Thursdays At Eight (11 page)

Clare remembered Julia's horrible case of flu last November. That must be what Michael had, although even worse. Doubled over, he heaved until there was nothing left.

When he'd finished, he leaned weakly against the side of the SUV.

Without a word, Clare opened the back and found a bottle of spring water and uncapped it. Next, she gave him a tissue from her purse, which he used to wipe his mouth. She handed him the water bottle.

Michael took it from her, rinsed his mouth, then used what remained to wash off the sidewalk.

He climbed back into the car, more ashen than before.

“That must've been one hell of a test you had,” she said. “Or do you have the flu?” Clare didn't
want
to feel sympathy for him, but despite everything, she did. It was impossible not to be
affected by someone's pain. Even if that person had ripped apart her life. Even if she'd sworn to harden her heart against him.

“I wasn't at the hospital for tests,” he said after a moment. “And I don't have the flu.”

Clare glanced in his direction and waited for him to explain, her hand on the ignition key.

“I'm undergoing chemotherapy.”

Chemotherapy? Michael?

“You have cancer?” Clare whispered.

LIZ KENYON

February 8th

I
'm worried about Clare and Julia. Our meeting today troubled me.

Clare is my main concern. It didn't take me long to discover why Michael Craig was at the hospital on Monday, and it wasn't for any tests, the way Clare assumed. One look at her ex-husband told me he wasn't a well man. I wonder if Clare knows the seriousness of his condition, but unfortunately that isn't a question I can ask her.

My first reaction was that her son had practically blackmailed her into picking Michael up. I wondered if Alex did this on purpose so Clare would discover the truth on her own. It's a possibility, but not one I mentioned. In fact, as I learned later, she's not sure how much her boys know.

I suspected she was going to need to talk all of this over with
someone, and I was right. After work on Monday, I got some Chinese takeout and drove to her house. It took her almost five minutes to answer the door, and she looked pale and shaken and very glad to see me.

We talked for several hours while we ate Szechwan chicken and shrimp egg fu yung, then drank black tea in front of her fireplace. Apparently Michael's still living with Miranda. It couldn't have been easy for Clare to drive him to the house he's sharing with another woman. I don't know what they said to each other, she and Michael. Doesn't matter, though. My main purpose is to help a friend.

Clare's a strong woman. She doesn't credit herself nearly enough. She's been through a great deal and unfortunately, there's more to come. However, by the end of the evening, I felt confident that Clare was handling this news as well as could be expected.

Then at the breakfast this morning, she looked like she hadn't slept all night. She seemed especially quiet, too, and Karen's attempts to draw her out were unsuccessful.

Clare isn't the only one experiencing problems. Julia seems completely drained. This pregnancy hasn't been easy on her physically or, of course, emotionally. She, too, was withdrawn and uncommunicative.

That left Karen and me. Karen, forever the actress, seemed grateful for an audience and did most of the talking. While I enjoy her, I'd hoped Clare and Julia would be more forthcoming, but neither of them really entered into the conversation. Without them contributing, the group simply doesn't work.

I'm making the effort to see more of Clare and Julia. After all, I'm the one with the free time to invest in our friendships. I can certainly give them the benefit of my affection and sympathy—if not my wisdom!

With that thought in mind, I've decided I want to learn how to knit, and Julia's agreed to teach me. She doesn't hold regular classes; she found it was too difficult to run the store and teach at the same time. (She can't afford to hire anyone yet, although that's her eventual goal.) Evenings are reserved for her family and after spending all day at the store, she's ready to go home by six.

I've always wanted to knit (and I'll be meeting one of my goals for the year—a new skill!). I'll buy yarn to make a sweater for Annie, and while I'm learning the basics, I'll have an opportunity to visit with Julia. We've arranged our lessons for two lunch hours a week; I'll bring the sandwiches, since she won't accept payment. We'll knit—and we'll talk. About the baby, her feelings, whatever she wants.

Julia's baby must be why Lauren's on my mind so much these days. To carry a child for six months and then lose her, born three months premature, nearly destroyed us. Steve and I were so young and afraid. I've never forgotten her, although I rarely mention her name. Born now, my Lauren might have lived. A doctor like Sean might have given her a chance at life.

