The Beach Quilt (30 page)

The Busy Bee had been quiet for twenty minutes or so after a flurry of customers that had kept both Cordelia and Sarah scurrying around, answering questions, and wrapping packages. Not every person had bought something, but most had and Cordelia had happily counted their intake at close to two hundred and fifty dollars. Now, the girls were enjoying the break. Sarah was perched on one of the stools behind the counter, and Cordelia was leaning on it. (If her mother had been there, she would have told Cordelia not to lean on it because she would dirty the glass.)

“I almost did a really stupid thing,” Cordelia said suddenly. “Well, I thought about doing it. I wouldn't actually have done it.”

“What?” Sarah asked. “And don't say, ‘I was going to jump off a bridge into the river to see if I could survive.' ”

“Me? Take a physical risk? Sewing is the only sport I can handle—barely! No, nothing like that, but you still can't tell anyone.”

“All right.”

“I don't even know why I'm telling
you
. Maybe—”

“Cordelia.”

Cordelia sighed and told Sarah about her nanosecond idea of losing her virginity to John Blantyre. “I don't know what I was thinking, really,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, yes, I do. I was feeling so stupid and naive compared to you. And . . . and left out. I know, I know, it's crazy. But that's how I felt.”

Sarah looked horrified. “And you thought that getting someone to have sex with you would what? Make you like me? Like we'd be members of the same club or something? And after what your poor mother went through all those years ago?”

Cordelia cringed. “Okay, okay, I said I know it was dumb. And I didn't actually
do
anything. I just thought about it, for like, half a minute.”

“Well, I have no right to judge. But, Cordelia, trust me, you don't know what you have until you lose it,” Sarah insisted. “Freedom. Your childhood. Don't be stupid, Cordelia. Just don't.”

“I'm not a child,” Cordelia argued. “I'm only a few months younger than you.”

“Yes,” Sarah said. “Yes, you
are
a child. And so am I still, in a lot of ways. It's nothing to be ashamed of, it's just the way it is.”

Reluctantly, Cordelia agreed. It would be stupid to be ashamed of something neutral like your age. Besides, it wasn't as if it was something you could change. Lie about, maybe, but not change. Time and only time would make you older, never younger.

Cordelia sighed. “My mother always says, ‘don't be in a rush to grow up. You'll be an adult soon enough and adulthood lasts a long time.' ”

“She's right,” Sarah said. “You're an adult a lot longer than you're a child. If you're lucky.”

“But adulthood seems exhausting, doesn't it? When was the last time any of our parents did something really fun or wild or outrageous?”

Sarah smiled. “My parents? Probably never.”

“You know what I mean. I know there are perks to being an adult, but sheesh, all those bills to pay and toilets to clean and jobs to go to and tough decisions to make, like what health insurance plan you can afford!”

“What's the alternative?” Sarah said. “Besides, I think the perks probably far outweigh the annoying stuff. Like, being
allowed
to make your own decisions.”

“Ha! About
everything
. No one to make up your mind for you! I mean, you even have to figure out what you want to have for dinner every night!”

“Well, that's probably one of the good things about a relationship,” Sarah pointed out, “like marriage. Teamwork. You can share the responsibilities.”

Cordelia frowned. “Maybe. But you still have a lot more responsibilities than you had as a kid! I don't see either of my parents slacking off, ever.”

Sarah's expression darkened.

“What's wrong?” Cordelia asked quickly. “Did the baby kick you in a rib?”

“No. I was just thinking that my childhood will officially end the moment the baby is born.”

Cordelia reached across the counter and took Sarah's hand. “Oh, Sarah, I'm sorry! Here I am complaining about—well, about what amounts to nothing. I mean, about something that everyone goes through at some point. Growing up.”

Sarah managed a smile. “If they're lucky.”

“Yeah. If they're lucky.”

Sarah held the cold glass of lemonade against her forehead. She was at Cordelia's house again. Her own was too unbearably hot, even with the window units going. She had considered asking Mrs. Kane if she could sleep there at night but decided her parents might feel bad about it, like they weren't providing their child with something basic like a comfortable place to rest.

“God, it's so hot!” Cordelia cried. She was dramatically sprawled across her bed. “I can feel the heat even through the air-conditioning. It's, like, lurking. It must be horrible to be pregnant when it's ninety degrees in the shade,” she said sympathetically.

Sarah smiled ruefully. “Well, if I had planned things out, I wouldn't be in this mess.”

“I just hope that if I ever decide to get pregnant I look at the calendar first. I mean, who would want to be due in the middle of January when you could wind up being stranded by a blizzard on your way to the hospital! I can't imagine giving birth in the backseat of a car. Gross!”

