Special Blessings

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  Howie had T-ball practice in the afternoon, and Brooke wanted to go over to Tiffany's to get some new music. Janet offered to drop off each child on her way to Peoria, where she intended to do some shopping.

  “Wow,” Candace said, as she and Heath cleaned up the dishes. “We’ve been abandoned.”

  “Only for a little while,” Heath reminded her. “We have to pick up Howie in two hours.”

  “I’m glad we’re alone,” Candace told him. “There's something I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I couldn't find a good time.”

  “Something bad or something good? I need to prepare myself either way.”

  Candace looked thoughtful. “Something I thought was going to be bad but turned into something good.”

  Heath's smile was quizzical. “Okay.” He perched at the kitchen counter as Candace finished drying the last few dishes and putting them away.

  She took a deep breath and then related Brooke's concerns about her father's being forgotten. He smiled when she told him what Brooke said about hanging pictures of Heath as well.

  “Have I mentioned lately that I adore your children?” Then his expression grew more serious. “Do you think I should say anything to Brooke about the pictures? Or about my role in her life not replacing her father?”

  Candace shook her head. She came around the counter and picked up his hand, kissing the back of his knuckles. “I don't think so. I’m pretty sure I allayed her fears.”

  “All right.” Heath rose and led her into the living room. “I have some vacation information to share with you.” They sat together on the couch, and he opened the laptop computer he often worked on when he was visiting. “Skip and I made reservations at a little lodge that is right on the edge of the state park in Grand Haven.”

  “The one we looked at in the brochure?”

  “One and the same. It looks like a great place for families.” He looked a bit anxious as he said, “We haven't talked about accommodations since we found out your mom won't be coming. I reserved two rooms right across the hall from each other. I thought, if it was all right with you, Howie could room with me, and Brooke could room with you. But if you aren't comfortable with that and you’d rather have Howie with you—”

  “Don't be silly,” she chided. “I think that's a lovely plan. Howie will be delighted to have you for a roommate instead of being stuck with girls all the time.”

  They both laughed at that.

  Then Heath went on. “There's one other thing. I thought it might be nice for us to have a little time for just us rather than sharing our entire vacation with another family. So I overlapped the dates so that we’ll be arriving a couple days earlier than the Mullens, and they’ll be staying later than we are.”

  “Oh, Heath, that's wonderful. How thoughtful.” Candace leaned over and kissed him. “I like the Mullens, but the thought of riding herd on Howie and Eason for an entire week was a little daunting.”

  Heath nodded. “I thought you might like this plan.”

  “Oh, speaking of plans, I have some wedding questions for you,” Candace said. “Have you thought about the number of people you want to invite?”

  Heath playfully rolled his eyes. “No. I figured you’d just tell me what to do and when to be where, and I’d do it.”

  She gave his shoulder a mock-punch. “Oh no. You’re not getting off that easy, buddy. If I have to plan, you have to plan. So, how many guests would you like?”

  Heath hesitated, giving the question serious consideration. “Fewer than fifty? I had assumed you’d prefer it was small.”

  She nodded. “That would be great, if we can manage it. We’ll have your family and mine, including our siblings’ families, but that's still fewer than a dozen. I’m going to invite Dean's parents, although I doubt they’ll come up from Florida, and his darling aunt who has been so wonderful. And a few of our friends from work. Anyone else? Oh, the Mullens.”

  “That would be nice. I think that covers it,” he told her.

  “Great. Now, for the reception, I thought we might just have something informal with light refreshments right there in the social room at church.…”

  By the time they needed to leave to pick up Howie, they had most of the details decided.

  At lunch on Monday, Elena recounted the amusing tale of Cesar's almost catching Sarah and her with his invitations. Although James didn't voice the thought, he suspected Elena would have to have waved the invitations beneath her husband's nose before he would see them. Men just didn't focus on things like that. In fact, he had to remind himself to shop for Fern's birthday, which was just around the corner.