He came to my office earlier in the week. I didn't see him, but I knew he'd been there. I was in a meeting with the nursing director, finalizing the details of the new contract. When I returned, a long-stemmed rose had been placed on my desk. It's been almost a month since Sean and I talked. I'm not even sure if he's still seeing the physical therapist.

I wish I could pinpoint what it is about this man that I find so attractive. And dammit, I have to admit that I do. I know he's younger and he's arrogant and he's impatient and demanding—and he's got an inflated opinion of his own charms. And yet…and yet I can't stop thinking about him.

He's as different from Steve as any man could be. Perhaps
what attracts me is the challenge. But really, do I need that at this point in my life? I don't think so. Then why do I care?

I can't figure it out.

I have plenty of challenges to occupy me. My job, of course. And my volunteer work. Now that I'm reading to the kids at the detention center, I'm finding the experience immensely satisfying.

Anyway, I put Sean's rose in a vase and left it on my desk (right next to my copy of the second Harry Potter book). All week that rose has been there to remind me of him. It's the first thing I notice when I walk into the office each morning and the last thing I see at the end of the day. I should have tossed it immediately, and didn't.

I generally trust my own judgment about people and relationships. This time I have the distinct feeling I'm setting myself up for a major letdown.

It's not a comfortable sensation. Sean obviously feels the same way or he would have asked me out again and he hasn't.

I can't decide if I'm relieved or disappointed.

JULIA MURCHISON

February 12th

List of Blessings

1. Hot baths and lavender soap and a matching cream that feels like silk on my skin. An early Valentine gift to myself.
   
2. A full night's rest—something I really appreciate now that I have difficulty sleeping.
   
3. Attics.
   
4. Heartburn medication.
   
5.  
   

I
was in for my monthly visit with Dr. Fisk, the OB-GYN who delivered both Adam and Zoe. We talked for almost fifteen minutes and probably would have spent more time discussing the pregnancy if she didn't have such a tight appointment schedule.

My attitude isn't good. I'm making an effort, but so far it
hasn't really worked. My due date is September seventh. The ultrasound showed a healthy pregnancy; the fetus is developing normally. But I don't remember the nausea or the heartburn being this bad with either Adam or Zoe.

I might as well accept the fact that Peter and I are about to add another child to our family. I might as well assume that things will work out. I'm sick of worrying about how we're going to manage, sick of thinking about the complications a baby is adding to our lives. Babies are expensive, and our finances are already strained.

Peter has taken this pregnancy in stride—easy to do since he isn't the one who's pregnant. When the baby arrives, I'll let my good-natured husband worry about finding day care. I'll suggest he get up in the middle of the night to deal with the feeding and the constant needs of a newborn. Peter's conveniently forgotten how demanding an infant can be, but he'll remember soon enough.

The kids know something is up. We can't delay telling them much longer. Once again my husband has this rosy, unrealistic picture of how they're going to react. I hate to disillusion him, but I know exactly what Adam and Zoe will say, and it doesn't bear any resemblance to what he expects.

Saturday, while Peter had Adam and Zoe with him, gallivanting from one sporting event to the next, I went to the attic. I can't remember the last time I did that. What a mess. Obviously the kids have been up there.

I sought out anything we could use for this baby. As I recall, we gave the crib, high chair and other furniture to my sister, but Peter was sure we kept the bassinet. If so, I didn't find it. I looked everywhere, to no avail. There are no baby clothes to be found. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.

We'll have to start completely over. I simply don't know how
we're going to afford all this. My shop's income has dropped—it's no wonder since I've had to close once or twice a week for doctor's appointments and all these tests Dr. Fisk considers necessary. Thank God Peter has excellent health benefits.

 

Nervous about confronting the children with news of her pregnancy, Julia took the chicken casserole from the oven and carried it to the table. She'd gone to extra trouble this evening, preparing a family favorite, accompanied by fresh green beans and hot rolls and followed by dessert.

Julia insisted on family meals, although Adam and Zoe were involved in a number of school activities that often ran late. Getting everyone to the dinner table at the same time was becoming more and more of a challenge.

“Dinner's ready,” she called out when she'd finished. She stepped away from the table and waited for her husband and children to join her.

Peter was the first one in the kitchen. His eyes met hers, and Julia read the question in his gaze.

“Tonight?” he asked.

Julia nodded.

“How'd the doctor's appointment go?”

