MAGPIE

  What the fuck was I doing wasting time focusing on the past?

  Tina and Trish were standing at their huge picture window as I pulled into their driveway. It must have been Trish’s house because Tina lived in a small flat in downtown Denver, last I knew. Heck, so much time had gone by, maybe they bought this place together. Either way, it was perfect. Two blue spruce trees framed the older, ranch-style home just outside of the Bonnie Brie neighborhood in southeast Denver. Many shrubs and garden beds lined the perimeter of their front yard, and I could see, even in its dormant state, that the backyard was even lovelier.

  Jumping out of Beater, I headed for the front door when I completely forgot the wine. I turned around, opened the back and stacked one case on top of the other. As I made my way back up the walk, I saw Tina laughing and Trish just shaking her head, clearly amused. Once inside, Tina slid one case off the other and made a beeline for the kitchen, and I followed. Everyone was whispering when I noticed sweet little Rose sleeping soundly in the Baby Bjorn Trish wore so expertly.

  Excitedly, I whispered, “You said Rosie was a difficult baby—she’s sound asleep!” I stroked her tiny head tucked inside the contraption and cooed instinctively.

  “She fell asleep right as you pulled up. She must have sensed ‘Nana’ coming.” With a look of apology spreading across her face, Tina looked over at me and said, “Oh, Mags, I know you’re only Nana to your grandkids. I’m sorry.”

  Playfully nudging her arm, I said, “Auntie, please. ‘Auntie Maggie.’ Is it possible to preserve whatever youthfulness I have left before committing me to an assisted living facility?” I’d successfully redirected the conversation, and bent to kiss their baby’s head. In truth, it wouldn’t feel right being Nana to anyone but Timmy and Lisbeth.

  We moved into the living room, where Trish carefully sat in a rocker, a furniture tag still hanging from it. Tina and I plopped on the overstuffed sofa facing a slowly dying fire that had warmed the room comfortably.

  Trish rocked slowly, singing, “All the Pretty Little Ponies,” a lullaby I used to sing to Michael,

  Hush a bye

  Don’t you cry

  Go to sleep my little baby

  When you wake

  You shall have

  All the pretty ponies…

  Gazing through their picture window, I secretly hoped Michael was able to dream of pretty things before he died.

  Coming from the kitchen with two glasses of the Brunello I’d chosen for us, Tina asked, “Is Trish putting you to sleep, too?”

  “Naw, just daydreaming. What, only two? Surely lactation isn’t an issue!”

  Tina snorted, and was quickly hushed by the much more serious mommy, who gracefully stood up and stated she’d be in the nursery. Trish’s smile said she wasn’t angry, recognizing the need for two friends to reconnect.

  “Chica, you look amazing. I know you’re tired, but seriously, you look like a different person. So does Trish. Motherhood has done you both good!” Feeling weepy, I quickly took a sip of wine and savored its effect in my mouth.

  “Mags, I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I know this is a big surprise and you just have to know things were just so crazy…”

  “Stop it, Tina. We’re past that. Please, let’s celebrate new love and new life.”

  “Okay, deal. Want to hear about how we found Rose?” Tina didn’t wait for a response and went right into the story, “You know I was assigned to Denver’s Juvenile Court last year? I resisted the move and didn’t make a lot of friends along the way. One day, a caseworker who’d investigated several of my cases approached me with a question. She asked if I’d ever consider adopting a baby. I laughed so hard, everyone in the building stopped and looked over at us.” Tina was cracking up as she recalled the event, which made me giggle.

  Tina went on, “So, once I stopped laughing, she insisted she was serious and asked if I wanted to know more. I was curious at that point, and she took me back to her office where she had all this information on kids in foster care who needed to be adopted. Jokingly, I said, ‘But I want a baby, not a grown-ass kid.’ She goes on to say, ‘I figured, look at this,’ and she shows me a picture on her phone of a newborn. I mean a still-bloody baby.”

  “Holy shit, Tina, this sounds almost ‘black market.’” I was riveted and leaned in closer.

