What's Left Behind (30 page)

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rob said. “I’m staying right here.”

“Right,” Abby said. “I asked you to stay in the room.”

“I’m not talking about this room. I’m talking about us.” Rob shook his head. “I’m so bad at this. I’m trying to say I’m not leaving you.”

That sounded suspiciously like what Charlie had told her before he’d packed his bags and left for college.

“Don’t say something unless you mean it,” Abby said.

Rob grinned, but his eyes were still wet. “I might be slow, but I know what I want.”

Enough with the skirting talk about their relationship. Enough with the circle dance. “Which is?”

Rob didn’t hesitate. “You.”

“The baby—”

“With or without the baby. I want you, if you’ll have me.”

Abby loved Rob’s bright blue eyes, and the way they turned down at the corners, even when he was happy. She loved his tiny star-shaped scar that proved, even in sleep, he was always listening for his loved ones and ready to run to their rescue. She loved all of him.

“Hate to interrupt your plans for a lovefest,” Tessa said. “But I know what I want, too. I know what I want for my baby.” Her voice sounded strong, with the take-no-prisoners, entertain-no-argument certainty of a decision made.

Abby’s legs softened beneath her. She gripped the examining table, and forced a smile.

Rob’s hand lighted on her shoulder, a preemptive strike to keep her from splintering into a million pieces. The music of the baby’s heartbeat sounded through the room, sunk through her skin and into her soul. More than enough to make her grateful. But still . . .

Tessa gazed at her with eyes far too old for a nineteen-year-old.

Same thing people used to say about Abby at that age. Likely the same had once been said of Lily Beth.

“When I first found out I was pregnant,” Tessa said, “I considered keeping the baby. But then I got scared.”

“I know, sweetheart. I can help you. You can live with me.”

“No, I can’t. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Abby swallowed against a wave of sorrow threatening to knock her down and spin her in circles. Rob rubbed her shoulder. Whatever Tessa decided, Abby would be fine. Not today, maybe not even tomorrow. But she wasn’t broken. Life was hard, but she would not break.

Tessa laid her hand over the lower-belly transducer, as though protecting the baby’s heartbeat. “Even when my mom still lived with me and my dad, she wasn’t exactly maternal. I didn’t have anyone to show me how you were supposed to mother a kid. I never had anyone mother me. Until you, Abby.” Tessa shrugged, but the expression on her face brooked no compromise. “I’m not going to live with you, and I can’t give you my baby. Do you want to know why?” A coy grin played at Tessa’s lips.

That made no sense. Tessa wasn’t trying to emotionally blackmail Abby anymore. Abby had stood strong and laid everything on the table. She’d laid herself bare. Now all she needed was Tessa.

Rob’s hand stilled on Abby’s arm. He edged closer. The heat of him warmed her back.

The baby’s heartbeat thrummed through her chest, good and strong.

For a second, Abby couldn’t move. Then she managed to raise one shoulder in a shrug.

That only widened Tessa’s grin to a full-fledged megawatt smile. “A good mother always does whatever is best for her child,” Tessa said.

Second time today, Abby wanted to take Tessa to task and give her what for. Really lace into her.

Don’t you ever scare me like that again.

Instead, Abby nodded and returned Tessa’s impish grin.

You raised your kids, tried to teach them everything you knew, and then you stepped aside and hoped they made the right decisions.

Tessa was going to raise her and Luke’s baby herself. Her life wasn’t going to be easy. But she was strong. She was a survivor. And her girl was going to make a great mother.

Abby had no one to blame but herself.

T
hanksgiving morning at Briar Rose, and the guest quarters were closed for the family holiday. The aromas of turkey, sweet potatoes, and cranberries filled the air, and the labyrinth awaited its heart.

Abby looked to the skies for guidance, low and dark and threatening to stay. The rain had finally let up, the moderate downpour dissipating to a moderate mist. Tessa bundled Daniela in her pink fleece bunting, the shade identical to the streaks framing Tessa’s face.The exuberant feminine color complimented both mother and daughter and brightened the day.

Abby picked her granddaughter up from the entryway couch and secured the baby against her shoulder. The infant’s thick, dark hair poked out from the bunting’s hood. Daniela held her head upright, strong for her age. Her gray-blue eyes focused on Abby’s, stirring up a well of emotion. Sadness-edged joy, but joy nonetheless. Time was taking the sting from her loss, but she’d never stop missing her son, never stop wishing he were here.

