The Seacrest (17 page)

Libby nodded. “You should live there, it’s your family home, Finn. And you can paint again.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not sure if I still have what it takes, Lib.”

“We’ll hire an assistant for you for a little while. When you’re sure he’s got the knack of things in the barn and gardens, we’ll let him take over for you.”

“Good idea,” I said with a slight smile. “I wouldn’t want some young kid messing up my flowerbeds. Or spooking poor Dippy.”

Libby sat up and pouted. “Her name is Serendipity. She’s not dippy at all.”

Ruby and I both laughed. I came back to the bed and sat again. “Really? That horse jumps at her own shadow. I call that dippy.”

She loosed a reluctant smile. “Well. I guess you’re right.”

Rudy yawned, and his eyes began to close. “Kids. I’m ready for a nap. Why don’t you head back to The Seacrest and take care of the animals now. It’s almost time for evening stables.”

We both stood at the same time, almost knocking into each other.

She backed up, flushing. “Okay, Daddy. We’ll be back in the morning to bring you home.”

Rudy glanced at me. “Don’t make me drive in that old jalopy of yours, boy. Bring the Caddy this time.”

I winked at him, remembering how much he hated my old junker and thinking about Jax’s cars that were now mine. “Deal,” I said, backing out of the room with Libby.

We headed out to the Jeep with tension slicing the air between us, a barrier of uncomfortable feelings and a shadowy past that seemed to enshroud Libby. She seemed nervous, apologetic, sad.

I felt just the opposite. To know she hadn’t dumped me because of something I’d actually done that upset her…to know she still cared for me…to know maybe I still had a chance…

“Come on,” I said. “We’ve got a little time before we have to feed the animals. I’d like to stop at the graves, if that’s okay with you.”

She nodded and climbed sedately into the Jeep, folding her hands on her lap. “Okay.”

I shifted the old car into first and headed for the cemetery.

Chapter 38

Christmas Eve 1997

7:30 P.M.

M
y little sister Eva was born in the middle of a blizzard. It was a real nor’easter, one that blew in from the ocean and turned our world upside down.

My father and I had just finished doing the dishes after a sugared ham dinner my mother insisted on making for us. She’d prepared the whole meal—in spite of being huge and pregnant and ready to deliver any day now. I’d scarfed down the collard greens, sweet potatoes, gravy, homemade applesauce sauce, and salad.

Mom finally agreed to relax, and now she sat in the living room, her feet propped up on the hearth, a sweet smile on her face. The fire crackled. Jax played on his video game in the corner. Christmas carols crooned softly from the radio in the corner.

Dad and I had just entered the room when she turned to us. “Oh. I just love Christmas, don’t you? And look how nice the lights on the tree sparkle—OH! Oh, dear.” She looked down at the puddle of liquid that dripped onto the wooden floorboards, then raised her eyes to my father with a faltering smile. “It’s time.”

My father went into action. In less than a minute, he’d locked the back door, closed up the glass doors on the fireplace, checked Mr. Jingles’ food and water, and dressed my mother in her winter coat, scarf, and gloves.

“Boys,” he said calmly. “You’re coming with us. There’s a storm out there that might take down the power lines again. I want us together.”

Jax nodded, pocketed his game, and gave us surprisingly little grief.

I ran for my coat and boots and grabbed my mother’s suitcase, which had been sitting by the front door for a week now. “Ready, Dad.”

We battled the snow and wind all the way to the car, with my father and me on either side of my mother. Jax opened the door for her—which surprised me—and she made it inside, already covered in snow and breathing hard.

Her face clinched and she let out a low groan. “Ohhhhhh……” Holding her belly, she began to breathe with short little breaths, the way they taught her in the birthing classes.

My father hurried us into the back seat, waited for the contraction to pass before buckling my mother into the front, and started the engine. “Ready, Mary?”

She waved wildly at him, now leaning sideways with eyes closed, her hands rubbing small circles on her stomach. “Go! Just get me there, Anthony.”

Nerves hitched in my stomach. She sounded strange, less sweet and understanding, more forceful. It was unsettling.

