Kindred Spirits (35 page)

“Well, let’s check it out and see.” Barbara pushed open the door to a darkened room occupied by a table and stirrups. An ultrasound machine was on and beeping, ready to go.

“Is Simon here?” Mary Kay asked. Simon Friedman was her ob-gyn.

“He’s upstairs, checking on a patient,” she said as Mary Kay lay on the table and Barbara spread a sheet over her abdomen. “I’m your escort for the morning to make sure Dr. Friedman doesn’t engage in any hanky-panky.”

“Lawyers.” Mary Kay winked at Carol.

Barbara went over to the machine, punching various buttons. “I know. He’s delivered like a zillion babies, he’s seen places in women’s bodies most men don’t know exist, but when it comes to ultrasounds with female patients, the hospital insists on a female nurse being in the room.”

“I heard that.” Dr. Friedman, a short man with a salt-and-pepper mustache, breezed in and gave Mary Kay a squeeze on the shoulder. “How’re we doing this morning?”

“Not that great.” Mary Kay described what had happened, Dr. Friedman nodding and taking notes on his laptop. Carol remained silent on a stool by the head of Mary Kay’s bed, wishing for all the world that Drake could be there. He should be there. It was his baby.

Dr. Friedman was taking Mary Kay’s temperature and blood pressure when Carol’s phone buzzed. She stepped out of the room to take the call.

“Where are you?” It was Beth, sounding frantic. “Is Mary Kay all right? Jeff came by to see how I was doing and told me she was pregnant. I can’t believe it. That’s so great!”

Carol remembered, then, that Beth was unaware of Mary Kay’s history. “We’re in ultrasound checking . . . things. How’s your dad?”

“Out of the woods. For now. I’m right down the hall in ICU, sitting around, waiting for a meeting with his cardiologist that’s supposed to be any minute. I’m glad you’re with her. Where’s Drake?”

“I don’t know,” she said, which was true.

“He must be going bonkers.” There was a commotion in the background and Beth’s voice lowered. “The doctor’s here. Gotta go. Tell Mary Kay I’m really happy for her, OK?”

“OK.” Carol clicked off and went back into the room.

Almost all the lights were off and Dr. Friedman was sitting between Mary Kay’s bent knees, his eyes on the screen as he moved the probe this way and that. Mary Kay grabbed Carol’s hand and squashed her fingers. “Haven’t found anything yet,” she whispered.

Carol put her arm around Mary Kay and squinted at the screen. How anyone made heads or tails out of that mess of black-and-white images was beyond her.

“Here’s the left ovary,” Friedman said. “Normal.” Then, shifting the probe, he said, “Here’s the right, and we can tell from its condition that there’s been an ovulation.” He pressed the button for a picture as Barbara took notes.

Where’s Drake?
Carol thought, wondering if there was some way to reach him.
He should be here for this.

“OK, so now we’re going to wiggle this around and see if we can get a clear shot of the fallopian tubes.”

Mary Kay grimaced. Carol hugged her close. “It’s going to be OK, MK. I just know.”

“Hmmm,” Dr. Friedman said.

“Hmmm?” Mary Kay repeated. “I don’t like hmmms.”

“You might like this one. I’m not seeing anything.” He twisted and turned. Mary Kay’s fingers clenched.

“Now we hunt for the uterus. You do know, Mary Kay, that it’s often impossible to see anything before five weeks,” he said, adjusting a few dials. “Barbara, what do you think?”

Barbara peered at the screen and smiled at Mary Kay. “Congratulations, Mom.”

Mary Kay struggled to look closer. “You mean . . .?”

“There’s a mass right there,” Dr. Friedman said. “Not a very big one. In fact, I’d put it at five weeks on the dot.”

“So, I’m . . .”

“Going to have a baby, yes.” Dr. Friedman pushed a button to take another photo. “By my rough estimates, I’d say sometime in the middle of next June you’ll be a mommy.”

Mary Kay burst into tears. Carol, too. For a while, all they could do was cry and hug and blubber like idiots. Mary Kay mumbled something about martinis and Carol told her not to give it another thought, that it was so early in the game no damage had been done.

“How did this happen?” Mary Kay sat up, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I don’t understand.”

“And you’re a nurse,” Dr. Friedman chuckled. “Tsk, tsk, Mary Kay. I thought they taught you the birds and the bees in school.”

She said, “You don’t understand. I was told . . . There was the laparoscopy. . .. It proved . . .”

