The Beach Quilt

by Holly Chamberlin

  Sarah sat at her desk and opened her laptop. An hour later, she had learned a number of important things about the process of adoption. For one, she had learned that adoptions didn’t have to be closed, as they used to be. They could be “open” in a variety of ways. And there were plenty of organizations, many of them right there in Maine, which would help a mother-to-be understand her options and make the decision that was right for her.

  And the Web sites Sarah visited were so determinedly optimistic and reassuring. They said that choosing an adoption was not taking the easy way out. They said that choosing an adoption did not mean that you didn’t love your baby and want the best for her. They said that by choosing an adoption, you were regaining possession of your life.

  It wasn’t too late to make arrangements. The baby wasn’t due until late August and it was only just July now. . . .

  Sarah closed her laptop and lay down on her bed. In spite of the encouraging words she had just read, adoption wasn’t what she wanted, but the alternative—putting her family through years and years of financial hardship—just didn’t seem fair. Somehow, she had to find the strength to make this sacrifice for her parents. And she had to hope that she wouldn’t grow to resent them for having “forced” her to put her baby up for adoption. She had to hope that she wouldn’t live the rest of her life with a nagging feeling of regret and remorse.

  She didn’t think that would be bearable. Living with that intensity of pain could very probably drive you to do something drastic, like take drugs or even kill yourself. And if you did manage to survive, if you did manage to get married someday and have another baby or two, would you be able to look at those children without remembering the child you had given up? Would the guilt be too heavy a burden? Would those other children, the ones you had kept, suffer as a result of your misery ? Would your husband be driven away by your inability to sustain a reasonable degree of happiness?

  Sarah sighed deeply. Adoption was not right for her. She knew that. But she would have to make it right, for the sake of everyone else involved.

  She turned onto her side and slid her hands under her cheek. She had never felt more like a kid than she did in that moment. A stupid kid who had done a stupid thing even though she had been taught better. Don’t touch the stove because it could be hot and you might burn yourself. Don’t cross the street against the light because you might get hit by a car.

  Don’t have sex carelessly because you could ruin your life and disappoint your family and alienate your best friend.

  Forever.

  Chapter 71

  Adelaide was at the Yorktide Library, wandering the section of books that had been acquired in the past five months. She often went to the library with a list of specific titles, but sometimes she just went in to browse. It was always exciting to stumble across a book that turned out to be a treasure. She had found one of her all-time favorite mystery series in this delightfully random way.

  Adelaide’s attention was caught by a slight commotion in the next aisle where a young woman with a baby strapped to her chest was trying to contain a toddler trying to push her own stroller. “Be careful, Lisa,” the woman said to the little girl, who subsequently plowed the stroller into the legs of a middle-aged man. The man laughed, the woman apologized, and the little girl shrieked.

  Adelaide looked away. She found herself thinking of Cindy’s two lost babies. She hadn’t asked if they had been girls or boys or one of each. Sometimes she wondered how she would have felt if Cordelia had been a boy. She wondered if she would have felt as if she had cheated her first son of his birthright. It had the makings of a Greek or a Shakespearean tragedy, didn’t it? The older son, the first born, abandoned at birth, returns to the mother who cast him off only to find a second son enjoying the rights and privileges of the heir. Chaos ensues.

  Maybe she was being dramatic, entertaining this unhappy possibility that had not occurred. But you couldn’t always prevent your mind from wandering in all sorts of directions, whether it was the middle of the night when you were wide-awake and feeling very, very alone in the world, which, of course, you were, everyone was, or in the New Books section of the local public library at four o’clock on a sunny afternoon.

  “Adelaide, hello.”

  Adelaide turned to see Maggie Collins smiling at her. Maggie had three children, all now grown, one married and living in Yorktide, one in the army, and another trying to make his way as an actor in Los Angeles. Her husband was recently retired from the gas company. Adelaide hadn’t seen Maggie or her husband, Sam, in an age.

  “Hi,” she said. “How are you, Maggie? You look well.”

