Sunflowers

by Melodie Starkey

  He turned on her computer and guessed her email password of Addison in two tries. Only messages from him, and a few from her nieces that were mostly chatty. Checked her search history. Travelocity. Clicked the link, but was prompted for a password. Addison didn’t work here. Sammy? No. Sam’s birthday? No. August? That did it. She’d been confirming her reservations for a 10:15 flight to New York. Maybe it really was nothing. He knew one of her best friends from school lived in New York.

  Only there was no return flight.

  The rest of the itinerary was for a flight from New York to London leaving Sunday. London? Should he try to intercept her? Fly to New York and stop her in the airport before she left for London? Exactly the sort of thing that made her furious at him. This was at least a round trip ticket, although the return was a 60-day open end, which put it past the baby’s arrival. How did he ask her to please be the mother of this child, too? Would she be able? He’d seen her sneaking envious glances at babies in the mall. Saw the wistful looks she sometimes gave Sam. He knew she could love this baby, if she would just give it a chance.

  He logged into his own email and sent her a message. “Please come home soon. I’d like you here to help Sam adjust to having a stinky sister around the house. I love you!”

  The phone rang. He jumped, then answered it. “’Lo?”

  “Gus?”

  Cathy. “Nothing here out of order. I was just checking her computer. She’s flown to New York. She’s going on to London on Sunday. Do you know why?”

  “London? Our parents have close friends there. But there wouldn’t be any big rush for her to suddenly go. I didn’t even know she had a passport.”

  “She got it when she lived with me. We went to Germany one summer.”

  “Really? She never told me that.”

  “I don’t think she discussed us with you guys much if she could avoid it.”

  She grunted.

  “I guess for now we should take this at surface value. Do you know her friend in New York? Could you check on her?”

  “I’ll give it a try.”

  “By the way, her cell phone is lying on her desk here, so don’t bother calling that.”

  “All right. Thanks for involving me, Gus.”

  Now he grunted.

  “Bye.” She hung up.

  Before leaving, he stopped by the manager’s apartment. The man confirmed that she’d said she would be gone for several weeks, and to give her mail to Gus when he came by. Gus pretended not to be surprised by this, only letting him know he’d be taking the MG in the next couple of days.

  He sat in the car debating a moment, then drove to Cathy’s house. She seemed to be expecting him. “Come in. Need a drink?”

  “No, thanks. I wanted… Let me play back her message for you. She says I treat her like she’s too fragile all the time. So maybe I’m just hearing too much. You know her best.”

  “All right. Phone’s over here.”

  He called his voicemail and waited for her message to start, then pressed the speaker phone button and pressed 4 to start the message over. As Maureen spoke, he studied Cathy’s face. She was definitely frowning in concern, not just her usual scowl. When it ended, he asked, “Well?”

  “You’re right. She sounds anxious. She’s been acting sort of bothered the last few times I’ve seen her. This wasn’t sudden, though. I called Mother. Seems she contacted the Rooks in London about visiting back in February. What’s been going on?”

  “What has she told you?”

  “Nothing. I thought you guys would be living together again by now. Getting married. You gave her that ring, right?”

  “Yeah. We probably would have, but her shrink wanted her to take it slow. Wait at least a year. But we were doing great. Until February.”

  “What happened?”

  “Actually, it happened in August. We just swept in under the carpet.”

  “August?”

  “Before… I already had a woman friend. Not serious the way Tim was, just semi-involved, you know?”

  She nodded, wrinkling her nose.

  “The thing is, she’s a psychology professor. So when Maureen first told me about… I asked this woman to explain it to me. Asked her if she was a threat to Sam, you know?”

  “What did she say?”

  “Actually, she said probably not. Especially if she was taking her medication. The problem is bigger than that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This woman—Sarah, that’s her name. By amazing coincidence, right when I’m losing interest in what she’s offering, she gets pregnant.”

  “Really! Does Maureen know?”

  “Yes. I told her as soon as I found out. Back in October.”

  “Do you think it was on purpose then? To trap you or something?”

  “No, not really. Because she had planned to abort it. She wasn’t even going to tell me. I found out by accident. When I told her I wanted her to rethink that option—to think about Sam—she just walked out on me. I didn’t hear from her again. Thought that was that.”

  “But?”

  “But in February Maureen spotted her, and realized she was still pregnant. Told me about it.”

  “I see. How’d she react?”

  “She was really nice about it. But she insisted I call. Find out what I could. Set up parameters for visits and all that. It all sounded reasonable and civil enough.”

  “You don’t think she meant it?”

  “Maureen? She was completely sincere. The problem is Sarah. I called. She said she didn’t tell me because she’d already arranged an adoption. Of my child. I told her if she wasn’t keeping her, I was. She couldn’t just give her away.”

  “What did Maureen think of that? You know she loves babies.”

  He nodded. “She said it was the right thing to do. But there’s another problem. Because Sarah suddenly threw her ethics out the window and threatened to use her degree to say a baby wouldn’t be safe with a bipolar stepmother. That is what kicked Maureen in the gut.”

