Special Blessings

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  Ainslee snickered. “Good luck with that hope. It's what we girls do.”

  Kirstie, Anabelle and Cam's younger daughter, quickly rummaged through a basket of toys in the living room and came up with a bright red, fuzzy puppet from a long-running children's television show. Sneaking up behind the high chair, she slid the puppet onto her right hand up into Lindsay Belle's line of view.

  “Hello, Lindsay,” she said in a remarkably accurate imitation of the character's voice. “How are you today?”

  Lindsay Belle stopped screaming. She giggled, although her breath still hitched from the heartbroken sobs she’d been uttering moments ago. “Ah-bah-bah-bah,” she said.

  “It's nice to see you too,” Kirstie said in the puppet's voice. “Are you ready for some supper?”

  After a few more exchanges, Lindsay Belle appeared to have completely forgotten her pique as the puppet said good-bye and the family came to the table.

  “You’re so good with her,” Ainslee said to Kirstie after Cam had offered grace. “She's going to miss you terribly.”

  Anabelle's mood took a decided plunge. Kirstie would be leaving in just a few weeks to spend her summer working as a volunteer intern at the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago. Anabelle was going to miss her, and she just knew she’d worry every minute until Kirstie was back in Deerford again.

  “I’m going to miss her too,” Kirstie responded. “I’ll miss all of you.” She swept a hand around the table to indicate the entire family. Then she grinned and bounced in her seat, as she had when she was small. “But I'm so excited! I found out more about my internship. I’ll be assigned to the new Waters of the World exhibit, and I’ll be working with—drumroll, please?”

  Evan obliged, using his fingers on the edge of the table with a flourish.

  “Blue iguanas,” Kirstie said.

  “You’re kidding,” Ainslee exclaimed, as everyone laughed. The whole family knew of Kirstie's interest in iguanas.

  “Nope.” Kirstie hugged herself. “They have a mated pair. I applied for that internship in particular, and I’m thrilled that I got it.”

  “Cool,” Evan said. “You’ll have iguana babies running up your leg when you step into the cage.”

  Kirstie made a face at him. “You’d better come and visit, or I’ll sic one on you.”

  “I’m already there,” he said hastily, and everyone laughed again.

  “Mother?” Kirstie was looking at her. “You’re awfully quiet. Did you hear what I said?”

  Anabelle made an effort to look enthusiastic. “That's very exciting, dear. I know you can't wait to get started.”

  “I really can’t. These last few weeks of school are going to take forever to pass.”

  Anabelle hoped so. She wasn't at all eager to have her youngest child living all the way up in Chicago.

  Tuesday morning, Anabelle walked to Penny Risser's door in the administrative wing. The CEO's executive assistant's door stood ajar. As Anabelle heeded her invitation to enter, she saw that Penny was watering the extensive array of plants she kept in both her outer office and in the CEO's inner sanctum as well.

  “Hello, Anabelle,” Penny said. “What brings you to this corner of the world?”

  Anabelle smiled, thinking Penny was much more relaxed when she was tending her plants. She waved the thick folder she carried with her. “Questions about the dossier. I was hoping you’d have a few minutes to talk.”

  “If you don't mind my taking care of the plants while we talk, I have a few minutes.”

  “You have the most incredible green thumb.” Anabelle marveled, looking around. “I’ve told my husband and son about your plants. I think they’d like to steal you away to work for the landscaping company.”

  Penny's normally severe countenance lightened a fraction. “I’d enjoy that. Except that if I worked with plants, I’m sure I’d want to keep so many that eventually I wouldn't be able to find my way through the house.” Anabelle laughed, and Penny said, “How's the gorgeous granddaughter?”

  Thrilled to see the other woman's stern façade cracking, Anabelle said, “She's wonderful. She's walking now and starting to babble about everything she sees. Ainslee says she's run ragged by the end of the day.”

  “I bet. And how about Kirstie? Another wedding in the offing?”

