Sister's Choice (8 page)

“It’s a classic,” she said out loud.

The house, painted a fading blue-gray, had a deep front porch that wrapped around the sides. A hipped roof rose above the second story, and twin chimneys were like bookends holding it all in place. Roses tumbled over arbors; evergreen shrubs nearly hid the porch railing. Two black walnuts stood as straight as soldiers, one on each side of the clearing. She was taken with the combination of graceful rural living and neglect. The porch needed painting, the flower beds needed tending. The house needed to be loved.

She had expected something very different. Contemporary, perhaps, with witty architectural details. At the very least, paint as bright as Grace’s clothing. She loved the old house on sight, but it didn’t look as if Grace should live there.

Grace did, though. As Jamie pulled up next to a Rosslyn and Rosslyn pickup, Grace, in a daffodil-yellow blouse and long pink broomstick skirt, came out to the porch and waved.

“Come on up,” she called. “There’s a hungry fawn waiting to be fed.”

Jamie got out and retrieved Alison. Hannah, clearly feeling like her old self, ran ahead.

Someone had cut the grass recently, but grass was a misnomer. What passed for a yard was mostly dandelions mowed into submission. Up close, the house was even shabbier.

“It’s a wonderful old place,” Jamie said, as she and Alison climbed up to the porch. Her mind began to whirl with changes she would make, a window enlarged here, a pergola there, a different sort of roof entirely over the front porch.

“Before I became mistress of the manor, Ben’s family had lived here for five generations. They were talented carpenters, and when they decided to add on, they didn’t throw it together higgledy-piggledy like some do. It’s substantial and well-constructed. Of course, upkeep went by the wayside when I moved away. Renters and such. Cash should have moved in, but he claimed it was too big for a single man.”

Jamie wondered why the family had been so willing to let the house deteriorate.

“They want to sell it,” Grace said, as if she were reading Jamie’s mind. “The family kept the house up, but only to the point that if somebody bought the land and wanted the house, too, it could be salvaged. But they don’t believe that will happen.”

Jamie didn’t know what to say.

“I intend to live forever and keep them from selling anything,” Grace said. “It belongs to me, lock, stock and acreage. In the unlikely chance that I die someday, I’m investigating the possibilities of a conservation easement. I don’t ever want to see a housing development where these orchards stand.”

Jamie felt her way through what seemed to be a loaded subject. “You don’t sound angry.”

“Oh, we understand each other. Everyone is trying to do what’s right. So far, our paths just won’t meet, that’s all. But where there’s love, there is, eventually, a solution.”

Jamie liked that philosophy. She supposed a version of it had spurred her to volunteer as Kendra and Isaac’s surrogate.

“But come in, come in, don’t dawdle. Lucky’s waiting for her friends.” Grace threw open the screen door, which was sagging on its hinges, and let the girls inside.

The interior was in better condition than the exterior. Walls had been freshly painted, woodwork and floors polished. The house seemed to have fireplaces in every room, and each one was more interesting than the last. Jamie followed her children to the kitchen, admiring what looked like primitive antiques but were probably long-held family pieces. The walls had been painted light, bright colors that reflected the sunlight streaming through the un-curtained windows. Ripest apricot, exotic orchid, grassy green. And everywhere she looked, there were quilts. Not the old-fashioned quilts Jamie had investigated in the surrounding towns at antique and craft shops, but quilts like none Jamie had ever seen.

“Grace, the quilts! They’re magnificent.” Jamie stopped, although she knew her girls would disapprove, and pointed to one that hung from a wooden rod behind a sofa. “That one’s incredible.”

“I’m glad you like them. They’re all mine. Except for the one in the front parlor. That was a swap with another quilter.”

“Kendra
told
me there were quilters everywhere you look around here.”

Grace gave a low laugh. “I doubt she meant me. I gave up traditional quilts a while ago. I figured life was too short to redo what better quilt makers had done centuries before me. I never perfected my hand-quilting stitch, never got the hang of perfect piecing. I can do both well enough to get by, but this is my passion.” She waved at the quilt that had stopped Jamie in her tracks.