  “I’ll bet! She still feels so bad about Sammy. Feels so sad that she can’t have another.”

  He nodded. “And she’s mad at me for discussing her illness with Sarah in the first place. She’s hardly spoken to me since, other than to make arrangements for Sam to visit her.”

  “She’s really that mad?”

  “I don’t know. She’s got it in her head that she’s helping me get custody by not being involved with me. She won’t listen to me tell her I’m not willing to give her up over this. And my attorney doesn’t think there’s any teeth in Sarah’s bark anyway. But I can’t convince her of that. Can’t crowd her. Now this.”

  Cathy studied him quietly. Finally he asked, “Aren’t you going to tell me what a fuck-up I am?”

  “I’d love to. But for once you actually seem to be doing the best that you can given the circumstances. And I think you really honestly love her. Care about her.”

  “I do. Completely.”

  “Well, we both know trying to reason with her when she’s convinced herself of something is pretty much impossible. But I think she’ll start missing Sam real fast. Let’s let her have a time out. When she comes back, I’ll have a talk with her. See if there’s anything else going on.”

  “Thank you.” He licked his lips, then said, “Cath, listen. Ask her… If the problem really is the baby, that she doesn’t want this baby around, you know?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me. I’ll tell her she’s not mine. I’ll let her go. I can’t lose Maureen over this. Sam can’t lose her. But the only thing that’ll work is if I tell her she’s not mine.”

  “You’re willing to turn your back on your child for her?”

  “If it comes to that, I will, yes. But she can’t know. Please?”

  “All right. Hopefully that won’t be necessary. When’s the due date?”

  “May 20.”

  “Five more weeks, about. She should be home in plenty of time. I’ll give
her a call when she’s been there a few days to see how she sounds, okay?”

  “Thanks. Thanks for being…”

  She smiled. “Don’t get all mushy on me. Get on home and take care of that boy.”

  He nodded and hurried out.

  Chapter 57

  That night Sam put on his favorite Spiderman flannel pajamas without being told it was bedtime, then crawled into Gus’s lap as he sat gazing into the fire.

  “Hey, Shorty. You tired?”

  “I just need some snuggles.”

  “Sounds good.” Gus pulled him closer and rested his chin on his head. “You’re so special.”

  “Daddy, how come you been so sad? ‘Cause we miss Mommy so much?”

  “Very much, yes.”

  “How come she don’t stay here anymore?”

  “Lots of grown up reasons. But we’re working on that. I’m hoping she’ll be back soon. Maybe she’ll move in for good.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  “I know. Me, too. Meanwhile, I’ve got this other problem I really need your help on, okay?”

  “What’s that?”

  “It involves that spare bedroom.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Someone’s moving in there come May. Probably right about when school ends. I need you to help me get it ready. Paint it and everything. Buy some new furniture.”

  Sam turned around to look at him. “Who’s coming?”

  “Well, it’s sort of bad news.”

  “Gramma?”

  “Not that bad. But close. You’re getting a sister. She’s probably going to stink a bit, but we can work on it.”

  “We don’t want a sister.”

  “I warned you. With babies you gotta take what you get, and we’re getting a girl.”

  “How ‘bout if we trade her for a brother?”

  “Sorry. Not how it works.”

  “We could sell her for ten dollars. I bet Ricky’s mom likes girls.”

  “Nice try.”

  “Gramma likes babies…”

  “This is an innocent little life here. We can’t do that to her. Maybe we can give her a cool name, all right?”

  Sam sighed, then suggested, “We’ll call her Addison.”

  “That’s not cool! That’s a truly stupid name. It’s almost as bad as August!”

  This made Sam giggle. “Let’s name her Yoda!”

  “Okay, obviously I’ll have to be doing the naming here. You can help me buy her crib and some toys and stuff. What color should we paint her room?”

  “Not pink. Angelo says too much pink is what makes them cry so much.”

  “How’s green?”

  “Can we paint my room, too?”

  “Of course. You want the big bed moved into your room?”

  “Yes!”

  Gus hugged him, whispering, “I’m so glad we’re a team.”

  “I’m gonnta name her Reebok.”

  Chapter 58

  Gus turned the envelope over several times. It was addressed to Sam, with a British postmark and Maureen’s local return address. He was going to have to read it to him anyway, right? Still, Sam was going to want to open it himself. Finally he set it on the kitchen counter after holding it to his lips and whispering, “Please come home!” to it.

  At 3:30 Sam bounced into the house, announcing, “I’m starving to death! Feed me!”

  Gus leaned out of the back room where he had been painting all afternoon. “There’s pudding in the fridge. But only eat one dish! I’ll be right there.”

  He came out in time to catch Sam and Milo sitting together on the kitchen table, each licking out of a dish of vanilla pudding. “Okay, tell me three things wrong with this picture. Number one—Go!”

  “I forgot to give Frodo some.”

  “Not! Try again.”

  “It’s not choc‘late.”

  “Here’s a clue: if that makes him barf, you’re cleaning it up.”