  Maggie smiled. “Can’t complain. Sam’s underfoot now, but I’m keeping him in line. So how is Cindy holding up?”

  Adelaide bristled slightly. “She’s fine,” she said. “Just fine.”

  “Oh, good. It’s just that it must be so hard for all of them right now. But the Bauers are a strong family.”

  “Yes,” Adelaide said. “They are.”

  “You know,” Maggie said, her voice pitched low, “my cousin’s girl got pregnant last year. They live down in New Hampshire. Well, I have to say that my cousin and her husband did just what Cindy and Joe are doing. They rallied around their daughter, and even with ten-year-old twins at home, they’re making things work with the baby. Now, I know not everyone can do that, but God bless those who can.”

  Adelaide managed a smile. “Yes,” she said. “God bless them.”

  Maggie Collins said farewell and took her pile of books to the checkout desk. Adelaide felt a buzz of anger in her head. She hadn’t been so lucky, had she? Her parents hadn’t rallied around her at all. They had made her feel like a failure and a freak. No one other than a very kind woman at the adoption agency had shown her the slightest bit of sympathy. No one had offered to make a quilt in honor of her baby.

  And Adelaide thought, she wanted some sympathy. She deserved some sympathy, even all these years after the fact. True, Cindy had been heartbroken when she had learned about the adoption. And yes, Jack had always been there for her but . . .

  For the first time in her life, Adelaide left the library without a book. She got into her car and turned it toward home. A thought had occurred to her. She had always assumed that she would tell Cordelia about her first child. Maybe now was the time.

  Chapter 72

  Joe was sitting at the kitchen table reading the local daily paper. Cindy wasn’t sure how he was feeling, but he looked perfectly calm. Cindy was a bit envious. She didn’t know how he did it, what with all the distressing news lately.

  The water bill was higher this month than last and while it was true that it was a pretty dry summer, the bill seemed inflated and would require a phone call. They had heard a report on the national morning news predicting that the economy was still far from a good recovery. And one of Joe’s steadiest clients had told them he was moving at the end of the summer. He would recommend Joe to the new owners, but he couldn’t promise they would choose his services.

  Cindy felt her heart speed up. It was unlike her to panic, and she couldn’t help but think of what her mother would say. Worrying was interest paid on a debt that might never come due. That was true enough, but how did you prevent the worrying and the panic from starting up in the first place?

  And Sarah’s pregnancy was by far the most disruptive thing that had ever happened in her life, more disruptive even than the miscarriages and her mother’s passing. Still, she had been trying to keep her fears and worries from Joe; he had enough to handle, especially with the extra jobs he had taken on.

  The plate Cindy had been drying slipped out of her hand and shattered as it hit the floor.

  “Oh, damn!” she cried.

  Joe made to rise. “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  “No, no, it’s okay. I broke it. I’ll clean it up.”

  Cindy fetched the broom and dustpan, swept up the broken pieces of the plate, dumped them into a paper bag, and put the bag
into the trash can.

  “Cindy,” Joe said when she was done, “you look exhausted. Come sit down.”

  She did, and the words came spilling out. “Oh, Joe, I feel so guilty. Somewhere along the line I must have failed as a mother. Why else would Sarah have been so careless?”

  “You didn’t fail your daughter, Cindy.”

  “I did, Joe! I should have been able to protect her from this.”

  Joe shook his head. “I don’t know what to say, Cindy. Except that it’s my job, too, to protect her. But I don’t think it’s our fault that she got pregnant.”

  His words barely registered with Cindy. “It’s a mother’s job to keep her children safe. And I failed. I wish she had come to me before she had sex with that boy. I’m sure he talked her into it! He might even have forced her! God, she must have been so frightened!”

  “Now, there’s no good in imagining all sorts of things,” Joe said firmly. “Or in wishing you could turn back the clock.”

  Cindy knew he was right. She felt her anger deflate, but the regret remained. “Oh, I know,” she said, “but I can’t stop wondering what I might have said or done differently. I can’t stop thinking!”

