"Well, what do you think?"
"Quite an operation," she said.
"It's going to get bigger." He paused. "Sage, can you keep a secret?"
"Try me."
Adam's eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. "The company has secured a loan so the plant can be expanded to accommodate exciting new technology that will revolutionize packaging in this country and all over the world."
Sage leaned against his desk and crossed her arms. "Bioplastics? You've mentioned them."
He sat down behind the desk and pulled up a computer screen.
"Look at these and tell me what you see."
Sage leaned closer. "Brightly colored transparent egg cartons. A package for–maybe a hamburger? These look like the usual small-packaging containers that Wilpacko makes."
"The exciting development is that these plastics are created from chitosan, which is available and inexpensive. Guess what it's made of, Sage."
"No idea. But from the expression on your face, I'm sure it's interesting."
He laughed. "Chitosan is derived from crustacean shells. The exoskeletons of arthropods. Discarded shrimp shells, Sage. And South Carolina has a thriving shrimp industry."
Sage shook her head in disbelief. "So Wilpacko is going to do what? Tell me more."
"We'll partner with the seafood industry. Chitosan is strong and can be formed using injection molding and casting techniques. The final product can be dyed, as you saw in the products on the computer screen. Instead of clogging up landfills as present plastic products do, the substance, which we call 'shrilk,' breaks down into the environment after only two weeks. And the dyes, well, they can be collected and repurposed after the bioplastic has outlived its use. Eco-magic is the term I've coined for the process."
"And you thought of all this?" Adam's knowledge of new technology was amazing to her. But she'd always known he was smart. That had never been in question.
"Not me. Brilliant guys at Harvard. I'm just the one who clued Ed Sheedy into the process."
"How does Ed's sickness affect his plans?" She wished she felt comfortable asking Adam what his own plans were, since he'd said he was only going to be around for a year.
"We haven't discussed it," Adam said. His tone revealed nothing.
While she waited for him to close down his computer screen, Sage's walked to the window overlooking the fountain. She toyed idly with a brass paperweight on the nearby bookshelf. When she turned it over, she saw that it was inscribed "Best Wishes to Adam Hracek from the Employees at Westmoreland Industries, Traskville, Montana." It was an unwelcome reminder that Adam never stayed in one place for long. Sage put it down quickly.
A knock sounded on the door, and Vito poked his head inside. "Time for party," he told them, his bright eyes flashing.
Sage and Adam joined the two men and some of the friends they'd made while working at the plant. A truck delivered pizza to the company cafeteria, where they ate and drank beer, and there was a lot of boisterous joshing in two languages. Sage, pulling herself back from her reflective mood, realized that she would miss these two fun-loving Italians when they were gone. Adam would, too.
After the party broke up, Adam walked Sage to her truck. "Want to stop by the house after work?" she asked him in the parking lot. Adam was going to stay on at the plant after the shift and review the status of some of his recommendations, which could now be put into effect since Vito and Luigi had solved the machinery problems.
Adam shook his head. "I'm going to call Jamie again tonight. I want to find out more about that skiing trip he's taking with Marcia over the holidays. Maybe we could plan a short visit. It doesn't seem as though he needs to ski for the whole two weeks of his vacation from school. I don't even think Jamie likes to ski. And I'm worried about him, Sage. Something isn't right."
"I hope you can work something out."
He brushed her lips lightly with his before she climbed into her truck. His mustache tickled her face.
"Why don't you come over tonight and together we can wrap our Christmas presents?" he suggested before he shut the truck door after her. "Say at nine-thirty? And maybe we could unwrap a few interesting things, too. We'll have all of Kalmia Hill to ourselves tonight with Vito and Luigi gone." His eyes sparkled with mischief. She knew what kind of things he wanted to unwrap.
Sage grinned. "Good idea. I'll see you later." She waved as she drove out of the parking lot.
On the way home, Sage wondered about Adam's son. She couldn't help but be curious about how he looked and what he was like. Did he look like his handsome father, or did he resemble Marcia, his mother? And since Adam seemed worried about Jamie, she couldn't help but worry, too. Well, perhaps everything would be all right. Adam might very well be able to work out a visit.
