“Are you all right?” He was suddenly next to her, a hand under her elbow.
The change in position provided her a perfect opening to snatch the telephone up when it rang no more than a second later.
“Baumgartner residence. Violet Baumgartner speaking.” This time she saw it. Ed had most certainly rolled his eyes.
“Violet! Wonderful! Oh, it’s just super to hear your voice.”
Who on earth was squawking at her? “May I please ask who’s calling?”
“It’s Meg. From church. From Dorcas Circle.”
Of course. The toddler mother who sounded like a toddler herself. “Meg, how lovely of you to call. I took a bad fall, as you know, but the doctor expects me to make a full recovery. In fact, I’m already bouncing back—”
“Holy cow, Violet, I could hardly believe my ears when I heard the news. I can’t even imagine.”
Violet hmm’d pleasantly to buy herself a moment in which to locate her thoughts. Where had she left off with her speaking points? She wished she’d been following Ed’s page. Oh, yes. “It’s just wonderful news. Ed and I could not be more excited.”
“It all must be terribly confusing, though! How did it happen?”
“Well, I simply fell—wait, how did what, dear?”
“Oh, it’s just so awful. Not what you expected at all. You must be heartbroken.”
“I, of course, well, no...” Violet couldn’t make heads or tails of what this woman was saying. Her stomach rose at the insinuation that she and Ed would be anything but overjoyed about their impending grandparenthood. And yet—oh, for heaven’s sake, there was no making sense of this woman. “Pardon me, Meg. I’m not following.”
“Well, of course not, Violet. That’s what I’m telling you. You just rest. We’ve got this. You don’t worry about a thing. You take care of you.”
The words spun from Meg’s sentences like debris tossed from a tornado. Violet felt dizzy. Exhausted. “Of course, dear. By all means.” She squeezed her eyes closed and took a moment to calm the storm in her head.
They had been talking about her fall.
Then the baby.
Then. Wait. She was confused again.
It was time to close this conversation down.
“The best thing you can do to help us is to remember to support the Faithful Redeemer Christmas Fair for the Homeless on—well, I forget the date but it’s coming soon.”
“Absolutely! You have my word. We’ll miss you this year, Violet, but you just focus on getting better. Don’t give the Christmas Fair a second thought. We’ll just see you when you’re back on your feet.”
“Excuse me?” There was no mistaking what Meg was telling her now.
“Oh, I know. I’ve kept you far too long. Be well!”
She heard the line click as Meg hung up. Violet stayed still, lingering with the dead phone to her ear until it began to wail its off-the-hook siren.
Ed took it gently from her hand and pushed the off button. “Violet?” he said gently. “Who was that?”
“The start of the mutiny.”
* * *
“MOM, I’M SURE Mrs. Endres and the committee have it perfectly under control. I don’t know what Barb and I could possibly do.”
That evening, Cerise and Barb sat side by side on the couch in her family room. They’d arrived soon after dinner, though Violet assumed the two of them had not yet eaten, as Barb was still in the baggy, industrial pants she’d only seen her wear when returning home from a shoot. From all appearances, they’d come straight here, as she’d requested.
“There’s leftover chicken tortilla soup in the refrigerator. I’ll have Daddy bring you each a bowl.”
“Mother—” Cerise began to protest, but Violet saw Barb put a halting hand on her knee.
Cerise shifted, twitching her shoulders about like she did as a child when trying to make up her mind. Finally she settled, placing a hand on her gentle slope of a baby bump. “All right. Thank you. Soup would be lovely.”
Ed had been hanging up the girls’ coats, but he took his cue and headed to the kitchen. Violet leaned back into the blankets and pillow Cerise had left for her before she came home from the hospital, which still sat neatly folded where she’d placed them. Ed insisted Violet leave them there—his way of encouraging her to rest. But really, if she were going to lounge about like someone with nothing better to do, she’d do so in the privacy of her own bed. The family room was a public space.