  Anabelle sighed. “No. Kirstie and Mark have been dating for two years now, but I haven't heard much about long-term plans.” She thought of Kirstie's summer internship. “Romantically speaking, anyway.”

  Penny paused, the little plastic watering can hovering in midair as she shot a penetrating glance at Anabelle. “Is something wrong with Kirstie?”

  “Did you hear about her summer plans?” Anabelle asked. She took the comfortable seat at which Penny pointed. “She's got an eight-week internship at the Shedd Aquarium studying Blue iguanas.”

  “To each his own.” Penny shuddered, proving that she was indeed human. “She's moving to Chicago?”

  “No. At least, I hope not. She's subletting an apartment; but this job is her dream job, and I’m so afraid she's going to decide to stay there.” Anabelle caught herself twisting her fingers together and carefully spread both hands flat on her knees.

  “It's hard when you can't take care of all their problems anymore, isn't it?” Penny's quiet question sounded as if she understood. But Penny had never married and had no children, Anabelle was certain.

  She nodded. “Especially with Kirstie. I had to be so involved in her life when she was younger, and I’m having a terrible time letting go. Every time I think I’ve moved on, something happens that stirs up those old feelings.”

  Penny smiled sympathetically, an expression Anabelle wasn't sure she had ever seen on the stern face before. “You’ll be okay.” She set down the watering can and sat behind her desk. “Okay. Let's talk dossier. Are you having a problem?”

  “Not really. I just wanted to run a few things by you to make sure I’m on the right track.”

  “Sure.” Penny leaned back expectantly.

  Anabelle cleared her throat. “In the section about individual employees going above and beyond, I’ve mentioned Elena Rodriguez getting Make-A-Wish involved in that child's care last year, and I’ve noted James Bell because he's always willing to help Dr. Hamilton with surgeries. And I included that incident last fall where Candace Crenshaw delivered that woman's baby in the woods.” She went on, enumerating several other examples, and at each one, Penny nodded.

  “We have a very impressive staff, don't we?”

  “I think so.” Anabelle grinned. She straightened her papers and slipped them back into the folder. “I should be able to get this to you soon.”

  Chapter Seven

  THAT TUESDAY, CANDACE'S CHILDBIRTH CLASS covered pain management, how to write a birth plan, and, of course, the inevitable training in breathing techniques.

  Lewis and Therese Nottington arrived a little late, flustered and breathless as they took seats in the back. As Candace spoke, she assessed the overall health of each expectant mother by looking at her ankles, fingers, facial color and expression, and breathing. Therese Nottington looked healthy enough, but her expression was hardly encouraging. Several times the poor woman looked as if she was on the verge of tears. She definitely seemed distracted—her thoughts seemingly miles away from the evening's lessons.

  Candace hoped to speak with the couple during the break, but she was overwhelmed by expectant mothers with anxious questions.

  At the end of class, she watched the Nottingtons. Despite the people still crowding around her to speak, Candace managed to wave to the couple and say, “I’d like to speak with you, if you don't mind waiting a few moments.”

  Finally, the crowd cleared. The Nottingtons sat quietly in chairs along the perimeter of the room, and Candace pulled a chair around to face them, sinking onto it with a grateful sigh. “Finally. It feels good to sit down.”

  Therese made a halfhearted attempt at a smile. “That should be my line, shouldn't it?”
<
br />   They all chuckled dutifully. Then Candace said, “You seem a little blue. Is there anything I can do?” It was rather blunt, but her priority was the health—both physical and mental—of her mothers.

  Tears welled in Therese Nottington's eyes immediately. Alarmed, Candace sat up straighter.

  Lewis correctly read her concern, because he quickly said, “She's all right. I mean, there's nothing wrong with her or the baby.”

  “That's good,” Candace said, “but obviously something else is not all right.”

  “Noelle said she doesn't want me to come to graduation,” Therese sobbed.

  “Noelle's our daughter,” Lewis said.