“And no drugs. Though I hope I can keep the drugs to a minimum. But I don't think I can be a total hero and do without anything.”

“You'd better not even try!” Cordelia cried. “You're going to be exhausted afterward, that's what my mom says. Why should you be in pain, too?”

“Well, I think I'll be in pain no matter what. But I know what you mean. Maybe if things were different, I'd feel braver. Like if I had a husband and the pregnancy was planned and I had money.” Sarah sighed. “Maybe not.”

“I'll never feel brave about giving birth. I'm totally freaked out by the idea. Maybe I'll have a planned C-section. A lot of people have them these days.”

Sarah frowned. “That's major surgery, you know. And it can be risky.”

“I know, but at least I won't feel anything.”

“I'm not sure that's entirely true. I mean, I think you feel a lot of pressure.”

“Pressure, I can handle. It's excruciating pain that frightens me.”

“Thanks,” Sarah said with a laugh. “I feel so calm and reassured now!”

“Oh, I'm sorry! Don't listen to me. I'm just a big coward. You're so much braver than I am about everything.”

“Am I?”
Brave
was not the first word Sarah would use to describe herself.

“Yeah. You're going through with this. If it were me, I . . . well, I don't know what I might do. Die of fright, probably.”

“It will never be you,” Sarah said firmly. “You've been scared straight by me.”

“I guess I probably have been. How weird. I always thought I was the—”

“The what? The one who would screw up?”

“No, I mean—I just—” Cordelia's face was flushed with embarrassment.

Sarah laughed. “It's okay. I'm just teasing. Anyway, it only goes to show that life is full of surprises.”

“I hate surprises. Unless they're under the Christmas tree. Then you can be pretty sure they're good surprises.”

“I hate surprises, too,” Sarah said. “I used to think that I liked them. But not anymore.”

“Yeah. I can see that. Do you want more lemonade?” Cordelia asked, swinging her legs off the bed.

“What I want is more ice. In a bucket and dumped over my head.”

Adelaide was in the kitchen making a pitcher of iced tea when Cordelia came in with a rare pensive look on her face.

“Hi,” Adelaide said. “Something on your mind?”

Cordelia sat on a stool at the counter. “Yeah. Mom, can we talk about something?”

“We can talk about anything.”

“I've been thinking a lot about what you told me. About the adoption. And I'm sorry I was such a jerk to you. You did what you had to do, and it must have been so hard.”

Adelaide fought back tears of joy and relief. “Thank you, Cordelia,” she said. “And you weren't a jerk.”

Cordelia shrugged. “I guess it was just such a shock. I mean, it was the last thing I ever expected to hear. Well, maybe not the very last, but still.”

“I'm so sorry. I realize now that my timing was awful.”

“You could have decided never to tell me.”

“I suppose I could have,” Adelaide admitted. “Your father pointed that out to me.”

“But I'm glad that you did tell me. I wasn't at first, but now I am.”

“Good. I guess no one really likes to learn that her parents had past experiences that weren't—pleasant. But maybe it's important we find out that our parents are flawed. Sometimes, seriously flawed.”

But Adelaide wondered. Was it
really
better that she knew her mother's true nature? Or would she be happier if she still believed that her mother was a kind and caring person? No. That would mean she was living under a delusion, and delusions were never a good idea.

“Well, I don't think giving your baby up for adoption was a sign of being flawed,” Cordelia said. “It was a brave thing to do. As brave as Sarah's keeping her baby.”

“Yes. Two acts of courage, keeping a child and giving away a child. Each requires a big leap of faith.”

“Life is really hard, isn't it?” Cordelia said. “I mean, I guess on some level I kind of knew that, but until Sarah got pregnant I was really pretty innocent. Not to say that I'm totally mature now!”

“I think,” Adelaide said, “that no matter how mature you are, life can always surprise or shock you. Or challenge you.”

Cordelia frowned. “So it doesn't get easier?”

“Is that what it sounded like?”

“Yeah! Like, no matter how much experience you have it doesn't necessarily matter because something so bad or weird or unexpected could happen that you're left with—I don't know, with your mouth hanging open.”

Why deny it?
Adelaide thought. “That's when it helps to have friends and family to turn to,” she said. “No one can really live life alone, not successfully, anyway.”

“What about monks and nuns and people like that?” Cordelia asked.

“Most people in religious orders live in communities. Community members care for one another. But maybe there are some who live alone.... Except they're not alone because they have their god.”

“See? Nothing is simple! How can anyone ever say, ‘This is a fact,' when in the next half a second someone else can say, ‘But what about this other fact that contradicts your fact?' ”

Adelaide smiled fondly at her daughter. “Cordelia, you're a lot more mature than you give yourself credit for being!”

“Yeah, well, mature or not, I am sooooo hungry. What are we having for dinner?”