“It proved that we medical professionals don’t always know everything.” Dr. Friedman rolled away his stool and snapped off his gloves. “How about you stop by my office after you get dressed to do some blood work and pick up a prescription for prenatal vitamins. Then we’ll get you on the schedule and you’ll be on your way.”

Barbara and Dr. Friedman left the room and Carol sat next to Mary Kay on the bed, bursting with happiness for her friend. Mary Kay, stunned, dangled her legs over the edge, blinking. “I’m going to be a mother.” She rubbed her hand over her belly. “I’m going to have a baby. It’s a miracle.”

The door opened. Beth came in and rushed over to Mary Kay. “So, is it confirmed?”

“Five weeks. I was saying to Carol that it’s a miracle.” Mary Kay wiped her eyes. “I never thought I could get pregnant. I’m forty-two and . . .”

There was the sound of the door opening, and the three of them looked up to find Drake standing there, jaw open. “I just got your message. Are you . . . OK?”

“More than OK.” Mary Kay started crying again. “I’m pregnant, Drake. Due in June.”

Drake swallowed. “
Really
pregnant.”

“You either are or you aren’t,” Beth said. “That’s usually the way it works.”

“Come on, Beth.” Carol nodded to the door. Beth slid off the bed as Drake took her place, enfolding Mary Kay in his arms and bending his head toward hers. They left them like that in their own little world. Drake. Mary Kay. And their baby-to-be.

“You know what this is?” Beth said as they headed down the hall. “This is Lynne working behind the scenes.”

Carol smiled. “Mary Kay’s five weeks pregnant, which means she was pregnant before Lynne died.”

Beth shrugged and twirled her purse. “Details, Carol. You heard what Mary Kay said. This is a miracle. I knew Lynne would pull one sooner or later. I just never expected there’d be three.”

“Three, huh?”

“She saved my father from dying, and from what Jeff tells me, she saved your marriage. And now Mary Kay’s pregnant. All within a twenty-four-hour period. If you don’t think that’s heavenly intervention, then I don’t know what is.”

M
ary Kay and Drake’s baby girl was born on a beautiful June morning when the roses came into full bloom. They named her Audrey Lynne, Audrey being the name of Drake’s mother. She came into the world with Mary Kay’s black hair and Drake’s brown eyes.

Mary Kay had never been so filled with joy as the moment when Drake laid that howling baby in her arms.

The week after the ultrasound, she and Drake made it official in a short and sweet City Hall ceremony. But they saved the real celebration for when Audrey was four months old and Mary Kay could fit into a reasonably flattering wedding dress.

That they were married in Mary Kay’s backyard on the anniversary of Lynne’s death was not by happenstance. Sean had suggested it, and they agreed. It was important to send the message that life goes on, and blessedly so.

Fortunately, it turned out to be another classic New England autumn day with bright blue skies and geese flying overhead, a nip in the air to justify the long sleeves of Beth’s dress. Tiffany wore a plum-colored gown and served as Mary Kay’s maid of honor, with Beth and Carol serving as unofficial “matrons of dishonor.”

Mary Kay was resplendent in a pale cream gown that just brushed the tops of her slippers and, in her hair, tea roses from Lynne’s garden. Carol and Beth patted their eyes as Drake took Mary Kay’s hand in hers and pledged his undying love. Holding baby Audrey, Mary Kay promised in return to love and trust him until death did they part, and just when the justice of the peace pronounced them husband and wife, Beth looked up and saw the last of the robins sitting on a branch overhead. It tweeted approval and flew off to join its flock headed south.

Bye-bye, Lynne,
she thought to herself.

A bluegrass band struck up the Louis Armstrong classic “What a Wonderful World” as Mary Kay, beaming with abundant happiness, and Drake held up Audrey to thunderous applause.

Elsie kissed Chat, and Marc wrapped Beth in a hug. The next day they were leaving for a six-month world tour, from Scotland to the South of France, to Russia and India and, naturally, Amalfi. A wonderful world, indeed.

Carol hugged Amanda, who’d landed a job in New York, working a mere cab ride away from her mother’s office. Occasionally, when Amanda needed to escape the city, together they’d ride the train back to Marshfield. Jeff, who’d thrown himself into setting up a new clinic in Haiti, would be home for Christmas if all went well. Carol planned to go all out. Best. Christmas. Ever.

