Fear mongering led to profit. Sarah was not too young or naive to realize that. But not every person or service offered could be a scam. There had to be some good products, some effective methods, some legitimate advice givers out there. The trouble was in distinguishing between a slick but ultimately empty sales pitch and words and products of genuine quality.
Sarah supposed that every parent—every adult, really—had to negotiate that line for herself. It was a scary thought. There would be plenty of people eager to tell her that her ideas were wrong, and only because she was so young.
After a while Sarah gathered the empty wrappers, pudding cup, and spoon, and went inside. Spike had long since disappeared into the woods. The crows, still watching her closely, would have to scavenge elsewhere. She had promised her mother she would vacuum both floors of the house that afternoon. At the very least it would—she hoped—take her mind off more troubling matters.
Chapter 47
Adelaide had just settled at her desk in the den to balance the checkbook and pay a few bills online. A half hour earlier Cordelia had come home from Sarah’s house with a tear-streaked face. She had claimed that nothing was wrong, but it was clear that something upsetting had happened between the girls. Well, that wasn’t unlikely, given the situation. Suddenly, Cordelia and Sarah each existed in a very different reality. Cordelia’s biggest responsibility was doing well in school; Sarah’s was preparing to be a good mother to her fatherless child.
Adelaide opened her laptop and stared at the blank screen. She hadn’t told Jack that she had been pushing the notion of an adoption with Cindy. She knew that her husband would not approve. He would counsel her to mind her own business, and he would be right. He would remind her that her own past experience might be unduly coloring her thoughts about Sarah and her unborn child.
And he would be right about that, too. Lately, Adelaide had been feeling that she was losing control of not only her emotions but also of the psychological structure she had built up over the years that helped her put one foot in front of the other. More than ever, there were moments when the pain of her loss felt as keen as it had felt twenty-one years ago.
She wondered if there really were women who had been able to put to rest all regrets and sorrow about the child they had given up for adoption. Well, Adelaide thought, if there were such women, were they brave enough to admit their success? She hadn’t gone to a support group since before Cordelia was born, but maybe she should consider joining one again. Maybe.
Right now there were those bills to pay. But they would wait another moment. Because against all reason, Adelaide found herself sorely tempted to do an Internet search for Michael Baker. She hadn’t had the impulse in almost a year. If Michael Baker was indeed famous, she should be able to find information about him in just a few keystrokes. Her hands hovered over the keyboard. It would be so simple.
And then she heard the front door open. It would be Jack, home from the hardware store. Suddenly, she was overcome with guilt, as if by even considering looking for the father of her first child she were somehow betraying her husband.
Adelaide slapped her laptop shut and hurried from the den, bills forgotten.
Chapter 48
Cindy stood in front of the closet she shared with her husband. Her clothes were hung on the right side, his on the left. She reached for a pair of chinos and hesitated. No, she thought. She couldn’t wear those. The hems were ragged. They had already been turned up once and would not stand another turning up. She would have to break down and buy a new pair, and a new white blouse, as well. There was a stain on the sleeve of the one she had had for four years that would not budge no matter how often she presoaked and scrubbed.
She would try the resale shops first, of course, and Reny’s. Paying full price for clothing was a thing of the past now that there would be a new baby to feed, not that she had ever been a big fan of spending full price without good reason.
Cindy suddenly felt a rush of intense irritation. If Sarah hadn’t gotten pregnant, then the family wouldn’t be in this mess! Why shouldn’t she be able to have a brand-new pair of pants if she wanted them? Didn’t she deserve decent clothing?
Her hands shaking, Cindy sat on the side of the bed. She felt slightly sick. Where had this anger come from? She was not angry with her daughter. She was angry with herself and with Justin Morrow and with his parents. But she was not angry with Sarah. She couldn’t be.
With effort, Cindy got her emotions in hand. Things could be a lot worse than they were. She had so much for which to be grateful, like the fact that June Morrow seemed to have lost interest in harassing the Bauers. For the past few weeks, Cindy had been living in dread of her next move, but the phone had not rung and Adelaide had not reported hearing any gossip around town. It seemed that Mrs. Morrow’s ill will had been satisfactorily spent by that threatening phone call. Maybe reason had prevailed and she had realized that if she pursued a path of punishment against Sarah there was little chance her son would escape with his already tarnished reputation any brighter. It didn’t matter why she was keeping quiet. Her silence was golden and the Bauer family secret was safe, for now. Not that Sarah’s pregnancy was anything of which to be ashamed. Still, Cindy wanted to retain control over the telling. She dreaded the thought of her daughter’s name being bandied about by people who knew her only through the gossip vine. Rarely did gossip paint its subjects in a positive light.
Cindy concentrated on taking slow and even breaths. She was meeting Adelaide at the shop that morning to continue the preliminary work on the baby’s quilt, and she wanted to be in a good frame of mind to approach the important project. The beauty of a quilt was that it was a practical item as well as something that would grow in sentimental value. It was art with a purpose that everyone could recognize. And the process of creating a quilt was often a healing experience, especially, Cindy believed, when it involved women working together in a collective effort toward a common goal. The act of creation was the making of history, the stuff of daily life that united human beings over the months and years and decades and centuries.
