“That’s what I would recommend. But we usually spay at about five months. You can schedule the procedure with Georgeann when you stop by the front desk to arrange for her boosters in four weeks. And you should have a talk with your neighbor.” Bebe smoothed the fur on Rogue’s neck and the kitten relaxed in her lap. The kitten’s eyes rolled back while they talked, and she soon fell asleep. Bebe administered the shots, which drew little response from Rogue and her eyes soon closed again.
She handed the kitten back to Dakota and made a note in the file. Rogue stirred briefly and then lay completely limp on her back in Dakota’s arms with her paws dangling. Bebe reached over and gently rubbed her tummy. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“We were interested in getting a chip, in case she gets lost.”
“That’s a great idea, even if Rogue is mainly a housecat.”
“How much does it cost?”
“I think it’s forty dollars to inject the device and eighteen to have her registered in the database. You might want to confirm that at the front desk.”
“Oh, I see,” said the mom. “Maybe we’ll do that when we come back for her boosters.”
“We also have brochures available,” said Bebe. “Just make sure you update your contact information yearly, or any time that you move.”
Bebe smoothed the feathery fur beneath Rogue’s chin by way of saying good-bye and walked them to the front desk where she slid the kitten’s file into a plastic holder on the wall. She said that the staff would be right with them to set up a follow-up appointment for Rogue.
Bebe washed her hands and headed into Room 4, pulling the patient’s file from the slot on the door and perusing it briefly before knocking and entering. Scout, an Aussie-German Shepherd mix, needed a foxtail removed from his ear. Later in the morning, a teeth cleaning was scheduled for a fox terrier named Jerome, and a parakeet named Chipper was seen for loss of feathers around his eyes. Bebe told Chipper’s owner that she wasn’t an avian veterinarian, but suspected that the condition was due to a sinus infection. The bird left a spot on Bebe’s scrubs, which she tried to remove before seeing her next patient.
On her lunch break, she called Mare to set up another meeting in late September to finalize plans for the Celebration of Life. She caught Toni clothes shopping for their vacation in Tuscany, but she took time to put it on her calendar. Bebe waited until the end of the day to confirm with Jude. Secretly, she hoped to catch William after he got home from work.
They hadn’t talked since the lunch at Dulcinea’s, and she felt some guilt about it. Jude wasn’t the kind of person to ask for help, but she probably needed it, all the same. Bebe didn’t know William extremely well, but he seemed like the kind of person who would be there for Jude in her illness, even though Jude never spoke very highly of him. She never spoke highly of anyone except Rain, and never to her face.
Bebe knew that Jude had always been a bit jealous over her relationship with Rain, and perhaps that was another reason that kept her from calling. Jude had hinted at the luncheon that she knew how close the two were, and Bebe didn’t want to inadvertently add to a sick woman’s pain.
October 2, 1975
The kindergarten classroom teemed with children and parents milling around between small tables and chairs, play centers and displays. Rain held tightly to Bebe’s hand and pulled her directly to the table with her name tag. Neil followed, ducking his head around lowhanging mobiles and simply worded signs, such as Blocks and Housekeeping.
“This is my table,” she said, plopping down into her small chair and grinning up at Bebe and Neil.
Her work folder was there, and Bebe and Neil took time to peruse it, ooing and ahhing over her accomplishments.
After examining every page, Rain tugged Bebe toward Mrs. Waters and Neil followed. Her teacher wore her long hair loose and she pulled it to one side when she bent down to speak to a child. Her silky hair told a younger story than her skin. Bebe was surprised to see faint crow’s-feet fanning from her eyes. The hem of her long skirt grazed the top of her ballet flats. She ended a conversation with a parent and turned to Rain, who beamed at her while swinging Bebe’s hand.
“Hello, Rain, is this your mother?”
Bebe caught her breath. If Rain said yes, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d made the mistake. On top of her nontraditional upbringing, she had just gotten in under the age cutoff for kindergarten and wouldn’t turn five until the following month. Bebe had argued that she was too young to start school, but Jude had insisted that she get a jump on the competition.
