Eden in Winter (35 page)

‘Who says I’m not a kid?’

‘I do. Didn’t we establish that the other evening?’

Rachel laughed softly. ‘Depends on what kind of mood
I’m in. So are you taking me sledding, or do I have to find some other guy?’

Quickly, Adam considered his choices. ‘This is winter, Rachel – there are no other guys. But I’m willing to meet your inner child.’

‘Good,’ Rachel answered in a cheerful tone. ‘In some ways, you’ll find her quite advanced.’

The golf course was empty, its terrain obscured by a blanket of snow that powdered the bare branches of oaks lining the fairways. Trudging through the snow with their sleds on ropes, they saw a trail of footprints heading in the same direction, some larger than others. ‘A dad and his kids,’ Adam observed. ‘Not much changes here in winter.’

Rachel surveyed the white rolling landscape. ‘Still, on a day like this, it almost seems idyllic.’

Once more, Adam recalled Ben waiting at the bottom of the hill, laughing as his four-year-old son sped down the hill for the first time, gripped by ecstasy and terror. ‘I thought it was, then.’

At length they reached the third tee, overlooking a snow-covered fairway that culminated in a sweeping pond, its waters grey beneath a matching sky. As Adam had anticipated, at the bottom of the hill a father watched his small son and daughter as they spun toward him in metal saucers. Seeing Adam smile, Rachel asked, ‘Can you ever see yourself with kids?’

Briefly, Adam thought of Carla and the unborn son she prayed for. ‘I can imagine lots of things. But I’m not sure they’ll happen. And you?’

Lightly, Rachel answered, ‘I always fancied being the only child of my marriage, and I’ve never met a guy who changed
my mind. Maybe that’s because the ones I’ve been with started seeming like children themselves.’ Her voice became reflective and a touch self-questioning. ‘I see pictures of my mom before she was married, and she just looks like a woman who is meant to be a mother. Maybe I’m too selfish, but when I look in the mirror all I see is a writer.’

Adam watched the little girl swirl down the hill toward her father, her blond ringlets sticking out from the knit cap pulled tightly over her ears. ‘You never know, Rachel. Life is long.’

‘But not endless. I’ll be thirty before I know it – after that, there’s only so much time to develop a maternal instinct. And once I’m past thirty-five, there’s a real chance of something going wrong.’

She had thought about it, Adam realized, and then his own thoughts returned to Carla. For a moment, wanting the best for her and her son, he forgot where he was.

Rachel eyed him quizzically. ‘You look pensive.’

‘Just vacant.’ Adam turned to her. ‘So who’s going down first?’

‘You are, so you can catch me at the bottom. I’m the child, remember?’

Feeling vaguely foolish, Adam waited until the boy and girl below were out of his path. Then he lay flat on the sled he had last used twenty-five years ago, and pushed himself down the hill. Feeling his oversized limbs skidding at the edge, Adam marvelled that this gentle ride, so quickly over, had once seemed like an adventure. He wondered if Ben, watching him, had seen the world through the eyes of a son.

He stood, brushing the snow off his jeans, then called back up to Rachel. ‘Traverse Mount Everest, if you dare.’

Grinning, she threw herself on the sled with mock abandon, pushing herself off the edge. At the end of a creditable glide, swifter than his own, she wound up at Adam’s feet. Quickly rising, she brushed the snow off her flushed cheeks, and kissed him. ‘Was I good?’ she asked.

‘Exceptional.’

‘Then that’s two things we can do together. Why don’t we combine them, and go skiing in New Hampshire. If we can get a cabin there, I know the perfect place.’

For a moment, Adam hesitated.
You’re changing
, Charlie Glazer had said,
enough that you don’t want to live with hurting either woman. But hurting both of them would be worse
. Then he caught the look in Rachel’s eyes, hopeful and imploring.

‘Let’s check the weather,’ he suggested.

‘I already have,’ she answered with a smile. ‘Lousy here, white powder there. Seems like a perfect time to get away.’

*

Just before dawn on Monday, Carla awakened to nauseating contractions that made her curl, shuddering with pain. Outside, a howling wind propelled sheets of rain against the windows with a harsh percussive sound.

Fearful, she hobbled, bent over, to the telephone and called her doctor. ‘There’s no time to get you to Boston,’ Stein said quickly. ‘Especially in this weather. I’ll meet you at the hospital.’

Putting down the phone, she parsed her jumbled thoughts, then instinctively called Adam Blaine.