“I’m sure Eldris will do a fine job, Violet,” said Barb. “Though no one could fill your shoes.”
Violet eyed her. Even all these years later she still hadn’t decided if she was a kiss-up, or if her propensity toward flattery was the result of fine breeding and all her years of private preparatory schools.
“You and I both know, dear, that fine is not a label to strive for.” She waited a moment, letting the point sink in.
Barb demurred. “Of course not. My apologies.”
“The result of all this mess is that the two of you must uphold the lion’s share of responsibility until I’m back on my feet.”
“For the Christmas Fair?” Cerise’s voice was edging toward a whine. She clearly needed to eat. “You have a whole team of capable people—Mrs. Endres especially—eager and ready to help.”
Violet held up a hand, her patience wearing thin. “I don’t like asking this any more than you like hearing it.” She dabbed gently at the corners of her eyes, now watering from pain and frustration both.
“Mom, please don’t make this about the Christmas Fair if it’s really about the baby.”
She stared at her daughter. “Of course this is about the baby, Cerise. From now on, everything in your life—every choice you make, every dollar you earn, every book, every vacation, every meal, every word you utter will be about the baby.” She reached for the locket at her throat, closing it in her palm. “You will never again do anything without thinking about the baby.”
And she wasn’t exaggerating. Cerise had no idea how much her life was about to change. Her mother had told her the same when she’d tried so desperately to become pregnant, but Violet had ignored her then just as Cerise gave every indication of ignoring her now.
Still, that wasn’t the reason she’d called the girls here tonight. Instead, Violet had a strategy. She may have been stripped of the Christmas Fair but she would make it absolutely clear to the Faithful Redeemer community that the Baumgartner family refused be pushed quietly aside. They would not be shamed into isolation. This baby was a miracle and her daughter a brave champion. She would earn them the respect they deserved.
Barb took a long sip from the glass of water in front of her, then smiled. “That’s the best part about becoming a parent, isn’t it? The permanence. The absolute dedication.”
“The responsibility,” Violet added.
“Yes,” agreed Barb, nodding. “That, too.”
“Then you get what I’m asking. You get why it’s important to get ahead of this sooner than later. It’s for the sake of the baby, for the sake of the family.”
Barb’s head stopped nodding.
“Mom, you’re being cryptic.”
Violet sighed. She had tried. She had tried so very hard.
“I want you to announce the pregnancy in the church bulletin.”
Barb choked on her water. Cerise snorted with laughter.
“You’re not serious, Mom.”
“I most certainly am. Do you know how many phone calls I’ve gotten since the accident?”
“Well, I’d hope lots. You were hospitalized for three days.”
“Hundreds. Hundreds of calls, Cerise.”
Her father, obviously still following the conversation from the kitchen, called, “Now, Violet. Don’t exaggerate.”
“Calls every day, and every single one of them wanting
to know how you got pregnant. Wondering if this was your plan all along. This is your chance to stand proud.”
Barb now. “They ask that? They say, ‘How’s your head? And by the way, Violet, how did your daughter and her lesbian partner manage to swing that making-a-baby part?’”
“Of course not.”
Vulgar. She’d never know Barb to be so...direct.
“They’re not asking, Mom. You’re asking. You can’t stand not knowing everything there is to know about this baby.” She brought her hand back to her belly protectively. “Except we’re not telling.”
“Why on earth not?”
“Because that’s not the point. You wouldn’t ask Amy Meyers to publish an announcement about how Jason managed to knock her up. It was the big snow back in December that had every road closed between here and Rochester. There was a bottle of wine and a fire—”
“Cerise Applewhite Baumgartner!”
Now Barb snorted with laughter. Violet couldn’t be more appalled. The indecency of the room was practically causing her to break out in a sweat.
“Now you’re getting insolent.” You could never reason with Cerise once she became sarcastic.