Her mother had taught her that.
Cindy realized that she was crying. She so wished her mother were still alive to counsel her. She could admit only to her mother, not even to Joe, that she felt resentment toward Sarah for having so carelessly thrust the family into this situation. And she imagined her mother’s gentle voice, reminding her that she was not trapped in a bleak art house film or a sentimental Victorian novel. Hers was a twenty-first-century life, being lived in real time, not on a screen or a page, and Sarah was a strong young woman with the full support of her family. Cindy just had to believe that everything would be all right in the end. Difficult, yes, but all right. The baby would be born, and the Bauer family would simply continue on.
That shouldn’t be too much to hope for.
Cindy finished dressing and went downstairs to the kitchen. From the fridge she grabbed the lunch she had packed in a brown paper bag the night before. Then she bundled into her coat and boots, hat and gloves and went out to her car, walking very carefully so as not to slide on a tricky bit of mud.
Chapter 49
“I’m sorry I got so angry at you. I know you were only trying to help.”
The girls were in Sarah’s room after school, Cordelia on Sarah’s bed and Sarah in her desk chair. They had been awkward with each other all day (when they saw each other, that is; they did not share every class) until they were on the school bus at the end of the day and Sarah had asked Cordelia to come to her house.
“I mean,” she had added, looking down at her lap, “if you want to.”
Cordelia had felt an enormous sensation of relief and thankfulness. She knew then that Sarah wanted reconciliation as much as she did. Cordelia and Sarah were not meant to be enemies.
“That’s okay,” Cordelia said. “I was way out of line. I really was only trying to help but . . . well, I realized that I have absolutely no right to tell another
person to give away her child. I’d freak if someone told me to give my dog up for adoption. If I had a dog.”
Sarah smiled a watery smile. “I’m sorry,” she said, sniffing back tears. “I’m so sorry I ruined everything.”
“Oh, don’t say that!” Cordelia begged. “You have no reason to apologize to me, or to anyone else!”
“But everything is such a mess now. I just—” Sarah buried her face in her hands.
Cordelia fought back her own tears. “Please, please don’t be mean to yourself! I can’t stand it, Sarah, really I can’t! If anything is anyone’s fault, it’s that creep Justin’s. He’s the one who got you pregnant! I hate him. I’ve always hated him.”
Sarah lowered her hands and looked up at Cordelia through red eyes. “You hated him?”
“Well, maybe not hate. Disliked. I disliked him.”
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you pretend to like him?”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Cordelia explained. “Anyway, I wouldn’t say I did much pretending. I wasn’t really even nice to him. I just wasn’t awful. I mean, I don’t think I ever said more than ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ to him.”
“I guess that was pretty much all he ever said to you, too.”
“Pretty much. So what did you guys talk about? I mean, no offense, but it seemed like you had nothing in common.”
“You and I don’t have a lot in common, either, but we always have something to talk about, don’t we?”
“I guess that’s true. But it’s different between girls,” Cordelia pointed out. “We can always find something to talk about. Even complete strangers can find at least, I don’t know, three things they can chat about right off the bat. What they’re wearing, for one!”
“Maybe,” Sarah said. “Let’s see. Justin and I talked about—well, he liked to tell me about baseball. A lot. All the players’ names and stats and baseball history and who was being traded to what team and how much money they made.”
Cordelia wrinkled her nose. There was nothing in life she found more boring than sports. Playing sports, watching sports, talking about sports—it was all just a big yawn.
“It was actually kind of interesting,” Sarah protested. “Some of it. Once he took me to a game at Fenway, remember? I didn’t really like the crowds around the stadium—a lot of people were really loud and drunk—but the game was pretty exciting. A lot more exciting than it looks on television, anyway.”
Cordelia was beyond dubious. “If you say so. So what did you talk to him about?”
Sarah sighed. “I really can’t remember,” she said. “Not much, I guess. He wasn’t interested in nature. I found that out pretty quickly. And quilts were out, of course. He called quilting ‘girl stuff.’ He really didn’t read much so . . . I guess I mostly just listened. Justin liked to talk.”
“And to be heard.”
“That too.”
“Do you hate him?” Cordelia asked.
“No,” Sarah said promptly. And then, “Yes. Maybe a very tiny bit. But not enough to go out of my way to punish him. I mean, what would be the point?”
“It might make you feel better.”
“I doubt it.”
“Yeah. I doubt it, too. I was just wondering.”
“The revenge of the teenage mothers,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “I bet that would make a good reality show.”
Cordelia smiled and thought of an earlier conversation with Stevie. “You mean, all these young moms tracking down and harassing the deadbeat, irresponsible fathers of their babies?”
“Yeah.” Sarah shrugged. “It’s a silly idea.”
“Are you kidding me?” Cordelia laughed. “Some slimy producer is probably already making it!”
“You’re probably right. Too bad I hate having my picture taken. I could be on the show and make some real money. No, even if I was comfortable in front of a camera I would never air my dirty laundry in public.”
“What a weird old expression,” Cordelia said.
