“We should paint the baby’s room pink. We’ll get her a pink tricycle. A pink puppy. We’ll play Pink for her.”
In the passenger seat, Emma fastened the seat belt and rubbed her belly. “Do you hear that? Your father is a nutcase.”
“But I love her.” Jake palmed her tummy and spoke to the baby. “I’m celebrating your girl-ness.”
Emma laughed. She put her hand over Jake’s and turned to him. Something about his broad smile and sleepy eyes gave his face an openness; Jake was a clear lake, and she felt confident that she could see straight through to the bottom and everything there was pure and loving and good. Emma hoped their baby would have that same quality—a broad, friendly face that beamed with approval.
“You’re going to make a great father.”
The house was dark when Jake pulled up in front. Emma opened the door to the sounds of barking coming from the house next door, mixed with the awful shrieking of a small animal or child.
“Is that Annabelle?” The wails pierced the cold, dry air. Emma closed the car door and tried to filter out the yapping of the neighbor’s rat dog.
“Where is she?” Jake leaped over the curb. “Are they out in the backyard?”
Since Emma had a key to the side door, they headed up the driveway that separated Chelsea and Leo’s property from their obnoxious neighbor, Louise Pickler. The wailing grew louder as they approached the shadowed darkness under the carport.
“Chelsea?” Emma called tentatively. “Are you there?” She imagined her sister in a daze, dozing on the little bench.
But the only answer was the shriek from the stroller that Emma was just beginning to make out beside the brick steps.
“The baby is out here all alone.” Jake paused to lean over the stroller. “Are you okay?” He patted the blanket tucked over the crying baby. “She sounds mad.”
“Oh, poor baby!” Emma swooped down and lifted her from the stroller. “Are you cold and scared?” The baby felt stiff in her arms. Emma cuddled and cooed, trying to calm her. Annie’s protests faded to a whimper as she pressed her face to Emma’s chest, nuzzling for milk. “Where’s your mommy?”
“That’s what I’m wondering. I hope Chelsea’s okay.” Jake unlocked the door and held the storm door open for Emma and the baby.
Inside, the kitchen was dark but it smelled clean. Emma flicked the wall switch and the overhead light popped, sparked, and fizzled out. She held Annie close to her chest, ready to bolt out the door. “What the hell is going on here?”
“The light shorted out because it’s wet.” Chelsea’s dead voice came from the darkness of the living room. “A valve broke upstairs and everything got flooded.”
“Oh, honey. Are you okay?” Emma asked as a table lamp flicked on, revealing mops and buckets leaning against the kitchen counter, and Chelsea in her usual spot on the couch.
Jake blinked in the light, looking around the lampshade at Chelsea. “We found Annie outside in the cold. Did you forget her out there?”
“Annie? Oh. I must have left her out there.” Chelsea rubbed her eyes, then pushed herself to the edge of the couch to twist around toward the changing table. “Is she all right?”
“She needs a diaper change.” Under the blanket, the baby was soaked through.
Chelsea rubbed her eyes. “I don’t think she was out there very long. It was just a few minutes.”
With a diaper this wet and soiled, it had been more than a few minutes. Emma didn’t want to upset Chelsea, but this was scary behavior. She didn’t want to think of the terrible things that could have happened to Annabelle. And what if she and Jake hadn’t stopped by?
“The important thing is that you’re both okay.” Jake kneeled behind the coffee table opposite Chelsea, his voice soothing. Emma loved the way he could calm a volatile situation. “I don’t know what you used to mop up that water, but your kitchen sure smells clean.”
“A little Murphy Oil Soap.” Chelsea raked her dark hair back, and her pretty heart-shaped face revealed the shadows of exhaustion. “It was such a mess.”
“Well, it looks pretty good now,” Jake said, kindly ignoring the mops and buckets.
“And everyone smells better now,” Emma said quietly, walking her fingers over Annabelle’s tummy. A poem that their mom had made up popped into her head. “Elephant dad, wrinkled and gray, nudges his baby to greet the day. Elephant mom bats her eyes, telling her baby to reach for the sky.”