She shrugged. The appointment had been to discuss the ultrasound, and it had taken longer than she'd hoped. She was more than an hour late in opening the shop, which left her wondering how much business she'd lost. Or worse, how many people she'd irritated by not being there at the time posted. Between today and the two hours she was closed while she had the ultrasound on Monday, that was twice just this week.

“You're sure everything's all right?”

“Yeah.” He knew the ultrasound revealed no problems; she'd mentioned it earlier. Peter had been relieved and so, of course,
was she. This whole situation was hard enough without worrying about Down's Syndrome or spina bifida. Not that they'd know about
that
until she'd had the amniocentesis.

“Adam. Zoe,” Peter yelled. “Dinner!”

As though he was doing his parents a favor, Adam slouched into the kitchen. He'd shaved his head recently, and after a growth spurt the past summer, was an inch under six feet. He was lanky and awkward and painfully conscious of his new height.

He pulled out his chair and fell into it. “I was on the computer,” he said, as if that explained the delay.

“Where's your sister?” Julia set the milk carton on the table next to the salad and the green beans.

Adam raised his thin shoulders. “Her bedroom, last time I looked.”

Peter walked to the hallway and shouted for Zoe again.

The thirteen-year-old arrived a minute later, full of high spirits. “Sorry,” Zoe said, as she flew into the room. “I was on the phone with Ashley.”

Ashley and Zoe were in constant communication. Julia's own best friend when she was thirteen had been Kathleen O'Hara, who now lived in Seattle and worked as a journalist. Theirs had become merely a Christmas-card friendship, and she'd forgotten the intensity of relationships at that age. The two girls found it impossible to be separated for more than a few hours. All this would change, Julia realized, when boyfriends entered the picture; she hoped that wouldn't be for a few more years. As it stood now, Ashley and Zoe were at school together every day, then talked on the phone half the night, with e-mail to fill in any gaps. Weekends were spent at each other's houses.

“Shall we eat?” Peter suggested, sliding into his chair.

Julia sat down at the opposite end of the table.

Once they were all seated, they bowed their heads for a brief prayer. As soon as they'd finished, Peter reached for the spoon to serve himself some casserole. “Your mother and I would like to talk to you both after dinner,” he said casually.

“Talk to us?” Zoe asked.

“About what?” Adam pressed.

“We'll wait until we've finished with dinner,” Julia inserted, unwilling to disrupt this congenial time.

“Is it about me driving?” Adam was due to get his driver's license soon. Already he was pressuring Peter and Julia about purchasing an extra vehicle for him. Naturally, he assured them, he'd get a job to pay for the insurance, gas and maintenance.

Julia stabbed a green bean. She didn't have the heart to tell Adam that with the extra financial burden of a third child, there wouldn't be money for a car. They'd discussed buying a reliable used one, but that was completely out of the question now.

“I know what it is,” Zoe burst out excitedly. She tossed her brother a superior look.

Adam scowled in her direction.

“We're taking a family vacation this year, aren't we?” Zoe said.

Julia and Peter exchanged glances.

Zoe's eyes brightened. “We're going to the Grand Canyon, right?”

“I'll drive,” Adam offered.

“Do you mind if we put this discussion off until after dinner?” Julia said, wishing Peter hadn't announced their intention beforehand.

“I need forty dollars for gym class tomorrow,” Adam announced, grabbing a second roll from the basket and slathering butter on it.

“Forty bucks?” Peter repeated, looking aghast.

“Children are expensive,” Julia said pointedly. Peter didn't
appear to recognize the sacrifice this new child was going to require, and she wasn't even thinking of the emotional implications, of which there were plenty.

“Speaking of money, I need new reeds for my clarinet,” Zoe added.

School. Music lessons. Sports. Scouts. Church. All required commitments of money and time. Both Adam and Zoe were active teenagers, and a new baby wasn't going to change that. Last week alone, there'd been some meeting or other involving one of the kids every night for five evenings straight.

Julia couldn't imagine what they'd do next year when they had an infant at home. An infant who was on a feeding, eating and sleeping schedule. It wasn't as though she could drag a baby to these functions and expect anything to get done. Peter wouldn't always be available to baby-sit either. He had work obligations of his own—PTA meetings, parent conferences and the like—that often took place in the evenings.

“
Are
we taking a vacation this year?” Adam asked.

