The Beach Quilt

by Holly Chamberlin

  “We no longer require your services,” Mrs. Blanchard had told her at the front door, a frown on her perfectly made-up face. “I must say that your—situation—doesn’t say much for your intelligence or for your sense of responsibility. My husband and I simply cannot allow you to be in charge of our children.”

  Sarah hadn’t even attempted to argue or to plead for understanding. She had simply turned away, face burning, and walked back down the manicured drive.

  Mrs. Blanchard had a right to decide who would watch her children, but why had she let Sarah make the trip to her house a half hour’s walk from her home? Why hadn’t she simply fired her over the phone? Why had she felt the need to humiliate her in front of that other sitter?

  Two days after that, another client had sent a curt note of dismissal. And just that morning, Mrs. Hill, the last of Sarah’s longtime clients, had called Cindy to say that Sarah’s services as a sitter were no longer required.

  “Those were the exact words she used?” Sarah asked, unwilling to believe she had heard correctly. “She wants someone unencumbered by pregnancy?”

  “The exact words. She feels that it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to run after and pick up a toddler when you were—encumbered.”

  “Oh.”

  Sarah bit her lip. This obvious lie was worse than the out and out disdain and the judgment of Mrs. Blanchard.

  Now, with the defection of Mrs. Hill, an important source of income had been entirely cut off. Staring morosely at the bank statement, Sarah couldn’t help but wonder if this were a sign of financial distress to come, of a social stigma she would be compelled to live under for the rest of her life. Had things really changed for women, or were they still subject to the old stereotypes—Madonna and Whore, Good Girl and Bad Girl? Could one mistake or accident made early in your life necessarily overshadow whatever good you accomplished in later years?

  “I’m sorry, Sarah,” her mother said then, putting a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, Mrs. Hill sounded sorry, too.”

  Sarah shrugged off her mother’s touch. Mrs. Hill’s feelings of guilt were worth nothing to her. What she needed was a job, not someone’s discomfort with her own prejudice.

  “It’s fine,” she said. She got up from the table.

  “I made some sketches recently, for the baby’s quilt,” her mother said. “Would you like to see them?”

  “Not now.”

  Part 2

  Friends are the threads of gold in the quilt of life.

  —Anonymous

  Chapter 55

  Adelaide looked at the calendar on the kitchen wall. June twenty-fifth. Where, she wondered, has the time gone? The spring really had seemed to fly by with astonishing speed. Adelaide had had plans to accomplish a host of little chores but so many remained undone. Like the pair of curtains she had meant to wash and the Adirondack chair she had meant to repaint before the summer season. At least she had kept up with her portion of the work for Sarah’s baby’s quilt. The five of them—Stevie was very much in on the project—had had their first real work session together just after the school term had ended and the girls had a little more free time on their hands.

  The Busy Bee was once again open full time, though business wouldn’t really pick up until well after the July fourth holiday. Still, it was nice to see familiar faces after so many months of near hibernation. Some of her customers had returned from second homes in Florida and were sporting tans. Adelaide felt ever so slightly jealous of these women, in spite of her better nature. Everyone had her troubles and concerns, even someone with money enough to afford a second home and winter sunbathing.

  Adelaide turned away from the calendar. Speaking of troubles and concerns, the reality of Sarah Bauer’s pregnancy had sunk in, though maybe not fully. There were still moments when Adelaide—and Jack, by his own admission—felt that they were going to wake up one morning to find that life had gone back to “normal.” There were still moments when Adelaide forgot that Sarah was pregnant and only remembered when Sarah came through the door. It was always a shock, this visible proof.

  It was confirmed that Sarah was due in late August. She was doing well. At least Adelaide hoped that she was. Physically, she was thriving. Emotionally . . . well, from what Adelaide could glean, she was doing as well as could be expected. Whatever, exactly, that meant. Certainly, she was enthusiastic about their quilt project.

  Cordelia, too, had seemed to settle into acceptance of her friend’s situation. Adelaide had been a little worried that Cordelia’s school performance was going to suffer as a result of the upheaval in her personal life, but she had pulled off her usual good grades.