All the quilts Jamie had noticed shared bright colors, interesting textures and items incorporated into the surface that she had never associated with quilts. Items like feathers, beads, old jewelry, branches, sprays of gilded wheat and ordinary nuts and bolts. Some had open spaces adorned by strips of ribbon or lace. Others were trapezoids or irregular hexagons. The one thing they all had in common? They brought the old farmhouse walls to life.

This quilt, almost double-bed size, was made of gold-and-red strips of every size and shape, sprinkled with crystal beads and what looked like gold nuggets encased in silvery thread. A parade of tiny rag dolls of every race and in various international costumes crisscrossed the center. Jamie was enchanted. The walls behind it were a pale metallic gold, and Grace had used the same bright red in the pillows strewn on a black plush sofa.

“I’ll never think of quilts the same way again,” Jamie said.

“I started these when I lived here with Ben. I’m not sure he ever truly understood what I was doing. Ben was traditional right down to his toenails, which nobody ever saw but me, of course, since a real man never wears sandals.”

Jamie wondered about that marriage. But Grace spoke fondly of her husband, so Jamie preferred to believe it had been a happy one.

Grace continued until they were in a huge, sunny kitchen. Pine cabinets warmed the room under white tile counters. A conga line of fruits and vegetables adorned an eye-popping quilt on the wall beside the refrigerator. The walls were painted a deep peach.

Lucky was in a large dog crate beside the stove.

As one voice, the girls said, “Ah…”

“I have a bottle all ready to give her,” Grace told Hannah. “She’ll sit on your lap if you let her, and drink it all down. But Alison will need a turn holding the bottle, as well. You’ll need to be the one to hold Lucky, Hannah, even when Alison has the bottle. Her hooves are sharp.”

“We can do that.”

Grace opened the door and reached inside for the fawn. Lucky seemed perfectly happy to leave the safety of the crate, but in no particular hurry.

Jamie echoed her daughters’ sentiments. “Ah…Look at that. She’s walking.” The fawn was still as tiny as a stuffed toy, but her coat was shinier than it had been, and the darker spots now seemed to stand out in sharp relief against the tan. Her eyes were brighter, too. Jamie realized with a lump in her throat how close to losing her they had been.

“Still a bit weak in the pins, but she’s coming along,” Grace said. “We’ve graduated to goat’s milk. A neighbor’s supplying it. And she’s going a full two hours between feedings now, sometimes three. Soon enough, she’ll sleep through the night.”

“It’s been so much work for you. I feel badly—” she paused “—but not as badly as I’d feel if we hadn’t moved her here.”

“That’s two of us. She’s a dear little thing.” Grace laughed at the pun when Jamie did. “She’s kept me company. The nights are long up here.”

She went to the refrigerator and got what looked like a soft-drink bottle half filled with milk and capped with a plastic nipple. She instructed the girls on how to get Lucky to drink, then she waved Jamie to an oak table. “Have a seat, and I’ll get you some coffee if you like.”

“No coffee, but a glass of water would be great.”

“I have lemonade.”

“Greater.”

Grace poured four glasses and set them on a tray that she brought over to the table. In the corner, the girls squealed with delight as Lucky tried to grab the nipple.

Grace took the chair beside Jamie’s and passed her a glass. “Would you like to see the orchard once the girls feed Lucky?”

“I would. Is it still producing?”

“Not the way it should. There are no farmers left in the family, I’m afraid. One of my sons works for the U.S. Mint out in San Francisco. The other teaches physics at a small college in Massachusetts. Their children are professionals with no interest in the land. My daughter—Cash’s mother—loves the place, but she’s not confident enough to save it. Sandra sees no way to continue production, pay the taxes, pay for labor, upkeep, machinery and everything that goes along with orchards. The crop’s not worth as much as it should be. Americans expect their food at rock-bottom prices. Farmers go out of business every day, faster than you can blink your eyelids.”

“There are other orchards around. I’ve seen signs on the roads. How do they keep going?”