“No.” Julia corrected him before this line of questioning got out of hand and led to yet another disappointment.

Both children stared at her.

“Just tell us what it is then,” Zoe pleaded.

“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “Why don't you tell us?” He heaped another helping of the casserole onto his plate. During the last six months, their son's appetite had increased tenfold. Peter had joked recently that he was going to have to take on a second job just to afford groceries. A joke Julia now recalled with some bitterness.

“Maybe we should just tell them and be done with it,” Peter said, looking at Julia.

“It's not fair to make us guess,” Zoe said, her eagerness to hear this news spilling over.

“Gotta get back to the computer. I have a ton of English homework,” Adam said, implying that he'd be working on it the instant dinner was finished. He'd be at the computer, all right, but it was doubtful he'd be tackling his English project. Julia was well aware that her son was hooked on “Age of Empires.”

“I don't object, if your mother doesn't,” Peter said.

Both children turned to Julia. “Tell us, Mom.” “Come on, Mom.”

Actually, she'd hoped Peter would be the one to make the announcement. Realizing she couldn't postpone it any longer, she set her fork down and placed her hands in her lap. She put on a brave smile. “Your father and I have some good news.” She was determined to put a positive slant on this despite her own less-than-enthusiastic attitude.

“I
told
you it was good news,” Adam shouted, exchanging a high-five with his sister.

“We're headed for the Grand Canyon,” Zoe said. “Mom just said no 'cause she wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I'm not sure a baby is what either of you have in mind.” Peter threw out the words a bit desperately.

“Yellowstone Park.” Adam's eyes flashed with enthusiasm. “I could help with the driving. We could be there in eighteen hours. We'd stay at the National Park, wouldn't we?”

“
Baby?”
The excitement vanished from Zoe's face as she took in her father's words. “What's this about a
baby?
”

Julia wished her husband had led into the subject with a little more finesse. Doing her best to appear pleased, she leaned forward and looked both her children in the eye. “You heard that right.”

“A baby?” Adam shared a puzzled frown with his sister.

“Your mother's pregnant,” Peter said. Julia preferred him to do the talking, since he was so damn thrilled about this baby.

From Adam and Zoe's horrified expressions, he seemed to be the only one in the family who was. “Your baby brother or sister is due in September.”

Both children turned their heads and stared at Julia as though they found this impossible to believe.

“I didn't know women as old as Mom could have babies,” Adam said.

“This may come as a shock, but your mother isn't old,” Peter told him, doing nothing to hide his amusement.

“I'll be forty this year,” she murmured, in case Peter had forgotten the significance of that.

“You're honestly having a baby?” Zoe asked, her head cocked to one side. “You mean, we aren't going on a family vacation?”

“Not this year,” Julia said.
And probably not for the next five. Or more.

“Where will a baby sleep?” Adam asked, as if that thought had just occurred to him.

Julia understood her son's reasoning. Adam was concerned about being forced to share his room.

“We won't know that until the baby's born,” Peter answered. “If it's a boy, then eventually he'll be with you. A girl will move in with Zoe at some point.”

The ultrasound hadn't revealed the sex; at the moment Julia didn't care. She was merely grateful that the baby was okay—and that there was only one. She'd read that twins were more frequent with older mothers.

“Wouldn't it be better to move into a bigger house?” Zoe asked, looking from one parent to the other.

“We can't afford to do that,” Julia said, pushing her dinner around the plate with her fork. Her appetite hadn't been good for several weeks, and this discussion wasn't helping.

“You mean if the baby's a girl, she'll be in the same bedroom
as me?” Zoe's outrage echoed in each word. “I have the smallest bedroom already! Make Adam change rooms with me, then.”

“Adam. Zoe.” Peter entered the fray, his voice full of authority. “There's no need to argue about this now. After the baby's born, he or she will be with your mother and me for the first few months.”

“Why can't you keep him with you all the time?”

“Don't you think you're both being a little selfish here?” Peter asked mildly.

Julia could tell he was disappointed by their children's reaction. Well, she'd done her best to warn him.

“No one my age has a baby brother or sister,” Zoe said next, glancing at her brother for support. “This is…embarrassing.”

“You might say we're a bit surprised ourselves,” Peter countered. “It wasn't like your mother and I planned this.”

“A baby now will change all our lives,” Adam said and his insinuation was that any change couldn't possibly be for the better.