  As far as Adelaide knew, there had been no word about Justin Morrow after he had defected to Massachusetts back in March. At least he wasn’t around to create more trouble. If Sarah missed him at all, she certainly hadn’t made it known to the Kanes, not even to Cordelia. Adelaide had seen Justin’s mother in the bank one afternoon about a month earlier. She had watched her chatting pleasantly with the teller and had wondered what sort of a woman would allow her son to abandon a girl he had gotten pregnant. But maybe June Morrow had no moral or emotional control over her son. Maybe his father was his son’s champion and had convinced his boy he had no responsibility to anyone but himself. Or maybe both Matt and June Morrow had pleaded with Justin to do right by Sarah—if not to marry her, then at least to help pay for the baby’s prenatal care—and he had simply fled the scene. Adelaide assumed she would never know the answers to any of those questions. If only she could stop speculating on them!

  Adelaide took a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge and poured herself a glass. She and Jack had decided to put off a vacation until the following year. They felt it would be unfair to burden Cindy with the running of the shop with Sarah due in August. Besides, there had been the unexpected expense of Adelaide’s new eyeglass prescription, as well as unforeseen repairs to the dishwasher and washing machine. The family deserved a vacation together, but people didn’t always get what they wanted, let alone what they deserved. The challenge was to accept what you did get—or what you could manage to wrangle—and make the best of it. Wasn’t it? Or was that sort of attitude defeatist, an excuse to embrace resignation?

  Adelaide realized she wasn’t in the mood to give the answers much thought. Instead, she got on with making dinner.

  Chapter 56

  The months had passed, March, April, and May slipping by in rapid succession until it was now almost the end of June. School was out until just after Labor Day and Cindy was back to work full time at The Busy Bee. Joe’s business was in full swing, and he was, as the saying went, making hay while the sun shined.

  Cindy was in the kitchen, preparing a chicken for dinner. Even after a busy day at the shop, she enjoyed making a meal. Cooking soothed her. And it allowed her mind to wander while she worked.

  Sarah was showing, though from behind, she still looked almost as slim and narrow as she had back in January. Her breasts were fuller, as, of course, was her belly, but she could still wear much of her usual clothing. She had escaped the curse of morning sickness and was eating an astonishing amount. There had been no alarming mood swings. Her energy level was high, at least until the evenings, and she was still able to keep up with her chores around the house and in the yard.

  Still, Cindy wondered if Sarah really felt as strong and capable as she seemed, or if she was just very determined to prove that she was still someone who could be relied upon and trusted. There wasn’t any way to tell; Sarah would never admit that she was trying to regain a love she was afraid she had jeopardized.

  To everyone’s relief, the baby continued to develop right on schedule and without any signs of trouble.

  Mrs. Morrow was keeping her silence, and Cindy had heard nothing further about her wayward son. She assumed he was still working for his uncle in Massachusetts (that had been the story put around) but who knew where he really was hiding. Joe, too, had heard nothing
except for a few disparaging remarks thrown about by some of his employees right after Justin had gone off. It seemed that no one in Yorktide had ever thought very highly of Justin Morrow. The consensus was that he was a nice enough kid but not very smart or reliable.

  Well, Cindy thought, the Bauers could vouch for that!

  Sarah’s pregnancy hadn’t been a private matter for months. Mrs. Wade, their nearest neighbor, had been one of the first to approach Cindy, months earlier. Cindy hadn’t seen any point in denying Sarah’s pregnancy. Besides, Mrs. Wade was a good old soul; her pity was earnest and her pledge of support was, Cindy believed, genuine.

  In fact, on the whole, people had been kind and supportive. If they were also judgmental and critical (Cindy thought of Mrs. Blanchard and Mrs. Hill and the other women who had dropped Sarah as a sitter), they were mostly keeping those attitudes to themselves, and for that small favor Cindy was grateful.