“Pick your own. They bring families up from the cities to spend a day in the country, ride in a hay wagon, pick their own fruit, have picnics. But it takes dedication and a lot of hard work to make that happen. Mostly the ones who make it are family enterprises. That’s true for most of the orchards that pick and ship the usual way, too. Or sometimes there’s a family member or two who subsidize the cost of keeping the business going.”

“I don’t know a thing about it, but it does sounds like a huge amount of work.”

“Yes, and pay regular wages for all of it and you go under right away.”

“So what do you do? You said you were still producing.”

“We sell for cider these days, and for sauce. No direct sales, no grocery-store sales. Apples aren’t perfect enough. But even that crop’s declined. You have to plant new trees and fuss over the old ones like they were your children. So that’s why I’m here. To make sure that happens.”

“You’ve figured out how to put it back together?”

Grace smiled. “Not yet. But I just got here.”

“And we’ve kept you busy.” But even as she said it, Jamie wondered how a woman Grace’s age could fix such a vast problem. Although she was vivacious and energetic, Grace was probably in her eighties. It seemed obvious from the general disrepair Jamie had seen that Grace’s children were just biding their time until they could take control. That seemed sad.

“Cash could turn it around if he chose.” Grace refilled Jamie’s lemonade. “He was born to do it. He’s the most like me, of course. He just hasn’t quite realized that staying here and making a go of it would be all the challenge he needs. Cure his restlessness.”

Jamie was enjoying herself. Behind her, the girls were laughing, clearly thrilled with their task. And now she had a chance to learn more about Cash.

“You think he’s restless?”

“No,
he
thinks he’s restless. He thinks if he moves on, then moves on again, he’ll find some peace. Only that’s not going to help, of course.”

“Peace can be elusive.”

“He’s had a hard road.”

Jamie didn’t want to be a busybody. She told herself that if Cash needed peace, the reason was his own business. But the question must have showed on her face.

Grace sat back. “What do you know about my grandson?”

“That he’s a talented carpenter and a nice guy.”

“And that he has his eye on you?”

Jamie could feel her dimples deepen. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I told you he was a rascal. Now I’ll tell you that he hasn’t had a serious relationship since he became a single man again.”

Jamie was taken aback. “Oh.”

“You didn’t know he was married.” It wasn’t a question. “He’s sure he never wants to be again.”

Jamie thought of the baby growing inside her. “And if Cash doesn’t want ties, I’d be the last person he’d want anything to do with,” she warned. “My kids and I are a regular ball and chain.”

“The girls? He loves children. All my great-grandchildren think Cash could raise the dead. No, you would be the obstacle. He’s afraid to fall in love, and you’d be a short drop, you know. Slip an inch, and there he’d be.”

Jamie almost spat out her lemonade. “Grace, that’s a lovely thing to say, but really, you don’t know a thing about me.”

Grace peered intently at Jamie through her thick glasses. “Trouble in the past. I can see it in your face. Something to do with the men who fathered those girls, perhaps, or something older. But a strong determination to make things right, patience, intelligence, creativity. And you cook like a pro and design houses. What else is there to know, dear? He would be lucky to have you.”

She stood before Jamie could say another word. “Girls, how is that silly fawn doing?” She walked over to supervise the feeding. Lucky seemed perfectly happy, but Alison had tired of trying to keep the bottle in the fawn’s mouth, and now she came to sit on her mother’s lap and drink lemonade. In a few minutes Hannah joined her.

“We’ll take Lucky outside first,” Grace told them, “then off we’ll go for a drive. She needs a walk and some fresh air, and a place to poop.”

The girls giggled at that. Jamie had to smile, too. Grace lifted the fawn into her arms and started toward the door. Halfway there, she stumbled over a footstool that rested against a cabinet and nearly fell.

Jamie was close enough to grab her arm.

“Was that silly?” Grace asked. “But it’s hard to see over this little thing.”

“I’ll guide you,” Jamie said. She kept her hand on Grace’s arm.

“You’re a woman who can be counted on,” Grace said. “I can tell.”

Jamie inadvertently put her other hand on her belly. “That’s what I want to be,” she said. “That’s exactly what I want to be.”

