Homeplace (28 page)

“That sounds like a very good favorite place for a little girl named Ariel.”

“That’s not my name any more.” If the child’s bottom lip sank any lower, it’d be resting on the bright comforter. “When I was Amy, I didn’t get sick. Then I was Ariel for just one morning and I threw up. So I changed it back.”

“Amy’s a very pretty name.” Raine brushed some damp flaxen hair from her forehead.

“I know.” She sighed. A moment later, her eyes got saucer wide and her skin took on a faint green tinge.

Sensing what was about to come, Raine grabbed the copper-bottom Dutch oven Jack had placed on the white-enamel-painted bedside table and stuck it in front of Amy just in time.

Fortunately, after having been sick all day, there wasn’t much left to come up, although the painful retching nearly broke Raine’s heart.

“I hate that,” Amy muttered as she flopped back against the pillow.

“I know.” Touched, Raine smoothed her fingers across the forehead that she thought might feel a bit cooler. “I’ll be right back with a cool cloth.”

“Daddy brought me one.” She waved a small hand toward the Winnie-the-Pooh and Tigger washcloth on the table. “But then it got hot. Like me.”

“Well, sounds as if it’s time for a new one.” Raine washed out the pan in the bathroom across the hall, dampened the washcloth again with cool water, then returned to the bedroom where Amy, lying back against all those pillows again, was pulling off a fair impression of Camille.

“Thank you,” she said in something perilously close to a whimper as Raine wiped the small face and placed the folded cloth on her forehead.

“You’re welcome.” Raine picked up the members of the menagerie that had fallen onto the pink carpeting during the excitement and rearranged them around the little girl again.

“The cloth feels good.” Her eyes were closed, the gilt tipped lashes looking like gold dust against her fair cheeks.

“I’m glad.” Raine perched on the edge of the bed again and began finger-combing the long, tousled curls.

A faint purring sound slipped from between the childish lips. “It’s not true, is it?”

“What, darling?” Raine asked absently, as she struggled with an overwhelming urge to hold Jack’s daughter close.

“About the dog food.”

“No. I think Johnny McNeil must have an overactive imagination.”

“I knew he was lying. I told him that if the cafeteria ladies put dog food in the tacos, Daddy would put them in jail.”

“They certainly would be in trouble,” Raine agreed carefully.

“I wish he’d put Johnny in jail.” She breathed a frustrated sigh. “He’s not very nice. Last week he got a Time Out for calling the teacher a bad name…. You’re nice,” she said, displaying a child’s ability to switch topics on a dime.

“So are you.”

The blue eyes opened, spearing Raine with a direct look. “Do you like aquariums?”

Raine knew where this was headed and was vaguely surprised that she wasn’t bothered. “They’re one of my favorite things.”

“Mine, too. I like the saltwater fish best, because they’re so pretty. Like jewels. But the sharks are neat, too.” One hand was busying playing with an errant curl, the other absently stroking a stuffed red lobster. “Maybe you can go with Daddy and me when I get better.”

Raine smiled, bent her head and kissed the feverish brow. “I’d like that. Bunches and bunches.”

“Hey, Pumpkin,” a deep voice called from the doorway. “I brought you a bowl of orange Jell-O, a glass of 7 Up, and some crackers. It’s what my Mom always gave me when I was sick.”

He looked a little weary, somewhat frazzled, and, Raine thought, absolutely wonderful.

“I threw up again,” Amy informed him. “But Raine took care of me.”

His expression as he looked over at her was apologetic. Raine shrugged it off. “We’ve been having a nice visit,” she said mildly.

“Raine said the same thing you and the nurse did. That it wasn’t dog food that made me sick. And guess what, Daddy?”

“What, sweetheart?”

“When I get better, Raine’s coming to the aquarium with us. I asked her and she said yes. Isn’t that the best thing?”

“Absolutely the very best,” he agreed.