  “I know, right? That’s exactly what I asked, ‘Is this a black-market baby?’ You know what she said? ‘No, this is my sister’s baby.’ I was dumb struck. So, her sister’s sixteen and can’t keep her. The family is Latino and no one really trusts the ‘system.’ This caseworker, who I’ll never name, says that she thinks Trish and I would be great moms.” Tina took a huge gulp and I simply stared at her.

  I had so many questions—legal and otherwise. I collected a few and asked, “Was it a legal adoption, honey?” I didn’t want to offend, but I had to know.

  “Of course it was. Come on, I have connections and ways of navigating the system, Mags. But I did lie about whose baby. I said someone dropped her off with a note—one that Trish artfully wrote in an anguished, unwed teen mother’s style. Thank God she’s a writer.”

  “Is it bulletproof, Tina? I don’t want this to backfire. What if the mother wants her back?” The amount of worry I was carrying was adequate for all three of us.

  Tina took another gulp and went on, “I have a friend in private practice who drew up ‘bullet proof’ paperwork, as you say. It’s an open adoption; that was the only condition. The entire family gets to see her once a month. Trish and I are fine with that, Mags. They are wonderful people and I’m thrilled Rose will have a large, extended family.” Her smile spoke volumes. It really was going to be okay.

  “Oh, chica, I am so happy for you, Trish, little Rosie and her ‘extended family.’ A real win-win it seems. Cheers!” We clinked glasses then Tina began to cry. “What? What did I say?” Not sure what I said to induce tears, I reached out and touched her knee.

  “I’m not sad, asshole, I’m happy!”

  I let go of my emotions, too, and tears welled in my eyes. We hugged for a good while, enjoying the warmth of our persistent love and friendship.

  “Now, when do I get to hold that baby?”

  ***

  Cody’s nose investigated every square inch of me when I got home. He loves babies. A few years ago, one of my neighbors had a baby and took daily walks by my house; Cody couldn’t wait to greet the pair whenever I was in the front yard gardening. Before that, when Carrie came to Colorado right before the twins’ first birthday, the poor guy was completely baffled. Once he got used to seeing double, however, his delight quadrupled. Cody’s not alone—I love the smell of babies, too, and I was glad Rosie’s sweet scent clung to me like dryer lint.

  My phone went off and I picked it up, realizing that I’d forgotten all about Dad.

  Anxious, I answered on the second ring, “Hey, Katie, how’s Dad?”

  “Where have you been? I tried calling a million times.” Katie’s panic made my heart race.

  Pacing, I said, “I’m sorry, sis, I had it on silent while I was at Tina’s. Is everything okay?”

  “Daddy? He’s fine, Maggie. Even ate some dinner with Mom. No, it’s my wedding, I don’t think I want to do a big wedding after all, especially with Daddy’s condition now.”

  “Katie, don’t scare me like that, Fuck!” I was more than furious.

  “I didn’t mean to, Mags. I’ve just been talking with Mom and Dad and we think it’s best to stay in the U.S. And I really I don’t want to do the mountains; it’s too late to plan something up there anyway.” She was in wedding planning mode and it occurred to me that we were supposed to go over her plans that morning.

  Silently forgiving her it’s-still-all-about-me state of mind, I said, “Well, isn’t it going to be late for any venue at this point? Are you still thinking a summer wedding?” I knew folks who planned destination weddings years in advance, several months just didn’t seem like enough time.

  “Well,
that’s just it, Mom’s college friend, Alice, has a place in Florida, the Keys to be exact. And here’s the cool part, we can do it as early as next month! Of course it will be much smaller, but that’s okay. Kevin and I really like the idea and, given what’s happened, it makes me think that we just have to ‘seize the day,’ you know Mags?”

  A smaller wedding sounded terrific. And in the Keys…who could argue with that?

  “Katie, I think that’s a wonderful idea. It will be quaint, just right.”

  “I know, I know! So, can you help with the details? You are so good at putting a plan together quickly. I really need you, sis.”

  I’d always been there for my sister—good times and bad. Likewise, she, in her own way, had been there for me. There was no other answer to her question but “yes.”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday, let’s start early with Mimosas and waffles.”

  My suggestion was an easy sell; Katie’s energy level was nearing depletion and I was happy to help, particularly since it involved early morning libations.