K
endra climbed the stairs to the second floor of her Arlington home; then, because she couldn’t help herself, she stepped into the small bedroom that looked over the backyard. Ten, the tattered Garfield look-alike who shared their lives, ran between her legs, followed closely by lovable but clueless Dusty, a canine mixed breed that she—a talented wordsmith—had never been able to adequately describe. Used to this behavior, she moved to one side as soon as the second tail passed, so they would have a clear shot out the door for the return trip. They made it in record time.

In the nearly two years she and Isaac had lived in the house, this room had never been used by anyone except Jamie’s girls. When Hannah and Alison visited, they slept on twin beds that Kendra had found at an estate sale. The beds were country-French in style, walnut, with hand-carved flowers on the head-and footboards and graceful cabriole legs. She had lovingly furnished the rest of the room with a dresser and rocking chair of the same period, taking her time to select the perfect items to go with them. A fluffy white rug and cheerful redwork quilts she had bought at the Shenandoah Community Church auction harmonized with pale yellow walls.

She had thought it would be the last time she furnished a room for children.

She heard footsteps behind her, and when Isaac slipped his arms around her waist, she leaned back against him.

“What are you thinking?” He nuzzled her ear.

“It’s too early to be thinking what I’m thinking.”

“You’re planning a nursery, aren’t you?”

She laughed softly, because of course he was right. This room was the closest to the master bedroom, and it would be the obvious place for a baby to sleep.

“I hate to displace the girls,” she said, “but we won’t be living in this house much longer. We’ll make sure there’s a room just for them in the Valley house.”

“I’m thinking a sports theme here,” he said. “Easy to put up and take down when we move. Baseball pennants, a basketball hoop.”

“If it weren’t sexist, I’d point out that the baby could be a girl.”

“Who will then learn to pitch with the best of them,” Isaac promised. “Hannah’s already working on her curve ball.”

“I can’t believe this is really happening.”

Isaac’s arms tightened around her. “We’ll see the proof in a little while.”

If all was well, their baby was six and a half weeks old today. Jamie had been absolutely correct. She was pregnant, and she was scheduled to have an ultrasound at the fertility clinic in an hour. If this one went well, she would have another in a few weeks. At that point, if everything was fine, she would transfer her care to a regular obstetrician. They had decided on a practice in Front Royal, which was closer for Kendra and Isaac than Woodstock, and still easy for Jamie to reach. From the beginning, Jamie had insisted that she wanted Kendra and Isaac to attend any appointment they wanted to.

“There’s still so much that can go wrong,” Kendra said. Isaac was so quiet that she knew he was trying to frame his response.

“Just say it,” she said. “Get it over with. I’ve got a pretty good guess anyway.”

He tightened his arms around her. “I know you’re just trying to protect yourself—and me—by holding back, but isn’t it about time we started to enjoy this? Shouldn’t we be able to talk about the baby without backtracking?”

“It’s just all so new. And so tentative.”

“So Rod Serling? So
Back to the Future?
”

She laughed again. She felt better with his arms around her. “Let’s face it, this isn’t something I trained for. Nobody ever prepared me to let my sister carry my child.”

“Then we ought to just let go, don’t you think? If we’re not trained, we don’t even know what to worry about.”

“It doesn’t seem to work that way. Instead, I just worry about everything.”

“Try to stop, okay?”

She heard him loud and clear. The last thing in the world she wanted was to ruin this experience for Isaac.

She turned in his arms. “Of course you’re right. Worrying about everything’s not going to change the outcome. It’s not like I can head it off by thinking about it first.. Jamie’s been pregnant twice without my help, and she doesn’t need a worrying section on the sidelines.”

“Good. Now work on believing that, okay?” He squeezed again, and kissed then released her. “Decorating the nursery might be a good first project in making the house a worry-free zone.”

“No, it really is too early. But I’ll make a list of ideas.”

He was already at the door, but he turned. “As long as they revolve around blue.”

“You don’t really care what sex the baby is, do you?”

He smiled a little. “You know I don’t.”

“I guess you could use an ally. I’ve got my sister and the girls. We need more testosterone in the family.”

