Special Blessings

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  “I guess Candace has mentioned our situation,” Lewis said to Heath.

  For a moment, Heath looked confused. “No,” he said, “no, she hasn’t. Candace would never divulge confidential patient information, even to me.”

  “Oh. Well, this isn't confidential, so we don't mind if you tell him,” Lewis said to Candace.

  As they began to walk, she filled him in with a brief summary of the Nottington's unexpected pregnancy, their daughter's unhappiness with the surprise, the discovery that their baby had Down syndrome, and their family's less-than-enthusiastic response on Sunday.

  Pulling open the door of the little coffee shop, Heath gave the couple a sympathetic glance. “It sounds as if this hasn't been easy for you in the least.”

  Therese shook her head. “I’m hoping labor and delivery will be quick and easy. After all this insanity, it would be nice to have one thing go right.”

  They ordered coffee. Everyone but Candace got decaf, and Heath ordered a plate of nachos with hot and mild dips for them all to share. Once they’d picked up their items and doctored their drinks at the station near the counter, they found seats around a small table.

  “Let me start,” Therese said. “We have an appointment with a specialist in Peoria on Friday. He is going to be checking to see if the baby has any potential health complications that will have to be addressed immediately after birth.”

  “Good,” Candace said. “It's always better to be prepared than to have that kind of unpleasant surprise. Now, I’m anxious to know. Have things improved any since your announcement on Sunday?”

  Lewis screwed up his face in denial. “Not much.”

  “A little,” Therese said optimistically. “Lew's sister told us she would be happy to do whatever she could if we showed her what the baby needed. And Noelle—that's our daughter,” she said for Heath's benefit, “seems to have accepted the situation. She was absolutely furious with her uncle for suggesting we give the baby up for adoption.”

  Heath looked a little taken aback. “Was he kidding?”

  Lew grimaced. “Yes. At least, I think so. My brother has a complete inability to keep his thoughts to himself. If it enters his head, it pops out of his mouth. It gets him in trouble a lot,” he added reflectively.

  “I imagine so,” Candace said.

  The others all chuckled.

  “But other than those two,” Therese said, returning to the original question, “the general reaction seems to be that we’re crazy for having a baby at this age, and—” She broke off, her gaze fixed on the front of the shop.

  Twisting around, Candace saw what had caught her eye. A trio of teen girls had just entered. The one in the rear was Noelle, the Nottingtons’ daughter. The three ordered soft drinks to go and paid for their snacks. As they turned to leave, Noelle's gaze swept across the restaurant. She froze when she saw her parents. In the young face, Candace read shock; indecision; a strange, sad longing; and, ultimately, self-loathing. Then Noelle turned and followed her friends out the door without acknowledging her parents.

  Lewis gave an angry exclamation and started to rise, but Therese stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “There. You see?” Therese was very close to tears. “She hates us. Especially me.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Of that, Candace was certain. “I don't even think she's embarrassed about you having a new baby. And trust me, the only person she hates is herself.”

  “What? Why?” Lewis leaned forward.

  Candace lifted her hands. “I can't speak for her, but I imagine Noelle is angry with herself for causing you pain.”

  Therese's face softened. “I don't want her to hate herself. I don't even know why she's being so difficult.” Sadly, she added, “I guess I just wish she’d overcome it and be there for us.”

  Her words jogged something in Candace's brain. “Oh,” she said, “I nearly forgot. There's a woman at the hospital named Penny Risser who has a sister with Down syndrome. The sister's an adult now, and she lives in a group home and sees Penny frequently. Penny said she would be happy to talk with you about your baby, to answer any questions she could and find out the answers to anything she doesn't know. I know she has a connection to the National Down Syndrome Society, so that might be of some help as well.”

  “You’re kidding.” Therese's mouth fell open. “That's—that's the best news I’ve had in days. We’d love to talk to her.”