  Candace recalled what the couple had said about their daughter being upset that her stepmother was pregnant. She winced, wishing she could talk to Noelle Nottington. What a thing to say!

  “When did this occur?” she asked.

  “Earlier today.” Therese was regaining control after her momentary outbreak of anguish. “I asked her if she wanted a graduation party, and she…she reacted badly.” The woman was choosing her words with care. “She said she didn't even want me to come to graduation, since I’m just a stepmother.”

  Lewis sighed. “I’m sure she didn't mean it, honey.”

  “Oh, she meant it,” Therese said. “She's so angry at us. I’m afraid that once she gets to college, she might never come home.” She grimaced. “And I can't even imagine what she’ll say about her family visiting with an infant.”

  “Things will get better after the baby is born,” Lewis said encouragingly. “I’m sure she’ll love her new brother or sister once she meets the baby.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Therese said. “We were so close when she was younger. She always seemed to accept my presence in her life. I felt very fortunate to have such a wonderful stepchild. But this pregnancy seems to have opened a Pandora's box of suppressed feelings. It makes me wonder if she has always resented me.” She began to cry in earnest.

  Candace was at a loss for words. What did one say to someone in this situation. Lewis had just uttered a platitude that Candace might have spoken herself, but she felt it was important to validate the woman's feelings. “This is very hurtful for you, isn't it?”

  “Beyond hurtful.”

  “I can't even imagine how I would feel.” Nor could she imagine Brooke ever treating her like this. Candace hesitated. “I know I offered to talk to her, and you declined. But have you considered a few sessions of family counseling? Sometimes being able to air your feelings in a neutral setting is helpful.”

  “That's a good idea,” Lewis said thoughtfully. “If we could get Noelle to attend.”

  “We could always handcuff her and drag her in,” Therese suggested, tongue-in-cheek. Her face still bore traces of tear tracks, but her lips had turned up at the corners. It was the most lighthearted Candace had seen the woman, and she laughed cheerfully as was expected.

  “Probably not an approach I’d recommend if you’re hoping to resolve your differences.” Candace grinned and shook her head. “Although I can see the appeal. I have a young teen daughter, and I just know I’m in for some really interesting times in just a few years.”

  Therese and Lewis thanked her and departed, and Candace packed up all her materials and headed home. She said good night to Brooke and Howie, who were ready for bed, and then joined her mother in the family room. Janet was watching a special on multiple births, and Candace had to smile. Her mother had always loved babies. Sometimes Candace suspected that the reason she had become a labor-and-delivery nurse was because her mother had passed that love on to her.

  “Triplets,” Candace murmured, watching the screen. “Can you imagine having three babies the exact same age to care for?”

  Janet shook her head. “It would certainly be a two-man job.”

  “At least.”

  “But twins…” Her mother's voice sounded dreamy. “I always wanted twins. Your grandfather Fuller was a twin, you know. And I used to hope maybe your father and I would have them too.”

  “My father's father was a twin? I never knew that.”

  “I’m sorry. It isn't one of those things that often comes up in conversation, and we never talked about your father's family very much.”

  Candace had been in middle school when her parents had divorced; her sister had just started high school. It hadn't been a pleasant time for any of them. And over the years, as his contact with his daughters had dwindled, Candace had ceased to need him in her life. Or so she told herself.

  “Was he a fraternal or identical twin?”

  “Oh, identical,” Janet answered. “It was hard to tell them apart, even for the wives, until they spoke or smiled. Their personalities were very different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Your Great-uncle Tim was mischievous, outgoing, the life of any party,” her mother recalled. “And your grandfather was the strong, silent type. If you spent sixty seconds in a room with them, you could figure out who was who immediately. I always heard that twins often skip a generation,” she went on, “but I’ve since learned that's just an old wives’ tale.”

  Candace nodded, still surprised by the revelation about her grandfather. Then she remembered the reason she had sought out her mother. Perching on the edge of the sofa, she angled herself to face the easy chair where her mother sat. “Mom, I need to apologize to you.”