“Yeah, but it gets the idea across. Anyway, are you sure you’re not mad at me for . . . for all this?”
Again, Cordelia thought she might cry, but she swallowed hard and said, “No. Way. Girls have to stick together, right?”
“Okay.”
Cordelia got up from the bed. “I should be getting home now. I’ve got a ton of homework for some reason. It’s like, every one of my teachers got together this morning and decided to assign a huge amount of work just to annoy us!”
“Do you want me to see if my mom can drive you home?” Sarah asked.
“No, that’s okay. I could use the exercise. Blah!”
Sarah grinned. “Exercise is proven to make you happy.”
Cordelia grimaced and left the room.
Chapter 50
It was early March, still winter, but every so often, if you really tried, you could detect a hint of the coming spring. But not today. The sky was thick with lead-colored clouds and the air had a damp bite to it. Still, the roads were clear enough to allow Sarah to ride her bike to the grocery store. True, some stretches were rough, the asphalt eaten up by repeated layers of ice and salt, but Sarah rode slowly and defensively.
And as she pedaled, she thought about Justin. It had been so long since they had last spoken, the night she had told him she was pregnant. She had sent him so many texts, asking how he was doing, telling him that she had been to see the doctor, letting him know that she felt pretty good. But he hadn’t once texted back. He hadn’t once answered or returned any of her calls.
Maybe he was still angry with her for turning down his offer of marriage. Maybe he was still angry with her for messing up his carefree life. Maybe he was scared.
Whatever Justin’s motives for silence, Sarah had finally come to accept that it all boiled down to the fact that he didn’t care enough about her to overcome them. She was sad about this but not really surprised. She had pretty much expected to be abandoned. What did surprise her was that Justin seemed to have absolutely no interest in the life he had helped create.
But then she guessed that to Justin that life was only a nuisance, an accident to be regretted, and if at all possible, forgotten. She wondered if all guys in Justin’s situation felt so little interest in the baby they had made. Maybe. Probably. Maybe if Justin had been in love with her he would care. But he hadn’t been. He had never pretended to be, even while asking her to marry him. So really, what could she expect?
Nothing.
Sarah realized that she was coming up upon Justin’s friend Buck’s house. She had forgotten that he lived along this stretch of road. She rode past the house without glancing to the right to see if Justin’s truck might be in the yard. She dreaded the thought of running into him unprepared. It was doubtful he would be full of sincere inquiries and concern. He might ignore her. He might stop to talk but avoid meeting her eye. He might demand she keep the identity of her baby’s father a secret. But even if she did, before long everyone in Yorktide would have guessed the truth. It wasn’t as if Sarah had ever had another boyfriend.
A car passed her going way too fast on the damaged road, and Sarah felt tears spring to her eyes. It was all such a mess. Every day, no, every moment she felt plagued by a new doubt or worry. She simply wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t at all prepared to be a mother. It was ridiculous. It was absurd!
She felt panic sweep through her. The bike swerved dangerously, and with a heavily beating heart, Sarah regained control and pulled over to the side of the road. What if she had fallen and the baby had been hurt? How would she ever be able to handle the fact that she had damaged her own child?
Sarah wiped tears from her eyes with the back of her gloved hand. Maybe, she thought, she should consider giving up the baby for adoption after all. What had ever made her think that she was ready to be a mother?
No, she told herself firmly. She had made her decision, and she would stick to it and be the best mother she could be to her child. S
lowly, and very carefully, she steered her bike back onto the road.
When she got to the store, she locked her bike to the rack in front of the main entrance. The automatic doors slid back, and Sarah walked inside. She picked up a red plastic basket and headed directly for the produce section. Her mother wanted to make an orange fool for dessert. It was one of her father’s favorites. He had been having a particularly difficult week at work, and her mother felt that he deserved a treat.
Sarah noticed two women who were standing in front of a pyramid of bananas, set up just to the right of the bins of oranges and lemons and melons. The reason she noticed them was because unlike most local residents each was very smartly dressed (that was a term her mother used), one in a long leather coat, the other in a knee-length fur jacket. Each carried an enormous, structured leather bag. And each wore what Sarah guessed was real gold jewelry.
She didn’t recognize the women, or at least, she didn’t think that she recognized them. The one in the leather coat might have stopped into The Busy Bee once or twice, but Sarah thought she might be confusing her with someone else, one of the wealthier summer residents or a woman down from Kennebunkport for the day.
Sarah turned away from the women. Four or five big oranges, her mother had said. And maybe, Sarah thought, she would get a couple of grapefruit as well. Stevie loved grapefruit, especially in the winter. She said it made her think of summer and Clarissa liked to play with the rinds.
“Bill said he didn’t even give proper notice,” the woman in the leather coat was saying, “just announced he was moving to Massachusetts and off he went.”
“Well, Justin Morrow never was known for his sense of responsibility.”
Sarah’s hand stopped in mid reach. She felt her heart begin to race uncomfortably.
“You know,” the first woman went on, “I heard a rumor he got some high school girl pregnant. Maybe that’s why he was in such a hurry to get out of town.”
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