“We need a healthy baby. Let’s go see our first photo, shall we?”

She took one last look at the room they would bring their child home to. A wave of worry swept over her again. Resolutely, she pushed it as far away as she could, but she could still feel it lapping at the edges of her mind, waiting to wash over her. She was afraid that was the best she was going to be able to do.

“Please tell me you’ve finished all your questions,” Jamie said.

The nurse who had brought her to the scanning room, a middle-aged woman with complicated trails of French braids zigzagging over her head, laughed. “When will anybody ever be this interested in every little symptom you have, honey? Nobody’s ever going to get this excited about every little drop of pee again. You’ll miss me.”

“The questions? Not so much.”

“We’re going to start with an external scan today, but if it doesn’t go just the way they want, we’re going to do the vaginal one. You know that?”

Jamie had strongly suggested that she be allowed to try the external scan first, so that Isaac could be present. Their doctor had reluctantly agreed.

“I know. I’m just hoping we can hear the heartbeat,” she said.

“That full bladder of yours will help.”

“That full bladder of mine would like to get started.”

Somebody knocked on the door, and the nurse let Kendra in.

“I’ll get you settled,” the nurse said. “Then the technician will come in. The father can join you then.”

“How are you?” Kendra asked Jamie.

“Let’s just say that after thirty-two ounces of water, I’m looking forward to a little rendezvous with the bathroom when we get done here.”

Kendra watched as the nurse got Jamie into position on the examination table. Jamie undid her jeans, pulling them low on her hips.

“You’ve done this before, huh?” the nurse asked.

“I’m an old hand.”

“You comfy?”

“More or less.”

“You’re set. Lori will be with you in a few minutes.”

“Few being the operative word, right?” Kendra said. “If Jamie says she’s uncomfortable, she’s not kidding.”

“I promise we won’t let her float away.” The nurse patted Jamie’s hand; then she disappeared out the door.

Jamie shifted a little to make herself more comfortable. “I like it when you get all stern and demanding.”

“I’m going to make absolutely sure everybody takes good care of you. That’s my new job.”

“New? That was always your job. We got beyond it for…what? About ten minutes, and now you’ll have to take care of me all over again.”

“That’s not exactly what’s happening. Aren’t you taking care of me? Making sure I get my heart’s desire, even at considerable expense to your freedom and muscle tone?”

“That’s a nice way of thinking about it.” Jamie reached for Kendra’s hand and squeezed it.

Kendra smiled, then sobered. “Jamie, speaking of taking care of you and our happy childhood…Have you spoken to Riva? Does she know you’re here, and why?”

Now Jamie understood why her sister had turned so serious. Riva Delacroix was not so much estranged from her daughters as she was oblivious to them. Her life was a high-speed train to nowhere, with frequent stops at watering holes for the rich and famous. Their childhood had been spent in the care of household servants and poorly chosen nannies, and Kendra had tried, for most of Jamie’s childhood, to make up to her for the neglect of both parents. That, of course, had created a new set of problems.

Jamie remembered her last conversation with her mother. “Right before we moved, I called and told her we were going to spend some time in Virginia. She was somewhere in Tuscany at a house party, or would that be a villa party? Anyway, she regaled me for most of an hour with tales of a new man who was the answer to every prayer she’d ever prayed, every dream she’d ever dreamed, every—”

“I get it.”

“I thought you might. She sounded even more Riva than usual. She said she had a vision just before this man appeared. A woman dressed in flowing robes told her that her suffering was over, and that she would attain heaven on earth. Then in he walked.”

“Riva, our lady of perpetual confusion.”

Jamie had been forced to deal with her feelings about their mother during her residency at First Step, but she wondered if Kendra ever really had. She hoped so. Putting a poor parent in perspective seemed like a prerequisite to becoming a good one. It certainly had been for her.

Someone knocked, and a woman with a lab coat over a gray skirt came in and introduced herself as Lori, the sonographer. She was young, blond and chirpy.

Kendra stepped to one side to give Lori room to set up. “May I get my husband now?”

“You’re all right with that?” Lori asked Jamie.

“He’s the daddy.”