Barb leaned forward, placing her elbows on the two giant canvas patches covering her knees. Violet was almost certain she was smirking.
“Please understand, Violet. We don’t believe it’s anyone’s business how, or with whose help, this baby came into our lives. Cerise and I alone are the baby’s parents. Just like you said. From now on—every thought, every decision, every move we make—the two of us. All about the baby. Isn’t that what matters?”
Violet met Barb’s eyes, second for second refusing to break her gaze. The grandfather clock in the front hall ticked.
“If you don’t tell, people will assume. And believe me, girls, it’s never good when people are left to their assumptions. Consider it the first gift you give your child—to be born with an enviable story and a bright future.”
She saw a scowl flash on Barb’s face, but she said nothing.
Cerise sighed, the look on her face full of regret. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the baby, Mom. I should have. I know that now. I didn’t want to overshadow the party, is all—and now look. I’m really sorry.”
Her voice caught, tight with emotion, and Violet felt her heart lurch at the sound of it.
Ed emerged from the kitchen with a tray loaded with two steaming bowls. “Who’s ready for soup?”
Cerise and Barb raised their hands.
“Cerise,” Violet said, watching her daughter blow cooling ripples across the surface of her bowl. “Do you remember the elementary spelling bee?”
“Don’t you mean the school board meeting where I was asked to compete against myself?”
Violet did not rise to her bait. “You made your displeasure clear, yes. But do you remember what I told you that night?”
“No, but I remember the winning word. Fortuitous. F-o-r-t-u-i-t-o-u-s. Fortuitous.” She winked at Barb and smiled, then tucked into her soup.
“Yes. And I told you that we insisted you compete at the school board meeting for one very important reason. You honestly don’t remember?”
Cerise shook her head. Violet looked to her husband, but he’d made what she assumed to be a convenient retreat to the kitchen. She was on her own.
“Your father and I insisted you be given that experience so you’d learn one thing.” She paused, waiting until her daughter met her gaze and gave her complete attention. “We said, ‘Always remember, Cerise. You can’t win the battle if you don’t show up.’”
11
Cerise
“SHE’S KIDDING ABOUT the talking points, right? Tell me she’s not serious.” Barb held the car door for Cerise as she edged into the passenger seat. “And you can pretty much guarantee that I’m not reporting back to her about who asked what.”
Cerise waved her off. She’d promised Mrs. Endres they’d be at the church by 10 a.m. and they were already late. There wasn’t time for debate. “You know my mom. Always suggesting something. Don’t take her too seriously right now—I’m just trying to focus on what we can do to help. I mean—” she snapped her seat belt into its lock “—we’re sort of the reason she can’t be at the Christmas Fair herself today.”
Barb was quiet as she backed the car out of the driveway into the street. “You don’t really believe that, do you? Are you seriously blaming yourself for what happened?”
Cerise looked at her. “Blaming myself? I’m not the only one expecting a baby here.”
Barb flashed her a fiery look and started to say something, but snapped her mouth shut and turned her eyes back to the road. It had snowed last night, just in time for Christmas, and the streets were slick.
“It’s complicated, Barb.” God, Cerise hated it when they fought. Getting along was so much easier. “I tell myself that it’s not our fault, but I keep replaying the scene over and over in my mind. The sound of her head cracking against the floor. It was so awful.”
“I was there, Cerise. You don’t have to explain it to me as if I didn’t see any of it.” She was pissed now. Cerise could see it in the set of her jaw, the way she never moved her face when she was trying hard to keep from exploding. Each turn of the steering wheel became just a little sharper than the last.
“I didn’t mean to imply—anyway. I’m sorry.” It was all Cerise had been saying to anyone lately.
“I prodded you to tell your parents about the baby but you wanted to wait. And I respected that. I let you take the lead. I was patient. But now I’m stuck between your guilt and your mother’s fury and it’s getting more than a little frustrating not to be able to do a damn thing about any of it.”