  On the way home, Heath reached across the seat and enveloped Candace's hand in his. “In case I forget to tell you,” he said, “I just want you to know I think you are absolutely spectacular at your job. You go so much further than mere duty requires…” He shook his head, smiling. “I don't have the words to tell you how special you are.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE DEERFORD QUILTING GUILD WAS HAVING AN all-day quilting bee at Cavendish House on theSaturday before the Fourth of July. Anabelle was eager to attend. She wanted to continue working on a quilt she was making for a co-worker's wedding gift, a gorgeous double wedding ring in shades of aqua, teal, and emerald on a background of palest blue-green batik. The quilt was nearly finished; all she needed to do was finish the binding.

  She was eager to attend for another reason as well. Genna Hamilton, a friend and fellow quilter, would be there. The wife of Dr. Drew Hamilton, with whom Anabelle worked, Genna moved in the same circles as Em Palmer. Both women came from wealth, and both were involved in various philanthropic pursuits around the community. Perhaps Genna could offer some insight into Em's behavior—if Anabelle could figure out a way to work the conversation in that direction.

  When Anabelle arrived, Genna was just beginning to unload her things from her car. Together, they carried their quilting supplies into the large room where they would be working. To Anabelle's secret delight, there were still two side-by-side seats open. Genna led Anabelle toward them. “How's this?” she asked.

  “Terrific. It’ll give us a chance to catch up.”

  “It will. I haven't seen you in forever,” Genna agreed.

  “Hello, ladies,” said Bettina Aslip, the wife of a prominent businessman. Anabelle only knew her as a nodding acquaintance, but Bettina and Genna were good friends.

  “Bettina, please join us.” Genna pointed at a seat across the table from them.

  “Thanks.”

  When everyone was settled, Genna introduced Anabelle to Bettina. “Anabelle's a nurse supervisor at Hope Haven. My husband says the place would fall down without her.”

  Anabelle raised a hand in protest. “Hardly.”

  “That's why your name sounded so familiar,” Bettina said. “Someone I know just mentioned you the other day. I believe you’re on a committee with her.”

  “Oh?” Anabelle's heart rate kicked up; somehow she knew exactly what was coming.

  “Emmaline Palmer,” Bettina said. “You’re both serving on that award committee, right?”

  “Your memory's phenomenal,” Genna said. “I don't know what you’re taking, but I want some of it.”

  They all laughed, commiserating over the singularly feminine experience of one's memory becoming less reliable as one's age advanced. Then Anabelle said, “Yes, I'm on the awards committee with Em. We’re so excited about being nominated. It would be marvelous if Hope Haven won a national award.”

  “I haven't seen Em in a long time,” Genna remarked. “She stopped coming to my bridge club after she and her sister had a falling out.”

  “And isn't that ridiculous?” Bettina broke in. She addressed Anabelle. “Em's sister Edith is on the board at another small hospital. A couple years ago, she and Emmaline had this stupid argument about…what was it about again?” she asked Genna.

  “I have no idea,” Genna said, throwing up her hands. “It escaleted when Edith said her hospital was better than Em's, and Em got mad, and it turned into this unbelievably silly feud. Some of their friends took sides…oh, it was just awful.” She glanced at Bettina. “I absolutely refused to get embroiled in that
mess, and as a result, I rarely hear from either of them anymore. It's like they both got mad at me.”

  Bettina nodded. “I remember now why they argued. Edith's hospital wasn't having the horrible financial problems that Hope Haven has endured, and Edith got very smug about it. I halfway don't blame Em for getting mad, but they’re sisters, for pity's sake. You don't cut your sister out of your life because she acts a little superior.” She turned back to Anabelle. “Do you?”

  “I certainly wouldn’t,” Anabelle said. “It sounds very sad.” And she couldn't help wondering if the family feud had anything to do with the reason Em had altered those statistics. She probably would feel vindicated if her hospital won a prestigious award like that after the sister had rubbed Em's nose in her facility's superiority.

  After church on Sunday, James and Gideon were weeding the new flower beds in front of the house. They had planted a number of annuals in May, and James had fertilized them. The flowers were really beginning to take off. Unfortunately, so were the weeds.

  James had been pleased that when he had asked Gideon to help, instead of a sullen “Why doesn't Nelson have to do it too?” Gideon had quietly agreed.