  ***

  I woke very early the next morning, not a groggy bone in my body.

  Jumping out of bed, I called out for Cody, “Hey, buddy, how ‘bout a walk?” He whirled in several circles before settling down for the bowl of kibble I just poured. “Eat first, then we’ll head out.”

  There was a protein bar sticking out of the fruit bowl, and I quickly washed it down with a glass of water. I’d make coffee when I got home.

  I took my time, enjoying the crisp February air as dawn broke. Sunday’s were quiet in my neighborhood, and I cherished the silence. I left my iPod at home so I could drink in every sensation along the way. Cody sensed my calmness and we quickly fell into a respectable pace. The Chickadees and Nuthatches scraped for the few remaining seeds hidden beneath the frost; the lucky ones had staked their claims on my feeder back home.

  Yesterday had been exhausting and I was glad it was over. I’d ridden an emotional rollercoaster from heightened worry about Dad to sheer joy holding little Rose, and everything in between.

  There was no need to analyze; a behavior I’d typically fall into. Brimming with a deep sense of gratitude for all the people in my life, I wanted to immerse myself in the love all around me. Flawed, crazy, unrealistic and erratic, my friends and family were also kind, generous, loving and loyal. Daniel wasn’t excluded from my pondering. I still missed him, terribly. Not just the sex, either. Oddly, I hadn’t thought about it since our last tryst, well after Bill’s departure. After a summer like I’d had, my nightstand drawer should have been jammed full of colorful and ridiculously shaped…tools. The only thing brimming was my head, Daniel’s last words bobbing at the surface,

  The end of us came by way of your fear of love after loss, and your resignation that your life is as good as it will ever be. I won’t take the fall for this stalemate, you have to own it, darling…

  After he’d hung up, I curled into a tight ball, hoping my contorted body would permanently expunge those words. With a good dose of humility, I’d asked God to blanket me with peace, offering my apologies for all the blame I’d cast, having taken Jack and Michael too soon. Surprisingly, he answered and I’d slept better than I had in years.

  A car horn blared, shocking me back to reality. Apparently, I’d been crossing the street out of turn—an impatient motorist messaged loud and clear that Cody and I were hampering his schedule. I wanted to flip him off but decided against it. I wasn’t about to jeopardize the gift of peace I’d been given just hours before.

  “Buddy, it’s probably time to head back. Katie’s coming over and I am almost positive she’ll have a treat for you,” I said, gently steering him home.

  Four hours later, Katie and I had settled on Friday, March 7th for the wedding day, allowing guests the entire weekend for fun outings or lazy days on the beach. The number of guests worked out to be manageable, topping out at twenty-five people—family and non-family together. Mom’s friend had room for the bride, groom and immediate family, while the rest of the party would stay at a local B&B. The remaining guests had several choices, and we passed that information along in an email; invitations would simply be symbolic at such a late stage. After we made our flight arrangements, Katie left, meeting Kevin for dinner to go over the details of their newly revised nuptials.

  I had a month to find a dress suitable for the tropics and coordinating accoutrements. Scanning high fashion websites, I decided to go for a new look, perhaps a chic haircut, even highlights. Not sure if Katie’s was rubbing off on me, I felt a new chapter coming on, and I was excited as hell about it.

  ***

  March weather in Colorado is unpredictable—ridiculously so. Spring storms can dump several feet of snow as yellow and purple crocuses strain to break through the thawing ground. Suffering from heightened cabin fever, young and old ignore Mother Nature’s threats and hit the parks, bike paths and hiking trails. Meanwhile, “traveler angst” reaches its summit; closed highways and canceled flights the result of spring’s meteorological sense of humor.

  I wasn’t laughing the day I was slated to leave for Katie’s wedding. My flight to Miami was scheduled for 8:12 A.M., but it’d been snowing for the past several hours. Wet, heavy slop had blanketed the streets and, unfortunately, the airport runways. Too anxious to think about checking the status of my flight while in the comfort of my warm cozy house, I resorted to accessing the airline’s traveler’s information site from my phone while sitting at a red light.

  “Great time to check, Mags,” I chided myself after reading that my flight had been postponed.