Annie grinned, watching her with bright eyes.
Emma leaned close, breathing in her baby scent. “Such a sweet baby elephant.”
“You two in the mood for some dinner?” Jake asked.
Before Chelsea could answer the doorbell rang.
“Hold that thought,” Jake said, going to answer it.
Emma fastened the last snap on yellow fleece footie pajamas that made Annie resemble a little duckling.
“What’s going on, officer?” asked Jake.
Emma’s heart leaped in her chest. Sweeping Annie into her arms, she went toward the door.
“Someone reported an abandoned infant at this address.” The officer seemed small under his bulky, dark winter coat and equipment. The radio clipped to his shoulder, the holstered gun and a nightstick hanging from his belt . . . he seemed so confrontational, standing there in the front vestibule. “Do you know anything about that?”
“There’s only one infant at this address.” Jake pointed to Annabelle. “And as you can see she’s fine now. But she has been crying.”
“And she was outside,” added Emma. “Sometimes the fresh air calms them.”
The officer nodded, obviously satisfied with the explanation. “I’m glad everything’s okay.”
“Who called?” Chelsea asked.
“One of your neighbors.”
“Probably Louise Pickler,” Chelsea said.
The cop didn’t confirm or deny it as Jake led him to the door.
“I thought Pickler spent the winters down in the Carolinas,” Emma said.
“Unfortunately, she rode her broom back early this year.”
Emma was torn between hatred of that wicked Ms. Pickler with her yapping dog and concern that her sister would actually leave Annabelle out in the cold. It was in the thirties, and the temperature was dropping quickly. Chelsea could not risk leaving Annabelle outside anymore.
When Jake left to get some Thai food, Emma seized the opportunity to talk with her sister.
“I hope you don’t think that I’m criticizing you, but it was pretty scary pulling up here and finding Annabelle crying outside. I hope you know that it’s not okay to leave the baby in the cold.”
In the pale light of the living room, Chelsea’s eyes glistened like blue diamonds. Was she feverish, or were those simply tears? She cried so much these days.
“I know that. I wasn’t planning to leave her out, and she was only out there for a little bit. The cold air seemed to soothe her. I stepped inside for a minute, just to pee, and then I just sort of collapsed.”
“Next time, just make sure she’s safely locked inside before you collapse.”
Chelsea nodded as a sob slipped out. “I’m so bad at this. I’m a terrible mother, a failure, and no matter how I try, it never gets any better. And it won’t get any better because I can’t do this. I just can’t.”
Emma looked down at Annie, lying on her back on the floor, reaching up at the plastic toys dangling from the portable mobile over her head. Please, don’t listen to this, Annie-bananee, Emma wanted to tell her. Don’t take any of it personally.
“It’s all so overwhelming. Just when I think I’m starting to gain control, something else falls out of place.”
“It’s been hard for you,” Emma said. “But you’re a good mother. Look at how determined you’ve stayed to breast-feed. That’s so good for Annie, even though you’re losing sleep for it.” She sat beside her sister and rubbed her back. “Do you want me to stay tonight? If you want to pump, I can do one of the feedings for you.”
Chelsea took a deep breath. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
Emma’s conscience pushed her to argue, but she really didn’t want to stay. They were having a baby girl, and she wanted to spend the night at home with her husband, celebrating in their quiet way.
“I need something to drink. Some milk or herb tea or something.”
“Here’s milk.” She handed Chelsea a small container of milk from the fridge. “And I’ll make tea for both of us.” She put the kettle under the sink, but when she turned the faucet on, nothing happened. “No water?”
“I had to turn it off on this side of the house. You can fill it in the bathroom under the stairs.”
Emma crossed the living room with the teapot. “Sort of like camping.”
Chelsea started crying again. “You’re always so positive. I can’t even think good thoughts anymore.”
“Aw, honey . . . you’ll get your positive mojo back. Let’s start with that visit to Dr. Chin on Wednesday. You did get a sitter. . . .”
