All She Ever Wanted (13 page)

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Authors: Rosalind Noonan

BOOK: All She Ever Wanted
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“Almost ready!” Chelsea called back.
“Take your time. I'm going to leave these muffins on the counter.”
“Muffins? What kind?”
Emma dipped her finger in the frosting and took a taste. “Carrot with cream cheese frosting.”
“Yum,” Chelsea answered.
Annie's eyes seemed huge and round, framed by the fleece lining of her little hood as Chelsea carried her down the stairs.
“What an adorable snowsuit,” Emma said.
“Isn't it cute? I'll save it for your baby. I'm sure Annie will be out of it by next winter.”
Emma beamed. Next winter, they would have two babies in tow. Maybe they would do trips like this once or twice a week. “What time do you have to be back for the plumber?”
“Not coming until Thursday. It would have cost extra to get them here today.”
“Thank God you have a second bathroom,” Emma said.
Chelsea nodded. “Looks like I'll be camping out of the downstairs bathroom for a while.”
On the way to the gardens, Chelsea was withdrawn and quiet, staring out the window with a bland expression. Emma hoped that her news would bring a spark of interest to her sister's eyes.
“I found out something exciting yesterday. We went for an amnio, and the technician told us she's positive we're having a girl. Another baby girl in our family.”
“Is that good?” Chelsea's fingertips ran along the edge of the seat belt, as if searching for an encoded message there. “Is that what you want?”
“We want a healthy baby, but we're thrilled to know that it's a girl. And she'll be in the same grade as Annabelle. Just think about that. They can do dance class and Girl Scouts and soccer together.”
“Sometimes I can't believe those days will ever come.”
“They will, honey. You said it yourself. Next winter Annabelle will have outgrown her snowsuit.”
Chelsea leaned back against the headrest and took a deep breath. “You're right. Time is marching on. I have to keep up.”
When Emma turned through the gates to the New York Botanical Garden, Chelsea turned toward the window. “Is this the surprise?”
“Yup. I know the weather's crummy, but the conservatory is open, along with a few of the gardens.”
“I was sort of hoping for a pedicure or massage,” Chelsea said, and Emma smiled at the hint of the old, wry Chelsea.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Emma said as she leaned into the backseat to unbuckle Annabelle. The baby's face remained calm and expressionless until Emma lifted her out into the stroller.
“She never sleeps through the transfer,” Chelsea said tightly.
“But she's not crying. I think she's going to like this. There's a lot to see from down there.”
The steel-and-glass dome of the Haupt Conservatory, a Victorian-style greenhouse, was a sight familiar to Emma and Chelsea. Their parents had brought them here frequently as kids, and when the girls were older Judith's volunteer work had lured them here for exhibitions and concerts. Although Emma never liked getting her hands dirty in flower boxes, she had been a sucker for the other projects—the papier-mâché flowers, the millions of ways you could decorate a planter. Chelsea had always been the one who liked to dig in to the soil, toss in mulch, and then skip along the trails like a fairytale character on a quest through the woods. Emma hoped that, coming here, Chelsea might reconnect with that sense of fun.
The conservatory was busier than Emma had expected. One school group was lined up in the lobby, another trailed their guide, who led them past green ferns for an eco-tour of the tropical rain forest entrance.
“Let's check out the orchid show,” Emma said. “I think Annie will like the colors.”
The orchid show had been designed to display the exotic blossoms vertically, instead of just in flower beds, and the walls of bountiful blooms were breathtaking.
“Look at Annie,” Emma said as they paused before a fat pillar wrapped with ribbons of purple and white orchids. “She's digging it.”
There was such intelligence in the baby's eyes as she soaked in the colors and textures.
Emma picked her up and turned her so that she could face out. “Such a smart little girl,” she cooed into Annie's ear. “I knew you would like the flowers.”
A guard standing at the end of the lane smiled at Annabelle. “Her first orchids?”
Emma nodded. “And she loves them. But that's no surprise. Her grandmother used to work here. Our mom. She was a volunteer.”
The guard beamed. “Then it runs in the family.”
Chelsea's gaze was fixed on white orchids speckled with maroon. “Remember how Mom used to bring us here when we were kids?”
That's why we're here . . . to unlock those memories and feelings.
Their mother had been diagnosed with stage four cancer last March, and without treatment she had been gone before the year's end. Judith Maynard's decision to refuse painful treatment didn't sit well with Chelsea, who had thought she was giving up.
“Mom loved it here,” Emma said. “Remember the children's garden? In my mind, spring was never official until we came here and walked through the daffodils and crocus.”
“I used to love going off on the trails here,” Chelsea said. “And at home, the best time of year was when it was time to plant flowers and turn the soil.”
“You were always Mom's helper in the garden.”
Chelsea's face puckered with pain. “Well, that's over now. She wanted it over.”
The orange and white and yellow blooms became a blur of color as Emma felt herself choking up. “Chelsea, she didn't want to die.” But faced with either death or a round of painful treatment that wasn't going to save her life, Mom had made her choice.
“If she'd undergone the treatments, she would still be here,” Chelsea insisted. “She would be here for me. She could have met her granddaughter. Now Annabelle will never know her . . . and I really need her.”
“I miss her, too,” Emma admitted, “but we can't be mad at her for dying. The treatment wouldn't have prolonged her life much. She was leaving us, and she had a right to choose to exit with speed and grace.”
“She gave up.” Chelsea sat down on a bench and folded her arms. “And I'll never forgive her for that. She left me here all alone with this baby that I don't feel any love for. It's her fault.”
“Hold on a sec.”
Chelsea watched glumly as Emma cradled Annabelle for a moment, then discreetly placed her in her stroller at the far end of the bench from Chelsea. Maybe it was an overreaction, but she didn't think Annie should hear things like that from her mother.
Emma perched tentatively beside her sister. “I know we don't talk about Mom's death, but you never had a chance to grieve. You became a mother before you had a chance to say good-bye to your own mother.”
Chelsea's eyes were shiny with tears. “But I wanted this baby. Our little house and a little baby—that was all I ever wanted, and now . . .” She sobbed.
Emma reached her arms around her sister and squeezed her tight. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring her here today. She was no therapist.
“You've been through so much—a lifetime of pain and grief, all gummed into a few months. I know it seems hopeless right now, but that's one of the things about depression. It won't let the light in. Let's see what Dr. Chin has to say tomorrow, okay? You know I love you and I'll help you any way I can.”
Chelsea sniffed. “But I hate my life.”
“I know, honey.” Emma tucked a strand of dark hair behind her sister's ear. “We're going to get to work on that, as soon as you see Dr. Chin.”
 