  The day was warm but not sizzling hot, and at the moment, they were beneath the shade of a large tree that had been left in the front yard of their lot, weeding around a bed of shade-loving impatiens.

  “So how serious are you and Jenni?” James asked. “I have to tell you, I was impressed with your taste when we met her before the prom. She's very pretty, her manners are lovely, and your mom and I liked her parents.”

  Gideon moved his shoulders uncomfortably, but he couldn't prevent the silly grin that spread across his face. “I don't know,” he said. “How do you judge how serious you are?”

  “I think there are a couple of levels of serious,” James said. “The first one might be whether or not you want to see each other exclusively. The second is if you’re starting to think about spending your life with another person. And of course, the third is, are you actively contemplating marriage?” He chuckled, seeing the incredulous way Gideon was regarding him. “I think I can safely say you’re nowhere near that serious.”

  “No way,” his son said fervently. “But maybe we’re a little bit serious. I mean, we’re going out.”

  James's brow furrowed. “Meaning exactly what? Going steady?”

  Gideon hooted. “That's an old-fashioned word for it, I guess. Neither of us will go out with anyone else while we’re together.”

  “Your mom and I would really like to get to know her a little better,” James said. “Would you like to invite her to come for dinner some evening?”

  Gideon looked at him warily. “I guess. You’re not going to, like, ask her a million questions, are you?”

  James laughed. “I promise I won't ask her a million questions. It's just that we’ve only met her once, very briefly. If she's very important to you, we’d like to become better acquainted.”

  “Okay.” Gideon's face lit up. “Hey, could I invite her to the Scotts’ for the Fourth of July?”

  “Sure.” James thought it would be interesting to see what his co-workers thought of Jenni. “I’ll tell Anabelle to expect five of us.”

  Elena loved to sew. And she especially enjoyed making pretty things for her granddaughter. Fortunately, Isabel was a very “girly” girl who loved ruffles and frills and lace, because Elena was making her the “girliest” party dress of all time.

  It was already July, and Cesar's party was coming up fast. Elena wanted to make sure she had everything completed well ahead of time, so she was trying to finish Izzy's dress on Sunday afternoon. It was particularly helpful that Rafael had taken Izzy to the movies because when the little girl was around, she invariably insisted on “helping” her grandmother sew. And very little got finished.

  Smiling to herself, she shook out the skirt of the dress. Izzy was going to love it. The fabric was pink with blue and yellow flowers splashed across it, and Elena was trimming it with pink ribbon threaded in and out through the hem and the cuffs of the sleeves. Because Izzy so loved full, swingy styles, Elena had even sewn in a crinoline underskirt with a silky polyester layer beneath that to keep the crinoline from itching or scratching.

  “Holy cow,” Cesar said.

  Elena jumped. She hadn't realized he was even in the room. “Holy cow what?”

  “That's one heck of a dress. What's it for?”

  She floundered for a moment. When was the last time Cesar had noticed what she was sewing, much less asked a question about it? “It's…er…for one of Izzy's little friends’ birthday parties,” she said. She wasn't fond of telling lies, but this one was for a good cause.

  Cesar's eyebrows shot up. “Must be some fancy party. That's a frilly dress, even for Izzy.”

  Elena laughed. “Well, you know how she is. It doesn't matter what anyone else is wearing. Especially at a party.” She held her breath, waiting for him to speak again, but then she heard the distinct rattle of the kitchen doorknob. Good. That would distract Cesar.

  “I wonder how the movie was.” Cesar turned and headed for the kitchen, always ready for a hug from his granddaughter.

  Elena's shoulders sagged with relief; she blew out a long breath. “That was close,” she muttered. There were a lot of things she considered herself good at, but subterfuge wasn't one of them. This party couldn't come too soon for her.

  Rafael had just come in when Elena entered the kitchen. “Hey, Mama.” He kissed her cheek and then walked over to the refrigerator, opened the door, and perused the selections. “I think I said I’d make dinner, didn't I?”

  “Indeed you did. How was the movie?”

  Rafael laughed. “Cute, if you like dancing alligators.”