  The family had learned that Sarah was having a boy, though Sarah had yet to decide upon a name. At first, Cindy had thought that knowing the baby’s sex would help them in designing the quilt. Boys liked trains and cars, didn’t they? Well, some did, but others didn’t. Maybe Sarah’s son would prefer flowers to dinosaurs or yellow to blue or writing stories to playing sports. In the end, Cindy and Sarah had decided on a seaside theme. The five of them were tasked with creating images of red lobsters, cobalt blue fish, tan shells, gray and white seagulls, fanciful purple starfish, and beach roses in deep pink, all of which would be placed against a cream-colored background. There was some degree of design beyond that, but the unspoken agreement seemed to be that the baby’s quilt would be—how to put it nicely? A bit more haphazard than it might have been had Cindy and Adelaide had their way.

  Joe was not so secretly excited about the upcoming addition of another male to the Bauer household. He had already bought him a tiny Red Sox cap and had dug out from the attic a set of hand-carved wooden building blocks that had belonged to his father. Of course it would be some time before his grandson would be old enough to join him in his workshop or to play ball with him in the backyard. But it made Cindy happy to see him anticipating the birth so wholeheartedly. She hoped that it made Sarah happy, too.

  As for Stevie, well, she seemed to be okay, though she had been spending less time with her friends in the past weeks. When Cindy had asked if the girls had had a falling out, Stevie had said that no, everything was fine. How far, Cindy wondered, could you press for a particular answer without making it clear to your child you thought they were lying?

  Anyway, Stevie and Clarissa were still inseparable, and since Stevie took complete care of the cat—grooming her, cleaning the litter box several times a day, monitoring her diet—Cindy had no cause to complain. She would have preferred that Clarissa not join them at the dinner table, but no one else seemed to mind, so she let it be. Besides, Clarissa had proved to be a magnificent mouser. Not that Cindy’s house was at all dirty, but they did live in what amounted to a field and the occasional wee mouse was known to find its way inside. Clarissa dispatched them with speed and deposited them well away from the house. She was a kitty of refinement.

  Cindy slid the chicken into the oven to roast. For the moment things felt relatively stable and sure. But in a matter of months, there would be a new member of the Bauer family. And then the world would shift once again, and they would all have to regain their footing on new land.

  So be it.

  Chapter 57

  “Your room is really cool,” Cordelia said.

  It was the first time she had been in Stevie’s room since . . . well, come to think of it, she had never actually been inside Stevie’s room, just glanced in from the hall on her way to Sarah’s room.

  Cordelia had gone to the Bauers’ house to see if Sarah was around. She had found the front door unlocked, as it often was, and gone inside. There was no one on the first floor, so she had gone upstairs and found Sarah’s room empty. And then Stevie had called out to her.

  The room was smaller than Sarah’s, but somehow it felt big, which Cordelia thought was weird. Maybe it had something to do with Stevie’s personality. Stevie was only a kid, but she was one of those genuinely cool people, not an artificially hip sort. (There were some of them in school, and they were so studied and self-conscious! Really, Cordelia thought that they must be exhausted by the end of the day!)

  There was a lot more stuff in Stevie’s room than in Sarah’s. On top of a big old dresser, there was a large shallow box filled with bangles and beaded bracelets. Next to it was one of those earring trees, hung with all sorts of funky earrings, some with dyed feathers, shiny glass beads, and bits of leather. Next to the display of earrings sat a slightly creepy glass head on top of which was perched a fanciful pink and orange silk hat, covered in some sort of netting. Stevie said that it was from the 1950s.

  A stack of books leaned against one wall, the largest volumes on the bottom, the small paperback novels on top. At the very bottom of the pile were a few big art books. Stevie said she had gotten them from one of those fun secondhand bookstores that seemed to be all over the place now. She also had a large collection of books filled with sewing patterns and a handful of graphic novels. Cordelia had always thought that only boys read graphic novels but maybe not. Maybe they were very different from comic books, which were definitely a boy thing from what she could tell.

  The bed was covered with a quilt Mrs. Bauer had made when Stevie was born. It was a crazy quilt, a kind of patchwork without a repeating pattern. Cordelia thought that the style suited Stevie. Things looked kind of jumbled at first glance, but when you took another look, you realized there was some method to the madness.