Lori didn’t blink. This was a fertility clinic, and she had probably seen every combination and situation imaginable. “Go get ’im,” she told Kendra. “We don’t want Daddy to miss out, do we?”

Jamie thought she would probably like Lori under different circumstances. But she was tired, a little nauseous and anxious to make a break for the toilet. All this, plus the girls were waiting outside, wondering why Mommy and their aunt and uncle were all visiting a doctor’s office together.

Isaac came in with Kendra, and they stood where the sonographer told them to.

“Are the girls doing okay?” Jamie asked.

“Alison is coloring cows lime-green, and Hannah is seeing how fast she can progress through crossword puzzles for much older children. They’re wondering what’s going on.”

“I’ll tell them soon. I wanted to get through this first.”

Kendra took her hand. Lori warned Jamie that the gel she was going to spread on her abdomen was a little cold. Jamie was ready for it.

“This is the transducer,” Lori explained, holding up her magic wand. “It picks up sound waves. You can watch on the screen.”

Jamie had been introduced to this technology with Hannah, but even now, three pregnancies later, the idea that they could “see” the baby while it was forming amazed her.

Images flashed by on the screen as Lori moved the transducer across her belly, explaining a few. There was little definition to any of them. Even after witnessing a number of ultrasounds, Jamie still couldn’t tell what she was seeing. If there was a baby there, it was invisible to her.

Lori fell silent, and Jamie actually missed her chirping. She had hoped Lori would explain everything as she went, but her demeanor now was completely professional.

After a while she stopped, removing the transducer. “Okay, I’m off to get the doctor,” she said.

“Why?” Jamie demanded.

“It’s routine. We’ll let him tell you when he arrives.”

“I’m pretty much ready to get up off this table and head out of here,” Jamie warned.

“Back in a minute or two. Don’t go anywhere.”

“What do you suppose this is about?” Isaac asked, after she left.

“She didn’t sound that concerned,” Kendra said, sounding concerned herself. “But she’s also the kind of person who would find something positive to say while a tornado was shredding her house.”

Jamie had a pretty good idea what was up. She’d had enough ultrasounds to know that whatever Lori had seen had neither surprised nor worried her. She wondered why her brother-in-law hadn’t figured it out. She supposed anxiety could block even Isaac’s good sense.

She wished she was back in Michigan, where her young gynecologist, Dr. Chinn, would have been present at the ultrasound and more than willing to report everything right up front. They had become good friends when Suz Chinn’s brother had needed First Step’s outpatient clinic to help overcome a fondness for pain-killers. She could use Suz now, to put Kendra and Isaac at ease.

“This is a medical clinic,” she said, not wanting to spoil the surprise or jump to the wrong conclusion out loud. “If they tell you what’s going on, they can’t charge as much. They charge by the mysterious moment.”

When the other two fell silent and she realized that they were still preparing for the worst, she added, “Listen, whatever it is, no matter what, we’ll move on. If we have to do this again, that’s what we’ll do.”

“Do you think that’s what they’re going to tell us?”

“No. I’m pretty sure I
know
what they’re going to tell us,” Jamie said.

Before they could demand she guess out loud, the door opened and one of the doctors strode in with Lori. He was short, completely bald, and his smile fed Jamie’s certainty.

“Okay, let’s look at this together,” he said. “Did Lori tell you what she saw?”

Kendra moved closer to the screen. “No, but you don’t seem concerned.”

“My sister, the investigative reporter,” Jamie said. “That’s her way of getting info. Why don’t you just come out and tell her?”

“We’ll have a look see first,” the doctor said. “Just to be sure, although Lori’s the best sonographer I know, the real McCoy.”

Jamie generally didn’t trust people who used terms like “look-see” and “real McCoy,” but she kind of liked this guy. He and perky little Lori were a team. Together they excelled at good news.

“Okay, Mommy,” he told Jamie. “Let’s take one more look.”

“Mommy,” Jamie asked Kendra, “is that okay with you?” She winked.

Kendra was pale. Her freckles seemed to have grown three shades darker. “Let’s just get on with it, okay?”