“That high school girl is coming. I guess she’s okay during the week when the boyfriend isn’t around.”
“Good. See, you did get something accomplished today. I would have watched Annie for you, but I have a faculty meeting Wednesday afternoon that I just can’t miss.” As she pulled the dead leaves from a houseplant in the kitchen window, an old childhood memory threaded through her mind. Mom had loved flowers and plants, and she had enjoyed teaching her daughters about pruning and watering and planting seasons.
“You know, I can’t take Wednesday, but I can take off tomorrow. We can do something together.” She knew the perfect place to help lift Chelsea’s spirits. “We need to get you and Annie out of the house.”
“Don’t miss work for me,” Chelsea said, staring down at the milk carton. “And I have to get a plumber here tomorrow.”
“Schedule him in the afternoon. We’ll be back by three. And I’m happy to miss work. I have vacation days I need to take before the end of the year.” There was a tap on the door, and she opened it to find Jake smiling over two plastic bags.
“The green curry noodle smells great,” he said.
“Yum. Thanks for doing that.” Emma smiled, happy to have a plan. She fetched flatware and plates . . . then backtracked and dug paper plates out of Chelsea’s pantry to save them from washing dishes in the little bathroom under the stairs. “I’ll call for a sub. We’re going on a field trip, and no excuses about being tired. I’ll pick you and Annie up at ten.”
The next morning Emma arrived at Chelsea’s house to find a box of muffins sitting on the side porch under the carport. The index card taped to the box read: GOOD NEIGHBORS HELP EACH OTHER. Hmm.
She knocked three times, then keyed her way in. “Good morning.” She dropped the muffins on the counter. “Looks like you got some homemade muffins from one of your neighbors.” When there was no answer, she stepped to the bottom of the stairs and called up. “Chelsea?”
“Almost ready!” Chelsea called back.
“Take your time. I’m going to leave these muffins on the counter.”
“Muffins? What kind?”
Emma dipped her finger in the frosting and took a taste. “Carrot with cream cheese frosting.”
“Yum,” Chelsea answered.
Annie’s eyes seemed huge and round, framed by the fleece lining of her little hood as Chelsea carried her down the stairs.
“What an adorable snowsuit,” Emma said.
“Isn’t it cute? I’ll save it for your baby. I’m sure Annie will be out of it by next winter.”
Emma beamed. Next winter, they would have two babies in tow. Maybe they would do trips like this once or twice a week. “What time do you have to be back for the plumber?”
“Not coming until Thursday. It would have cost extra to get them here today.”
“Thank God you have a second bathroom,” Emma said.
Chelsea nodded. “Looks like I’ll be camping out of the downstairs bathroom for a while.”
On the way to the gardens, Chelsea was withdrawn and quiet, staring out the window with a bland expression. Emma hoped that her news would bring a spark of interest to her sister’s eyes.
“I found out something exciting yesterday. We went for an amnio, and the technician told us she’s positive we’re having a girl. Another baby girl in our family.”
“Is that good?” Chelsea’s fingertips ran along the edge of the seat belt, as if searching for an encoded message there. “Is that what you want?”
“We want a healthy baby, but we’re thrilled to know that it’s a girl. And she’ll be in the same grade as Annabelle. Just think about that. They can do dance class and Girl Scouts and soccer together.”
“Sometimes I can’t believe those days will ever come.”
“They will, honey. You said it yourself. Next winter Annabelle will have outgrown her snowsuit.”
Chelsea leaned back against the headrest and took a deep breath. “You’re right. Time is marching on. I have to keep up.”
When Emma turned through the gates to the New York Botanical Garden, Chelsea turned toward the window. “Is this the surprise?”
“Yup. I know the weather’s crummy, but the conservatory is open, along with a few of the gardens.”
“I was sort of hoping for a pedicure or massage,” Chelsea said, and Emma smiled at the hint of the old, wry Chelsea.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Emma said as she leaned into the backseat to unbuckle Annabelle. The baby’s face remained calm and expressionless until Emma lifted her out into the stroller.
