New Beginnings (26 page)

After three weeks, Lindsay Belle’s cold had run its course, so Anabelle invited Ainslee over to work on quilts together. Some years ago, after Ainslee and Evan had moved out, Anabelle had converted their two bedrooms into a studio for all of her quilting equipment and projects. The spacious area made it possible to spread out fabrics to pin sections together and still have the sewing machine and all of her notions right at hand.

The drawback now, Anabelle realized, was that Lindsay Belle, at twenty-two months, was already entering the terrible twos. The child was everywhere, opening drawers and cupboards, trying to climb on tables and determined to get into the middle of things.

“Watch out, Mother. Lindsay Belle has your scissors,” Ainslee warned.

“Uh-oh. That’s a no-no, sweetie. Give Nana the scissors, please.” Anabelle reached for them, but Lindsay Belle wasn’t interested in sharing.

Quickly on her feet, Ainslee scooped up her daughter, planted big, sloppy kisses on her cheek, and plucked the scissors from her daughter’s tiny hand.

“I guess this isn’t the best room for a toddler, is it?” Although Lindsay Belle was a precious child, she was almost too quick for Anabelle, getting into things the moment she took her eyes off of her.

“Only if said toddler is asleep. The only time I get anything done is when she’s napping.” Ainslee walked to the window where mother and child looked out onto the garden. “Why don’t we have lunch now, and I’ll put her down for a nap after she eats?”

“That sounds like a perfect plan to me.” Anabelle left her sewing where it was, and they all went downstairs where she had baby-proofed by putting any breakable or dangerous items up high out of reach. Cam had also put baby latches on all the lower cupboard doors to keep curious little girls out.

“While I put our salad together,” Anabelle said, “why don’t you take Lindsay Belle outside to play with Sarge? That ought to use up some of that bundle of energy in her.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Ainslee promised. “But she doesn’t wear out easily.”

As Anabelle worked at the counter preparing lunch, she listened to Lindsay Belle’s high, giggling laughter and watched the toddler and Sarge tumble around on the ground. Sarge was in heaven having someone to play with, yet Anabelle could tell he was also cautious about not getting too rough with the child.

She smiled when Lindsay Belle tried to toddle off into Cam’s small greenhouse, and Sarge carefully herded her back into the center of the yard.

“Good boy!” Anabelle whispered.

Ainslee watched the goings-on with the cautious eye of a mother but rarely interfered. It seemed to Anabelle that this second pregnancy had brought a sense of peace—almost serenity—and confidence to her daughter.

That inner calmness had affected Ainslee’s relationship with Anabelle as well. Now, more than ever before, they were equals in almost every way. Two mothers who valued the other as a friend without striving to prove who was right. Or wrong.

To Anabelle’s surprise, tears rose in her eyes and she had to wipe them away. Her daughter, with whom she had often struggled, had turned into a fine young woman and mother. Pride and love filled her heart.

Thank You, Lord
.

With Lindsay Belle finally down for her nap, Anabelle and Ainslee could enjoy their chicken salad and bread sticks in peace.

“I’m really excited about the new baby,” Ainslee said, her brows pulling thoughtfully together. “But I don’t see how I can keep working even part-time at Once Upon a Time.”

“Probably not,” Anabelle agreed. “At least not until they’re both a bit older. Does it bother you to be a stay-at-home mom?”

“Not really. It’s just that I liked having a little money of my own so I can buy things I want, guilt free.”

“
Hmm
, I can relate to that.” Anabelle forked some bits of chicken into her mouth. “Not that your father has ever denied me anything I wanted, but it will feel strange not to have my own income. Except for social security and my pension, of course.” But that didn’t count in the same way earning money through hard work did.

Ainslee sipped her iced tea. “You know what, Mother? We ought to start a business of our own. Something we could both do from home.”

A spark of interest widened Anabelle’s eyes. “What kind of business? Outside of nursing, the only thing I know how to do is quilt and knit.”

“I’m not sure. I’ve always thought it would be fun to help people decorate their homes. But hauling two toddlers around to a client’s house doesn’t seem like a good plan.”

“No, it doesn’t. Families might object to sticky fingerprints as a decorative focus.”

Chuckling, Ainslee shook her head.