  I decided to make my way to DIA anyway; didn’t mind hanging out at airports and watching endless streams of people following each other like cattle. Besides, it was the day before Katie’s wedding and I had to get to Miami—come hell or high water.

  The Pikes Peak lot was wide open, so I parked Beater and jumped on a shuttle to the main terminal. The snow continued steadily, and I cursed it, apparently quite audibly. The shuttle made its final stop at DIA’s Terminal East, so I had to move quickly to get to the other side, just in case United Airlines’ flight number 547 resumed its 8:12 A.M. departure time.

  It didn’t. In fact, it was cancelled altogether. The main terminal was buzzing with frustrated (soon-to-be-angry) travelers, and I had to think fast. Smiling, I approached the ticket counter and asked what the alternatives were to Flight 547.

  Avoiding my eyes, the serious clerk asked, “Where is your final destination, Ma’am?”

  Pouring it on, I explained, “Miami, and I must get there today. I’m hoping you can help me make it to my sister’s wedding.”

  “Let me see. Are you determined to get on a direct flight?”

  “Gosh No!” Taking it down a few decibels and continued, “Uh, I mean I can understand if I need to connect. Colorado’s spring snow storms, what can you say?” My charm resuming, I handed the clerk my ID.

  “Your flight was cancelled because of mechanical matters, Ma’am.” Still no eye contact, the clerked clicked away on the keyboard.

  Convinced my attitude would yield positive results, I continued, “Well, that’s probably a good thing! Honestly, Sir, I’m happy to connect, twice if necessary.”

  “Well, if that is your position, we do have a flight that leaves Denver at 10:57 A.M., arriving in Atlanta at 4:14 P.M. Then, it looks like I can get you on a flight to Miami at 6:24 P.M., arriving there at 8:37 P.M.”

  As much as I wanted to ask if there was anything earlier, I didn’t want to piss this guy off, so I said, “Book it, please.”

  Successfully navigating security was the least of my problems. Throngs of angry travelers lined the terminals, some elbowing their way through in hopes of finding one of the few remaining seats at a nearby bar. I bypassed that scene for now, thinking I’d want—or need—a drink later on.

  The flight was surprisingly uneventful and we made it to Atlanta twelve minutes early, making my layover almost two and a half hours long. Indeed
a drink was in store. Ignoring my bladder, I claimed a barstool at TGIFridays, an otherwise obnoxious restaurant chain but a welcome sight given the few choices in ATL’s Terminal T.

  “A house red, please,” I called out to the bartender, a beautiful blonde who was oblivious to the attention paid by her customers—men and women alike. I pulled out my iPad and jumped onto the airport’s free Wi-Fi. It had already been quite a day, and I wasn’t even through half of it.

  Just go with it, Mags, play a few rounds of Scrabble and you’ll be fine.

  The bar was packed when I got back from the restroom; apparently a flight or two had been postponed. People were pushing and shoving to get their orders in. I took a giant swig, thinking it would drown out the unintelligible chatter. Earphones would have been ideal, but mine were in a case that I used when traveling for business.

  I ordered another glass of wine, hoping it would come soon because my flight would be boarding in about twenty minutes. I began packing up my things when I overheard a conversation a few seats away.

  “Sami? Sami, you there? Damn this phone and damn AT&T! Oh, honey, there you are. How are things? What’s it like over there? Okay, okay! I’ll let you finish…”

  A familiar voice caught my attention, as did the topic of his conversation. I scoured the bar, looking for the source and couldn’t see past the fat guy whose legs splayed so wide that they touched the patron to his left and to his right, who happened to be me. Then I heard the call for my flight. I had five minutes.

  “Wow! The Cologne Cathedral…”

  Where the hell is he sitting?

  Another announcement, “United Flight Number 547 is now boarding at Gate 21.”

  Fuck! Where is he?

  Panicked, I scanned the bar one last time, Calling out, “Daniel? Daniel?”

  His voice was no longer audible and, just like that, he was gone. My heart sank as I made my way to Gate 21, unable to hear my name being called out from the bar where I’d left a full glass of red wine.

  Epilogue

  “Aren’t you coming with us?”