Back at Chelsea's house, the neighbor, Louise Pickler, was out inspecting her frozen lawn as her cranky little dog wandered with no leash.
“It's the woman who ratted you out,” Emma said as she pulled Chelsea's Subaru into the driveway. “Quick. Get the cheese.”
Chelsea actually let out a laugh.
“Isn't there a law about keeping your dog on a leash?” Emma asked.
“Louise treats her dogs like family.”
“And her family like dogs?” Emma added.
“Good one, Emma,” Chelsea said as she pushed open the door.
The dog bolted over to them, and Emma stepped tentatively as it snapped at her ankles.
“ChiChi, back off,” Chelsea ordered, opening the stroller. The dog growled as it tried to mouth the stroller wheels.
“Little beast,” Emma muttered. She hoped to whisk Annie inside, but the neighbor was calling to Chelsea.
“Did you get a dog?” Louise accused Chelsea. The older woman stood at the edge of her lawn with her hands on her hips. “Tell me the truth, because someone's been shitting in my flower beds.”
“It wasn't me,” Chelsea said.
Emma bit her lips to hide a grin.
“I mean, no,” Chelsea explained. “We don't have any animals. Just a baby.”
“And that's enough.” Louise marched over and leaned her gnarled face close to Annabelle. “Plenty of poopy diapers stinking up your house.”
Horrified, Emma backed the stroller away. Chelsea was right: This woman was nuts. “Gotta go.” She wheeled it up the driveway.
Chelsea unlocked the door and Emma hustled the baby inside.
“Lock the door, quick,” Emma teased. “Before the Wicked Witch gets in.”
“Really. I think ChiChi bit one of my toes off.”
Emma laughed. “That woman is a lunatic!” she said, thinking that those muffins must have been from a different neighbor.
“Louise never liked us.” As Emma got Annabelle out of her quilted romper, Chelsea told her that Louise had been tight with the woman who'd lived here before. “Leo is sure that the two of them had some sort of coven, practicing spells together.”
“Don't witches do their rituals nude under the starlight?” Emma asked.
She and Chelsea looked toward the snow-covered yard beyond the back windows.
“Maybe a little backyard ritual?” Emma suggested, wriggling her eyebrows.
“We'd better get some good shades on the nursery windows,” Chelsea said with a shot of her old sense of humor.
It was a relief to see that side of Chelsea, even if only for a moment. Maybe the medication was starting to work.
As Chelsea settled in to feed the baby, Emma felt the tug to get home. During the drive home she'd noticed some abdominal pain . . . not quite cramps. Was it something she ate? She and Chelsea had yogurts and a wrap from the little restaurant at the botanical garden. Was it just the food, not sitting right?
“I've got to get going,” she said, turning on one of the living room lamps. “Anything you need before I go?”
Chelsea shook her head. “I'm fine.”
No, you're not,
Emma thought.
But tomorrow we're starting you on the path to recovery.
She let herself out, locking the door behind her.
Worry plagued Emma as she drove home. Did the abdominal pain have something to do with her baby? She had miscarried once before, but it was a few weeks into the pregnancy.
It can't be a miscarriage.
She was sixteen weeks now and having a baby girl. This was her paranoid imagination. She was going to be fine. Her baby was fine.
 
When Emma changed into her sweatpants, she saw the blood.
Oh, dear God . . .
She elevated her feet and called the doctor. “I think I need to be seen,” she told the nurse practitioner. “Or maybe the emergency room . . . my husband will bring me in.”
“Actually, the best thing you can do right now is just what you're doing,” the nurse said. “Try to relax. Keep your feet up. It could be spotting, and that will pass.”
“But there's so much blood! Can't you give me something to stop it? There must be something. . . .”
“No. I'm sorry, Mrs. Wyatt, but there's nothing anyone can do at this point. Check in with the doctor tomorrow morning. If you're still bleeding, he'll probably have you come in for a sonogram. If the fetus is nonviable, we'll schedule a D and C.”
Nonviable.
What a sickening word.
“A surgery? You would do that already?” Emma's voice cracked with emotion at the thought of the doctor's scalpel scraping away the last traces of the tiny life inside her. “How can it be over so . . . so quickly?”

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