  “To me? For what?” Janet looked confused.

  “For getting bent out of shape when you talked about moving out.”

  “Oh, that was nothing,” her mother assured her. “While I'll always regret the circumstances that led me to move in, these have been some very special years for me. But it might be nice to have a place of my own again.” She smiled. “I could get a cat. Or a man in my life.”

  Candace's eyes widened. “You’re not going to go wild on me, are you, Mom?” She was only half joking.

  Janet made a dismissive motion. “Of course not. Although…”

  “Although what?”

  “I have a little confession to make. I’ve joined an online matchmaking service.” There was a note of suppressed excitement in her mother's voice.

  “A dating service? I had no idea you were thinking of this.” Candace felt thoroughly unsettled. She recognized that it was mostly her own dislike of change, but still—dating? And dating someone she met online? “Mom, those online services can be really risky,” she said, unable to curb her apprehension. “I know they claim to vet them, but really, how do you know who you’re going out with?”

  Janet smiled gently. “How do you ever know that? Did you have a background check done on Dean when he asked you out the first time? Or Heath?”

  “I went to college with Dean,” Candace said, “and I was friends with Heath for more than a year before we started to date.”

  “And I’ll take every reasonable precaution as well,” her mother assured her. “I’m going to ask the man I’m meeting to wear a certain color or carry a certain magazine or something, so I can check him out visually before I even approach him. And I promise I won't go anywhere alone with a man I don't know.”

  “It still makes me nervous,” Candace said.

  “Me too,” Janet said. “Thinking about dating again after all these years is more than a little intimidating. That's why I chose this particular online dating service.”

  “What's so special about this one?” Candace asked.

  “It's for people of faith.”

  “How do you know if that's true?” Candace thought her mother was being a bit naive, believing anything she read on the Internet.

  “It was recommended by several other sites that review Christian dating services,” Janet told her. “This was one of only two that consistently appeared in every reviewer's ‘good’ column.”

  That was somewhat reassuring.

  “I guess,” Candace said slowly, “there really is no foolproof method for going about this. It sounds as if you’ve done every sensible thing
you can do to maximize your safety.”

  “This particular site,” Janet told her, “has several pages with advice for women on safety issues.”

  “It still makes me nervous,” Candace declared. “I wish you’d give this some more thought, Mom. How about meeting men at one of those singles nights sponsored by our church?”

  Janet arched an eyebrow. “Why didn't you ever do that?”

  “That's not fair,” Candace protested. “I wasn't looking for another relationship. Even when I first met Heath, I wasn't ready to date.”

  “You still wouldn't be, if left to your own devices,” her mother said shrewdly. “It's a good thing Heath bulldozed through those walls you erected, or you’d still be alone.”

  Candace had to laugh. Heath hadn't been forceful in any manner, but he certainly had been persistent. “Just think about what I said,” she urged her mother. “I don't trust those online services. Anybody could be at the other end of an e-mail.”

  “We don't even exchange e-mail addresses, honey, unless we choose to after we’ve met,” Janet assured her. “There's a messaging system through the site. So if I only use that, and I meet a creepy guy I don't care for, I never have to be in contact with him again, and he can't find me. I promise you it's safe.”

  Maybe so, but something about the idea of her mother dating bothered Candace at a visceral level.

  On Wednesday, Anabelle had a second meeting with Penny Risser to go over a few more questions about her part of the dossier. Leila Hargrave's assistant had inundated her with statistics and charts and graphs, and it was a bit difficult to wade through it all and determine what was necessary and what was just overkill.

  The two women were deep in discussion when Penny's telephone rang. “Excuse me,” she said, rising and going to her desk.

  “Hello? This is she.…Oh, hello. Is something wrong?”

  Anabelle didn't want to be an eavesdropper, but she really had no choice other than leaving the office, which seemed a bit drastic. Picking up some of the papers on which they had been working, Anabelle studied the figures assiduously.