She drove into her own driveway, eager all at once to see her own child. A green Toyota Camry was parked in front of the house, but with a teenager on the premises, there was always somebody's car around, and Sage didn't always necessarily recognize whose cars they were at first. So she parked her truck in the garage and came swinging in the back door ready to help Irma prepare dinner.
And there, in her own kitchen, perched on a chair and holding Joy in her lap, was Karen McKenna.
The two women stared at each other. The sight of her child in another woman's—Gary's wife's—lap made Sage's knees turn to water.
"I think you'd better explain," said Sage, so weak that she had to hold onto the back of a kitchen chair for support. Joy was playing with a set of interlocking blocks. Sage had never seen them before.
"I brought Joy something," said Karen, her voice soft and eager and doing its best to appease.
Sage reached out and snatched the child, her child, out of the other woman's lap. She rushed with Joy, who was still clutching some blocks, through the house. "Poppy!" she called. "Gregory!" There had to be somebody around. There must be somebody around! Where was Irma? Where was Hayley?
Hayley's head appeared over the upstairs banister. "Is something wrong?" Her eyes widened in alarm when she saw Sage.
"Take Joy. Keep her busy," Sage said through clenched teeth.
Hayley hurried down the stairs. Her brown eyes reflected concern. "Wasn't it all right to let her play with Karen? The lady said her name was Karen McKenna. She said she was a relative. I thought it was okay." Clearly rattled, Hayley took Joy into her arms.
"Look," Joy said happily to Hayley. "I have some new blocks."
"Yes, honey, I see," Hayley said hastily, not taking her eyes from Sage's face. She had never seen Sage looking so upset. Sage said nothing. Instead she squared her shoulders and headed back toward the kitchen at a run. Behind her, Hayley said to Joy, "Let's go up to my room. You can show me how to play with the blocks." Joy babbled something, but Sage was too distracted to pay attention.
Karen stood beside the kitchen table, by this time wringing a scrap of tissue in her hands, her eyes red and puffy. "I didn't do anything wrong," she said defensively as soon as Sage rushed into the room. "I didn't mean any harm. Joy's a beautiful little girl, and I can't believe Gary's kept her from me all this time." Her eyes pleaded for understanding.
"What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see Gary's daughter again. That's all." There was something so pathetic about Karen that Sage felt her anger sliding away, much as she wanted to hold on to it.
"Does Gary know about this?"
Karen shook her head and stared at the floor. "I didn't tell him," she whispered. "I bought the gift and drove over from Marion by myself."
Sage's shoulders slumped. What was she supposed to do? She could hardly welcome this woman with open arms, but Karen didn't seem inclined to leave. Worst of all, Karen bent her head and began to weep quietly into her hands, her narrow shoulders shaking with sobs.
"Karen, please stop crying. Maybe we should talk." Sage drew a deep, shaky breath, sat down at the table, and waited. Finally Karen sat down, too.
When she finally brought her sobs under control,
Karen said haltingly, "Gary told me his daughter had died. That day when I saw you and Joy at the beach and realized—" Tears began to flow unimpeded down Karen's cheeks.
"Gary told you Joy had died?" Sage was stunned.
"I'd seen a picture of you," Karen said. "I knew who you were as soon as I saw you. But Joy..."
"He didn't tell you Joy was a Down syndrome child?"
"Gary told me Joy was born handicapped and that she had died. That's all I knew."
With great difficulty, Sage held her tongue, but she was furious, furious! Saying Joy had died was Gary's way of concealing that he had run out on his responsibilities. Sage didn't think it would be becoming to say anything derogatory about her ex-husband to his present wife. But there were a lot of things she would have liked to say.
Instead she said carefully and directly, holding in her anger, "Karen, why did you come here today?"
"I can't have children. Gary says he wants them, and we didn't know I couldn't have any, and now that we know about Joy, I want to make him happy. Things could be so much better between us if we had a child in our lives."
