The phone jangled. Dottie stared at Al. “You go.” As soon as he hurried through the door, she wished she’d gone herself. Only a couple of minutes passed, but the wait seemed like hours. When he appeared, Joy had started to fuss, and Dottie stooped to pick her up. One look at Al’s somber face made her grip the chair arm.
“How many babies can you handle?”
“How many? What do you…?”
“Dennis says Cora’s worn out, but doing all right. He got there just in time for the birth…the second birth, that is.”
“Sec…?”
“Guess twins happen out here in California, too. You have two new grandbabies, Mrs. Jensen.”
Speechless, Dottie sank back in the chair and pulled Joy close.
“A boy and a girl. Andrew Albert and Dorothy Marjorie, after the two grandmothers. And they even thought of me.” His smile showed genuine pleasure.
“He was serious?”
“Do you think he’d kid about a thing like that?” He reached for Dottie’s shoulder. “You all right?”
She nodded. “I think so. But when did you say you plan on going home?”
****
The stuffy, antiseptic hospital smell faded into the background. Time stopped in the hallway outside a large-windowed nursery. Light pressure from Al’s fingers on Dottie’s elbow steadied her as a nurse in a starched white cap rolled a metal table toward the viewing window. Side by side, two tiny babies slept under a curved glass enclosure.
Dottie could barely breathe.
Al’s sniff, so close to her ear, didn’t help matters at all, but at least he stood here beside her. She scrunched closer, if that were possible. Baby Tipton was written on identical hand-lettered signs taped onto the glass above each miniature bundle. Brazen lights glared on newborn patches of skin under blue and pink knitted caps, and noses the size and color of rose blossoms.
The nurse edged her hand under the glass and felt the blanket swathing the pink bundle, then the blue. Were they warm enough? Dottie itched to check them herself. Everything looked so sterile, so steely. But the nurse walked off, so she must be satisfied.
Dottie might have stayed there forever if Dennis hadn’t approached—finally, she believed what Al announced earlier: there were two of them. She recognized the thunk of work boots on the long linoleum hallway, and Dennis leaned close to the window.
“Doc says even though they’re so small, they’re doing just fine. They each weighed almost four and a half pounds. They’ll keep them here maybe two weeks, and by the time we bring them home, they’ll gain some weight.”
“He’s sure? They look so fragile…”
“Cora feels the same way. But according to Doc they’ve already proven their mettle—they made it through the delivery. He said—” Dennis’s voice broke and his hand smudged the worksite dirt still decorating his cheek. “Sorry.”
Al stepped into the circle. “Nothing to be sorry about. You’ve had quite the day. Cora’s doing all right?”
“Yeah. That’s the scary part. For a while this morning, Doc was afraid we might…lose…”
“Lose her? Cora?” Dottie’s heart rattled against her breastbone.
“It was touch and go there for a while. She had some toxin thing. The swelling was a sign, but Doc thought rest would take care of it. For some reason, when he checked her last month, only one heartbeat showed up. Strange, he said.
“Anyway, they gave her a transfusion—we’re the same blood type, and I got here in time for them to use my blood.” He held up his right elbow, wrapped in gauze. “Made me feel like at least I did something to help.”
Dottie digested his words—a transfusion? “That’s an operation? She’s really going to be okay?”
“No operation—the babies came fairly easily, Doc said. But she needs a lot of rest now, and they’ve got her hooked up to a machine to keep her from getting dehydrated again. She can’t have company for a couple of days, but Doctor Bulow says he’s seen other women through this, and she’ll come out like new.”
Minty green walls swam before Dottie, but Dennis patted her forearm. “You’ve had a long day, too. Sorry it took so long to call…” He rubbed his forehead. “Cora looked a lot better when I stopped in a couple minutes ago. They gave her something to sleep.”
He turned to his new babies, and Dottie saw how pale and worn out he looked. “Some children at the park across the street can’t wait to see you—Shoko and Miyako are watching them for us.”
Dennis tore his eyes away. “I could use some hugs.”