My father nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and began to navigate the snowy roads, meeting drifts head on every few miles that caused us to slow and often slide sideways.

I gripped the armrest, watching the snow sheet across the windows.

In spite of the drama of the moment, my mind drifted to Libby.

Was it snowing in Switzerland?

I pictured her in that fancy, prestigious boarding school, walking in her dark maroon uniform from class to class at the base of the Eiger Mountain. I imagined the mountain towering over her, Libby laughing with girlfriends. I’d researched her school name and had seen pictures. They had horses there, of course, and I imagined her riding on an elegant bay mare with her long legs perfectly positioned in the stirrups. They probably had an indoor arena, and I figured Libby would practice her dressage skills inside on wintry days like this.

I wondered if she’d return my letter again this week, just like all the others.

I’d written to her every week since she dumped me on Labor Day. Every time the envelope came back, with a “return to sender” scrawled in her flowery handwriting across the top.

Each envelope that I added to the pile hidden beneath the loose floorboard in the closet was yet another blow to my tender heart.

I ached for her at night. Craved her supple body and ready smile. Imagined running my fingers through her smooth dark hair, touching her in all the special places. I called her name in my sleep, drew pictures of her in art class. I longed for her so badly; I even walked an extra mile in the cold on weekends to stare at The Seacrest, to gaze longingly at the barn. We’d had such special times there, the absolute best times of my life.

Certain I couldn’t live without her, I wondered what I’d do when prom came around in the spring. My parents would probably force me to invite some girl who didn’t have a clue, some girl who wasn’t Libby.

I unzipped my parka. The car was getting warm.

Apparently, my mother agreed.

“Anthony. Turn down the darned heat. You’re roasting me up here.”

Jax and I exchanged a surprised glance. Was that really my mother talking? Or some stranger?

My father didn’t react. With barely a nod, he reached forward and adjusted the temperature. I noticed he’d been timing the contractions on his wristwatch. “No problem, dear. Stay calm, we’ll be there in five minutes.”

She cried out again, closing her eyes and holding her middle. “Don’t tell me to stay calm! It’s not your body that’s trying to force a—” With another wail, she suffered through the next contraction and then went quiet.

“Dad?” I leaned forward. “Is everything okay?”

He shot me a warning glance in the rear view mirror, which I took to mean
sit back and be quiet
. “Everything’s okay, boys. We’re almost there.”

I leaned back and my mother draped a hand over her seat, reaching for me. “Sorry, boys. I’m not quite myself tonight.”

I offered a wavering smile. “It’s okay, Mom. Just let us know what you need.”

I thought the contractions were supposed to be far apart in the beginning, from what I’d heard my mother discussing with my father over the years. The story of Jax’s birth had been a popular one. She’d talked about it a lot, and this whole scenario seemed much more accelerated than I’d expected.

My father must’ve read my mind, for he checked his watch again. “Contractions are two minutes apart, Mary. Looks like this one’s coming faster than when you delivered the boys.”

And there it was again, just as we reached the Emergency Room parking lot. Another contraction, more yelling, more fear coursing through me.

Things happened quickly now. My father had been on the phone to the ER minutes before, alerting them of our approach.

A tech met us at the door with a wheelchair.

My father tossed the keys to Jax after helping my mother into the chair. “Park this in the garage, son.” He turned to me. “Bring your mother’s bag in, Finn.”

Another cry from my mother made my father stiffen. He raced to her side and began filling in the nurse who appeared in green scrubs. “It’s coming faster than before. She’s down to a minute between…”

I couldn’t hear the rest. I grabbed the suitcase and nodded to Jax, who still surprised me by not making wisecracks or rolling his eyes. Unusually quiet, he got into the car and nodded to me. “See you inside.”

“Okay.” I stood in the wind and cold, brushing snowflakes off my face. “See ya.”

Inside, I found my parents being checked in, but was shooed into the waiting room when a nurse abruptly cut short the registration and wheeled my mother toward the elevator. “You finish the paperwork,” she said to my father. “Meet us on the second floor, delivery room three, when you’re done.”