No one answered. With the next contraction, Carla shut her eyes. There was no time, and Adam was somewhere else.

From memory, she dialled Teddy’s number. When he answered, voice thick with sleep, Carla said, ‘I’m sorry, but
I think the baby’s coming early. I tried to call Adam, but he’s not in.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Teddy assured her. ‘I’m on my way.’

Wrenched by another contraction, she thanked him and got off.

As swiftly she could, Carla dressed and packed for the hospital.
Please
, she implored whoever listened,
let him be all right
. As though her fervour might induce a bargain.

When Teddy’s truck appeared in the driveway, another contraction ran through her. Shaken, she opened the door. He ran toward her, head bent against the rain that struck his hood and slicker. Conjuring a smile, he said, ‘Nice day you chose.’

Grateful, she hugged him.

‘We’ll be all right,’ he promised. ‘I’ll wait for you at the hospital, however long it takes.’

*

The cabin was at the foot of the mountain, set by itself. More snow had fallen overnight, perfect for skiing, dusting the pines with fresh powder. Turning from the window, Adam saw Rachel emerging from the shower, a towel wrapped around her slender body, her eyes still bright with making love at first awakening.

Naked, Adam stretched out beneath the sheets. ‘Is there room in there for me?’

She gave him a teasing smile. ‘There was room before, actually.’ She paused, as though reluctant to say too much. ‘This is nice, Adam. I’m glad you decided to come.’

On the nightstand, Adam’s cell phone rang.

Looking surprised and apprehensive, Rachel asked, ‘Who could that be?’

‘Someone who’ll have to leave a message,’ Adam said, then glanced at caller I.D. and amended, ‘I’d better take this.’

Pushing the answer button, he asked, ‘What’s up, Ted?’

‘Carla’s started having contractions, bad ones. I’m at the hospital now, and thought you’d want to know.’

Adam tensed. ‘How is she?’ he asked quickly, and saw Rachel freeze at the corner of his vision.

‘Scared to death about the baby, though she’s trying to stay calm. No way for her to get Boston – her day of reckoning has come early.’ His brother’s voice quickened. ‘She called you first at home, and no one answered. Where are you, exactly?’

Adam imagined Carla, listening as his telephone rang unanswered. ‘Jesus …’

Sitting beside him, Rachel touched his arm, whispering, ‘Is it about your mom?’

Briefly, Adam turned to her and shook his head. ‘I’m in New Hampshire,’ he told his brother. ‘Skiing.’

A brief silence. ‘Not alone, I take it.’

‘No.’

‘Never mind, then,’ Teddy responded in a tired voice. ‘I’ve got this covered.’

For a moment, Adam was silent. ‘There’ll be other snowfalls,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll get there as soon as I can.’ Pushing the off button, he turned to Rachel.

She studied him, her eyes probing.

‘That was about Carla Pacelli,’ he said reluctantly. ‘She’s gone into labour early, and there may be a problem with the baby. A fatal one.’

Quiet, Rachel absorbed this. ‘You’re leaving?’ she asked with muted incredulity.

‘I have to,’ Adam responded, then realized how absurd this must sound to her. ‘I promised Carla I’d be there. As bizarre as this may seem, we’ve become friends, and, if he lives, this kid will be my brother.’

Never, Adam thought, had he seen a frown express such scepticism and wonder. ‘Please,’ she responded with surprising evenness. ‘This is about Carla Pacelli, not the unborn. If it weren’t, your brother could represent you nicely.’

Adam looked into her face. ‘There’s something in that,’ he acknowledged. ‘But I can’t tell you what. All I know is that, however much I want to stay, I’d feel lousy if I did.’

‘Then go to her.’ Her voice was flat, as though she were suppressing her own anger and disappointment. ‘I can hardly keep you, can I?’

‘Are you coming with me, or should I call a cab?’

Rachel shook her head in astonishment. ‘Leave here to drive back into a howling rainstorm, all so you can be with your father’s lover when she delivers his child? Under the circumstances, we might find it hard to make light conversation.’

Adam grimaced. ‘I can’t imagine it, either. All I can do is apologize.’

‘Just figure this out,’ Rachel requested in a gentler tone. ‘I’ll try not to think of you while I’m skiing.’ She hesitated, then gave him a quick kiss which somehow felt defensive. ‘Please, Adam, just go.’

