Donna laughed. “Yes, I can just imagine Celeste dressed in silk and pearls as she stirs the gravy and balances her six-month-old baby on her hip.”
“Meaning that David won’t be much help?”
Donna frowned slightly. “I do wish he was a little more excited about becoming a daddy.”
“I know . . .” Anna shook her head as she remembered her brother’s negative reaction when Michael had toasted him and his wife on their impending parenthood. “I couldn’t believe what he said during dinner.”
“Oh, I don’t think he really meant it.” Donna reached for another plate. “It’s just that David wanted to be married for at least five years before starting a family.”
“I think he should just be thankful,” Anna said a bit too sharply. “After all, it is Thanksgiving,” she added to take the sting out of her words. Then she changed the subject, telling Donna about the Thanksgiving party that one of her room mothers had put together for her second grade class. “It was totally over the top,” Anna admitted, as she went into detail to describe the fancy decorations and foods that had probably been very expensive. “But the kids actually seemed to like it.”
“Where does this china go?” Donna asked as she set the last plate with the others on the countertop.
“Back into its crates.”
Michael poked his head in the doorway from the dining room. “Need any help in here?”
“Sure.” Anna turned the flame up under the teakettle. “You can help me get the crates and pack up these dishes and get them out of here.”
“Nice dinner, Anna,” Michael said as they walked back to the spare bedroom.
“Thanks.”
Michael picked up a plastic crate, then paused to glance around the guest room. “You know, I’ve been thinking about converting this room into a home office.”
“But where would we put company?”
“Well, I thought maybe the, uh, the other room . . .”
Anna bit her lip but didn’t say anything.
“It has really nice light in there,” he added.
Anna felt her throat tighten. “That’s true, it does.”
“And I thought if I had a home office, maybe I could work at home more. You know it’s been hard starting up the new business, but if I could get set up at home, I could spend more time here. And I thought maybe I could repaint this room, like a dark blue or green or burgundy, sort of like a den or library, with some bookshelves. Maybe you’d want to use it too, for lesson plans or grading or whatever.”
Anna brightened a bit. “That does sound nice, and dark paint would look good with the woodwork and crown molding.”
“So maybe we should store your china set in the, uh, other room for now,” Michael said as they carried the empty crates back to the kitchen. “It’ll be one less thing to move out when I start to paint in there.”
“I guess so . . .” Even as she said this, Anna knew she lacked enthusiasm. Still, she tried to process Michael’s suggestions as she walked back to the kitchen.
“Want me to make coffee now?” Donna held up the empty carafe.
“Sure.” Anna unzipped one of the many quilted containers, slipped in a china plate, and topped it with a circular pad to protect it from the next plate – just the way Great-Gran had shown her.
“Goodness.” Donna paused from measuring coffee and watched Anna and Michael carefully putting the delicate pieces away. “I didn’t realize that china was so much trouble.”
“It’s just that I don’t have a proper place to keep it.”
“You need a china cabinet, Anna.”
“That would be nice.”
“I don’t know why you didn’t just use your regular set of dishes,” Donna continued. “They’re pretty enough.”
“Because this china is special,” Anna said. “And I thought the family, especially Grandma Lily, would enjoy seeing it out again.”
Donna examined a teacup. “I suppose so . . . but it’s certainly a lot of work.”
“I don’t mind.” Anna picked up a full crate and carried it back toward the spare bedroom.
“Let’s put it in the other room,” Michael said from behind her. “Remember?”
“Oh, yeah . . .” She paused, actually holding her breath as he balanced the crate on one side and reached for the doorknob. She hadn’t seen this room for a while. Probably not since last summer when she’d retrieved a diaper bag that she knew Meredith could use, since her other one had split at the seams. And she knew Meredith had put Jackson down for a nap in here today, but Anna had been busy in the kitchen at the time . . . and now they were probably out in the living room with the grandmas.