  “So you don't think he suspects anything?” Candace asked. “I think it would be terribly difficult to pull off a surprise party like that.”

  “No, I honestly don’t,” Elena said. Her ebullience dimmed a little. “He doesn't quite seem himself recently. I’ve been a little concerned about him.”

  “Do you think he's not feeling well?” Anabelle asked.

  Elena shook her head. “I just don't know.”

  “Maybe you should just ask him,” James suggested practically. He could live a hundred more years, and he still would never understand the convoluted way women went about things, he realized.

  “I may,” Elena said. “But he's such a bullhead about things like that. He’ll just insist everything's fine. Maybe one of you can find a way to pry it out of him at the party.” She grinned. “I wish you could have seen my face when I had to hide those invitations.”

  “Heath and I talked about invitations this weekend,” Candace volunteered. “Wedding invitations.”

  “Ooh. Do tell.” Elena leaned forward eagerly.

  “I want to make them. I found some gorgeous handmade paper. It's a very supple cotton with pale pink rose petals and white violets pressed into it. I thought I’d do the invitations and the envelopes in the same paper.”

  “I’ll help.” Elena waved a hand.

  “So will I,” Anabelle offered. “I’ve made envelopes before. Are you going to stamp or print the invitations?”

  “Neither.” Candace smiled. “I’d love to find someone who can do calligraphy. I only need about two dozen.”

  “My friend Nellie Harvey does,” Anabelle said. “Do you know her? She's the dietician for the hospital.” When Candace shook her head, Anabelle said, “I’ll introduce you after work if you like. I know she does small jobs occasionally, and I believe her prices are very reasonable.”

  “We also hammered out the guest list, made a preliminary flower list, and chose the cake and the photographer. The church is booked, and a small reception will be held there in the social room afterward. We decided to keep it very small, only family and a few close friends.” She smiled. “You’re my close friends, and you’re practically family.”

  James leaned over and gave her a hug, thanking God silently for these dear friends he had made. “I feel the same way.”

  Anabelle nodded, and Elena said, “I don't know what I’d do without you guys. You’re the first ones I run to when I have a problem.”

  “Speaking of problems,” James said. “I have a teenage boy problem. Two of the three of you have lived through the teenage boy stage. Maybe you can give me some guidance.”

  “And I’ll pay close attention,” Candace said, “since my turn is coming.”

  “What's wrong?” Anabelle said.

  James sighed, debating where to start. “He's still involved with the same girl. He's slacking off his academics just when he needs to be ramping up his efforts for college. He's become sullen and contrary.”

  Anabelle nodded. “I don't think it's uncommon. He's asserting his independence.”

  “Bad time for that,” Elena commented. “Do you think the girl is the reason for the academic issues and the attitude?”

  James shook his head slowly, as he thought about the question. “That's the weird thing. I don't think Jenni's the problem. At least, not directly. She's an excellent student with good
manners. Remember, I told you about meeting her parents?”

  Elena nodded. “It might not be her at all. Sometimes they just feel the need to be in charge.”

  “Unfortunately,” Anabelle added, “sometimes the things they choose to make issues of are ones that can have the most lasting consequences. Like the grades.”

  “He brought me his schedule for next year and asked me to sign it. He wasn't even planning to take any Advanced Placement courses.” He tried to tone down the outrage he still felt.

  Anabelle grimaced. “Bad idea, especially if he needs to try to get scholarships.”

  “That's exactly what I told him.”

  “You should set up a meeting with his counselor,” Elena recommended. “Is that what you’d do, Anabelle?”

  The older woman nodded decisively. “Absolutely.”

  “I tried.” James traced a pattern on the table. “The first time she could fit us in was the third week in July.”

  “What?” Anabelle exclaimed. “That's not acceptable.”

  “It's not her fault,” James explained. “She leaves Thursday with a group of French Club students who are traveling abroad to France, Luxembourg, and Belgium for three weeks. She did assure me that she still would be able to change Gideon's schedule in July.”