Instead, Rain answered, “No, it’s Bebe!” as though the teacher were being silly.
Bebe stuck out her hand. “Hello, I’m Bebe Hoffman. We met at the orientation. Her mother will be here soon. I’m her mom’s roommate. And this is Neil St. Clair.”
“Oh, yes, I remember.” She shook hands with them and turned to Rain. “Is Mommy working late?”
Rain looked up at Bebe, confused.
“Mommy is in law school,” Bebe explained. “She has a class tonight, but she promised to leave early so she can make it over here.”
Rain squeezed in between Bebe and Neil and took both their hands, swinging them like a jump rope. Her teacher considered the trio for a moment, and slowly smiled. “I understand,” she said. “Rain, why don’t you show Bebe and Neil your artwork while you wait for your mother?”
Rain nodded animatedly and tugged them both to the art bulletin board where self-portraits of all the children were displayed. Some had huge heads or hands with splayed fingers. There were drawings of pets with very pointy ears and lopsided houses. Rain pointed at hers. Her name was printed in uneven letters at the bottom. She rocked on her heels, tongue curled to the roof of her mouth.
“Oh, my, Rain,” Bebe gushed. “It’s very good. You’re quite an artist.”
Rain had painted herself as a large figure in the forefront with a head of dark hair, large ears, large eyes, and a small mouth. She had two round pink spots for cheeks and an upside-down V for a nose. She held hands with a curly-haired girl with large glasses and a boy with a mustache. Bebe looked closer. A boy with a mustache?
Rain dropped hands with Neil and pointed at the girl and boy. “That’s you and that’s Neil,” she said proudly, taking Neil’s hand again. “We’re going to Happy Hollow for a picnic.”
In the background, a train engine with smoke curling from its stack idled on a set of railroad tracks and a dragon sat in the far corner by the tree. A smaller stick figure stood apart from the others, with a straight line for a mouth, an oversized head, short arms, and long legs.
Bebe glanced down at her. “Who is that, Rain?”
“That’s Mommy,” she said, bouncing. “She’s scared of the dragon.”
“Well, at least it’s anatomically correct,” said a voice behind them.
Bebe looked up to see that Jude had arrived and now stood behind them. Bebe dropped Rain’s hand and moved aside to make room for her in front of the display, feeling awkward in light of Rain’s obvious view of their relationships.
“Have you seen Mrs. Waters yet?” Bebe asked. “She wants to meet Rain’s mother.”
“I’ll meet her.” Jude didn’t take her eyes from the painting, but stood with her arms crossed.
To Rain, she said, “You’re so big. Right in the middle of the picture. Good girl.”
Jude uncrossed her arms and said, “Okay, where’s this teacher?”
Rain had rescheduled her appointment with Dr. Lazenby for the end of August, which disappointed her a little because that much more time would pass before she made real progress toward having a baby.
Money was a concern. She had a good job as a paralegal with benefits and a 40lK, but she and Hayden each had their own checking accounts and they’d split up the household bills for years. The house payment came out of her account, and Hayden paid the rest. She realized that she’d resisted making any official changes, just in case their separation was temporary, but his
visit on Sunday had finalized things between them. She needed to make some big decisions and move on.
After work, she ate a Lean Cuisine dinner at the computer while she did more baby research. She came across a blog by Seekergirl, who was the product of artificial insemination with a sperm donor. Seekergirl was in her early twenties and venting about growing up without a dad and how she grew up wondering if she shared the same DNA with every man she saw. When she was old enough to notice boys, it had occurred to her that she could be dating her half brother without even knowing it. She wanted a face to hold on to. Who gave her mother the right to choose a fatherless existence for her?