Anna cautiously walked into the room, feeling almost surprised to see that it was just as cheerful as ever. The walls were still a warm buttery yellow, and the creamy white nursery furnishings – the changing table, crib, dresser, and rocking chair – were still in their places, although Meri had left a red and blue baby quilt behind. Anna had long since stowed the pretty pastel bedding and stuffed plush animals. It had been too difficult to see those cheerful baby items placed around the room . . . so expectant and waiting.
Michael set his crate down against the wall, then slowly removed the one that Anna was still holding. “I know this isn’t easy, honey, but I’ve been thinking we should clear this room out,” he said quietly.
She nodded, a hard lump forming in her throat. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“Maybe we could give the furniture to David and Celeste. I mean, despite how she goes on about how great they’re doing, your brother admitted to me that he wasn’t financially ready for this baby yet, what with recently getting that new house and all.”
“Yes, that’s a nice idea, Michael.” She tried to feign enthusiasm as she ran her hand over the smooth surface of the crib’s headboard, then picked up Jackson’s bright quilt and folded it neatly, placing it under her arm. She remembered how she had carefully researched this line of infant furniture online, looking for the safest manufacturers available. Making sure that it was nontoxic paint, and that the railing posts weren’t too far apart, and that there were no fancy knobs or things for a baby’s clothing to get caught on. No, she would have no concerns over the safety of her brother’s baby with this well-made line of furniture. Still, it was so hard to let it go – such a final good-bye to old dreams. And what about the possibility of adoption? Yet that seemed unlikely since their savings account was gone, plus they’d incurred a small mountain of debt when they’d “invested” in every imaginable fertility treatment available.
Anna was blinking back tears now, staring down at the ugly tan plastic crates that were now cluttering what she had once considered something of a sanctuary. “Do we really need to store the china in here?”
Michael reached over and put his arm around her shoulders. “I know it’s hard . . . but we need to move on, Anna.”
“I know, but I just don’t like seeing the crates in here.”
“Well, ike I said, I want to paint that other room . . . and, as you know, we’re a little short on storage in our little house, and I – ”
“Fine!” She turned and glared at him. She knew she was being unreasonable, but suddenly she felt angry. Really angry. “Your old MG – a car that doesn’t even run – takes up our entire garage, Michael. And whether it’s raining or snowing or sleeting, I have to park my car on the street. But do I complain about that? Do I?”
“But, Anna, that’s because it’s – ”
“It’s just fine, Michael. You come and you go. You do as you please. You’ll get your home office and you’ll ruin this little room – this nursery that I – I love. Well, fine, it’s just perfectly fine. Don’t worry about me. Just as long as you’re happy. I’ll be just fine!
” Michael blinked and stepped back. “But, Anna, that’s not what I want – ”
“Excuse me, Michael, I need to go serve dessert now!”
As she turned and stomped back to the kitchen, she knew
that she was acting totally crazy, not to mention completely out of character. She knew that she was being irrational, and if any members of her family had overheard her little tantrum, they would wonder what on earth had come over her. This was so unlike her. But for a change, Anna didn’t really care what anyone thought. Let them wonder. Let them speculate. Maybe it was time she acted up.
2
As she got ready for bed, Anna still felt bad about her temper tantrum. Really, what had come over her? Maybe she was simply stressed. Certainly, it had been a long day. And she’d spent the previous afternoon, and late into the night, preparing things for Thanksgiving. Still, there was no denying that she hadn’t felt like herself for several weeks now. She leaned against the bathroom vanity and peered at her image in the brightly lit mirror. Naturally, she looked tired. But who wouldn’t be exhausted after a full house of relatives and a long day like today? And judging by the dark circles beneath her eyes, she was probably slightly iron deficient again. No big surprise there. Out of habit, she had taken prenatal vitamins plus iron for years . . . well, up until a few months ago when she just couldn’t stand to see that prenatal label one more time. She’d promised herself to pick up a regular brand of vitamins but then had forgotten.