  “Did you tell her about the lack of serious academics?” Candace asked.

  He nodded. “She didn't sound surprised.”

  “I imagine she sees a certain number of students each year that want to play the ‘lazy card.’” Elena made air quotes with her index fingers. “I hope she’ll be able to make him see how much he’ll regret it if he doesn't step up to the challenges he's being presented with now.”

  “I sure hope you’re right,” James said, “because Fern and I haven't had any luck whatsoever.”

  Saturday dawned rainy and overcast. It suited Anabelle's mood perfectly. Today was the day Kirstie was leaving for Chicago.

  She dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen, where she set the table for three before frying a package of bacon and beginning to mix up pancake batter. Kirstie had asked if they’d like her to come for breakfast before she left town. Of course, they’d said yes.

  Cam came in, yawning, his blue eyes still sleepy looking. “Did you get the paper yet?”

  Anabelle shook her head, fighting a ridiculous urge to cry. How silly am I? she thought. Kirstie's going away for a few months, not moving to Africa.

  Cam returned, taking a seat at the table after pouring himself a cup of coffee. Anabelle had set the timer the night before, so there was a fresh pot already waiting.

  She began dropping silver-dollar-sized dollops of batter into the hot skillet. When the pancakes began to bubble on top, she expertly flipped them and a few minutes later, scooped them from the pan onto a warm plate in the oven. After she finished the pancakes, she took her eight-inch sauté pan from the cupboard and set it on the stove to heat. Cracking eggs into a bowl, she beat them together with milk, salt, and white pepper and then set her mixer to a higher setting and whisked the mixture.

  “Hi, Mother. Hi, Pop.” Kirstie came through the back door, as Anabelle poured the first third of the omelet mixture into the pan.

  “Hi, honey. All packed?”

  Kirstie came over and brushed a casual kiss across Anabelle's cheek. “Yep. I’ll be leaving from here.” She wandered over to Cam and kissed the top of his head and then dropped into her chair—the chair she'd occupied at every family meal since she was a small child. “I want to get there before lunch, so I can move my stuff in and still have most of the day to walk around the area and get oriented.”

  “Oh, be careful. Parts of Chicago aren't very safe.”

  “I’ll be fine, Mother,” Kirstie said with a tolerant grin. “The apartment I’m sharing is in a high-rise right off Lake Shore Drive. It's close enough to the aquarium that I can walk, and there are plenty of little places to eat nearby. Please don't worry.”

  Anabelle forced a smile. “But that's in my job description.”

  Kirstie laughed. “Well, then your supervisor should give you an excellent rating.”

  Cam put down his paper. “So you don't need your old Pop to help you move?”

  Kirstie patted his hand. “No, but I appreciate the thought. The apartment I’m subletting is furnished, and the girl I’m rooming with told me the kitchen is fantastic. So I didn't pack a lot except for clothing. And not even a ton of that. I’ll be wearing shirts with the aquarium logo five days a week.” She sent her mother a sly smile. “And there might be a little white stuffed kitty in my suitcase too.”

  Anabelle's eyes mistd, and Kirstie said, “Well, I could hardly go without him.” Then she wrapped her arms around her middle. “I can't wait to start working with the iguana program.”

  Anabelle rolled her eyes. “I'll never forget that dead salamander you brought home from Bobby what's-his-name's house. You’ve always loved lizards of one kind or another.”

  “Bobby Honaman. He moved away in fifth grade. And yeah, I have always loved lizards.” As Anabelle set a plate filled with bacon, pancakes, and an omelet in front of her, Kirstie's eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Oh, I’m going to miss you guys. Mother, there is absolutely nothing like your cooking.”

  “Hey!” Cam protested.

  She giggled. “Unless it's your minestrone, Pop.”

  Anabelle fried Cam's omelet and then her own, and the three of them passed a companionable breakfast hour.

  But all too soon, Kirstie hopped up and began to clear the table.