The idea of having her own business did appeal to Anabelle. Something small that wouldn’t take up too much of her time but would still give her a sense of accomplishment.

“Maybe we could sell the quilts we make,” she suggested.

“That might be possible. But how would we attract customers?” Ainslee’s creative and artistic talents didn’t prevent her from zeroing in on practicalities.

“We could have a Web site, sell them online.” Feeling a bubble of excitement, Anabelle put her fork down and leaned forward. “I’ll bet you there are lots of stay-at-home moms and grandmothers who’d love to sell their crafts but there isn’t an outlet for them. If we let others advertise on our Web site, we’d draw more traffic and could charge the advertisers a percentage of what they sold.”

Ainslee snared a piece of chicken with her fork. “We’d have to be very selective about whom we allowed to advertise. Their merchandise would have to be high quality.”

“Absolutely.” They’d limit the merchandise to handcrafted items. Beyond quilts and knitted goods, they could include jewelry and small sculptures. One-of-a-kind items.

“I’m comfortable using a computer,” Ainslee said, frowning. “But I don’t know enough to set up a complicated Web site.”

“Neither do I,” Anabelle admitted. She leaned back in her chair. “Would Doug know someone?”

“Someone who’d work cheap, you mean.”

Anabelle laughed. “That would be nice.”

They decided they’d explore the idea of becoming an online source for handmade products. Ainslee would ask other young mothers she knew, Anabelle would research other online sellers, and they’d both check for Web site designers.

By the time Lindsay Belle woke from her nap, Anabelle’s enthusiasm for the project had her writing down ideas and lists of contacts. What fun it would be to start a business with her daughter.

If it did take off as well as they both hoped, there would be no need for Anabelle to worry how she would spend her spare time in retirement. She’d be plenty busy.

“I think I’ve come up with the answer.” Tired at the end of the day, as usual, Candace leaned her head against the window of the car as they left the hospital to pick up Brooke and Howie from their respective schools.

Heath tossed her a curious look. “What was the question?”

“About me going back to work after the twins are born.”

“You know that you don’t have to unless you want to.” The day had been sunny, warming the car enough that Heath had tossed his jacket into the backseat.

“I know, but I want to feel like I’m contributing to the family income. Plus, it would be a shame to waste all of my years of training and experience.” Candace straightened in her seat and adjusted her seat belt.

“True. There’s always a shortage of trained nurses. Are you thinking about working part-time?”

“That’s a possibility, I suppose. But the part-timers always get stuck with the worst shifts. I wouldn’t have much flexibility, which could mean I might miss out on the children’s school activities, karate lessons, Little League games.”

“So what’s the answer?”

“We delivered a beautiful baby boy in the unit two weeks ago. The parents had been working with Bea Crofton, a doula who helps expectant parents prepare for their baby’s birth. The whole process went without a hitch, in part because the young couple was totally aware of what to expect.”

“Okay, sweetheart. That sounds great. But what’s a doo-la?”

Chuckling, Candace described the role of a doula. “I’m thinking, by the time the twins are in preschool, I could take on a few clients. It’s a part-time sort of job and flexible, except when the baby decides to arrive. And Bea said she’s planning to retire in the next few years. So there’d be an opportunity for someone else to step into the role.”

Heath pulled over to the curb in front of Howie’s school. “That sounds like it could work. You’d be great too.”

“I think so. I’ve worked with all of the OB/GYNs in the area, so I could get referrals from them.” She spotted Howie running toward them, legs flying, a big smile on his face. “Looks like our son had a good day at school.”

Howie yanked open the car door and shot into the backseat. “Guess what? I got a good grade on my math test!”

“Woohoo!” Candace said. “Awesome!”

Heath gave him a high five.

This was one of those moments that Candace cherished. A time when Howie had been successful, despite his problems with ADD. Pride welled in her chest for how hard he strived to succeed.

Candace wanted to be there for all of those moments—the successes and failures—of the twins as they grew from babies into adults.

Yes. Being a doula would give her a chance to both use her skills and be the mother she wanted to be. Plus, the extra cash would be there to help with bigger expenses—like college tuition for four!