Jack’s dark eyes met Raine’s and held. The intimate look, while not overtly sexual, nevertheless possessed the power to send rivers of warmth flowing through her and had her thinking, for one wild, wonderfully irrational moment, that if the gods were to suddenly grant her the power to stop time, she might very well choose this moment.

T
hree days later, Raine was sitting on the swing, answering e-mail when Ida came out of the house.

“We’ve got to get going,” she announced.

Raine glanced up. “Where?”

“To those friends of Savannah’s who might be adopting Gwen’s baby.”

Wondering if she could have gotten so laid back since returning to Coldwater Cove that she might have lost track of what day of the week it was, Raine glanced down at her watch.

“The meeting’s still another four days away.”

“It was four days. Until Gwen asked Lilith to read her tarot cards. Apparently, according to your mother, the girl’s going to give birth within the next forty-eight hours.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Raine hit
save
in order not to lose the message she’d been composing. “You’re a doctor. Didn’t you explain to Gwen that those cards are merely superstition?”

“Of course I did. But she’s insisting on going out to that winery to meet the Stevensons before she goes into labor.”

“Does she look as if she’s about to go into labor?”

“It’s impossible to tell.” Her grandmother shrugged shoulders clad in a T-shirt that told the world
Where There’s Smoke, There’s Toast
. “I know Savannah and Dan wanted to give her more time to think it over, but since she’s so determined, it’s probably best to try to get the adoption issue settled before the baby’s born.”

Raine called Dan, who fortunately had a free morning and agreed to meet them at the Stevensons’ winery in Sequim.

“Oh, it’s so pretty,” Gwen breathed at her first glimpse of her unborn child’s possible future home. It’s like out of a fairy tale book.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind growing up here, if I were your little girl,” Lilith told Gwen.

Savannah, Ida, and Raine all agreed that it was indeed one of the most scenic spots on the peninsula. Situated on the hilltop former summer estate of a Seattle lumber baron, Blue Mountain Winery overlooked a vast sweep of spring green vineyards set in dark soil that stretched nearly to the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The winery itself was located in a century-old stone-castle-like building, while the nineteenth-century house with its sharp spires revealed the original owner’s roots in Germany’s Rhine Valley.

Dazzling gardens curled through an emerald lawn; the waters of a duck pond glistened in the spring sunshine. The scent of lilacs perfumed air alive with birdsongs. Serving as a glorious backdrop for the scene were, as always, the snow-capped spines of the Olympic Mountains.

The current owners were refugees from California’s Napa Valley, where, Terri offered with unmistakable pride, Bill had worked as a wine master. When she named the winery, even Raine, who certainly didn’t have her sister’s knowledge of such things, was impressed.

“A person should never go into the wine business to get rich,” Bill Stevenson said. A soft-spoken man whose gentle brown eyes were a contrast to his wife’s dancing blue ones, he’d spoken little during the tour of the winery, only interjecting the occasional technical explanation into Terri’s enthusiastic spiel. “So much depends on the weather, and the soil, and wine drinkers’ personal tastes.”

“Which is why it’s so wonderful that people like you are willing to put your love of wine before the demands of the accountants,” Savannah said.

His smile was slow, a little shy, but Raine, who’d been watching the couple closely, had decided he was a kind and gentle man who’d undoubtedly make a wonderful father. “It’s a little easier to take risks when you don’t have all that much to lose.” He looked out over the rolling green hills. “Unfortunately, in the larger wineries, the accountants tend to be winning.”

“Are you saying your business could fail?” Gwen asked. She’d said little during the tour, but this, apparently concerned her. “And lose all this?”

“Of course we won’t,” Terri hastened to assure her. “We were fortunate enough to receive a nice inheritance from my great-grandmother. We used that, along with our savings to put a large enough down payment on Blue Mountain that even if we do have a few lean years we won’t have to leave. This is our home, Gwen. A home where we hope to be able to raise children and someday sit on the lawn and watch our grandchildren feeding pieces of bread to the ducks on the pond.”

