The Beach Quilt

by Holly Chamberlin

  Sarah laughed. “I’ve had a lot of time to think this summer. I figured I should put it to good use. You know, get smarter. If I’m going to be responsible for another human being, I need to be as smart as I possibly can be.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be smart enough to be a mother. A good one, I mean.”

  “Yes, you will,” Sarah said. “You’re a natural.”

  Cordelia made a face. “Sarah, my priorities are food, fashion, and fun. In that order. I’m not exactly mature.”

  “You’re way more mature than you think, trust me.”

  “Whatever. If I do have a baby someday, you can tell me what I’m doing wrong. But it will be way, way in the future.”

  “Deal. Do you know,” Sarah said thoughtfully, “that my mom got married when she was eighteen? Actually making the decision to get married so young seems so—impossible. My pregnancy was an accident. But my mother made that huge conscious decision to commit to spending the rest of her life with my father. How did she know she was doing the right thing? It could have been a disaster.”

  Cordelia shrugged. “She was in love. Love makes you do silly things and totally heroic things. That’s what my dad always says, anyway.”

  “I really admire her, you know. I think she’s an incredibly strong person.”

  “She is,” Cordelia said. “And she’s so talented, too. Henry’s quilt wouldn’t be half as awesome if it weren’t for her.”

  “And look at your mom,” Sarah added. “Running her own successful business. We both lucked out. We both got a good role model.”

  Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Talk about pressure!”

  Chapter 107

  Adelaide rarely took advantage of the deck and now, stretched out on a recliner, she wondered why. Really, you could pretty easily convince yourself you were on vacation at a fancy resort. Okay, the Kanes didn’t have a swimming pool, but they did have several large planters each spilling a profusion of flowers. Another long, low planter held her thriving herb garden. There was a glass of cold lemonade on the pretty little table at her right. And the view wasn’t bad at all. The Kanes’ backyard and deck faced the backyard and deck of their closest neighbors, Stan Lancaster and Mike Perez. Stan was a magnificent gardener, and Mike was a hardscape designer. Together they had created a gorgeous space complete with a bubbling fountain, an orderly herb garden, and a sweep of flowers in blocks of orange and purple—and Adelaide got to gaze at it for free.

  Daydreaming was also free and not a bad way to spend her afternoon off from The Busy Bee. And right now, Adelaide was daydreaming about adopting another child. A baby, preferably, someone who would grow up knowing only Jack and Adelaide as his parents, someone they could cherish from the moment he was born. How fun it would be to have a fat, healthy, giggly baby to hold and to love!

  Adelaide took a sip of lemonade. Of course, she thought, bringing another person into their household at this point would entail huge changes for all three of them. There were Cordelia’s feelings to take into consideration. She was a sensitive person and had already battled troubled feelings regarding her mother’s past. She might feel as if the baby were a replacement child, now that she would soon be going off to college.

  And Jack would be under more pressure to make money, especially when the baby was little and Adelaide couldn’t work on expanding her own business. And making money wasn’t enough. It had to be saved, too, and invested. There wasn’t only college to consider. There was retirement, too. They had talked about doing some traveling when they both stopped working. Nothing elaborate, maybe just long car trips, but still, travel would take money.

  Adelaide’s back hurt. She shifted on the recliner until the pain eased somewhat. And, she thought, there was the fact that neither of them was as young as they used to be. Starting over with a new baby meant midnight feedings, and erratic hours and . . . huh. It was pretty much what Cindy and Joe would be doing. If she and Jack acted quickly, their new child could be raised along with Sarah’s child and the families could share some responsibilities....

  But that didn’t address the fact that Jack might be opposed to the idea. Adopting a child just wouldn’t work unless both partners were one hundred percent behind the idea. You couldn’t force your partner to accept the reality of a child, not if you wanted to keep your relationship intact.

  There were so many obstacles and difficulties.... Adelaide choked on another sip of lemonade. What, she wondered, had she been thinking? She didn’t really want another child, did she? What she wanted was her first child back! Of course that was what she wanted.