“Burgers are ready,” Joe announced from his place at the charcoal grill.

It was August tenth, Sarah's birthday, and there was a small birthday party slash baby shower in progress in the Bauers' backyard. Joe had hung blue streamers from the big maple tree by the shed, and there were blue balloons tacked to the edge of the picnic table. (Clarissa had immediately popped the first three Joe had blown up.) Sarah had collected wildflowers and put them in several mason jars now lined up and down the center of the table. The weather had cooperated. It was sunny and warm but with hardly a trace of humidity.

In addition to burgers, there was potato salad and corn on the cob and pigs in a blanket. (Clarissa had already made off with two of them.) Cindy had made Sarah's favorite carrot cake with pineapples and cream cheese frosting. The women were drinking wine. The men were drinking beer. The girls were drinking homemade lemonade.

At Sarah's request they had opened the presents for the baby first. (The quilt was not quite finished; that presentation would have to wait for another moment.) Joe had made a cradle for the baby out of pine. Cindy thought it was the most elegant thing he had ever crafted. Needless to say, it was also perfectly constructed. No grandchild of Joe's was going to tip over and be dumped on the floor while being rocked to sleep with a lullaby!

Adelaide and Cordelia had put together an enormous basket of baby products—lotions and powder, wipes and diapers, onesies and supersoft towels for after Henry's bath. The basket was decorated with blue and yellow ribbons and bows and lollipops in the shape of stars.

Stevie presented Sarah with a mini trousseau for her nephew. It consisted of a cap, a jacket, and a pair of pants, all in a supersoft, blue, wide-wale corduroy. “For fall and winter,” she had explained. “I estimated how big he might be by then. The woman in that specialty kids' shop in Ogunquit helped me.”

Cordelia smiled as Sarah exclaimed over Stevie's work. “I'm really looking forward to being the fun aunt,” she announced. “You know, the aunt who spoils him rotten and lets him do things he's not supposed to do. Like, I don't know, eat candy right before dinner.”

“What about me?” Stevie asked.

“You can be the cool aunt. You can . . . you can do whatever it is cool aunts do!”

“Like, make him fun clothes and teach him how to dye his hair!”

Cindy, seeing the expression on her husband's face at the mention of a boy using hair color, intervened. “Let's stick to making him clothes,” she said.

The presents for Sarah were no less special. Stevie had made Sarah a denim shirt that she could wear now as well as after the baby was born. “It's sort of boho,” she explained. “I know it's not your style, but I thought it would look really good on you.”

Sarah had thanked her and put it on over her T-shirt. It did look good on her. Cindy thought her younger daughter might someday have a very successful career in fashion design. Imagine that. Then again, there was her skill with cats....

Adelaide and Jack gave Sarah a gift certificate to the day spa in Ogunquit. “I know it's not something you would ever do for yourself,” Adelaide explained. “But trust me, as a new mother you're going to need an afternoon of pampering. And I'll watch the baby for you.”

Cindy and Joe had invested in a small silver circle charm with the initials HJB engraved on it. It was hung on a slim silver chain. Cindy fastened it around her daughter's neck. “I'll never take it off,” Sarah declared.

“I was stumped,” Cordelia told the group. “I had no idea what to get Sarah for her last birthday as a—well, is there a word for it, like pre-mother? I really wanted to get something special. But I just couldn't think of anything perfect. So . . .” She handed Sarah an envelope. “I hope it's okay.”

Sarah opened the envelope. “It's a gift card for The Bookworm. Thank you, Cordelia. Really.”

Cordelia shrugged. “But do you think you're even going to have time to read once the baby comes? I keep hearing that new parents are sleep deprived and that they never have the time to do the things they love to do, like go to the movies. I've even heard that they barely have the time to take regular showers! It sounds like a nightmare. Personally, if I couldn't shower daily, I'd go mad.”

Cindy thought she saw a flicker of worry cross Sarah's face. “Don't worry,” she said firmly. “We'll make sure Sarah has the opportunity to take a shower. And to read.”

“And to go to the spa,” Adelaide added.

“And to study for exams.” Jack grinned. “Well, I am an educator. I have to mention school, don't I?”

Joe cleared his throat. “I think it's time we cut the cake.”

They sang “Happy Birthday.” Jack's lovely tenor made up for Joe's mumbling and Cordelia's off-key screech. Cindy noted that Clarissa had run off the moment the voices had been raised.

“Make a wish, make a wish!” Stevie and Cordelia chanted when the song had ended.

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she blew out the seventeen candles in one breath. There was applause all around. Cindy wiped tears from her eyes and saw Adelaide do the same.

“Thanks, everyone,” Sarah said, her eyes shining. “You've made this the best birthday ever.”