“That sounds nice.” Gwen’s tone was wistful. Although she’d never considered herself a very fanciful person until recently, Raine found herself wishing that she possessed a magic wand she could use to make the teenager’s troubles disappear.

They’d gathered together on a little patio overlooking the duck pond, protected by a wide overhang from the misty rain that had begun to fall. Raine couldn’t help noticing that Lilith had prepared Gwen well. She was a font of questions, all of which the Stevensons answered openly and honestly.

“What if there’s something wrong with the baby?” Gwen asked. “I’ve tried to take good care of myself. I don’t drink and I’ve never done drugs or smoked any kind of cigarettes, regular ones or pot. Mama Ida makes sure I eat right and exercise and get regular checkups, but all the books still say that things can go wrong. Would you still want the baby if she wasn’t perfect?”

“Of course we would,” Terri said.

“We have insurance that would cover any health expenses, so that wouldn’t be a concern,” Bill added.

“And since a child would be the answer to all our prayers, we’d love any one God might bless us with.” Terri’s response was too heartfelt not to be sincere.

“What if she turns out to be gay? Would you kick her out?”

Terri laughed a little at that. “Darling, I grew up in San Francisco. Bill and I both have gay friends. There’s no way we’d turn any child of ours away.”

“Not even if she gets pregnant when she’s a teenager?”

“Not even then.”

Gwen valiantly blinked back tears. “It’s too bad you don’t want a teenager,” she said with a forced, wobbly smile. “Then you could adopt me.”

Even as they all shared a little laugh at that, Raine found the mood decidedly bittersweet. Then Terri sobered. “Bill and I have given a great deal of thought to this and have decided that we’re proponents of open adoption. You’re welcome to be part of your daughter’s life, if you’d like.”

“I don’t know.” Gwen bit her teeth into her lower lip, as if to stop it from quivering. “It might be too hard.”

“Well, the final decision is up to you.” Terri reached across the wrought-iron table and covered Gwen’s hand with one tanned from days spent working in gardens and vineyards. “The amount of involvement in her life is up to you to choose.”

A single tear escaped to trail down the teenager’s cheek. Then another. She wiped them away with the backs of her hands, looking like a forlorn urchin. The funereal black dress she’d worn for this important occasion only made her face appear paler.

“What if I want her back?”

It was the Stevenson’s turn to look concerned. They exchanged a look. “Of course you’re given time to change your mind,” Terri assured her.

“Do you think you might want to call the adoption off?” Bill asked in his quiet way.

Gwen swallowed visibly. Then turned her swimming gaze out over the strait where a cruise boat, with
Midnight Sun
painted in black script on gleaming white, was heading out to the sea.

“No.” It was a ragged whisper. The teenager closed her eyes and took a long breath that had the rest of them taking one right along with her. “No,” she said more firmly. “You can give her more than I ever could. You can keep her safe and she’ll live in this nice house, and you’ll be able to send her to college.” She took another deep, obviously painful breath that caused Raine to bite her own lip.

“I know I’ll always miss her, and probably feel bad on her birthday and on Mother’s Day for a long time, but Lilith is right when she says that this isn’t about me. It’s about my baby. And what’s right for her.”

The tears were flowing openly now. Streaming not just down Gwen’s cheeks, Terri’s, Savannah’s, and Raine’s as well. Lilith, too, was weeping silently, Bill blew his nose, and as she pressed a Kleenex beneath her eyes, Raine noticed that even Ida’s eyes were unnaturally bright.

“There’s just one thing,” Gwen said from the comforting protection of the arm Lilith had put around her shoulder.

“Anything,” Terri said without hesitation.

“If she ever needs anything, like a blood transfusion, or a kidney, or a bone-marrow transplant, or anything like that you might not be able to give her, will you promise to call me first?”

“Absolutely,” Terri and Bill promised together.

There were more tears. More hugs. Finally, the papers Dan had brought with him were signed and they left the winery headed back to Coldwater Cove.

