What's Left Behind

by Lorrie Thomson

  “The baby didn’t move in the ambulance,” Tessa whispered.

  A pinprick of tinnitus wailed in Abby’s left ear. Abby sweetened her voice, and the screaming in her head softened, too. “That doesn’t mean a thing. Car rides always soothe babies to sleep. When Luke was an infant, we’d go for a nap ride around Hidden Harbor every day at noon.”

  Tessa searched Abby’s gaze.

  Abby held her ground, but her chest drummed as though hundreds of tiny fists were trying to punch their way out.

  Rob swung in for backup. “Used to take my daughter, Grace, for a nap ride after dinner,” he said, and Tessa gave the barest hint of a nod.

  Bonnie pushed her glasses onto the bridge of her nose and offered Tessa a smile that looked more pained than encouraging. “Big screen above the monitor will show two lines. Top one’s for the baby’s heartbeat. Bottom’s for contractions. Same lines will print out on the graph paper beside the monitor.” Bonnie tapped the left side of the monitor screen. “Baby’s heart rate, right here.” She squeezed a loop of blue gel onto the first transducer and positioned it against Tessa’s abdomen. Tessa shivered and shut her eyes.

  “Sorry,” Bonnie said. “Goop’s always chilly.”

  Especially if you’d just raced by ambulance from the frigid Atlantic in Phippsburg to an ER in Brunswick.

  Bonnie affixed the second transducer and readjusted both.

  Since Tessa’s eyes were closed, Abby filled her cheeks with air. Rob’s exhalation echoed from beside her.

  Help us out, Luke.

  Bonnie fussed with the monitor’s controls, and the baby’s heartbeat filled the air, evidence of a beautiful creature floating underwater, not unlike a merbaby. Did that mean he or she was safe and sound?

  Tessa squeezed Abby’s hand, but she kept her eyes closed, her expression tight. “What’s the baby’s heart rate?” she asked, proving that she’d been listening all along.

  “One hundred and thirty-five beats per minute,” Bonnie said, her voice suddenly melodic. “See here?” She pointed to the flat line scrolling across screen. “No contractions. None. Nada.”

  Abby checked the monitor and screen herself.The number 135 next to a blinking heart, and no measurable contractions. She released an easy breath. “Open your eyes, baby,” she told Tessa.

  Tessa blinked her eyes open, but her expression didn’t change. Then Tessa’s hand went to her belly, and her eyes finally brightened. Tears slid into her mouth. “I felt the baby turn. I felt it!”

  Thank you—

  “Thank you, Luke,” Tessa said, and she looked to Abby.

  Abby’s stomach trembled. She couldn’t be prouder. Her son was watching over his family.

  Bonnie held the graph paper in her hands. “Everything looks good. I’m going to let this run for another fifteen minutes and pop back in to check on you before we head over to talk with the doctor.”

  Thank you, Abby mouthed.

  Bonnie nodded and slipped out the door.

  “Can I have a hug?” Tessa reached her arms out to Abby and folded them around her neck, same way Tessa had held on to Rob when he’d carried her to the beach. All it took for Abby to let a few tears fall. Tessa cried soundlessly into her shoulder, same as Luke used to do when he was little.

  When Abby angled her head to Rob, his eyes were wet, and a muscle twitched along his jawline. Big sensitive guy loved babies. Another checkmark from the way-back Abby-and-Celeste ideal-guy list.

  Rob passed Abby a box of tissues. She wiped her face and then used another tissue to dab Tessa’s cheeks.

  “I shouldn’t have left the way I did,” Tessa said. “I’m so—”

  Abby held up a hand. “No more sorry’s. I’m sick of being sorry. But, yeah, you shouldn’t have left the way you did. In fact, you shouldn’t have left at all.”

  “Abby—”

  “Let me finish.”

  Rob stepped aside. “I’ll leave you girls alone.”

  Abby grabbed his hand. “You need to hear this, too,” she told Rob.

  He brought her hand to his smiling lips. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and a fresh batch of tears pressed behind her eyes.

  Abby turned back to Tessa. “You were right. I had it easy when Luke was born. Lily Beth took us in. I never even asked for her help. She’s my mom. We pulled together. That’s how families work.”