Rain sat back in her chair with her cannelloni turning cold on her plate. She was unexpectedly flooded with memories. Memories of her first awareness of Father’s Day and the fact that she lacked something other kids naturally had, along with the ensuing confusion about who Neil was in relationship to her. Memories of her mom sitting alone in the stands approving as Rain hit a line drive to centerfield between the legs of the two nine-year-old boys in the outfield who were so sure Rain could never hit the ball past the pitcher’s mound. Rain had wondered if her father played in the major leagues then, until the boys matured and easily surpassed her skill level so that she could no longer compete. She was decent on the clarinet in middle school, and wondered if her father was a musician and whether her genes would kick into gear so she would astound her fellow band members, but that never happened, either.
Years later, Jude met William, but it was too late to fix her lack of a dad. She could never think of him as a father, anyway.
Seekergirl had inadvertently struck a chord with being fatherless, and Rain wasn’t even a donor baby. What would that mean to her own child?
Bebe made her callbacks in the morning and then checked on Webster, the rottie, who had undergone a castration the day before. She had advised Webster’s elderly owner to let him stay overnight because she didn’t feel that he would be able to manage the dog’s care alone. Webster’s coloring made it look as though he had a smile on his face when she checked his kennel and he seemed to be recovering fine. When Webster’s owner came to pick him up, Bebe told him to make sure Webster continued to wear his E-collar at all times to control excessive licking at the surgical site, and to keep his activities limited. Due to Webster’s age, it would take a month or two before he would tone down his aggressive behavior toward other dogs. She rubbed behind his ears and let him lick her cheek. “Be nice to your friends, Webster,” she told him.
Later in the day, Michelle, their technician, received a needle stick when the Chihuahua to whom she was giving a shot squirmed and managed to avoid it altogether. Michelle was upset because she was four months pregnant and worried about her baby, so they sent her to their worker’s compensation doctor to be checked out.
The day went by quickly, and Bebe realized that Michelle hadn’t returned to work. Bebe wasn’t worried about the baby—there were no hormones in the shot. Bebe had been stuck before, and it wasn’t fun, but no medicine ever actually got into her bloodstream. Georgeann, the office manager, said the doctor wanted Michelle to stay off of her feet for the rest of the day, but she could return to work the next if she had no problems. Michelle had worked at the clinic for about a year, and Bebe was fairly sure she wouldn’t try to take advantage of the incident, but one never knew.
Bebe dreamed that night of Chihuahuas with sharp teeth. She was standing in front of her old college library looking for something she had lost, but couldn’t remember what, and trying to avoid the Chihuahuas. Whatever she had lost filled her with sadness and the oppressive feeling stayed with her into the morning.
Michelle came back to work that day and Bebe breathed a sigh of relief. The dream had put her on edge and she chastised herself for being silly.
When she finally got home, she changed out of her scrubs, plopped down on the family room couch, and announced to Neil that she wasn’t cooking. She wasn’t going anywhere, and what did he want to do about dinner? He opted to have a pizza delivered—half pepperoni, half veggie, along with breadsticks.
She wrote a letter to Scotty while they were waiting for the pizza to arrive. In his last letter to them, he had said how great it was to get so much mail, because some of the guys didn’t get any. She felt so bad for those recruits who didn’t have families to care enough about them to write. They had started martial arts training and everyone was getting sick with colds and flu, but he had stayed healthy.
The pizza arrived and they ate too much of it. She fell asleep on the couch during her favorite show, which she had looked forward to watching ever since she recorded it on the DVR two nights before. That was one thing that Bebe really hated about being fifty-seven—the fact that if she sat down and stopped moving in the evening, she simply fell asleep. She’d gotten into the habit of removing her makeup and brushing her teeth before she settled down with a good book or in front of a movie, and she always changed into something she could wear to bed—just in case.
She and Neil both had the weekend off, and they spent Saturday cleaning together, which took hardly any time since the two of them didn’t make much of a mess. The long, hot afternoon lay before them, and Bebe suggested that they go to Lowe’s for some mums and marigolds to replace their spent flower bowls. Neil was always up for a trip to Lowe’s, and they spent the late afternoon working in the yard after the heat of the day began to cool. They fired up the grill and ate their steaks outside on the deck with soft jazz playing in the background of their conversation and in stretches of pleasant silence.