She leaned even closer to the mirror now, examining the gray hairs that seemed to be multiplying daily. Like her mother, she had been blessed with a full head of thick, dark, curly hair. And like her mother, she had been going prematurely gray since her late twenties. At first she’d tried to cover it, but then she’d heard that rumor about cancer being linked to hair dyes, plus Michael had insisted he liked her hair just the way it was. And so she’d decided to go with the flow, letting nature take its course, which was apparently the fast track. But didn’t the Bible say that silver hair was a crown of glory? At this rate, she’d be glorious by the time she reached forty.
Anna reached for her bottle of Tums, noticing that it was nearly empty. Hadn’t she just gotten it last week? But her stomach felt worse than usual tonight. Probably from too much rich food . . . although she’d tried to go light on dinner and hadn’t even touched dessert. She popped a couple of the chalky tablets and even considered mentioning her stomach problems to Michael, just to hear his thoughts. He had a knack for distributing good medical advice. But he was probably asleep by now anyway. As usual, they’d already kissed and made amends – maintaining their promise to never go to sleep mad. But the truth was Anna still felt a little out of sorts over his comment about her needing to move on. That was easy for him to say.
Yet, as she brushed her teeth, she told herself that Michael was right. She knew it made perfectly good sense to turn their spare room into a home office. In fact, it was a great idea, and she’d probably enjoy the room too. As she flossed, she knew she would love to have him at home more. It seemed he’d been gone so much these past couple of weeks. Furthermore, she was well aware that the baby nursery had a great southern exposure and would make a delightful guest room. It all made total sense.
Except for the fact that she just didn’t want to let it go yet. Despite that it had been nearly three years since she’d miscarried the only pregnancy that, with the help of modern medical technology, she’d actually managed to carry for almost six months, and despite that they had exhausted their financial resources as well as their limited supply of frozen eggs and sperm, Anna still didn’t feel she was ready to give up. Good grief, she was only thirty-seven. Besides, she believed miracles could still happen. Well, at least she believed that on a good day. Today had not been a particularly good day. But tomorrow might be better. Especially if her stomach felt better . . . and if she could just get her energy back. As Anna applied moisturizer to the fine lines that had recently fanned out around the edges of her eyes, she promised herself that she would eat sensibly tomorrow, whole grains and fruits and vegetables, and she would go for a nice long walk with Huntley, their elderly beagle, and she would not forget to take her vitamins – prenatal or not. Although she wondered if the iron might aggravate her stomach even more.
For good measure, she popped another Tums tablet and hoped that it would do the trick. At first she’d assumed that these digestion problems were just a lingering case of a pesky strain of flu that had swept like wildfire through the elementary school last month. But now she wasn’t so sure. And about a week ago, an old nagging fear had begun to gnaw at her again – tugging at the corners of her mind and trying to get her full attention. But she had put it off, telling herself that she’d think about it later . . . sometime when she wasn’t so busy – perhaps during winter break, which was only a couple of weeks away now.
Anna rubbed lotion on her elbows and reminded herself that she was overdue for a gynecologist appointment, but after that last one – a year and a half ago – when Dr. Daruka had given her the hopeless prognosis on ever getting pregnant, Anna hadn’t bothered to reschedule her annual checkup. She’d had enough doctor appointments to last a lifetime, and if she ever put her feet in those horrid stainless steel stirrups again, it would be way too soon.
She clicked off the bathroom light and went to the kitchen to make sure that Huntley had fresh water in his dish. He’d been slightly neglected today. She gave him a Milk-Bone, a pat on the head, and a promise for a walk in the morning, then turned off the kitchen light. But on her way back to the bedroom, she paused in the hallway, stopping to gaze at an old family portrait. Anna had been about thirteen when it was taken and nearly as tall as her mom, plus her feet had gotten big enough to wear Mom’s shoes. Feeling rather grown up, Anna had been trying out a new eighties-style hairdo that made her head look enormous, but at the time Anna had thought she was styling. Meredith had been eleven at the time, smiling broadly to show off her shiny new braces that she would later come to hate. And David, at nine, was gangly with an impish look in his eyes. Mom and Dad were seated in front, holding hands and looking generally pleased about life, as if they had no idea what was just around the corner.