A
FTER TEN O’CLOCK ON FRIDAY NIGHT, ANABELLE
was in Cam’s office on the computer searching various craft Web sites when the phone rang.

Fear tightening her throat, she snatched up the phone. Only her children would call this late. And only if they were in trouble. “Hello.”

“Anabelle, it’s Sarah Fulton.” Her voice sounded shaky and distant.

Panic fluttered in her midsection. “What is it? Has something happened to Izzy?”

“No, not Isabel. Rafael.”

Dear Lord! “What happened?”

“I don’t know yet. A friend called me from the hospital. I’m going there now. Rafael is in the emergency room. One of the neighbors is coming over to be with Izzy while I’m gone.”

“That’s good. What can I do?”

By now, Cam had come into the office to find out what was wrong. Putting her hand over the phone, Anabelle whispered, “Rafael’s been hurt.”

“Could you come to the hospital too?” Sarah asked. “I won’t know what questions to ask. They may not even let me see him because we’re not…”

Not married
, Anabelle mentally finished for her. Hospital rules: to avoid overcrowding and confusion, only family members with patients in the ER. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. They’ll let you see him.” Instinctively, she lifted her chin. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“Should I call Elena and Cesar?” Sarah asked, her voice tremulous.

“No, not yet. Let’s find out how seriously he’s been hurt before we do anything else.” And pray that his injuries are minor.

They both said good-bye and disconnected.

“What’s going on?” Cam asked.

“Sarah’s not sure. Rafael’s in the ER. He comes home on Friday nights to stay with Izzy over the weekend.” Anabelle headed for the closet to get her coat. “Maybe he was in an accident.” She pictured broken bones, a head injury, concussion. All of the injuries she had seen in patients who had experienced a vehicle collision.

“You want me to drive you?”

“No, it’s all right. The roads are clear.” No ice to cause slippery roads, which still left myriad possibilities—reckless driving, alcohol or drug impairment. Drivers had been known to have heart attacks behind the wheel and lose control of their car, crashing head-on into an innocent driver.

“You’ll call me if you need me?” Cam asked.

She kissed him. “I will. I promise.”

Not worried about the state of her hair or makeup, she hurried out to her Ford Fusion, got behind the wheel, and drove away. Only when she reached the street did she realize that she’d forgotten to turn on the headlights.

“Stop that, Anabelle Scott. You may be retired but you’re still a registered nurse. You do not get rattled in an emergency.”

But this was different. The son of one of her best friends had been hurt. And her friend was in Spain.

She groaned at the thought of having to notify Elena and Cesar that something awful had happened to Rafael. They’d both be heartsick they hadn’t been here to be with their son.

She reached the hospital to find Sarah in the ER lobby looking unsure of herself.

Anabelle took the girl’s arm and marched up to the ER receptionist.

“Hello, Marie,” Anabelle said. “We’re here for Rafael Rodriguez.”

“Oh yeah, an ambulance brought him in a while ago. He’s still in the ER.” She glanced curiously at Sarah and frowned. “Is Elena coming?”

“She’s in Spain on vacation. For now, we’re Rafael’s family,” Anabelle explained. “Buzz us in, would you?”

“Oh, sure.”

Still holding Sarah’s arm, Anabelle walked them through the automatic door and into the ER.

“Thank you,” Sarah whispered.

Anabelle smiled in return. Elena would have wanted Sarah to be here with Rafael.

Humming with activity, orderlies hustled to and from patients, taking some upstairs to Radiology or surgery, others to patient rooms. Nurses moved about in quiet efficiency, administering shots, cleaning wounds, checking pulse and blood pressure.

Down the near side of the room were several curtained examining cubicles. Anabelle glanced in each room as they passed.

“There he is!” Sarah cried. With a sob, she dashed into a cubicle. She paused only briefly to note the huge wrapping of gauze around his left hand, a jagged cut on his forehead and hair that looked like it had been singed short in the front. “Oh Rafael, I was so worried.” She nearly fell on him, soundly kissing him all over his face.

“Hey, shortcake, what are you doing here?” His voice sounded hoarse and the scent of smoke hovered in the examining room.

Had he been in a fire? Anabelle wondered.

“One of my friends in food service saw you arriving in an ambulance. He called me,” Sarah said.