  “Leave that,” Anabelle said. “I can do it later.” She rose and went to the counter, where a covered basket waited. Picking it up, she handed it to Kirstie. “There might be a little surprise in here for you, but you have to share it with your new roommate.”

  Kirstie peeked beneath the lid and squealed. “A sour-cherry pie. Oh, wow. Thanks, Mother.” She gave Anabelle a tight hug that lingered for a long moment. “I’m going to miss you,” she whispered. Then she turned to her father and repeated the gesture before waltzing out the door to begin her summer adventure.

  Anabelle and Cam followed more slowly, waving as their baby backed out of the driveway. “Be careful on the highway,” Anabelle called.

  Kirstie gave her a big thumbs-up and then blew them a kiss. “Bye!”

  As the little car turned the corner and vanished from sight, Cam mumbled, “It's going to be mighty quiet around here this summer.”

  Anabelle nodded. The lump in her throat was too large to allow her to eke out a single word. She turned into his arms, enjoying the familiar comfort, and they stood in silence for a minute. Finally she drew back with a sniff, wiping at her eyes. “Things change, no matter what. I guess we just have to learn to live with it.”

  The Nottingtons waited to one side after the Tuesday evening childbirth class, until the last question had been answered and Candace was free.

  The moment she walked toward them, Therese blurted out, “Oh, Candace, we still haven't told anyone about the baby.” About the baby's having Down syndrome, Candace thought, since Therese was well past the point of hiding her pregnancy altogether.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said sincerely. “Is there something specific bothering you, or are you just concerned about how they’re going to deal with it in general?”

  “Nothing special,” Therese said immediately. “It's just that Noelle is having such a hard time with the whole baby thing, and all our friends and family thought we were crazy for having a baby at our ages. We can't quite figure out how to say, ‘Oh, by the way, the baby's going to have Down syndrome.’”

  Candace raised her eyebrows. “Something very much like that might be perfect. Simple is better.”

  “But what if they ask questions?”

  Candace realized Therese and Lewis already knew the best way to tell people their news. They just needed reassurance. “Be prepared,” she said. “Read everything you can find, talk to other people who have had the experienc
e. Know everything you can, so that when the questions arise, you have the answers.”

  “I’m so afraid the baby is going to have a heart defect or something else wrong,” Therese blurted.

  “That's a very reasonable fear,” Candace said. “Have you spoken with Dr. Carpenter about a referral to a neonatologist?”

  Therese looked stricken. “But we like Dr. Carpenter. We want her to deliver the baby.”

  “And she will be happy to if at all possible,” Candace reassured the couple. “But she could still ask for a consult. A neonatologist specializes in high-risk infants and may be able to give you and Dr. Carpenter more specific information about what to expect when your baby is born. And,” she added gently, “if there is some reason that your baby should be delivered at a hospital that specializes in high-risk births, I’m sure Dr. Carpenter would be the first to suggest you prepare to deliver there.”

  “All right,” Lewis said. He had pulled a smartphone from his pocket and was making a note.

  “Down syndrome children live relatively normal lives now, as I’m sure you’ve learned. Did you have that meeting with the woman from NDSS?”

  “Yes. She was very helpful,” Lewis said. He pocketed his mobile device. “She explained how cognitive function would develop and could be strengthened, and she talked about some of the other challenges, like poor balance.”

  “She also told us about specialists who deal with pediatric heart defects in case we need one.”

  “All right. So the next thing to do,” Candace said bracingly, “is to tell your family.”

  “Would you be there when we do?” Therese asked. “I know it's far above and beyond your job description, but I'd feel so much better. Even if you never say a word, I’d know you were there in case I needed you.”

  “All right,” Candace said.

  “Really?” Therese looked thunderstruck.

  “Really.” Candace nodded enthusiastically.

  “I thought it was going to be much harder to persuade you,” Therese confessed. “Thank you. Your presence will give us courage.”