  One child could not be used as a substitute for another child. It would be completely unfair to everyone, an enterprise bound to fail, an entirely selfish act.

  No. An adoption wasn’t going to happen. Her family was already complete. She would remain content with the wonderful child she had been lucky enough to keep.

  Adelaide was surprised to find tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Chapter 108

  Stevie smiled. “This feels like a ceremony.”

  “It is a ceremony!” Cordelia announced. “Why else would we be having champagne?”

  “Sparkling cider, you mean,” Sarah pointed out.

  Cordelia shrugged. “Anything fizzy means a celebration.”

  The Kane and Bauer women were at The Busy Bee to celebrate the fact that Henry’s quilt, measuring an impressive five feet by five feet, was finally finished. It was spread out on one of the quilt frames to show off the colorful images (including a last-minute lion with a shaggy mane), the impressive stitching, and, across the bottom, the baby’s name, Henry Joseph, in big block letters.

  Everyone took a turn having her photograph taken standing next to the quilt, and then Adelaide had attempted a group selfie. The result was a little wobbly, but it would do.

  “Let’s toast our accomplishment.” Adelaide raised her glass. “To a job well done.”

  “To a job well done!”

  “And just in time!” Cordelia added.

  Cindy put her arm around her daughter. “I’m so proud of you, Sarah.”

  “But I hardly did anything but prick my finger a lot,” Sarah protested. “And make weird-looking starfish. You guys did most of the creative stuff.”

  “What I meant,” Cindy said, wiping a tear from her eye, “was that I’m proud of you for everything. For your being Sarah.”

  Sarah blushed. “The quilt is really lovely,” she said. “It’s amazing to see it finished.”

  “You’re going to use it, I hope,” Adelaide said. “I mean, not just hang it on the wall.”

  “Oh, no, I’m definitely going to use it! Though I guess I’ll have to learn how to clean it properly. You can’t just stuff it in the washing machine with the sheets!”

  “And you can’t store precious things in the attic in case there’s a big storm and the roof leaks.”

  Sarah looked inquiringly at Cordelia. “Why would I be storing Henry’s quilt instead of using it?”

  Cordelia shrugged. “It was just something I read in one of Mom’s magazines.”

  “I suppose you’ll have to keep Clarissa away from the quilt,” Adelaide said.

  Stevie shook her head. “Oh, no, Mrs. Kane. Clarissa is way too smart to destroy something so valuable.”

  “It’s true,” Sarah added. “In fact, I’m kind of expecting her to be a babysitter for little Henry. The little kitty guarding the little Leo. How cute would that be!”

  “Maybe Henry will learn to quilt someday,” Cordelia said, taking a sip of the sparkling cider.

  “Why not?” Stevie said. “Quilting shouldn’t be just for women. Lots of guys knit these days. Why not quilt?”

  “When I was a little girl,” Adelaide added, “the tailor in our neighborhood was a man. He was very old. He’d learned the craft from his father before him, growing up in Italy.”

  Cindy smiled. “I wonder what your father would feel about his grandson wielding a needle and thr
ead?”

  “I think he’d be proud,” Sarah said firmly. “After all, Dad builds things with wood. Why wouldn’t he appreciate a boy building something useful out of fabric?”

  “Well, he certainly wouldn’t stand in anyone’s way,” Cindy affirmed. “Live and let live is what Joe would say.”

  “Jack wouldn’t mind, either. He would say, let the boy do whatever makes him happy.”

  Cordelia cleared her throat. “Ahem. And what I would say is, can we please cut the cake now?”

  Cindy picked up the knife. “That, we can all agree on.”

  Cindy busied herself cutting the chocolate iced cake she had made that morning. On top she had spelled out the baby’s name in blue and yellow jimmies. She really was proud of Sarah. She had handled the pregnancy and all it entailed with such grace. She had soldiered through the tough emotional times and had, Cindy believed, come to accept with some peace the role she was about to be handed.