He took off at a run. Al turned to Dottie. “Want to go back in?”
“No…there’s nothing I can do here.” They started across the street, those miniature babies and Cora’s condition swirling in her brain.
“Dot, you doing okay? You’re trembling.”
“I can’t help it, Al—they almost lost her. The whole thing is too much to…” She needed to hold down her emotions until the children went to sleep.
“You did the right thing. If we hadn’t called the doctor, things might have gone much worse.”
“But we should have done it yesterday—last week.”
“No use second guessing. You did your best.”
Dennis walked up with Jeffy on his shoulders. “We’re heading home. See you there.”
Dottie told herself things were okay now, but her nerves jittered. Al engaged Miyako in a discussion of the weather and vegetables.
Two minutes down the road, Joy fell asleep in Dottie’s arms. It was good to be quiet for a while, to rethink everything, with this innocent baby sleeping in her arms. Late sunlight tipped bean and cabbage rows purple, and electric poles cast long shadows across the road—even at this moment fraught with unknowns, California had so much beauty to offer.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dennis and Jeffy waited on the back steps. Joy wakened and reached for Daddy. He buried his face in her fine hair. When he looked up, he seemed more boy than man. “I went through some things in the war, but this…”
Dottie spun into action. “You’re hungry. I’ll heat up some stew for you.”
He drew the children close. “Thanks. I’ll give them their baths. Captain Kenny told me to take tomorrow off. Maybe you folks could use a little break?”
Al cleared his throat. “Would you mind if I drove Dottie down to the ocean? Maybe we could take a picnic.” He gave her a questioning look, but she couldn’t find her tongue.
“Feel free to use the car. I’ll call to check on Cora in the morning, but won’t go to the hospital till evening—give her some time to get her strength back. It’ll do me good to be here alone with these two.”
****
Al pulled Dottie down on the stairway landing. “Look—just in time for another amazing sunset.”
She sank on the top step. The sensation of his warm skin on hers relaxed the tight string drawn between her shoulder blades. Ocean breeze caressed her face. The golden-orange spectacle along the coast and the airy taste of salt mesmerized her.
Long after darkness drained brilliant color from the sky and the breeze picked up, the day’s events filed through Dottie’s mind, stirring a parade of deep-seated feelings and memories, ending with two newborn human beings, so utterly frail, so helpless. Of all her emotions, the one that surfaced was relief. Al had gone in to see them with her—she hadn’t needed to do that alone.
“Thank you for all you did today, especially for going in to see the babies with me tonight.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it—I thought of Owen—felt as though he ought to be standing there at that nursery window instead of me.”
“He wouldn’t have gone in.”
“What?”
“He was afraid of things like that, Al—hospitals, sickness…newborns. When Millie had her babies, it was weeks before he held them.”
Dottie hadn’t ever put it into just those words, but memories flooded back—dirty diapers to change and soak and wash, the children sick in the night, tha
t haying accident Owen’s brother had in ’31 with a dappled horse named Derkin…Owen disappeared that day, unable to take the sight. When his mother took to her deathbed, when Millie had her tonsils removed in fourth grade—he disappeared each time.
Something about the smells, the sickness, the brokenness caused his reaction. She’d never thought much about it—he was what he was. But she knew without a doubt that he never would have entered the hospital today to see his newest grandbabies. The diapers would have rotted in their soak water if she hadn’t washed them.
She’d always seen it as her business to tend to household things, and that included anything having to do with feelings—the emotional work of a family. A wave of gratitude deluged her, because Al entered into it all—they could shoulder both joys and burdens together. These grandbabies were his, too—he’d earned them. She snuggled against him, reluctant to move, even to go inside to bed.
****
Worries roiled in Dottie’s mind. Tonight was her chance to sleep, but she couldn’t. How would she ever manage when Cora came home, needing so much care? Those delicate babies would take so much work, and Jeffy and Joy required constant watchfulness. After Al went back to Iowa, Shoko and Miyako would help, but communicating would be so difficult.
