guy. Alix had needed a week to get it styled the way she liked it after Desiree had snipped off so much with those fancy scissors.

Alix didn’t mean to sound unappreciative; Jacqueline had wanted to do something nice for her, and Alix was grateful, especially since her friend was footing the bill. But Jacqueline’s efforts had backfired. She just didn’t understand Alix’s taste, and Alix wasn’t letting the other woman get that close to her again.

On a brighter note, Carol was back at A Good Yarn this past Friday and—surprisingly—in a great mood. Everyone had been worried about her after the news of her miscarriage. Alix wasn’t sure what, if anything, to say. She wanted Carol to know she was sorry, but at the same time she didn’t want to bring up a painful subject in case Carol wasn’t ready to talk about it. Jacqueline and Lydia obviously felt the same way.

Then Carol had arrived for class as cheerful as ever, and Alix was stunned. Everyone was. Carol seemed convinced that she and Doug would be able to adopt a baby. Alix
was full of questions, but when the others didn’t ask anything, she took the hint and didn’t either. Carol hadn’t provided any details, so they all pretended everything was fine. Alix worried that Carol was in denial or caught up in some kind of wish-fulfillment fantasy. She tried to be encouraging, but frankly she was concerned.

Carol wasn’t the only one in the group Alix was concerned about. Something was definitely wrong with Lydia. She just wasn’t herself, acting subdued and withdrawn, walking around in a fog. Jacqueline had noticed it, too. At first Alix assumed Lydia was on the outs with the delivery guy she’d been so keen on all summer. That could be it, but she was doubtful. When questioned, Lydia claimed everything was fine, but Alix didn’t need a psychic to see that things were definitely off kilter.

And Laurel… Laurel was even worse than before. Having a roommate was a mistake, but they were stuck with each other. For the past three months Laurel had been irritable and short-tempered. Thinking she was being helpful, Alix gave her a tabloid with big headlines about a miracle diet. Laurel had hurled it back at Alix, hitting her in the face. Alix had avoided her roommate ever since. It was easier now that Laurel wasn’t working at the video store. She’d quit the week before and taken a job at a day care center as an assistant, which meant she was basically a baby-sitter and a cleaner, wiping up spilled juice and putting away Lego blocks. She hadn’t taken courses or anything. But Laurel didn’t seem to like that job any better.

The washing machine buzzed, and Alix got up from the chair and dumped the clean clothes into the plastic basket. She was ready to bring the load to the dryer, but when she turned around she nearly bumped into Jordan Turner.

She hadn’t seen Jordan since their disagreement, and after making a fool of herself she didn’t expect a second chance with him. The only reason she’d let Jacqueline give her a fashion makeover was in the hopes that Jordan would notice the difference, that it might give him an excuse to talk to her. She should’ve known what to expect. Everything she’d ever done to improve her life had ended in this same predictable way.

“Hi-i,” she stammered.

“I thought that was you.” He studied her hair. “I like the new style. Nice color.”

“You do?” Alix couldn’t make her heart stop hammering like one of those staple guns the construction guys used. “This is my natural color. Well, almost, from what I remember.” Until Jordan’s comment, she’d always viewed her hair as mousy brown. He made her feel beautiful, and special.

“I guess we should talk,” he said.

She shrugged, too nervous to speak.

“Have you got a minute?”

“I guess.” She deliberately walked over to the huge wall dryer and dumped her load inside. After adding the coins, she waited a moment to be sure the dryer had started to tumble before joining him.

He sat at the table used to fold clothes. It was early in the day and the Laundromat wasn’t busy yet. By ten it would fill up. Alix preferred to avoid the more crowded times, when kids ran around out of control and people squabbled over whose turn it was for the dryers.

She lowered her head, struggling to find the words to apologize.

“I heard what you did,” Jordan said.

Alix frowned as she tried to figure out what he meant.

“Lori told me you got her out of a drug house.”

“Oh.” Alix had nearly forgotten that. “Yeah, well, she wanted out but didn’t want to admit it.”

“Lori’s a troubled kid.”

“Who isn’t?” She didn’t mean to sound flippant, but it was an honest response. All teenagers seemed to go through a period when they were convinced the world was out to get them. The only defense available was to lash back. Her own rebellion had led her down several dark paths, and in retrospect, she wished there’d been someone in her life who would’ve taken
her
out of a drug house.

“Lori asked me to tell you she’s grateful for what you did.”

That wasn’t the way Alix remembered it.

“I’m grateful, too,” Jordan said.

She nodded dismissively. “I knew Lori didn’t belong in that house with those men.”

“Neither did you,” Jordan said, holding her gaze.

“I know that.”

Jordan refused to release her eyes. “Are drugs a problem?”

That made her angry, and she would have snapped back a retort, but she swallowed her outrage. It was a fair question, since she’d voluntarily walked into a drug house. “Not anymore. I’ve used in the past, but these days I don’t.”

He nodded, taking her word for it.

“I suppose I should apologize,” she said in as offhand a manner as she could. “You’re right, I was jealous.” Seeing Jordan standing in the church with that perfect all-American girl had nearly tripped her up. She had no right to feel the things she did, but that didn’t seem to matter. In her heart she viewed Jordan as hers. The red-hot suspicions that burned through her were too consuming to
ignore, so she’d reverted to a time and place she’d sworn never to visit again.

It wasn’t Lori who should be grateful, but Alix. The girl’s danger had brought her back.

“Apology accepted.” Jordan grinned at her.

Alix felt as if her heart was melting. She smiled back.

“Friends?”

“Friends,” she agreed, happy and a bit melancholy at the same time. Did this mean she couldn’t be more than his friend?

Jordan reached across the table and squeezed her fingers. “I’ve missed you.”

For a few seconds, she could hardly catch her breath. He’d missed her! “I’m knitting you a sweater,” she whispered.

“You are?”

Alix cursed the day she’d inherited this pattern from Carol. It’d been causing her problems from the moment she’d started. For a while she’d stopped working on it, but she’d begun again, hoping to feel close to Jordan. She’d also supposed it might give her an excuse to contact him. She’d finished the baby blanket and showed it to her social worker; now all she had to do was deliver it to the appropriate agency.

“You shouldn’t be jealous, you know.”

Alix slid her gaze to his.

“There’s no one else.”

She swallowed tightly. “Oh.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “Do you remember the day you brought cupcakes to class for your birthday?”

Alix wasn’t likely to forget. Her mother wasn’t much of a homemaker so Alix had made them herself. From scratch, too, not from a mix.

“I baked those.” She was surprised that he’d remembered.

“You gave me two.”

She dropped her eyes. “Yeah, I know. If I had a decent oven I’d bake you a whole batch right now.”

“Do you like to bake?”

Alix nodded. It was her dream to attend a cooking school and be the kind of chef who prepared fancy dinners at places like the ones Jacqueline and her husband frequented. Or maybe one day she’d have her own catering business. She didn’t talk about this often. Over the years she’d worked in a few restaurants and she loved the craziness in the kitchen. She’d tried to get on at Annie’s but the video store had offered her a job first.

“Do you have plans for Saturday night?” Jordan’s thumb stroked the back of her hand.

“Not really.”

“Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

“Annie’s Café?” A meal there was as close to restaurant dining as she got.

“Not this time. How about a real three-course dinner at a fish and steak house?”

That sounded like a dress-and-panty-hose place. But the thought of turning him down didn’t so much as enter her mind. Maybe, just maybe, Jacqueline would be willing to give her a second chance at a fashion makeover.

It wouldn’t hurt to ask.