  “There’s a time and a place for thinking, Cindy. And then there’s a time when what’s required is action. Moving forward.”

  Cindy laughed unhappily. “Sometimes I feel that I’m doing absolutely nothing constructive for Sarah. Making a quilt for her baby is hardly doing anything to make things easier for her.”

  “It’s doing more than you think, Cindy. It’s the small things that count. You know that.”

  Cindy nodded reluctantly. “And poor Stevie. I so hope she’s not feeling neglected because of all the attention her sister has been getting.”

  “Stevie’s strong,” Joe said. “And smart.”

  “I know that. I also know that she keeps things to herself. Whenever I ask her if she’s okay, all she says is that she’s fine.”

  “Then we just have to believe that she is fine. Until she tells us otherwise.”

  Cindy sighed. Joe was right. He always was. “Thank you, Joe,” she said. “I’m sorry—”

  Joe put his hand over hers. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

  Chapter 73

  Cordelia and Stevie were perched on an outcrop of rock by the water in Perkins Cove. Clarissa sat in between the girls, her orange-tipped tail tucked neatly around her front paws.

  Cordelia was wearing jean shorts (artfully ripped by the manufacturer) and a navy and white striped T-shirt with a decidedly nautical look. Her sunglasses were enormous (her eyesight was bad enough; the last thing she needed was to burn her retinas or something equally gross). Her flip-flops were white (probably a mistake as they were only three weeks old and already kind of dirty).

  Stevie was wearing a pair of black shorts that came to her knees, a long-sleeved chambray shirt, and bright green Converse high-tops. (She told Cordelia she had saved her allowance for almost a year to afford them.)

  “It’s so pretty here, isn’t it?” Cordelia said. “With the sun glittering on the water. Can you imagine, I don’t know, a cape that looked like what the water looks like now? A cape fit for an empress!”

  “Yeah. Cordelia? If I tell you something, a deep dark secret, will you promise to keep it a secret?”

  “Sure,” Cordelia said promptly. “I mean, unless you’re going to tell me you’re a mass murderer or something!”

  “Nothing that bad,” Stevie assured her.

  “Then, of course.”

  Stevie put her hand on Clarissa’s sleek head. “The thing is, I’m gay.”

  Cordelia felt her eyes widen. “Really?” she said. “I had no idea.”

  “You didn’t suspect?”

  “No. Why should I have?”

  Stevie shrugged, causing Clarissa to leap into her lap, where Stevie began to stroke her back. “I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve been wondering if anyone has guessed.”

  “Oh. Has anyone said anything to you about being gay?”

  “No. But maybe someone’s thinking something.”

  Cordelia frowned. Someone was always thinking something ! You couldn’t stop people from speculating. She herself did it all the time! “You know,” she said, “being gay isn’t bad at all. You said the secret wasn’t ‘that bad.’ ”

  “I know,” Stevie assured her. “I’m not ashamed or anything.”

  “Good.”

  “Just . . . just that I feel a little vulnerable, I guess. And scared.”

  “Don’t be scared,” Cordelia said forcefully. “Just don’t. And you’re only vulnerable if you allow yourself to be. So don’t do that, either.”

  Stevie laughed. “Easier said than done!”

  “I know. But remember you have me. I’m your friend.” It was really true, Cordelia thought. Stevie had become a friend in the past few months. And in a weird way, Sarah was to thank for that.

  “Okay,” Stevie said. “Thanks.”

  “So, um, have you, you know, gone out with anyone?”

  Stevie laughed. “No. You’re the first person I’ve even told.”

  “Oh. Is there someone at school you like?”

  Stevie shrugged again. “Kind of. But even I know I’m way too young to really date. Besides, I don’t even know if she’s gay, too.”

  “Right. It’s not like you can just ask someone . . .” Cordelia wondered. “But maybe it’s okay to ask. I mean, how else would you know?”

  “Well, sometimes you can kind of tell . . .”