Later, after a reception of champagne, foie gras, caviar, Alaskan salmon, roasted autumn vegetables, and a spice wedding cake, the original members of the Ladies Society for the Conservation of Martinis slipped off as the guests danced to “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” and the Stanley Brothers’ classic, “I Just Came from Your Wedding.” They had the limo take them down to the Old Town Cemetery, martini shaker in tow.

Carol and Beth invented the Absolutely Fabulous Martini together: champagne, Cointreau, a touch of lime juice, and fresh raspberries. It was sufficiently festive to honor Mary Kay’s wedding, though they’d been working with the ingredients since their road trip. Bubbly. Rich. Tart. Sweet. That essentially described each of the four friends, Lynne being the bubbly champagne.

They proceeded through the graveyard to Lynne’s grave by one of the big firs. Grass had overgrown the summer before and now there were fallen leaves. Beth spread a blanket and they sat in a semicircle around Lynne’s headstone, which was only fitting as she was the guest of honor.

Carol poured out three martinis, dropping two fresh raspberries in each.

“This will be the first martini I’ve had since the trip,” said Mary Kay, still in her wedding dress, her bare shoulders protected by a faux mink stole. “I don’t know if I should. I
am
nursing.”

“My mother had a drink every night when she was nursing, and look how I turned out,” Carol said, replacing the shaker in their basket.

“One or two sips,” Beth said. “This better not be the end of Mary Kay’s fun days.”

“To the Society, then.” Mary Kay held up her glass. “Who knew that a PTA meeting so long ago would end like this?” They each kissed her on the cheek.

“To Lynne,” Beth said. “I don’t know about you guys, but I feel like she’s here, with us.”

“Well, she is.” Carol patted the grave. “At least in spirit.”

They toasted Lynne in silence, their glasses frozen to their lips as a ghostly figure emerged from the woods, her hair cut short, a vibrant copper. She was hesitant, shy about coming closer, which was understandable, as they must have made quite a scene—the bride and her two matrons of dishonor.

“It’s OK,” Beth said, assuming the woman was lost. “You need help?”

She didn’t say anything, just stood there expectantly.

Mary Kay gave Carol a look. “Can we help you?”

The woman pointed. “Is that Lynne Swann’s grave?”

The name. Lynne Swann. No one in Marshfield knew Lynne’s maiden name. Then there was the matter of her hair—red—though shorter than the photos in Don Miller’s house.

Carol reached for Mary Kay’s hand. “Alice,” she whispered. “It’s Alice.”

Beth went white. “By any chance, are you . . . Alice Miller?”

Mary Kay, completely forgetting that she was in her wedding dress, got up and tripped on her hem. “Oh my God!” She slapped her cheeks. “It really is you.”

It took some explaining about the wedding and their martinis, but eventually Alice caught on. “Do you like martinis?” Beth asked, stupidly, because at the moment it was the only question that came to mind.

Alice laughed, her eyes flashing like Lynne’s used to. “Are you kidding?”

Of course she did. She was Lynne’s daughter, after all.

Carol led Alice back to Lynne’s grave, where they poured her a glass of her own. Then they sat her between Mary Kay and Beth, who couldn’t stop staring, assessing the similarities and differences. She was Lynne, but she also wasn’t. Alice was a graphic designer in Boston with two kids of her own (Lynne’s grandchildren!), a daughter named Cynthia and a boy named Henry.

There was a picture on her phone. Two curly-headed five-year-olds climbing up a yellow slide, redheads like their mother, their freckled cheeks red from the cold. They were fraternal twins.

“Twins run in the family,” Beth explained, telling her about Kevin and Kyle, Alice’s half brothers.

“So why did you decide to finally come here?” Carol asked out of the blue. “Obviously, you got Lynne’s letter.”

“I did.” Alice reached into her bag and pulled out the white sheet of paper that had been read and reread so often, one of the folds was ripped. “My father gave it to me last Thanksgiving. He was worried it would upset me, since my mother had just passed away, and it did, in a way. Losing Mom was very hard, and I didn’t want to hear from a woman who gave me up for adoption and then didn’t bother to write me until she was terminally ill. So I put it aside and didn’t read it until spring.”

“I’m so glad you did,” Mary Kay said. “We went through a lot of effort to find you.”

“That’s what Dad told me, said you were downright pests.” She smiled. “Anyway, I looked up her obituary online and, kind of on a whim, decided to drive down here and pay my respects since she died a year ago today.”