  Abby looked to the ceiling, not seeking Luke this time, but trying to regain some semblance of composure before she flung herself over another ledge in her life. “Tessa, I want you to stay. Not just this week. But—well, however long you need. I want you and the baby to live with me. You’re part of the family now. We pull together.”

  “Thank you,” Tessa said, but she looked more dazed than happy. She looked as though she had something to say that she dreaded.

  A tickle irritated the back of Abby’s throat. She hadn’t imagined Tessa saying no. She hadn’t considered she could still lose both Tessa and the baby. “You don’t have to decide today, or this week,” Abby blurted out. “We’ll go home, get some rest. You can think about it.Whatever you need.”

  Abby caught Rob’s gaze. His rejection she’d considered. That didn’t stop the tickle in her throat from coating her mouth with cotton. “Sometimes the situation’s not ideal. Sometimes, when you’re a mom, you can’t have it all. Not all at the same time anyway,” Abby said, and her chin quivered. Stupid, silly chin. Now wasn’t the time—

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Rob said. “I’m staying right here.”

  “Right,” Abby said. “I asked you to stay in the room.”

  “I’m not talking about this room. I’m talking about us.” Rob shook his head. “I’m so bad at this. I’m trying to say I’m not leaving you.”

  That sounded suspiciously like what Charlie had told her before he’d packed his bags and left for college.

  “Don’t say something unless you mean it,” Abby said.

  Rob grinned, but his eyes were still wet. “I might be slow, but I know what I want.”

  Enough with the skirting talk about their relationship. Enough with the circle dance. “Which is?”

  Rob didn’t hesitate. “You.”

  “The baby—”

  “With or without the baby. I want you, if you’ll have me.”

  Abby loved Rob’s bright blue eyes, and the way they turned down at the corners, even when he was happy. She loved his tiny star-shaped scar that proved, even in sleep, he was always listening for his loved ones and ready to run to their rescue. She loved all of him.

  “Hate to interrupt your plans for a lovefest,” Tessa said. “But I know what I want, too. I know what I want for my baby.” Her voice sounded strong, with the take-no-prisoners, entertain-no-argument certainty of a decision made.

  Abby’s legs softened beneath her. She gripped the examining table, and forced a smile.

  Rob’s hand lighted on her shoulder, a preemptive strike to keep her from splintering into a million pieces. The music of the baby’s heartbeat sounded through the room, sunk through her skin and into her soul. More than enough to make her grateful. But still . . .

  Tessa gazed at her with eyes far too old for a nineteen-year-old.

  Same thing people used to say about Abby at that age. Likely the same had once been said of Lily Beth.

  “When I first found out I was pregnant,” Tessa said, “I considered keeping the baby. But then I got scared.”

  “I know, sweetheart. I can help you. You can live with me.”

  “No, I can’t. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  Abby swallowed against a wave of sorrow threatening to knock her down and spin her in circles. Rob rubbed her shoulder. Whatever Tessa decided, Abby would be fine. Not today, maybe not even tomorrow. But she wasn’t broken. Life was hard, but she would not break.

  Tessa laid her hand over the lower-belly transducer, as though protecting the baby’s heartbeat. “Even when my mom still lived with me and my dad, she wasn’t exactly maternal. I didn’t hav
e anyone to show me how you were supposed to mother a kid. I never had anyone mother me. Until you, Abby.” Tessa shrugged, but the expression on her face brooked no compromise. “I’m not going to live with you, and I can’t give you my baby. Do you want to know why?” A coy grin played at Tessa’s lips.

  That made no sense. Tessa wasn’t trying to emotionally blackmail Abby anymore. Abby had stood strong and laid everything on the table. She’d laid herself bare. Now all she needed was Tessa.

  Rob’s hand stilled on Abby’s arm. He edged closer. The heat of him warmed her back.

  The baby’s heartbeat thrummed through her chest, good and strong.

  For a second, Abby couldn’t move. Then she managed to raise one shoulder in a shrug.

  That only widened Tessa’s grin to a full-fledged megawatt smile. “A good mother always does whatever is best for her child,” Tessa said.

  Second time today, Abby wanted to take Tessa to task and give her what for. Really lace into her.

  Don’t you ever scare me like that again.

