September Love Page 8

  The beautiful strains of “Old Rugged Cross” and “Abide With Me” filled the church now. And who was that? Not Flip Cooper. Not that sober young man in a dark suit, speaking so seriously. He had done his homework, too, taken a lot of trouble to learn about Cyrus and his work so he could speak from knowledge and obvious deep respect for Cyrus and his doing of God’s work here. Beth felt Doug press her hand. She managed to hold back her tears until the choir got to the line, “Oh, Lamb of God, I come, I come,” in the hymn “Just As I Am.” Then blessed Doug pressed his handkerchief into her hand.

  After the interment at the cemetery, they went home. Beth was drained. She felt a vast vacancy inside her. Somehow she’d have to deal with it. They would just have a snack supper and, oh yes, set the table for breakfast. Three guests would check in about four.

  Jill was waiting for them. Apparently she had won Adam over; he seemed quite at ease with her now, and his chin was slightly smeared with chocolate. After they had told her about the funeral, Jill reported on the doctor visit.

  “He’s underweight by almost four pounds, and on that small body that’s a lot,” she began practically. She was checking through a list she had made. “They took a blood sample for testing, and, for your information, Adam does not like being stuck with a needle. He was quite outspoken about it, just in case you hadn’t guessed that.”

  It was a relief to laugh a little.

  “Dr. Fletcher says he is malnourished, and she’ll call with other test results tomorrow. The malnourishment requires a special formula, which, happily, he can take in his milk without noticing it. Then, let’s see, his left ankle pronates.”

  “His left ankle what?” Doug asked.

  “Pronates. That means turning downward or, in this case, kind of inward. Haven’t you noticed that he walks pigeon-toed with his left foot?”

  “Yes,” Beth said, “but I thought it was kind of cute.”

  “It may be cute at three, but Dr. Fletcher says it should have been corrected before. But she thinks a few months in high-topped shoes might fix it. Otherwise, if it doesn’t straighten out, the ankle will continue turning, and when he’s older, say a teen, he’ll have a hard time walking straight. Which he will want to do if he dates and wants to dance at the local clubs. Not to mention sports when he gets in school. He’ll need to start with two straight feet.”

  “Well, if he’s like any other kid, he’ll want to join the team,” Doug said.

  “What team?” Beth asked.

  “Any team, love. A kid wants to join a team. That’s part of normal growing up.” They looked at each other, Beth remembering that Adam’s father had been a loner, an outsider. That was not good enough for Adam.

  “And I guess that’s it,” Jill was saying. “Here, keep this list. That’s the name of the formula and the place to get the special high-topped shoes. I hope this doesn’t cost you a fortune.”

  They both thanked Jill, and Adam waved to her from the doorway as if he had made a friend for life.

  He’s not a loner, Beth assured herself. Adam will have a good life!

  Thursday’s breakfast went rather smoothly, since they’d made themselves work quite hard the night before. And when the last bed had been made and everything organized, Beth took Adam shopping. The doctor’s office had called and said that the tests showed nothing else seriously wrong.

  Beth used her charge card with abandon. She bought Adam the new clothing he needed and, in the children’s department, got him a rather grand potty-chair which he personally chose from a selection of several. Plus a car seat that, bulky though the package was, she carried with them. A children’s closet arrangement, which would need assembling, was to be delivered. She’d need to call Greg again. Adam would be able to reach his things himself. When it was all purchased, she recalled Jill’s success with Adam and chocolate, and paused long enough to get chocolate sundaes. Adam was delighted.

  There was one more place to go—the store that sold the special high-topped shoes. Here Adam’s pleasure evaporated and the scowl came back.

  “Red shoes,” he protested. “Adam’s red shoes!”

  Rather than cope with a tantrum in the shoe store, Beth had the salesman wrap up the white high-tops, and Adam wore his red sneakers home. Suddenly Beth was tired. How in the world had she raised her own two children? She had forgotten how demanding a job it was. Motherhood was certainly not for sissies.