Their time alone together was good. She still thought of the boys often and prayed for them frequently, but she felt at peace. Life was back to the way it was before they had a family, and she allowed herself a tentative feeling of satisfaction.
Rain returned from faxing contracts to the corporate office, and Craig, one of the new attorneys, stopped by her desk. She wondered if he would ask for her help with another contract negotiation. He made twice as much as she did, and she would love to just say no, even though she couldn’t. He glanced nervously over his shoulder, cleared his throat, and tapped his fingers on the top of her cubicle divider. She waited.
“I have two tickets to see Journey at the Sleep Train Amphitheater this Saturday night, and I wondered if you wanted to go,” he blurted. “They’re decent seats—at least they’re not lawn seats.” When she didn’t respond right away, he continued, “They do a great live concert. I think they’re with Heart and Cheap Trick.”
Rain couldn’t answer immediately. Her first thought was how he even knew she was available, and her second was why he waited so late in the week to ask her. Had his first choice changed her mind?
But the thing that really threw her was the fact that her first date with Hayden had been a Journey concert, too.
“I’ve seen Journey in concert.” She had to fill the dead space with words and no fresh ones came. Wasn’t he younger than she? She glanced over at Lisa’s cubicle. “This Saturday?”
“Yeah. I mean, if you’ve got something going on, I completely understand.” He squirmed a bit. “I know it’s kind of late.”
“This Saturday.” She hadn’t been on a date with someone other than Hayden for seven years. And she loved Journey. She took a breath, overriding her initial flight response. “Sure. What time?”
He smiled, looking relieved, and she noticed that he had a dimple in his chin.
“The doors open at 6:30. I should probably pick you up about 5:30 so we have plenty of time.” He tapped the top of her cubicle once more. “See you Saturday.” He pushed off and looked back at her as he headed toward the elevators.
Rain saw Lisa peek over her cubicle and dive back until Craig had passed. Then she popped her head up and grinned at Rain. Rain narrowed her eyes. So that’s how he knew she was available.
Rain dug some change from her desk drawer and went to the vending machines. Lisa followed and leaned against the Coke machine while Rain fed i
t with quarters. “So what’s up?” Lisa asked, looking happily guilty.
“As if you don’t know already.” She popped the top of her Diet Coke and took a drink, feeling flushed. “I’m going to see Journey on Saturday with . . . him.” She pointed her Coke can in the direction Craig had gone and headed back to her desk. Lisa followed.
“No, I did not already know. I just happened to overhear that a certain someone was interested and I tossed him a bone. It was all perfectly legal.” She sighed. “I wish Lyle would take me to a concert.”
In spite of herself, Rain felt a bit of excitement about hearing Journey live again. “Maybe I should dig out my leg warmers and cut my hair in a mullet,” Rain joked, and then quickly sobered. “What if Hayden’s there? He loves Journey. He’s probably already got tickets.” She sat down heavily at her desk, her shoulders sagging.
“So what?” Lisa said, cocking her head with her hand on her hip. “You’re not in high school anymore. He’ll see you didn’t wait around for him,” she said, going back to her desk.
Rain swiveled her chair around to face her computer, jiggled her mouse, and the screen pulled up the last site she’d been on—the sperm donor site.
A wave of embarrassment broke over Rain. Had that site been displayed the whole time Craig was asking her out? What must he think?
Bebe was putting in a load of laundry one evening when the phone rang. She almost let the answering machine pick up, but finally grabbed it on the fourth ring.
“Mom! Hey, it’s Scott.”
Bebe felt a thrill go through her, and as she greeted him, she frantically motioned to Neil who was on the couch. She pointed at the bedroom. “It’s Scotty!” she said. Neil jogged into the back room and picked up the phone.
“Hi, son, how are you?” she heard him say from the extension.
“I’m good. I only have a couple of minutes. My unit earned a phone call today because we did so well on drills. I didn’t get to call when we first got here because one of the guys ruined it for us all.”
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