Sage remembered all the times when Gary had let her know that she'd she fallen short of his standards. Karen's inability to bear a child was a far different case from Sage's renovation of a house, but Sage had felt the pain of Gary's put-downs often enough to know how cruel he could be.
Karen's eyes met hers, and in them there was a dull and deep sadness, and an even deeper longing. "I'm very good with children, you know," she said. Karen slid forward on her chair, eager to press her case. "Joy could spend weekends with us sometimes. I could fix up our second bedroom for her."
Sage saw that Karen was daring to hope. Gently she brought Karen back to reality. "As I've said before, Karen, I'm afraid that's impossible. We don't want Gary in our lives." With difficulty, Sage refrained from mentioning the terrible scene at the end of their marriage when Gary screamed at her, blaming Sage for producing, in his words, "an idiot child who will never amount to anything."
Fortunately, at that moment Irma drove her minivan into the yard and began to unload bags of groceries. Poppy appeared from somewhere nearby to help carry them in.
This provided just the break Sage needed. She stood abruptly. "Karen, you must leave. My family comes home at this time of the day, and I have to help with dinner."
"Maybe we could talk sometime, just you and me," said Karen desperately.
"There's no point in that," Sage said firmly. "I won't change my mind."
After one last devastated look, Karen stood and walked slowly out the back door like a woman in a trance. She passed Poppy and Irma, who were loaded down with grocery bags, as they climbed the back steps.
"Who was that?" asked Irma, looking after Karen curiously.
"That," said Sage, following Karen's progress through the side yard and thence to her car, "is my ex-husband's present wife." They watched as the green Camry disappeared up the street. Irma stood with her arms laden with groceries and shaped her mouth into a silent "Oh."
As soon as the car rounded the corner, Sage took off for the stairs at a run. She found Joy playing with the new blocks in Hayley's room. Hayley met Sage's eyes guiltily.
Sage explained to Hayley in low tones what had happened.
"Oh, Sage, I'm sorry," Hayley said. "I was babysitting for Joy, sure, but then this nice lady came and I really thought she was a relative like she said."
"Just don't let her—or her husband—in this house again."
"I won't—oh, I won't, Sage." Hayley's troubled eyes begged for forgiveness.
Sage softened. The danger was over. She kissed Joy, and, limp from the strain of it all, went to help Irma cook dinner.
That night after their meal, she called the family together and explained that Gary and Karen McKenna were not to be allowed access to the house or to Joy. They listened, Poppy with his good ear cocked toward her, Irma attentively, Ralph quietly, Greg solemnly. Afterward they all assured her of their vigilance.
"It's like we'll all protect her," said Greg importantly. "We'll make a circle around Joy like the covered wagons did back in pioneer days."
"A circle of safety," added Hayley.
"A circle of love," Ralph said firmly.
Sage pulled them all together in a family hug, which lasted until Poppy said he was missing his favorite TV program and why didn't they all sit down and watch it?
Sage, revitalized by her family's reassurance, begged off and hurried upstairs to shower and dress to go to Kalmia Hill. Despite the unhinging effect of Karen's visit, she looked forward to being with Adam. They'd have fun wrapping Christmas presents, and then... and then. His lovemaking would make the world go away as though it were just the two of them and no problems or worries.
Sage dressed in an ivory cable-knit pullover and dark slacks, then tossed ribbons and wrapping paper into a carry-all. After Hayley oversaw Joy's bath, Sage put her daughter to bed. Joy murmured, "'Night, Mommy," and fell asleep at once, old Watson cradled close. Sage brushed her daughter's forehead with the gentlest of kisses, gathered up her packages, and set out for Kalmia Hill.
She played the radio in her truck full blast as she wound up the hill to Adam's house, singing "Jingle Bells" at the top of her voice. Her spirits had lifted at the very thought of seeing him, and she felt wonderful now. She wasn't going to let her encounter with Karen spoil her first evening alone at Kalmia Hill with Adam.