  “For Sarah first,” she said, handing her older daughter a paper plate. “A big piece.”

  “I want a big piece, too,” Cordelia said; then, she reddened. “I mean, may I have a big piece?”

  Adelaide shook her head, and Cindy laughed. “Yes,” she said, “you may.”

  “You always had a sweet tooth,” Sarah said. “I mean, more than me, anyway.”

  Cordelia shrugged. “Sugar is my vice. Everyone needs one vice, right?”

  Adelaide raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Who told you that?”

  “I don’t know if everyone needs a vice, but I think that probably everyone has one.”

  Cindy looked to her younger daughter. “Now how did we get on the topic of vices? This is supposed to be a happy moment. Let’s talk about, I don’t know, virtues!”

  “Like the virtue of accepting what life brings you,” Sarah said. “Honestly, when I first found out I was pregnant, I didn’t know if I could handle it. Now, almost nine months later, here I am. Don’t get me wrong, I’m nervous and all, but I’m also happy.”

  “Life is full of surprises,” Cindy said.

  “The human spirit is resilient,” Adelaide added.

  Cordelia nodded. “And cake always helps.”

  Chapter 109

  Cordelia was alone at The Busy Bee. After the presentation of the quilt, Cindy and Sarah had gone home, and her mom had gone out to run an errand. There had been no customers for the past forty-five minutes, which gave Cordelia plenty of time to think about what Sarah had told her the other day about how in lust she had been with Justin.

  She didn’t know why she had been so surprised, but the whole passion thing did explain a lot. And when she gave it more thought, she realized that she felt closer to Sarah than she had since Sarah had gotten pregnant. Because the year before, she had had a crush on a senior on the basketball team. It wasn’t the same as having a boyfriend, not at all, but still, she thought that now she could understand if only a little bit Sarah’s infatuation with Justin.

  She still sometimes thought of him—his name was Roddy—but without any of that sick-to-her-stomach feeling. In fact, now she couldn’t understand what she had found so attractive about him. His ears stuck out more than a little bit and his hair wasn’t that great. But for about two whole months, she had been possessed (that wasn’t too strong a word) by thoughts of him. And it had come on boom, like that, like some cosmic ruler had snapped his fingers and suddenly, Cordelia had been smitten. She had spent hours fantasizing in minute detail about conversations they would have, kisses they would indulge in, and meaningful glances they would share across a crowded cafeteria. She had created entire scenes—no, complete movies!—in her head starring the two of them, movies in which they would run off in his car and drive across country and sleep wrapped in each other’s arms, under a starry sky. In these movies Roddy and Cordelia were each other’s everything; no one in the entire world understood Roddy like Cordelia did and no one in the entire world understood—and worshipped—Cordelia like Roddy did.

  And then, boom, it was all over. She had walked in to the school’s library one afternoon to find Roddy and a few other members of the basketball team goofing around at a table by the window. The librarian, a perpetually harried-looking woman, was busy at the desk, her back to the boys, when suddenly one of them (Cordelia hadn’t seen who it was) threw a wadded-up piece of paper at her. It hit her square on the head, and the boys erupted in muffled hoots and guffaws.

  And that had been the end of Cordelia’s crush or infatuation or romantic disease. She remembered turning away and walking right out of the library, totally embarrassed by the fact that she had found Roddy Murphy the stuff of dreams. She was beyond glad she hadn’t said anything to Sarah about her feelings for Roddy. Sarah wouldn’t have made fun of her, but still, she might have pointed out, in her usual reasonable way, that Cordelia’s feelings couldn’t really be for or about Roddy because she didn’t know Roddy. Cordelia understood that now. It was as if her free-floating romantic feelings, to which all teenagers were subject, had for some random reason attached themselves to Roddy Murphy though they might just as easily have attached themselves to another boy.

  Love, at least, infatuation, really was like a sickness. It wasn’t something you asked for. It was just something that, being human, you were vulnerable to contracting. And so maybe that’s how even sensible Sarah Bauer had succumbed to Justin Morrow’s dubious (his imagined?) charms.