  Adam was tired, too. When they drove into the driveway, he was asleep in his new car seat, his fair head drooping over his thin little chest. She wasn’t really sure the car seat was in correctly; she’d have Doug look at it. Well, at least Doug would come out the back door to carry in the parcels.

  She beeped the horn twice. Gently. No Doug. She beeped again, which woke Adam up. Still no Doug. Surely he was home. Well, obviously he wasn’t. Wearily she got out of the car. Unloading the car took two trips. Longer, because Adam wanted to help her and she hadn’t the heart to refuse him. She had always encouraged her own children to help. It was a way for them to learn, to more closely bond with the family, to accept responsibility. If only she hadn’t gotten so tired.

  On the refrigerator was Doug’s note:

  Beth, my love,

  I took your advice. When you read this you’ll know I’m at Shilshole putting it on canvas. I’ll work as long as there is light. The weather guy says sunset comes at five-ten today.

  Love,

  Doug

  You told him to get on with the painting, Beth reminded herself, as she put Adam down for a late nap. She flipped on the child-monitor system and was starting upstairs when the front door chimes rang. Oh, no! Go away whoever you are, she thought as she went to open the door. It was Pastor Cooper. She stared at him for a full thirty seconds without speaking.

  “Is this a bad time for a pastoral call?” he asked.

  “Of course not,” Beth said quickly. Whatever had happened to perfect hostess? Embarrassed at herself Beth invited him in.

  Well, at least he’d got the message about the cutoffs. He was dressed like a pastor making a call on one of the flock.

  “Actually, your timing is good. I just got home, but Doug isn’t here. He’s out working on a new painting. Would you like tea or something?”

  “No, thanks. Do you mind if we don’t have anything to drink? I just had coffee at two places. That happens when a guy—when a pastor—makes calls.”

  “Why don’t we go in here?” she said, leading him into the living room and sitting down in the first chair she came to.

  “You look tired,” he said, sitting down opposite her.

  “Well, shopping does that. I’m not as young as I was, but our grandson needed some things.” She found herself telling him about Adam’s physical. Pastor Cooper was really rather nice. Maybe there was a lesson here on how not to prejudge people.

  “You and Doug are right to get Adam’s ankle straightened so he can be part of sports in school. And speaking of sports for kids, Cyrus taking care of others until the last moment is paying off. Money is pouring in for the Academy’s sports program. I don’t think he had any idea how many people loved him. Our kids will have the best sports equipment for years to come.”

  At the mention of Cyrus, Beth felt a flood of grief so intense that her eyes filled with tears.

  “I’m sorry,” Flip Cooper said. “Maybe I said the wrong thing.”

  “No. Not really. I wanted to know. How like Cyrus. Excuse me a minute.” She fled to the kitchen for the box of tissues she kept there.

  She was feeling better about Flip Cooper all the time, young as he was to be a pastor.

  “Speaking of Adam,” he continued, “how is his mother? I met her briefly the first time I stopped here. Doug said she was a widow. Her name is Kayla, right?”

  “Yes, she’s Doug’s daughter from his first marriage. You knew, didn’t you, that I was a widow when I met Doug over a year ago? He was retired and concentrating on painting. He does landscapes. He had his first gallery sho
wing when we began raising money to start Gilmartin Academy at church.”

  “I think Cyrus mentioned that,” Pastor Cooper said. “Am I looking at one of Doug’s paintings now?” He indicated the painting of a part of Seattle Center with the carousel.

  “Yes, that’s Doug’s,” Beth said, pleased.

  “It’s very good,” Pastor Cooper said. Then he added, “About his daughter, Kayla. Is she holding up all right? Being that young, and a widow, it must be difficult for her.”

  “She…isn’t really doing too well,” Beth said. “I mean…Kayla has some problems.” Perhaps it was his kindly interest that encouraged her, but Beth found herself telling him about Kayla’s drinking problem and where she was in her efforts to overcome it.

  He was serious. “That’s really too bad. Addiction, of any kind, is hard for everyone concerned with it, especially the addict. Please let me know if I can help in any way. I have worked with addicted people before. You said that she herself began this present effort?”