She knew it didn’t pay to borrow trouble, but her thoughts refused to settle down.
Finally, Al reached for her in the darkness and whispered in her ear. “I can hear the wheels turning in your brain. We can’t solve it all right now.” She knew that, but hearing him say it helped.
“We’ve got the day off tomorrow, Dot. We’ll pack a lunch, walk the beach, maybe even take a dip. How does that sound?”
“Good.”
“And I’m giving Del a call in the morning. He can take care of the bank and anything else we need him to do. I’m not leaving here until things calm down—way, way down.”
Dottie shifted her position so she could see his eyes in the shadows. “You really think it’ll—”
“—be all right?” He smoothed his fingertips from her temples to her jawbone. “I do. We’ll wait on selling your house. Maybe later on, Millie can come out to help for a week. Then I could make a quick trip back. We’ll see—there’s no need to worry about all that right now. We’ll take it as it comes.”
His kindness lodged in Dottie’s throat. She could no longer deny her tears. “You would put all that off for…?”
“For you. You bet. I’ll do whatever it takes, Dottie Jensen, because I love you, and that includes your family. Whatever it takes.”
****
Sky the color of robin’s eggs, without even a single cloud, met the ocean as far as the eye could see. Al packed the car with Cora’s wicker picnic basket, a blanket, a glass jug of water, and even a carafe of hot tea.
Just like their first date—the trip to the river, when he took care of everything. Dennis had the children out in front of the house, Joy in a perambulator waving her hands and babbling, and Jeffy helping Daddy chop weeds.
“You’re sure you don’t need me?”
“I would never say that, but I’ll get along for the day. I’ve got a few chores to do around here that’ll make Cora happy when she comes home. And Jeffy promised to show me the goats and a whole lot of kitties.”
Al strode up the steps and brushed Dottie’s shoulder. “Ready? We couldn’t have a prettier day.”
“That’s for sure, and I definitely am ready—after all, you did everything.”
He guided her to the car, held the door while she slid into the seat, and gave her a wink. “This is our day—the whole day.”
A twinge of guilt stalked her as they drove down the driveway toward the road. Dennis here alone with those two—how would he manage? But he seemed so excited to spend the day with them. Who knew how much of the necessary housework he’d been doing after work before she and Al came?
“Most people must be already at work. Maybe they were still driving home last night when we came back from the hospital—the traffic’s so much thinner.”
“Or maybe people get out more here in the evenings.”
Al had written down the turns he needed to make, and Dottie held the list. The last turn, Jenner Street, led to the beach.
When he handed her the slip of paper, he chortled. “Jenner Street—pretty close to Jensen. It’s a sign for us, Dot. We’re going to have a wonderful day.”
“Okay, turn left here—there it is.”
Al turned off the motor. “Let’s leave everything in the car.” He took her hand, and they stopped to read a wooden sign at the edge of the sand:
By act of the California Legislature, 1931:
Casa Beach, a gift from Ellen Browning Scripps,
shall be devoted exclusively to public park,
bathing pool for children, parkway, highway, playground, and recreational purposes.
“Hey, I should’ve brought some poles!”
“Maybe next time—Jeffy would love that. I wonder if Ellen Scripps founded the hospital, too, or her husband.” She scanned the area. “So, that walkway keeps the biggest waves out? Maybe this would be a good place to bring children to swim.”
“Yeah—Dennis suggested we come here. Guess he and Cora made some memories on the seawall walkway.”
“Oh, now I remember. It seems so long ago. I was preoccupied with…” Dottie paused. “Anyway, I think when Cora called to tell me Dennis proposed, she mentioned waves crashing into a seawall.”
“Well, this must be the place. How about walking down to the pier?”
It wasn’t so far, but by the time they came back, Dottie’s stomach growled.
“Already? Maybe I didn’t bring enough food.”
She chuckled. “That growl doesn’t mean we have to feed it right away, you know.”
“I’ll get the chairs, umbrella, and blanket. You rest.”