  “Oh. Like if a girl dresses in baggy jeans and plaid shirts then probably she’s gay.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe she just likes plaid!”

  “Yikes,” Cordelia said. “You’re right. I like plaid. In small amounts and only in the winter, but still, I like it. Look, I hope I don’t sound like an idiot about this, Stevie. I’m actually really glad you told me. I’m honored.”

  “Thanks. I guess I’m glad I told you, too.”

  “Good. And I know your parents are going to be fine with it.”

  Stevie’s eyes widened in alarm. “But you won’t say a word, right? You promised.”

  “Of course not. My lips are sealed.”

  “Because I don’t know when I’ll tell them. Maybe not for a long time.”

  “No problem, Stevie, really. I can keep a secret. But will you tell Sarah soon?”

  “Not yet. It’s not like she has any time for me. Ugh. That sounded really stupid.”

  “No, it didn’t,” Cordelia told her. “Sometimes I feel the same way, like I could shake her and say, ‘Hey! It’s me, remember ?’ But I think that’s normal. I mean, we’re probably not as important to her now as we once were. Maybe once the baby’s here and things settle down, she’ll have more time for us.”

  But Cordelia wasn’t at all sure that would be true.

  “So you don’t like boys even a little?” Cordelia asked, hoping that wasn’t an insulting question. No one had ever come out to her before!

  “Well, I like them well enough,” Stevie said. “I just don’t want to, you know, do stuff with them.”

  “Oh. It’s just that some people are bisexual.”

  Stevie laughed. “That sounds way too confusing to me!”

  “Me too. Sheesh.”

  Suddenly, Clarissa stood up on Stevie’s lap and began to make that freaky, clacking sound cats make when they spot likely prey. It made Cordelia wince.

  “Maybe we’d better go,” Stevie said, grabbing Clarissa to her chest. “Because in about one minute that seagull over there is going to be history.”

  Cordelia jumped to her feet. “Ugh! Come on!”

  Stevie followed, clutching a very annoyed Clarissa very tightly.

  Chapter 74

  Sarah steeled herself. If she were going to make this offer, then she was going to have to mean it. She couldn’t be a tease about it, suggesting an adoption and then backing out. She was going to have to stand by her word.

  “Mom,�
�� she said, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking. Her hands certainly were. “I’ve been thinking. A lot. And maybe . . . maybe adoption is the right thing to do.”

  Her mother dropped the dish towel she had been holding onto the floor. Sarah somewhat awkwardly retrieved it. Her mother’s face wore an expression of shock.

  “What?” she said. “But we’ve all decided . . . we’ve been making plans. We’re making a quilt. We want the baby.”

  “I know, but . . .” Sarah pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. Come on, she scolded silently. You’re doing this for your family.

  “What brought this on, Sarah?” her mother asked.

  “Nothing. It’s just that I’ve been thinking about how difficult it’s going to be for you and Dad, and it seems like the only reasonable way to handle things is to . . .” Sarah found she couldn’t go on, no matter how hard she tried to.

  Her mother took Sarah’s arms and held them tightly. She looked searchingly, almost imploringly into her daughter’s eyes. “Answer me honestly,” she said. “Promise?”

  Sarah nodded. It was an automatic gesture. She wasn’t quite sure what words might come out of her mouth next.

  “Do you really want to give up your child?” her mother asked.

  Sarah hesitated. She wasn’t sure there was any point in lying at this point. “No,” she said. “But—”

  “But nothing. Please, please trust me, Sarah. Everything will be all right. I promise.”

  Sarah laughed, but it was a wild and unhappy laugh. “You can’t promise that, Mom. No one can.”

  “Yes,” Cindy said forcefully, tightening her grip on Sarah’s arms. “I can promise and I do. I will make everything all right.”

  Sarah just stood there, silent. Had her mother become delusional? Had she become so desperate to keep the family intact that she would ignore a difficult reality—like a new baby to feed, clothe, and rear—until it was too late to defend against it?