Maybe someday Abby would be able to look at Luke’s photo albums. Someday she’d like to show his daughter the tan-from-outdoor-play kid with the Band-Aids on his knees and the daredevil smile. The boy who’d trick-or-treated as Spiderman three Halloweens in a row. For now, telling Daniela about her young father would have to suffice.

Abby would have to rely on the inexactitude of memories.

Rob took the most important stepping-stone from the dining table by the slider and they headed out to the yard. The cool mist numbed Abby’s cheeks, the final month of autumn making itself known, but the hot little bundle she carried kept her warm.

“She’s got your best features,” Abby told Tessa, “and Luke’s.” Abby kissed the top of Daniela’s head and inhaled the fresh newborn scent, all milk and powder and possibility.

As soon as Abby raised her lips, Rob leaned over her shoulder to drop another kiss atop the baby, a raining down of blessings. “She’s a beauty, just like her grandma,” Rob said, emphasis on
grandma
.

Abby slid Rob a faux look of annoyance—he was having way too much fun with her new title—but she couldn’t keep the grin from overriding her scowl. A visiting grandbaby in her arms, an engagement solitaire on her finger, and her very own landscape architect living on-site.

Right guy and right-enough timing.

After she’d turned down Charlie’s marriage proposal and told him about the proposal she’d accepted, he’d kept a low profile. Abby had invited him to Thanksgiving dinner, knowing he’d put aside his discomfort and come out of hiding for their granddaughter. Charlie loved her as much as she did.

Lily Beth would join Abby in the kitchen within the hour. Grace and her boyfriend, Tyler, would make their way over for dessert, completing their blended family. Last summer, Grace had been wary of the new woman in her father’s life, but yesterday’s visit with Daniela and Tessa had broken through Grace’s reticence. Like her dad, Grace was well worth the wait.

Tessa beamed at Abby, pride that cut both ways. “I kind of think Daniela looks like you,” Tessa said. “And, hate to say it, but a little like my dad. But that’s only when she has gas.”

Abby laughed. “How’s Noah doing?” According to Tessa, she, Daniela, and Noah had celebrated an early Thanksgiving. Today, the professor was dining with his colleagues.

Six weeks ago, Abby and Lily Beth had made the trek to Amherst. Tessa had wanted them in the birthing room. Even Lily Beth had been impressed by Tessa’s fortitude, her willingness to get down to business, no whining and fussing and carrying on. Twenty-four hours after the first labor pains, Daniela made her appearance.

One look at his granddaughter, and Noah was smitten. According to Noah, that’s how he’d felt the first time he’d laid eyes on Tessa. That was how he felt about her still.

Tessa shrugged, an old defense, but her smile remained. “He’s becoming strangely paternal. It’s a little freaky. He made me call him from every rest stop on the way here yesterday so he could talk to Daniela. Not me, her! He jumps out of bed when she cries for me at night. I told him he doesn’t need to get up, but he says he wants to. It’s not like he can nurse her or anything.”

“Tell him to watch out for the dog,” Rob said.

“What dog?”

“Oh, sorry, puppy on the brain.” Rob winked at Abby and kissed her on the cheek.

“Huh?” Tessa said.

“It’s like baby on the brain,” Abby said, “except with a dog. Rob wants us to get a golden retriever after we tie the knot.”

“Aw, cute,” Tessa said.

“Not helping,” Abby said.

“What? You don’t want a puppy?”

“We’re talking about it,” Rob said. “In negotiations. Abby’s still miffed Sadie likes me better than her.”

“Hey!” Abby told Rob. And then to Tessa, “It’s true. Can’t say I miss waking up with her toosh in my face, though.”

The bare-of-bloom perennials—including new hostas, roses, and black-eyed Susans—lay dormant, awaiting the blanket of first snow. Tessa had already promised to return for that impressive show. She’d promised to paint the labyrinth each and every year, each and every season, charting its growth along with her daughter’s. And in between, Abby and Rob and whoever wanted to tag along, had promised to make pilgrimages to Amherst. Abby had even promised Rob she’d try winter camping. A trial run in the yard, and then, if she survived, she’d consider tent camping with him in the White Mountains.

About time Abby took some time off from the B&B and remembered how to live.