That was one of Al’s favorite words, along with relax. He repeated it again last night just before she dropped off to sleep. “Cora’s going to be fine, and so are the babies. I’m glad they’re in good hands, and we can relax—just think of all the nurses staying up tonight to take care of them.”
The scene his words painted calmed her. She imagined the nursery where they’d turned down the lights by now and some nurse watching over little Andrew and Angela. The babies looked so fragile, she would much rather have that nurse in charge than bear the responsibility.
Now, she recalled tiny babies like Cora’s that had survived—the pitifully small infant born to Henrietta Perry’s younger sister, grown into a strapping young man. She tried to recall his name. And didn’t Ily have a mighty small one, too?
She positioned her striped canvas chair beside Al’s, closed her eyes and let the breeze carry her away. The Pacific Ocean—still, it didn’t seem she could actually be here, close enough to touch the water. Al brought a tourism book, but Dottie wanted only to take in the sunshine and do absolutely nothing.
He read her snippets about various locations along the coast. “If we live here forever, we’ll never get to all of them.”
If we live here forever. Forever in California seemed longer than Sternville’s forever, for some reason. Maybe because the ocean and beaches stretched so far, they seemed endless, or because the sky angled into the water with nothing between.
Then she thought of all the work ahead of them—it didn’t diminish the joy of being involved in her grandbabies’ lives. Best of all, she would be doing it with Al. How could she be such a lucky woman?
He burbled away about giant redwoods up north, San Francisco’s highlights, and Hollywood. He seemed so content. Her eyelids grew heavy with the rhythm of surf crashing into seawall and gulls overhead calling to their mates. When she woke, a magnificent meal awaited her.
Al had made sandwiches from leftover roast beef, apple slices sprinkled with cinnamon, a bowl of lettuce and parsley from Mrs. Shoko’s garden, carrot and celery sticks from the same source, tea, and a box of cookies for dessert. But best of all, h
e sat there Indian style, with a grin. The glitter of his blue eyes matched that in the distance as waves met the sun.
Dottie stretched her arms wide. “You’re treating me like a queen.”
He rolled his arm toward the feast. “You deserve it. Come on, enjoy.”
She lowered beside him. A big sandwich later, he reached for her hand. “Are you happy, Dot?”
“Oh my—my heart is so full, I don’t know how to talk about it. But how about you—I wish I could offer you something besides work. Dirty diapers, running around after Jeffy—and it’s going to get far worse.”
He squeezed her fingers. “You have no idea what you offer me, Dot. I have everything I need.”
They packed away the containers and sipped another slow cup of tea, but Dottie juggled his answer. It wasn’t the words so much as the quiver in his voice.
“Race you to the seawall!” Al leaped up and took off, leaving toe marks in the sand. Dottie followed him in a fast walk—no reason to sprain an ankle—this day was supposed to be fun.
Along the seawall again, swinging arms like carefree children, they traced the water’s edge. A few people migrated to the beach, most in swimsuits or shorts. Dottie’s dress fluttered in the breeze—the liberating sensation eased her nagging squiggle of worry. She picked up conch shells until her hands would hold no more.
“Jeffy would love this, wouldn’t he? If we’re going to bring him out here, maybe I should buy a swimsuit.” She thumped a fist against her hip. “Do you think they’d let me on this beach in one?”
“You’ve got a good shape. You ought to buy one—we both should.” Al’s rolled-up pants made his long legs look even thinner.
“I don’t know how to swim. I’ve always wanted to, but my folks were so afraid we’d drown, they never allowed us to attempt it.”
“You can still learn. I was lucky to have a pond right on our farm, and we all jumped in after a hard day’s work in haying season.” Back at the blanket, he pulled her down. “Time for a nap.”
When had she ever rested this much during daytime? She couldn’t remember, but it felt wonderful. Al fell asleep, and so did she. A seagull’s call woke them some time later, and he raised himself onto his elbow, cocking his head at a humming noise.
In This Together Page 28