*

Arriving at Boston Logan, Adam rushed to the counter of the small commuter airline that serviced Martha’s Vineyard. There were no passengers in line, only a middle-aged reservationist who looked bored. ‘Are you still flying?’ he asked her.

‘For now. But the weather’s getting worse. Right now, the next flight’s due to leave at noon.’

‘Got room for me?’

She gave him a wry look. ‘Nothing but. Funny, but we’re short of eager travellers.’

Hurriedly, Adam bought a ticket and fretted his way through the security line, glancing repeatedly at his watch, wondering about Carla and then Rachel. When he arrived at the gate and presented his ticket, it was eleven forty-five. ‘Have you boarded yet?’

The attendant shook his head. ‘Still waiting for clearance. Don’t know if we’re going.’

Noon passed, then twelve thirty, with no word. One other passenger, an older woman, waited in the gate area.

Abruptly, the attendant called out, ‘You’re boarding.’

Adam followed the woman on to the tarmac and into a driving sleet, then up the metal stairs to the nine-seat propeller plane. Its size did not faze him; he had flown on Third World airlines with hair-raising safety records. But the weather did – it hardly suited this aircraft. The pilot looked to be sixty-five, at least, and there was no co-pilot. For the sake of balance, the older man explained, Adam and the woman should sit across from each other in the last aisle. Noting the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, Adam hoped that his cardiac health was unimpaired.

Settling into the front of the plane, the pilot pushed the throttle. As they taxied down the slick, glistening tarmac, fresh gusts of wind caused the plane to vibrate. Outside, the weather was so grey and close that Adam could not make out the Boston skyline. Glancing at his fellow passenger, he saw her jaw tighten.

The plane gained speed, then abruptly lifted off at a severe upward angle, buffeted by wind and rain. A series of jolts rocked Adam back then forward as the plane strained toward thick black clouds. Suddenly they were amidst them, with no visibility that Adam could discern.

For minutes they bounced up and down and sideways, then began a series of abrupt, sickening dips, the motor grinding as it fought against the weather. The plane felt like Nature’s plaything, divorced from the normal rules of flight. They were somewhere over the water now, Adam knew, though they could see nothing. Even in Afghanistan, he had never allowed himself to fear. But he could not help it now. Perhaps this time was different because he had no control, or escape.

The plane dipped again, shaking abruptly. Across the aisle, the woman gasped. Without speaking, Adam reached for her hand. After all he had survived, he suddenly thought, to crash while flying to see Ben’s pregnant lover would be a truly cosmic joke.

Minutes passed, the woman squeezing Adam’s fingers; her own, frozen white. There was another loss of elevation, the motor snarling like a buzz saw. ‘Ten minutes now,’ the pilot promised.

Adam felt the plane begin its descent, falling then rising with fresh gales of wind. Suddenly they were below the clouds, rain pelting the windshield like gunshots, startlingly close to the slick asphalt of Martha’s Vineyard Airport, a haven in the stunted winter landscape. There was a last dip of the wings to one side, and then the plane landed with a bump, safe.

As the woman released his hand, Adam felt his tension seep away. ‘Nice flying with you,’ he told the pilot.

The man grinned at him. ‘Your lucky day. I’m retiring the day after tomorrow.’

At once, Carla consumed Adam’s thoughts. He got off the plane and hurried to a taxi.

Wrenched by spasms of pain, Carla fought to focus on the baby, barely conscious of the delivery room around her.

Teddy had helped her through the emergency entrance, where a nurse put her in a wheelchair and whisked her to the triage room for an evaluation. When she arrived, her forehead was damp, and each contraction caused her to exhale sharply. As Teddy sat outside, a stout, blonde-haired nurse with a thick New England accent and a pleasant but no-nonsense manner helped her change into a hospital gown and awkwardly climb on to the bed. Then the nurse inserted an I.V. in her arm and strapped a fetal monitor on her stomach. ‘Helps us check the baby’s heart rate,’ she said matter-of-factly. Though she surely knew the dangers facing Carla’s son, she gave no sign that this delivery was anything but normal. ‘The head is down,’ she added, ‘and the heartbeat sounds fine.’

Another contraction, then another, timed by the nurse. Breathing deeply, Carla tried to will away the pain, staring
at the white ceiling through slitted eyes. The door flew open, and Dr Dan Stein was there.

‘How are you feeling, Carla?’

Were it not for her fears, the genial absurdity of the question would have made her smile. ‘That nature could’ve designed a better process.’