“She never sleeps through the transfer,” Chelsea said tightly.
“But she’s not crying. I think she’s going to like this. There’s a lot to see from down there.”
The steel-and-glass dome of the Haupt Conservatory, a Victorian-style greenhouse, was a sight familiar to Emma and Chelsea. Their parents had brought them here frequently as kids, and when the girls were older Judith’s volunteer work had lured them here for exhibitions and concerts. Although Emma never liked getting her hands dirty in flower boxes, she had been a sucker for the other projects—the papier-mâché flowers, the millions of ways you could decorate a planter. Chelsea had always been the one who liked to dig in to the soil, toss in mulch, and then skip along the trails like a fairytale character on a quest through the woods. Emma hoped that, coming here, Chelsea might reconnect with that sense of fun.
The conservatory was busier than Emma had expected. One school group was lined up in the lobby, another trailed their guide, who led them past green ferns for an eco-tour of the tropical rain forest entrance.
“Let’s check out the orchid show,” Emma said. “I think Annie will like the colors.”
The orchid show had been designed to display the exotic blossoms vertically, instead of just in flower beds, and the walls of bountiful blooms were breathtaking.
“Look at Annie,” Emma said as they paused before a fat pillar wrapped with ribbons of purple and white orchids. “She’s digging it.”
There was such intelligence in the baby’s eyes as she soaked in the colors and textures.
Emma picked her up and turned her so that she could face out. “Such a smart little girl,” she cooed into Annie’s ear. “I knew you would like the flowers.”
A guard standing at the end of the lane smiled at Annabelle. “Her first orchids?”
Emma nodded. “And she loves them. But that’s no surprise. Her grandmother used to work here. Our mom. She was a volunteer.”
The guard beamed. “Then it runs in the family.”
Chelsea’s gaze was fixed on white orchids speckled with maroon. “Remember how Mom used to bring us here when we were kids?”
That’s why we’re here . . . to unlock those memories and feelings.
Their mother had been diagnosed with stage four cancer last March, and without treatment she had been gone before the year’s end. Judith Maynard’s decision to refuse painful treatment didn’t s
it well with Chelsea, who had thought she was giving up.
“Mom loved it here,” Emma said. “Remember the children’s garden? In my mind, spring was never official until we came here and walked through the daffodils and crocus.”
“I used to love going off on the trails here,” Chelsea said. “And at home, the best time of year was when it was time to plant flowers and turn the soil.”
“You were always Mom’s helper in the garden.”
Chelsea’s face puckered with pain. “Well, that’s over now. She wanted it over.”
The orange and white and yellow blooms became a blur of color as Emma felt herself choking up. “Chelsea, she didn’t want to die.” But faced with either death or a round of painful treatment that wasn’t going to save her life, Mom had made her choice.
“If she’d undergone the treatments, she would still be here,” Chelsea insisted. “She would be here for me. She could have met her granddaughter. Now Annabelle will never know her . . . and I really need her.”
“I miss her, too,” Emma admitted, “but we can’t be mad at her for dying. The treatment wouldn’t have prolonged her life much. She was leaving us, and she had a right to choose to exit with speed and grace.”
“She gave up.” Chelsea sat down on a bench and folded her arms. “And I’ll never forgive her for that. She left me here all alone with this baby that I don’t feel any love for. It’s her fault.”
“Hold on a sec.”
Chelsea watched glumly as Emma cradled Annabelle for a moment, then discreetly placed her in her stroller at the far end of the bench from Chelsea. Maybe it was an overreaction, but she didn’t think Annie should hear things like that from her mother.
Emma perched tentatively beside her sister. “I know we don’t talk about Mom’s death, but you never had a chance to grieve. You became a mother before you had a chance to say good-bye to your own mother.”
Chelsea’s eyes were shiny with tears. “But I wanted this baby. Our little house and a little baby—that was all I ever wanted, and now . . .” She sobbed.
Emma reached her arms around her sister and squeezed her tight. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring her here today. She was no therapist.
All She Ever Wanted Page 11