  “Mommy always gives him pudding. She says it makes him feel happy.”

  “Mm. Speaking of Mommy—look.” He handed Sam the letter.

  “It’s for me! It’s from Mommy!”

  “Yep.”

  “What does it say?”

  “I don’t know. Open it.”

  “Here. I might tear it.” Gus smiled and took the letter back, opening it carefully.

  My Darling Sammy,

  I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, but I got a sudden opportunity to travel that I really needed to take. I’ll be in London, staying with family friends, for awhile. Be sure that I am thinking of you and missing you every day. You are the single best thing that has ever happened in my life.

  Let me tell you a secret—I’ve been checking the train schedules, and I think before I come home, I’m going to wait for a clear day (lots of fog here) and head up north to take a quick look into Loch Ness. I’ll let you know what I see or don’t see and take notes of landmarks and such for when we visit together, okay?

  Tell Daddy I love him so much and feel so lucky to know such a sweet, honest person. I hope you always understand how blessed you are to have him for your father.

  Please take good care of Milo for me, and give Frodo and Jordan my love.

  Love,

  Mommy

  Sam had tilted his head to one side to listen intently. When Gus finished, the boy commented, “That was a very nice letter, don’t you think?”

  “Yes.” He swallowed hard, trying to push the emotions back down his throat.

  “I’m glad Mommy loves us. But I wish she would come home. We’re gonna need her here to take care of that sister.”

  Gus smiled at this. “Hey, I’m a pretty good baby wrangler myself. You’re going to be amazed.”

  Sam leaned close to him and confided, “They go poop in their pants.”

  “So I’d heard. Want a spoon?”

  “Can I have five dollars?”

  “Whatever for?”

  “This kid on the bus said for five dollars he’ll sell me his snake. It has a jar.”

  “No snakes. Cats eat snakes. Plus your mom is really scared of them. You don’t want to get a pet that scares her, do you?”

  Sam sighed. “Okay. Are we having chicken for dinner?”

  “You sure are good at changing the subject.”

  “My teacher said I got a bouncy brain.”

  He frowned. “Really? Why did she say that?”

  “Craig tol’ me if you don’t know the answer, just ask ‘em another question. You never get in trouble.”

  “I see. Does Jordan do that, too?”

  “No. He ain’t good at thinking of questions. He just says ‘I don’t know,’ and then she says real mean, ‘maybe you should pay better attention.’ We don’t like her. I hope next year I got Mrs. Dellspring for a teacher. She’s real nice and she gives ever’ body Tic Tacs.”

  “Mm. Well school is nearly over. Try to put a little effort into answering questions once in awhile to keep her on her toes, okay?”

  “I tol’ her we was getting a sister. She said she hoped you had better luck with her. What does that mean?”

  Gus pursed his lips, then said, “Any chance Ricky’s mother is teaching your class?”

  Sam laughed so hard he fell backwards on the table, spooking the cat.

  Chapter 59

  The doorbell interrupted his painting. He wiped his hands on his spattered shirt, then turned the knob and stepped back in surprise to find Sarah. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. My attorney called me last night.”

  He nodded. He had spoken to his own attorney yesterday as well; the judge had granted him full custody. “Are you going to keep fighting me on this?”

  “No. You’re far too stubborn for me. What are you doing?” She gestured to his clothes.

  “Come see.” He led her down the hall. The white crib with the yellow primroses on the ends was in the master bedroom.

  “She’s sleeping in here?”

  “To star
t with. So I can hear her. But come look.” He led her to the new nursery. “Sam helped me. He told me the secret to keeping girls from being brats is to limit their exposure to pink.”

  She grinned at this. The room had a lavender accent wall, white furniture, and sage upholstery, carpets, lampshades, drapery. On the eggshell colored walls there were Beatrix Potter framed prints.

  “It’s lovely! But I don’t see red?” She pointed to his hands.

  “This way.” They backtracked to Sam’s room, where the double bed from the nursery now resided. The furniture was covered, and he was painting the walls red to about four feet up.

  “What goes on top?”

  “Star Wars wall paper. And a border that looks like a strip of outer space with stars and planets and such to divide it.”

  “Very cool.”

  “He doesn’t know it, but I’ve ordered him a bed frame that will fit the double on the bottom and his old twin as a cross-ways bunk on top. Figured he and Jordan can get a lot of more years out of that.”

  She nodded, then said without looking at him, “I should’ve known…” She shook her head. “So how is she doing about all of this? What does she say?”

  “Maureen?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You drove her away. Your threats. I wasn’t exaggerating. She’s staying with friends out of town. Writes to Sam, but doesn’t mention coming home any time soon.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I really wish you’d stop saying that to me so much. Maybe you should talk to a shrink about it. Oh. Wait.”

  “Very funny. Anyway, I came over to talk serious with you.”

  “Oh? Can you drink tea? Or I have juice. Milk.”

  “Tea sounds good. May I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  When she came out and held the edge of the table to lower herself into the chair, he smiled.

  “No beached whale jokes.”