  “Yes. Going into rehab was Kayla’s idea.”

  “That’s a good start. There’s no way out of addiction until the addict admits he or she needs help. And please remember, if I can help in any way, give me a call.”

  He rose to leave shortly after, and Beth saw him out. She noted that he wasn’t riding his bike today but was driving the old church station wagon that Cyrus had always used. He seemed to be doing his best to fill Cyrus’s place, but, as Doug had said, Cyrus was a hard act to follow.

  She had about half an hour to herself before Adam wandered in. He had dressed himself in one of his new shirts with the price tag still on it and a pair of cotton briefs from the rummage sale collection. Sighing, she got up.

  Doug got home a little after five, rather happy with himself. During a quick supper in the kitchen she told him about her shopping trip. Adam joined in, which pleased them both. Adam was beginning to fit in, becoming one of the family. When they finished dinner Adam showed Doug his new clothes, so Beth cleared up the kitchen by herself. Having a small child certainly increased the work and decreased the privacy. Well, so be it.

  The expected guests came in just after six and had to be settled in their rooms, given city maps and directions on where they wanted to go for their first evening in Seattle. Doug was very good at this, but he was still in the bed-sitter with Adam, so Beth took care of it.

  When Kayla returned in three months, in control again, it would be a relief. Wouldn’t it? Beth paused, torn two ways. Did she really want Adam back in Kayla’s care? Please, God, she prayed again, make Kayla a better mother.

  She didn’t think to tell Doug about Pastor Cooper’s visit until they were ready for bed. They had worked until quite late, getting all the breakfast preparations finished. It should go well in the morning.

  “You told the pastor about Kayla’s drinking problem?” He was annoyed. “You shouldn’t have done that!”

  “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “But it just kind of…came out. With a pastor, one tends to unburden—”

  “Yes, well. He really didn’t need to know. It’s a violation of Kayla’s privacy. She’s not proud of her life, Beth.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Beth said, and they left it at that. But Doug was angry and she felt it. She held back a sharp response, willing herself to stay calm. She and Doug never quarreled and she felt shaken by it.

  Deep in sleep they thought the ringing was the five o’clock alarm. Actually it was 4:00 a.m. and the phone. Doug picked it up as quickly as he could so it wouldn’t waken any guests. He flipped on the overhead light.

  “This better not be a wrong number.” He frowned. “Hello?”

  Then he was silent for a time. “Is she all right? Yes. She’s right here.” He turned to Beth, who was sitting up now, and handed the phone to her. “It’s Ian. He’s calling from Swedish Hospital. Kate’s okay. He said that first. But she went into false labor. Here, he wants to talk to you.”

  Beth almost snatched the phone. “Yes? Ian?”

  “I’m sorry to wake you both up, but I knew you would want to know. Kate had a problem, but she’s okay now. Really. I got the nine-one-one people out and we got her to the hospital as fast as we could. Had to leave the kids home alone, but Ray’s pretty mature.” He was speaking of their eldest, a fourteen-year-old.

  “But Katie’s all right? And the baby’s all right?” Beth couldn’t keep a note of panic out of her voice.

  “Yes and yes. We didn’t lose our baby. But it was close. I think all the upset about Cyrus’s death got to her.” Ian paused, and Beth knew he was almost crying. Oh, dear God, please help Kate.

  “Do you need money?” Beth asked. “Are you—”

  “No. We’re fine. Good medical coverage is one of my fringes at work. Everything’s covered, but thanks for the thought. They’re going to keep Kate here for another twenty-four hours just to be sure. I’m staying the rest of the night, but I’ve got six guys coming in for a conference tomorrow, so could you come over for a while? I don’t want her to get depressed or anything.”

  “Yes. Absolutely. I’ll be talking to Jill and we’ll work it out.” After they had rung off she told Doug and he held her close.