The lazy drift of smoke above the trees told her that Adam had a fire going in the fireplace. The two of them would spread out their presents and gift wrap and ribbons on the hearth rug and tell funny stories while they wrapped presents and drank hot chocolate laced with peppermint schnapps and kissed each other with mint-flavored lips.
The truck radio had to be turned off when she stopped at Adam's front door, but she kept on singing, her breath turning to vapor in the cold air as she climbed the stairs. She was at the part where she was singing, "laughing all the way, ho, ho, ho," when she sailed in the front door and, her arms full of packages, turned toward the fireplace where she was sure Adam would be.
The words of the song dwindled and died on her lips as she realized that Adam was pacing back and forth in front of the roaring fire, looking as agitated as she'd ever seen him. She took a few more hesitant steps forward, and then she saw the boy.
He was dark, with a highly arched nose like Adam's, and he was angry. He was not as big as Adam, not yet, but he was only sixteen. For she knew immediately who he was. When he saw her, he stared at her defensively.
"Sage," said Adam, hurrying toward her to unburden her of the packages. His look told her not to worry, but she could tell that he himself was plenty worried. He stepped aside and guided her into the room. Then he cleared his throat. "This is my son," he said. "Jamie."
Chapter 12
"Jim," said Adam's son with what could only be termed hostility.
"Sorry," Adam said. "I forgot."
"Adam," said Sage, made uncomfortable by the boy's unfriendly attitude, "if I've arrived at a bad time—"
"No," he replied hastily, returning his attention to her. "Please stay. Jim's arrival was unexpected, but why don't we go ahead and wrap our Christmas presents as we planned?"
There were swift and puzzling undercurrents running through this situation, but Sage could tell from the pleading expression in his eyes that Adam really did want her to stay, perhaps to defuse the tension which strained the very atmosphere of the room. He set her packages down on a nearby chair while she unwrapped her warm woolen scarf from her neck. Adam disappeared long enough to hang up her coat, and Sage approached the fire cautiously, not really knowing how to start a conversation with Jim—or if she even should.
She had often compared Adam's well-muscled physique to that of a racehorse. If Adam was a racehorse, then Jamie—Jim—was a greyhound. Slim, whippy, no depth to his muscles yet. He had that same dark, smooth complexion and the same black liquid eyes, which were snapping at the moment w
ith all the rebellion of which a sixteen-year-old is capable.
What, she wondered, was he doing here? Jim's presence mystified her, for she knew that Marcia had refused to let him visit Adam for Christmas. In fact, Adam had said earlier today that he was going to call Marcia tonight and ask her again if his son might be allowed to come to Willoree for at least part of the holidays. What had happened?
Adam returned quickly. "Sage and I were going to wrap presents tonight," he said to Jim in a voice that tried too hard to sound hearty. "Why don't you help us?"
Jim sat down and leaned forward on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him. His fingernails were chewed to the quick, Sage noticed.
"I didn't buy any Christmas presents," he said sulkily. "And I'm not going to. Christmas doesn't seem like much to celebrate to me. Not if you send me back to my mother."
"As soon as your mother returns my call, we'll straighten it out. Now that you're here, perhaps she'll let you stay." Adam kept his tone brisk and tried to sound reassuring.
Despite the silent, skeptical glare from Jim, Adam spoke again. "In the meantime," he said with false cheer, "let's get out the wrapping paper and ribbons."
Okay. Since Adam insisted on business as usual, Sage sat on the hearth rug and arranged all the pretty colorful papers and tags and ribbons around her.
Sage and Adam carried on as much of a conversation as possible under the circumstances as she wrapped the new tablet she'd bought for Hayley and then the warm gloves for Irma. Jim watched silently, cautiously, as though afraid of being drawn into the ritual.
"What do you think of this pipe I bought for Ralph?" Adam asked her, holding it up to the firelight and regarding it.
"I'm not much of an authority on pipes," she admitted. "But what do you think of the football helmet I got for Greg?"
"I'm not much of an authority on football helmets, but Jim is. He played halfback on his high school team last year."
Jim had been watching the proceedings with what came across as a complete lack of interest overlaid with a watchful hostility. But at the mention of football, his ears perked.
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