My mother’s cries echoed through the waiting room as the elevator doors whisked shut, and that same sense of fear cantered through me.

Is something wrong this time?

Will they get her to the delivery room before the baby comes?

I settled in the empty waiting room, then realized with a start, it was still Christmas Eve. Everyone else was home, drinking eggnog and hanging his or her stockings.

Green plastic garlands with red silk balls draped the doorways and windows, and somehow the weak attempt to make the place feel Christmassy depressed me. I wanted to be home, in my living room. I wanted to lean over my mother’s shoulder while she played Christmas carols, singing together like we always did on Christmas Eve. I wanted to see my dog, Mr. Jingles, turn in circles on the rug before the fireplace, ready to settle down for a good night’s sleep. And I wondered what in the world was in that small shiny box with my name on it beneath the tree.

“Finn?” Jax handed me a small white ticket. “Here. You keep the parking receipt. I might lose it.”

He shrugged out of his jacket and plopped down beside me. “Still coming down like a banshee out there. I could barely see.”

I’d gotten my license a few weeks ago, but hadn’t had much chance to practice in the snow yet. I’d been glad my father hadn’t asked me to park the car. With the way my luck was running that year, I probably would have crashed it.

We sat together in silence for a while.

Finally, I got up and started to pace. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

Jax shrugged, looking up from his game for a few seconds. “Dunno. But the way things were going there, it should be pretty quick, I guess.”

I wondered if he’d ever done this before, considering his history with getting girls pregnant. “Jax?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever see those babies?”

His head jerked up. “What?”

“You know, your babies. Those girls you…”

He put down the game and closed his eyes. “Oh, crap. How did you find out?”

“I saw one at the doctor’s office that day we took Mom in for a checkup. That girl and her mother were really uncomfortable when they spotted us. They pretty much hid around the corner. And vice versa.” I sat down again beside him. “Dad finally told me. He said there were three of them.”

Jax rolled his eyes. “Cripes. I wish he hadn’t told you.”

“What happened to the babies? And who were those girls, anyway?”

He opened his eyes and leaned toward me. “Listen. I screwed up big this year. I’m paying for it, don’t you worry. You don’t know the girls, they’re not from our school.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “One said she had an abortion,” he grimaced. “And the other two gave them up for adoption.”

“Whoa.” I sat quiet for a while. “Do you ever think about them? That you have two kids out there somewhere, being raised by strangers?”

He shifted uncomfortably on his chair, his eyes hooded. “I try not to. It’s too weird.”

“Oh.” I stretched my legs out to relieve the pins and needles I felt when I suddenly moved. Having just turned seventeen in November, I never gave a thought to fatherhood. Some day, maybe, I’d get married and have a family. But unless it was with Libby, I couldn’t picture it. “It’s just kind of sad, is all.”

He let out a long breath and shoved me sideways, almost knocking me off the chair. “Just shut up about it, will ya?”

I rubbed my arm and scowled. “Fine.”

We sat in silence for another half hour, and finally, when I’d started to worry in earnest again, my father showed up in the doorway, looking tired, but proud.

“It’s a girl,” he said.

We jumped up to meet him halfway.

He put his hands on our shoulders, smiling. “You have a little sister.”

“Cool,” I said. “That’s great, Dad.”

Jax said, “Is Mom okay?”

 “She’s fine, boys. Tired, but she did great. You can see her in a little bit.”

With a sigh of relief, we followed my father to the vending machine, where he bought us both cups of weak hot chocolate and kept patting us on our backs. I realized in that moment that he’d been scared, too, on that snowy ride to the hospital and up in the delivery room. It had been pretty darned close. If we’d gone off the road into a snow bank, my mother would likely have had the baby in the car.

With a start, for the first time in my youth I recognized my father’s human side, acknowledged his frailties. I sipped the scalding drink and followed him back to the waiting room. We settled together for a few minutes, and then I touched his arm.

“Now we’re five,” I said. “That’s a nice number.”

I ignored Jax’s eyes rolling.

Dad shot me a look that seemed more than just a father placating his son. With a sure grip, he took my hand and locked eyes with me. “Right you are, my son. Now we’re five.”