  Izzy came into the room. “Hi, Buela. We’re back.”

  Elena hid a smile at the unnecessary announcement. “And just in time. I finished your party dress this afternoon. You could wear it to Aunt Anabelle's Fourth of July party if you like.”

  Izzy shook her head. “No, I want to wear my pink shorts.”

  “You can still say thank you for the dress,” Rafael prompted.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Honey, you can't wear those pink shorts anymore, remember? You don't have to wear the dress, but you’ll have to choose another outfit.”

  “But I want those shorts,” Izzy said. “They still fit.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “Yes, they do.” Izzy's voice rose. Elena sighed inwardly. It seemed every interaction with her grandchild these days became contentious.

  “Isabel.” Rafael's quiet voice broke the tense moment. “If Buela says the shorts are too small, I’m sure she's right. And you need to find your good manners before you say another word.”

  Izzy opened her mouth—to argue, Elena suspected—but Rafael made a sharp sound in the back of his throat, and her mouth closed again. Silently, he pointed to the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Izzy's brows pinched together in a fierce frown. Wheeling on one tiny foot, she stomped off in a huff.

  Elena looked up at her son. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I don't know why she's so fixated on those shorts.”

  “It won't last,” he said. “I know the dress is beautiful, Mama. I don't thank you often enough for loving my daughter so much, so thank you.”

  Tears sprang to Elena's eyes, and she rose and hugged her son. “Thank you,” she said. “Having you and Izzy living here has allowed your father and me to see every tiny change as she grows. We’ve enjoyed every minute.”

  Rafael silently lifted one black eyebrow and grinned.

  “Well,” she amended, casting a glance at the hallway, “almost every minute.”

  Chapter Twenty

  INDEPENDENCE DAY WAS HOT. REALLY HOT. CANDACEwalked down to the parade that morning with hermother and her daughter, wishing she had brought either a sun umbrella or a portable fan. Or both.

  They jockeyed for a place in the shade beneath o
ne of the large trees along Main Street, where they soon were joined by Anabelle, Ainslee, and Lindsay Belle. Brooke immediately made it her task to keep the toddler happy. Elena, Sarah, and Isabel also found them. And moments later, Candace was astonished to see Penny Risser, of all people, coming down the sidewalk holding the hand of an adult Down syndrome woman.

  When Penny reached them, Anabelle said, “Oh, Penny, I’m so glad you decided to join us.” Quickly, she made a round of introductions, and Penny introduced her sister Patti.

  “Thank you for the invitation.” Was that a smile? A happy smile on Penny's face? Candace was pleased to see the woman unbend and relax a little. Patti sat down in a folding chair next to Izzy. Within minutes, Izzy and Patti seemed to be bosom buddies.

  Little Lindsay Belle seemed to be happy sitting in her stroller being entertained by Brooke. They all laughed at her wide-eyed expression when some of the floats went by. Her only moments of unhappiness came when the band or a majorette troupe passed with loud drums. Then only Ainslee could comfort her, but the tears were short-lived.

  They all cheered when the T-ball teams marched by. Howie was in the six- and seven-year-olds' group, wearing his uniform and a beaming smile. Heath, who had become one of the assistant coaches for the team, helped to herd them down the street and flashed Candace a smile that left her weak-kneed.

  Ainslee chuckled, as she sent Candace a knowing smile. “You are going to enjoy being married to that man.”

  Candace could do nothing but blush.

  When the parade ended, each family returned to their respective homes to relax and prepare for the Scotts’ second annual Fourth of July picnic.

  Shortly after four o’clock, the Crenshaw family and Heath packed their picnic contributions and made the short trip to Anabelle's home just north of Deerford. Since it was so hot, she had suggested the kids bring bathing suits. The Scotts didn't have a pool like Elena did, but Cam had offered to rig up a sprinkler.

  When they arrived, the sprinkler was already throwing glistening droplets of water high in the air, and Brooke and Howie both scrambled to get into their suits and play in the water. Candace was amused to see her daughter, who occasionally was getting too sophisticated for “little-kid” pursuits, squealing and giggling in the sprays of water with Howie and Izzy.