  Instead, Abby nodded and returned Tessa’s impish grin.

  You raised your kids, tried to teach them everything you knew, and then you stepped aside and hoped they made the right decisions.

  Tessa was going to raise her and Luke’s baby herself. Her life wasn’t going to be easy. But she was strong. She was a survivor. And her girl was going to make a great mother.

  Abby had no one to blame but herself.

  CHAPTER 20

  Thanksgiving morning at Briar Rose, and the guest quarters were closed for the family holiday. The aromas of turkey, sweet potatoes, and cranberries filled the air, and the labyrinth awaited its heart.

  Abby looked to the skies for guidance, low and dark and threatening to stay. The rain had finally let up, the moderate downpour dissipating to a moderate mist. Tessa bundled Daniela in her pink fleece bunting, the shade identical to the streaks framing Tessa’s face.The exuberant feminine color complimented both mother and daughter and brightened the day.

  Abby picked her granddaughter up from the entryway couch and secured the baby against her shoulder. The infant’s thick, dark hair poked out from the bunting’s hood. Daniela held her head upright, strong for her age. Her gray-blue eyes focused on Abby’s, stirring up a well of emotion. Sadness-edged joy, but joy nonetheless. Time was taking the sting from her loss, but she’d never stop missing her son, never stop wishing he were here.

  Maybe someday Abby would be able to look at Luke’s photo albums. Someday she’d like to show his daughter the tan-from-outdoor-play kid with the Band-Aids on his knees and the daredevil smile. The boy who’d trick-or-treated as Spiderman three Halloweens in a row. For now, telling Daniela about her young father would have to suffice.

  Abby would have to rely on the inexactitude of memories.

  Rob took the most important stepping-stone from the dining table by the slider and they headed out to the yard. The cool mist numbed Abby’s cheeks, the final month of autumn making itself known, but the hot little bundle she carried kept her warm.

  “She’s got your best features,” Abby told Tessa, “and Luke’s.” Abby kissed the top of Daniela’s head and inhaled the fresh newborn scent, all milk and powder and possibility.

  As soon as Abby raised her lips, Rob leaned over her shoulder to drop another kiss atop the baby, a raining down of blessings. “She’s a beauty, just like her grandma,” Rob said, emphasis on grandma.

  Abby slid Rob a faux look of annoyance—he was having way too much fun with her new title—but she couldn’t keep the grin from overriding her scowl. A visiting grandbaby in her arms, an engagement solitaire on her finger, and her very own landscape architect living on-site.

  Right guy and right-enough timing.

  After she’d turned down Charlie’s marriage proposal and told him about the proposal she’d accepted, he’d kept a low profile. Abby had invited him to Thanksgiving dinner, knowing he’d put aside his discomfort and come out of hiding for their granddaughter. Charlie loved her as much as she did.

  Lily Beth would join Abby in the kitchen within the hour. Grace and her boyfriend, Tyler, would make their way over for dessert, completing their blended family. Last summer, Grace had been wary of the new woman in her father’s life, but yesterday’s visit with Daniela and Tessa had broken through Grace’s reticence. Like her dad, Grace was well worth the wait.

  Tessa beamed at Abby, pride that cut both ways. “I kind of think Daniela looks like you,” Tessa said. “And, hate to say it, but a little like my dad. But that’s only when she has gas.”

  Abby laughed. “How’s Noah doing?” According to Tessa, she, Daniela, and Noah had celebrated an early Thanksgiving. Today, the professor was dining with his colleagues.

  Six weeks ago, Abby and Lily Beth had made the trek to Amherst. Tessa had wanted them in the birthing room. Even Lily Beth had been impressed by Tessa’s fortitude, her willingness to get down to business, no whining and fussing and carrying on. Twenty-four hours after the first labor pains, Daniela made her appearance.

  One look at his granddaughter, and Noah was smitten. According to Noah, that’s how he’d felt the first time he’d laid eyes on Tessa. That was how he felt about her still.

  Tessa shrugged, an old defense, but her smile remained. “He’s becoming strangely paternal. It’s a little freaky. He made me call him from every rest stop on the way here yesterday so he could talk to Daniela. Not me, her! He jumps out of bed when she cries for me at night. I told him he doesn’t need to get up, but he says he wants to. It’s not like he can nurse her or anything.”