Fury. That was an interesting choice of word.
“I don’t know that I’d exactly call her furious. She’s upset, not to mention she’s recovering—”
“Oh, she’s absolutely furious. About it all—that her perfect party was spoiled, that she can’t pretend anymore that you’re not gay. Although, I wouldn’t put it past her to find a way.”
“Hey, that’s not fair.”
“Oh, c’mon, Cerise. I know you and your mom have some sort of metaneutrality about each other, but you’re lying to yourself if you don’t think for one moment she wouldn’t prefer you knocked up and straight over happy and gay.”
That wasn’t true, but truth didn’t seem the point to this discussion.
“Well, we could offer to throw a big white wedding. That would keep her busy for a while.” Cerise poked Barb playfully in the ribs, but she didn’t smile. “Look—you’re right. She’s never going to love the fact that I didn’t grow up to be the girl she envisioned me to be. But this is a lot for anyone to come to terms with, and she was forced to do it in front of two hundred people. All I’m saying is, I can cut her some slack while she processes.”
“Fine. But at least respect that I see it differently. And I say she’s so mad, she’s about to bubble over.”
“Like a little teapot, short and stout?” There she went again, trying to lighten the mood.
“Like Glenn Close boiling the pet rabbit.” Barb finally turned to look at her. “Like, don’t be surprised if she shows up at our house and wants you to try on a new pair of Mary Janes she just bought for you at the Buster Brown store.”
“Well, make up your mind. Is she furious or is she crazy? I haven’t shopped at Buster Brown since I was six.”
“Exactly. When you were still perfect and adorable and presumably straight.”
The thought struck her like she’d hit a funny bone, made her focus wobble. “Did you know?” She sucked in a breath, as if shocking her brain with oxygen would help her sort it out.
Barb turned to her again. “Did I know what?”
“The picture in her locket. The one she’s always kept there. It’s m
y kindergarten picture. From school. From when I was six.”
Neither of them said another word until they pulled into the church parking lot.
* * *
THE FELLOWSHIP HALL was full to overflowing by the time they arrived. Cerise craned her neck looking for Mrs. Endres, but the room was thick with people. “Well, what do you think? Find someone and ask what we can do to help?”
Barb shrugged. Cerise realized she was going to have to accept the fact that this was her clown car and Barb was just along for the ride.
“All right, well let me...” The feel of her cell phone vibrating in her pocket interrupted her thoughts. The caller ID flashed her mother’s number.
“Hi, Mom.”
“How many people are there?”
“Well, the room is certainly full.”
“That’s not what I asked, Cerise. Isn’t anyone keeping a tally at the door?”
“Um, not on the way in, at least.” Cerise turned to look back at where they’d just come from. “I think they must be keeping a count some other way.”
Her mother huffed so hard Cerise imagined she could feel the rush of breath on her ear through the line. “I must have told Eldris a hundred times—you have to track the numbers on the way in and on the way out. It’s basic.”
“I think I see Mrs. Endres, Mom. I have to go.” She hung up before giving her the chance to respond.
“Hi, Mrs. Endres. Looks like it’s a great turnout. How can we help?”
“Oh, I’m in a state, Cerise. Your mother always has everything so under control.” She bobbled her head and closed her eyes, formulating her next thought.
Cerise and Barb waited and watched.
Finally, after several seconds without an answer, Cerise chimed in. “How about we stand at the door and keep a count of the people coming in? We can welcome them. Tell them how the room is laid out.”
Mrs. Endres’s face brightened with delight, then fell just as quickly. “Oh, dear. Your mother must have reminded me a million times.” She continued bobbling and sputtering about to-do lists and traditions and G.I. Joe, none of which seemed pertinent to their role as greeters, since everything they needed to know about that job could be learned in a single visit to Walmart. Cerise turned and pointed Barb in the direction of the entrance.
Evergreen Tidings from the Baumgartners Page 8