  “Don’t worry about anything here while you’re gone. I’ll look after Adam and check out and welcome any guests. That’s the magic about family,” he said. “When one is at risk, they all rally ’round. Tonight I thought my little grandson was getting the hang of ‘family,’ the way he wanted to show me his new clothes. I don’t know if it’s my imagination or not, but he seems to be talking better. He even told me about his hot fudge sundae.”

  “He loved it,” Beth said. “I don’t think he’s had a lot of treats. He seems to be settling in, becoming part of things.”

  “Kids are resilient, if you give them half a chance. I wish—”

  Beth knew he was regretting the past again, so to change the subject, she asked, “Did you make any progress with the high-topped white shoes?”

  “Nope. Struck out there. I have no idea what to do. He’s fixated on those red sneakers.” Then he started laughing softly. “I think I’ve got it. I’ll have the high-tops dyed red. They do dye shoes, don’t they?”

  And Beth had to laugh with him. “Perfect!” On this note they decided to get up early and get started on the breakfast. The morning went well, and she sent Doug off to Shilshole Bay to work on his painting. She was upstairs making beds when she heard Adam’s piping little voice.

  “Mommy come back!” He was shouting. “Mommy come back!”

  She could hear him running, and went to the head of the stairs. “No, Adam. Not yet,” she called. “Mommy will come back later.”

  “Mommy! Mommy!” He was at the front door, trying to reach the doorknob.

  Beth started down, knowing he couldn’t reach it. He’d apparently seen someone outside from his window seat. The door chimes rang out as she reached the lower hall.

  “Not yet, Adam. Mommy will come home later.” She reached the front door and opened it.

  It was Kayla.

  They both stood silent for a moment, staring at each other. Adam rushed past Beth. “Mommy! Mommy!” He grasped her around the legs.

  “Hi, baby,” Kayla said in a dull voice. “Hi, Beth.”

  Beth stepped back and Kayla came slowly in.

  “Sorry, Beth. I just couldn’t hack it. Is Dad here? I’ve got to break the news to him. I just couldn’t…I quit the rehab place. I…” And she started to cry.

  Chapter Six

  “Come in,” Beth said, leading them into the living room. Kayla collapsed into a chair.

  “You gotta tissue? I’m such a mess.” She was blotting at her eyes.

  “Mommy, I got new shirts. I got new pants.” Adam dashed out into the hall headed for the bed-sitter.

  Beth hurried into the kitchen to get the box of tissues.

  Kayla took them gratefully, muttering, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Beth sat down opposi
te her. “What happened? Can you tell me?” She made an effort not to sound impatient. Really! This was too much!

  “Well, nothing to tell. I blew it again. I just couldn’t stand it. All those rules. Rules for this and rules for that. And the group things. The group discussions where you’re supposed to bare your soul and spill your guts. I just…hated it. I had to get out. Please understand, I had to get out.” She started crying again.

  Adam trotted back in, his arms full of new clothes, some still in their plastic wrappings. “See!” he said excitedly. “My new shirt. My new pants.” He dropped some and tried to retrieve them, dropping others as he did so, stumbling in his eagerness, his little face radiant.

  “What? Oh, Adam, shut up, baby. I’m trying to talk to Beth. Go away.”

  “But I got new pants. I got—”

  Suddenly out of patience, Kayla screamed, “Adam, shut up!”

  Adam froze, his arms clutching his things, and Beth recalled his silence when she first met him.

  “Kids take advantage if you don’t lower the boom,” Kayla said tiredly. “He’d throw a real tantrum if I let him. But with kids you have to show them who’s boss. No, Adam, go away. I want to talk to Beth.”

  “Kayla, take a minute to look at his things,” Beth said firmly. “He was so pleased at getting new clothes.”

  “What? Oh, really. Did you buy him this stuff? Beth, you really shouldn’t have. You’ve done too much already. Okay, here, Adam, lemme see that.” Kayla reached out her hand and took a small shirt. “Oh, my, that’s nice. Beth, that was really nice of you. Now, go away, honey. Put the stuff back where it was. Beth, is Dad here?”

  “No, he’s out painting.”

  Adam approached carefully and laid another of his new shirts on her lap. “See?”