  A plush panda bear was propped up against the pillows. Stevie explained that it belonged to Clarissa. “She likes to chew on his ears,” Stevie had said, and indeed, the panda’s ears were ragged.

  Clearly, Stevie’s most precious possession was her sewing machine. It lived atop a sturdy wooden table in the very center of the room. Stevie explained that the machine was kind of old and didn’t have some of the features she wanted, but that it worked just fine. Her mother had gotten it for her at a yard sale for only ten dollars.

  Cordelia thought it was a tiny bit crazy to sew your own clothes when you could just ask your parents to take you to the mall, but she totally admired Stevie’s skill and creativity. There was this one jacket she had made that was beyond awesome. It was a gorgeous shade of dark purple, like one of the wines Cordelia’s mother liked, and the sleeves, which were tight from the shoulder, flared out at the wrists. If Stevie weren’t so much slimmer, Cordelia would definitely have asked to borrow it.

  At the moment, Stevie was sitting at the sewing table, one of the unfinished pieces for the baby’s quilt in front of her. Clarissa was draped across her shoulders like a furry shawl. The cat’s eyes were closed, but Cordelia wasn’t sure she was actually asleep. She suspected that Clarissa was listening intently to everything the girls said. Maybe she even understood some of it. Clarissa was an eerie creature, no doubt about it.

  “Where’s Sarah?” Cordelia asked. “I thought maybe she’d want to hang out.”

  “Out on one of her walks,” Stevie explained. “She’ll probably want to walk to the hospital when she goes into labor.”

  “Ugh. Don’t worry. Your parents won’t let her. I won’t let her!”

  “Oh, I know.” Stevie shrugged and Clarissa grumbled. “I was just exaggerating.”

  Cordelia plopped down on the bed. “Hey,” she said, “did you like Justin?”

  “No,” Stevie said promptly.

  “Oh. Good. I mean, neither did I. This one time I got a weird feeling that he was looking at me a bit too, you know, closely. Like, maybe he thought I was hot or something.”

  Stevie grimaced. “That’s gross. Did he say anything to you?”

  “No,” Cordelia admitted. “I thought afterward that maybe I imagined it. I mean, how awful if it were true. Anyway, mostly he just ignored me, wh
ich was fine.”

  “I always got the feeling that Sarah kept him away from us, I mean, Mom, Dad, and me, on purpose. She never even invited him for dinner though my mom asked her to a lot of times.”

  Cordelia thought about that. “Maybe Sarah thought he was afraid of your dad,” she suggested. “Your father might be kind of intimidating to a guy like Justin.”

  “Justin is too dumb to be intimidated.”

  Cordelia considered this, too, and decided that she agreed. “Do you think Sarah was embarrassed by him?”

  “I don’t think Sarah’s the kind of person to be embarrassed by someone. I mean, she’d think it was unkind or something.”

  That is true, too, Cordelia thought. Stevie was so smart. “Well,” she said, “maybe she just wanted Justin all to herself.”

  Stevie looked doubtful. “But why?”

  Cordelia shrugged. “You know that saying, ‘Still waters run deep.’ Maybe that describes Sarah. She looks all calm and ordinary, but there’s a lot going on beneath the surface we just can’t see.”

  “Yeah. Actually, that does sound like her.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I mean, whatever was going on in Sarah’s head when she fell for Justin.”

  “But maybe it does,” Stevie said after a moment.

  “What do you mean?”

  Stevie frowned and looked down at her hands. “I shouldn’t even say this. It sounds so horrible. But if Sarah could make this really big mistake once, I mean, going out with a guy like Justin in the first place, someone who was so wrong for her, and then . . . and then, getting pregnant, maybe she’ll make another really big mistake. Then what will happen to her life? What if Mom and Dad aren’t around? Who will take care of her then? Who will take care of the baby? I guess I could, if I was old enough. . . .”

  Cordelia frowned. Poor Stevie. She wondered if Mrs. Bauer knew how worried she was about her sister. She wondered—maybe unfairly—if anyone in the Bauer house even noticed Stevie anymore.