  And maybe that’s what had happened with her mother, too, back when she was seventeen. Maybe that guy, whoever he was, had had a dizzying effect on her so that she had done something terribly careless and had had to pay a horrible price.

  Cordelia realized that she was frowning. She still couldn’t fully accept the weird fact that she was not her mother’s only child. It made her feel a bit less special in the world. Still, she was absolutely certain of her mother’s love. In fact, she wondered if her mother had spoiled her—and she had spoiled her, no doubt about that!—to make up for having given up her first child. Probably. Cordelia thought she would have done the same. It was something about guilt and atonement.

  And it made no sense, really, but she kind of missed the brother she had never known. Maybe someday she might be able to find him . . . but would that be the right thing to do? What if he didn’t know he was adopted? That seemed unlikely, didn’t it? Or, what if he knew he was adopted but didn’t want to be found, especially by his birth mother’s daughter—the child she had kept?

  The door of the shop opened, startling Cordelia out of her reverie.

  “Was it busy?” her mother asked.

  “Dead as a doornail,” Cordelia said. “What is a doornail, exactly? A nail used in making doors?”

  Her mother shrugged. “I guess so. Better ask your father or Mr. Bauer. I don’t do carpentry.”

  Chapter 110

  Sarah was stretched out on her bed, her feet propped on a pile of pillows. Henry’s quilt was draped across the back of her desk chair. It made her happy to see it there. And in a matter of weeks, it would make her happy to see the quilt covering little Henry himself. (Though you had to be careful about blankets and pillows around infants!)

  In the past weeks, she had thrown out most of the trinkets Justin had given her over the course of their relationship, but she had kept two, one for Henry and one for herself. The first was a little stuffed rabbit about the size of her hand. It was brown and black with a pink nose. The other was a bracelet with an inlay of iridescent seashell. She would never wear it—it was more Cordelia’s style, a bit flashy—but she thought it was very pretty. No harm would come from it remaining in her sock drawer. If she was being sentimental about these two tokens of—well, of whatever it was that had existed between them—so be it. Because whatever it had been, it had resulted in the creation of a life. Whatever it had been, it had not been worthless.

  No, the creation of a new life was not a waste. What mattered was what people made of that new life, how they cared for and nurtured it. That’s wh
ere waste might come into play.

  She remembered something she had read on the Internet a week or two ago. Every single day more than two thousand girls in the United States got pregnant. Girls, not women. And eight out of ten fathers—boys, not men—did not marry their girlfriends. And—this had really upset Sarah—the sons of teenage mothers were twice as likely to go to prison than the sons of older mothers.

  Sarah wondered how much of that sort of information was meant to scare a girl away from sex. (Were boys ever scared away from sex?) If she had known then all she knew now, would she have resisted her desires? Would she have been smarter and gotten on the pill? It was impossible now to say.

  Just like it was impossible to know what Justin had really seen in her. She wasn’t the prettiest girl in town, nor was she the one with the best personality. But she had never questioned his attraction to her, not once during all the months they were together. He had made her believe that he found her beautiful and special. He had really listened to her when she talked.... Correction. Sarah had thought that he had listened. And she realized now that she had never told him anything important about herself. Maybe deep down she had known that he wasn’t capable of a proper response. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she believed that the entire relationship had been only smoke and mirrors, more a figment of her imagination than a mutual experience rooted in genuine emotion.

  Sarah sighed and rested her hand on her stomach. She felt what she thought was a little foot and thought of all the joy Justin would be missing by rejecting his child. She sincerely hoped that he would grow up and mature. If he didn’t—and some people never did—he might very well leave several more abandoned children in his wake.

  And not all of them would be as lucky and as blessed as her little Henry.

  Chapter 111

  Adelaide was alone in the den after dinner. There was little chance she would be disturbed. Jack was watching a Red Sox game. Cordelia was watching Down with Love for about the sixth time.