Once again Anna got hit with that eerie sense of déjà vu – that haunting feeling that history was about to repeat itself. Of course, this time it would be different. There wouldn’t be three children left behind to grieve – only a husband and an aging beagle. She stared into her mother’s dark brown eyes, so much like her own, and attempted to discern whether or not Mom had known the truth when the photo was taken. She’d been so urgent about getting everyone to the portrait studio that Anna had later been suspicious – as if there wasn’t much time left and Mom had to get this shot while everyone was still able to smile . . . and while Mom still had a full head of hair. Anna’s mother had been only thirty-six when the family portrait was taken . . . and thirty-seven when she’d succumbed to ovarian cancer just a bit more than a year later – only months older than Anna was now. A chill ran through Anna, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, then realized that she was standing in the drafty hallway with bare feet and only a summer-weight cotton nightgown to keep her warm. Who wouldn’t be cold?
She hurried to the bedroom, slipped quietly into bed, and wished she could warm her chilly feet on Michael. But she knew that would wake him . . . and then she might suddenly begin to talk – about everything. She might toss aside all inhibition and simply unload these things on him, dumping all her anxiety and concern, as well as Dr. Daruka’s numerous warnings that Anna needed to watch out for that “genetic connection.”
Everyone in her family had always acknowledged that Anna looked “just like Mom.” But Anna’s secret fear had always been that she and her mother had more than their outward appearances in common.
Everything in her wanted to wake Michael now. To sob out her fears and to feel his arms wrap around her as he assured her that everything was going to be okay. But tomorrow was a workday for him. And, she reminded herself, he had enough stress on the job these days. Building a new business wasn’t easy – especially during the holidays. He didn’t need her worries added t
o his ever-growing pile. Plus she knew that this kind of angst was always the worst at night. By the light of day, she would probably laugh at her silly paranoia.
3
Anna hadn’t really meant to sleep in the next morning, but by the time she woke up, it was nearly nine o’clock and Michael had already gone to work. But right next to the coffeemaker, which was half full and still hot, he’d left a note saying that he’d be working late again tonight and that he expected to be home after eight. Then he’d added, “Have a nice day. Love, Michael.”
“I intend to have a nice day,” she said aloud as she poured herself a cup of coffee and picked up the newspaper. Huntley’s tail began to thump, and she wondered if he remembered last night’s promise to take him for a walk this morning. Well, she would keep that promise . . . as well as the others she’d made. With a three-day weekend to look forward to, Anna planned to start taking better care of herself. Sure, last night’s panic attack did seem rather ridiculous in the light of day, but just the same it was a good warning to pay attention to her health. Then, after just a few of sips of coffee, she got that same uneasy twisting in her stomach again, followed by the feeling that all was not well.
Anna shoved the newspaper aside, went to find her laptop, and set it on the dining room table that Michael must’ve moved back in here before going to work earlier. The table was an old beater that she’d gotten at a garage sale shortly after they were married. She’d painted it pale green and found some mismatched chairs that she’d sewn chair pads for, promising herself that someday she’d get a real dining room set – something worthy of Great-Gran’s china. But, like so many other things, “someday” hadn’t come.
Anna opened the laptop and turned on the power, then went back to the kitchen to heat up the teakettle. What she needed right now was a nice hot cup of green tea. It would be part of her new “get healthy” plan. But as she waited for her sluggish computer to get online and for the teakettle to whistle, she started to feel slightly panicky again. What if something really was wrong? To distract herself, she popped two slices of wheat bread into the toaster and went to the pantry in search of some orange marmalade.
The Joy of Christmas Page 16