  “Tell him to watch out for the dog,” Rob said.

  “What dog?”

  “Oh, sorry, puppy on the brain.” Rob winked at Abby and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Huh?” Tessa said.

  “It’s like baby on the brain,” Abby said, “except with a dog. Rob wants us to get a golden retriever after we tie the knot.”

  “Aw, cute,” Tessa said.

  “Not helping,” Abby said.

  “What? You don’t want a puppy?”

  “We’re talking about it,” Rob said. “In negotiations. Abby’s still miffed Sadie likes me better than her.”

  “Hey!” Abby told Rob. And then to Tessa, “It’s true. Can’t say I miss waking up with her toosh in my face, though.”

  The bare-of-bloom perennials—including new hostas, roses, and black-eyed Susans—lay dormant, awaiting the blanket of first snow. Tessa had already promised to return for that impressive show. She’d promised to paint the labyrinth each and every year, each and every season, charting its growth along with her daughter’s. And in between, Abby and Rob and whoever wanted to tag along, had promised to make pilgrimages to Amherst. Abby had even promised Rob she’d try winter camping. A trial run in the yard, and then, if she survived, she’d consider tent camping with him in the White Mountains.

  About time Abby took some time off from the B&B and remembered how to live.

  The great maple shade tree was bare, having given up the last of its crimson and gold leaves weeks ago, and the hard lines of the branches stood out strong against the gray skies. Luke’s original three stepping-stones hadn’t changed. Now and again Abby still placed her hands in his. Then she’d pick herself up off the ground and continue along the seven-circuit path.

  Single file, they passed beneath the arbor, Tessa leading the way. Abby had expected her to rush. Instead, she walked slow and sure, as though savoring every moment.

  Her girl was wise beyond her years.

  Daniela turned her head into Abby’s shoulder, her mouth opening and closing against the light-blue nylon of Abby’s down vest. Abby stroked Daniela’s cheek. “Sorry, little one, you’re not going to find any milk here.”

  “She’s rooting?” Tessa said. “I just nursed her half an hour ago.”

  “As I recall, you time from the beginning of the previous nursing, not the end.”

  Tessa snorted. “Great. I’m going to
have to nurse her in class. I’ll be the only sophomore with a baby hanging off her boob.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” Abby said. Tessa was planning on going back to school next semester. She and Daniela were living with Noah. He’d agreed to babysit a couple of days a week. The other two days, Daniela would go to “school,” the on-campus childcare center.

  “The stepping-stones look amazing!” Tessa said. “I didn’t realize we’d sold so many.”

  Since the summer, the dotted line of stepping-stones had filled in between the privets, growing end-to-end solid. “Thanks to your on-campus fund-raising,” Abby said, “and Rob planting the stones. Oh, and the first scholarship fund essays are trickling in. Remind me to show you later.And bring tissues.” Abby had decided upon the essay’s theme: What would you do if you knew today was the last day of your life?

  Strange, given the fact that those same students sought careers in hospitality, caring for others? Abby thought it perfectly appropriate. How could you treat others to a vacation experience, a comfortable room, a hot home-cooked meal, if you didn’t first know how to live?

  In the center of the labyrinth, Rob set the heart-shaped stone in the ground he’d dug out and prepped with soft sand. Special stone from a special little girl had made quite a journey, starting in Hidden Harbor, where Abby and Lily Beth had rimmed the heart stone with Luke’s sand dollars. Then, in Amherst, Tessa had pressed Daniela’s tiny handprints into the wet concrete and etched her name.

  Now, the heart stone returned, full circle.

  Daniela continued to root on Abby’s shoulder. The warm, wet pool of drool darkened the down vest. Abby handed Daniela to Tessa, and Tessa gave Daniela her finger to suck on, buying a few minutes before the next nursing.

  They didn’t have much time.

  Abby and Tessa joined Rob on the ground before the heart-shaped stone. Just like they’d planned, Tessa unfurled Daniela’s tiny right hand and pressed it into her handprint. “Daniela Lombardi Connors.” Tessa brought her daughter’s hand to her lips. “She’s so yummy! I can’t stop kissing her.”

  Abby bent her head to Tessa’s. “Why resist?”