“I think you did the right thing, Gwen,” Raine said into the silence. “For both you and your baby.”

“I know,” the teenager sniffled as she huddled against the window in the back seat. “But it’s still so hard.”

“Of course it is,” Ida said. She glanced into the rearview mirror. “Which is only partly why I’m proud to know you.”

“Really?”

“You bet. You’re definitely one of the bravest, most unselfish people I’ve ever met.”

“That’s a nice thing to say.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Oh, look, darling.” Lilith said suddenly. In the distance, rising from a silvery mist, a rainbow arced over the mountains. “It’s a sign. From the Goddess that everything is going to turn out all right.”

Gwen didn’t answer. But as she cast a glance up into the rearview mirror, Raine thought the teenager looked a bit more hopeful about her future.

All too aware that they’d become a subject of speculation in Coldwater Cove, Raine hadn’t hesitated to accept Jack’s invitation to escape to Seattle so they could spend an entire night together.

“Don’t be foolish,” Ida said briskly when she suggested canceling in case Gwen went into labor. “First births take several hours. In the off chance she does have to go to the hospital, you’ll have plenty of time to get there.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, darling,” Lilith said. “I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t exactly been a model of propriety over the years, but it is possible to carry duty too far.”

“One of the reasons I stayed here was to be around when Gwen had her baby,” Raine reminded her mother. But not the only reason. During the past days the tensions had eased between them as Raine tried to focus on the positive things about Lilith—her zest for living life to the fullest, her humor, her ability to always look for that silver lining no matter how dark the cloud—and not take the negative so personally. They were still at the baby-step stage. But in the past two weeks they’d made more progress than in the entire previous thirty years of Raine’s life.

“Please, Raine,” Gwen said. “I’d feel horribly guilty if you stayed home just for me.”

Raine hesitated, even as she longed to accept their permission to go. “If you’re sure.”

“We’re sure!” all three shouted at once just as Jack pulled into the driveway.

Feeling as free as Savannah’s hawk when it soared into the sky, Raine picked up her overnight bag and ran out to meet him.

Four hours later, Raine was sitting across from Jack in the Lighthouse Restaurant, high atop the Seattle Windsor Palace hotel.

“God, you are gorgeous.” He lifted a glass of the champagne he’d ordered in a silent toast. “Beauty, intelligence, and courage, all wrapped up in one package. The gods were definitely generous to you when they were handing out gifts, Harvard.”

She’d never had a man talk to her the way Jack did. Never would she have believed any other man if he had. “While you obviously received the gift of blarney.” She smiled at him over the rim of the crystal flute.

“It’s not blarney if it’s true.” He leaned across the table and skimmed a fingertip beneath her eyes. “The shadows are gone. And you seem more relaxed.”

“I am.” It was the truth. She belatedly realized that she hadn’t had a headache for days. “However, if you keep touching me that way, my nerves are going to get all tangled.”

“No problem. We’ll just go back downstairs to our room and untangle them again.”

The memory of their predinner lovemaking caused that now-familiar warmth to flood into her cheeks, making Raine wonder why it was that she’d never blushed before knowing Jack. Because, she answered her own rhetorical question, she hadn’t had all that much to blush about before Jack.

“You promised me crab cakes.”

“True.” He leaned back in his chair and lifted his own glass of champagne to his lips, the long-stemmed crystal flute looking even more flimsy in his large hand. “But you can’t blame me for being distracted.” Desire thickened his voice, causing a thrill to skim up her spine. “I suppose it would damage your hard-earned professional reputation if I were to drag you beneath the table and have my way with you.”

“Is that what you feel like doing? Dragging me beneath the table?”

“For starters.”

Raine had never flirted; had never known how to flirt. But she was discovering that Jack made it easy. “I don’t believe you’d actually do it.” She stroked the stem of the champagne glass with her fingers in a blatantly seductive way that, from the way his eyes darkened, she knew wasn’t lost on him.