The great maple shade tree was bare, having given up the last of its crimson and gold leaves weeks ago, and the hard lines of the branches stood out strong against the gray skies. Luke’s original three stepping-stones hadn’t changed. Now and again Abby still placed her hands in his. Then she’d pick herself up off the ground and continue along the seven-circuit path.

Single file, they passed beneath the arbor, Tessa leading the way. Abby had expected her to rush. Instead, she walked slow and sure, as though savoring every moment.

Her girl was wise beyond her years.

Daniela turned her head into Abby’s shoulder, her mouth opening and closing against the light-blue nylon of Abby’s down vest. Abby stroked Daniela’s cheek. “Sorry, little one, you’re not going to find any milk here.”

“She’s rooting?” Tessa said. “I just nursed her half an hour ago.”

“As I recall, you time from the beginning of the previous nursing, not the end.”

Tessa snorted. “Great. I’m going to have to nurse her in class. I’ll be the only sophomore with a baby hanging off her boob.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Abby said. Tessa was planning on going back to school next semester. She and Daniela were living with Noah. He’d agreed to babysit a couple of days a week. The other two days, Daniela would go to “school,” the on-campus childcare center.

“The stepping-stones look amazing!” Tessa said. “I didn’t realize we’d sold so many.”

Since the summer, the dotted line of stepping-stones had filled in between the privets, growing end-to-end solid. “Thanks to your on-campus fund-raising,” Abby said, “and Rob planting the stones. Oh, and the first scholarship fund essays are trickling in. Remind me to show you later.And bring tissues.” Abby had decided upon the essay’s theme: What would you do if you knew today was the last day of your life?

Strange, given the fact that those same students sought careers in hospitality, caring for others? Abby thought it perfectly appropriate. How could you treat others to a vacation experience, a comfortable room, a hot home-cooked meal, if you didn’t first know how to live?

In the center of the labyrinth, Rob set the heart-shaped stone in the ground he’d dug out and prepped with soft sand. Special stone from a special little girl had made quite a journey, starting in Hidden Harbor, where Abby and Lily Beth had rimmed the heart stone with Luke’s sand dollars. Then, in Amherst, Tessa had pressed Daniela’s tiny handprints into the wet concrete and etched her name.

Now, the heart stone returned, full circle.

Daniela continued to root on Abby’s shoulder. The warm, wet pool of drool darkened the down vest. Abby handed Daniela to Tessa, and Tessa gave Daniela her finger to suck on, buying a few minutes before the next nursing.

They didn’t have much time.

Abby and Tessa joined Rob on the ground before the heart-shaped stone. Just like they’d planned, Tessa unfurled Daniela’s tiny right hand and pressed it into her handprint. “Daniela Lombardi Connors.” Tessa brought her daughter’s hand to her lips. “She’s so yummy! I can’t stop kissing her.”

Abby bent her head to Tessa’s. “Why resist?”

The mist had finally stopped. Droplets were drying on Abby’s face without the associated chill.

“Ladies,” Rob said. “Check it out. Over the bay.”

“I know. The mist—oh,” Abby said.

A double rainbow arched over the water, the colors faint and then deepening before their eyes. Deepening and taking on a rich, saturated hue.

“It’s Luke,” Tessa said, her voice full of awe. “Your daddy,” she told Daniela. Tessa glanced at Abby, and Abby nodded, getting the reference from the song “If I Die Young.”

Luke was shining down on his mother.

Abby would’ve liked to have believed her son lived in the rainbow, his soul dwelling in the color spectrum of refracted light, but she knew better. She knew the truth.

You okay?
Rob mouthed, and Abby nodded. He wanted to save her from sadness. She was just grateful he’d chosen to come along for the journey. Abby raised her gaze to the sky, not caring whether tears fell freely.

For one more minute, one more precious minute, Abby, Tessa, and Rob huddled together on the November-hard ground with Daniela between them. Abby knew for sure she heard Luke’s voice in Daniela’s coos. She saw her son’s determination in his daughter’s gray-blue eyes. She felt his love radiated through Tessa and Daniela. And even though Luke had never met Rob, Abby believed Luke would’ve approved of her choice. Her son, her sweet, sensitive son, had wanted her happiness.

What would you do if this were the last day of your life?

This. This and nothing more.

A READING GROUP GUIDE

WHAT’S LEFT BEHIND

Lorrie Thomson

ABOUT THIS GUIDE

The following discussion questions are included to enhance your group’s reading of
What’s Left Behind.