“I do.” Jamie glowed. “She’s a month old. Her name’s Maggie.”
“Congratulations!” I said. “How’s Laurel?”
He hesitated just long enough to let me know that all was not well with his wife, and I wished I hadn’t asked.
“She’s doing okay,” he said finally. “We’re both a little overwhelmed right now, but I guess that’s to be expected.”
“Let me know if I can help somehow,” I said. “I have plenty of free time.”
Steve nudged me, so I walked forward, making way for the people behind us to talk to Jamie. My offer to help was genuine. I longed to get out of the house, but Steve didn’t want me to work. “None of the guys’ wives work,” he’d said. Anyway, jobs were few, especially for a military wife who might have to move at a moment’s notice.
Jamie caught up to us in the small, sandy parking lot in front of the chapel.
“Were you serious, Sara?” He shaded his eyes from the sun. “About wanting to help?”
“Oh, yes,” I said.
“We can really use it,” he said. “I’ll pay you, of course.”
“No! Please. Let me just help out. Like I said, I have loads of free time.”
I gave him our number, and he wrote it on a small notepad he pulled from the pocket of his jeans.
I felt so happy as I got into the car. I could do something useful for a change. I could help Jamie, touching his life in a positive way, the way he’d touched mine by building his chapel.
Steve and I were nearly to the high-rise bridge before either of us spoke.
“You think that’s a wise thing for you to do?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked, although I knew.
“You know. Taking care of a baby.”
“I want to,” I said.
It was the closest we’d ever come to discussing Sam. I bit my lip, feeling anxious. Finally, Steve was giving me an invitation to talk about him.
“Do you ever think about him?” I asked.
“Who?” he replied.
“Sam.”
He was quiet for so long I thought he was going to ignore the question.
“Doesn’t do any good to think about him,” he said. Then he pointed to a speed-limit sign. Thirty-five miles per hour. “Is that new?” he asked. “I thought it was forty-five along this stretch.”
Jamie suggested I come to the real-estate office where he worked. I supposed he wanted to interview me before accepting my offer of help, but when I walked into his small office, I found him holding the baby. I sat down and he walked around his desk to hand the infant to me.
Every baby looked beautiful to me, even those with cone-shaped heads and scrunched-up faces and homely features. All of them, staggeringly beautiful. Yet Maggie Lockwood was extraordinary even at a month old. She had Jamie’s enormous brown eyes, and they were wide open, already taking in her world. She had a thick crop of dark curls and tiny features carved in pale, flawless porcelain.
“She’s a little colicky,” Jamie said. “But she’s a good baby.”
It was like holding feathers, she was so light. Like holding a miracle. Experiencing God. The thought slipped into my mind, and tears filled my eyes. Could I bear it? Helping to care for this child?
“Are you all right?” Jamie asked.
“She’s just so beautiful.” I felt one tear slip down my cheek, but managed to stop the rest. He’d think I was deranged. Maybe the sort of woman who would steal a baby. I looked up at him, clearing my throat as I grounded myself again in my surroundings. “Is this her first visit to your office?” I asked. “Your coworkers must have flipped over her.”
He tapped his fingers on his desk, not answering right away. “Actually,” he said, “I’ve brought her here all this week.” Leaning forward, he studied his new daughter where she rested quietly in my arms. “Laurel’s having a hard time.”
Was he confiding in me? “I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said.
“She had a very rough start,” he said. “She hemorrhaged during the delivery and is anemic and I think she feels isolated and…unsure of herself.”
“Oh. Poor thing.” I felt sympathy for the woman I’d met only a couple of times. How hard to have a new baby and not feel up to taking care of her. “I hope she feels better soon.”
“Thanks. Me, too.”
I looked at the stack of real-estate brochures on Jamie’s desk. “It’s strange, seeing you here in an office,” I said. “Seeing you look human.”
He laughed. “I’m very human,” he said. “That’s all I am. All I want to be. A good human.”
“I…” I wanted to tell him what my few visits to the chapel had meant to me. I knew I would be going back, with or without Steve. I looked down at Maggie, whose long-lashed eyes were now closed, the lids twitching a little as if she was dreaming. “I don’t know how to explain to you how I feel in your chapel,” I said, raising my gaze to him again. “I’m not religious, so it’s strange. It’s hard to put into words.”
“It’s bigger than words?” he suggested.
I nodded.
“Oh, Sara,” he said. “Welcome to my world.”
Jamie and Laurel lived in a round cottage called the Sea Tender, right on the beach. I didn’t want to feel envy when I walked inside the cottage and took in the ocean view from the living-room windows, yet how could I help it? Clearly, the Lockwoods had money, something I doubted I’d ever have myself.
“Oh, this is fabulous!” I said as Jamie led me through the room to the sofa, Maggie sleeping against his chest. He’d asked me to stop by to “reconnect with Laurel,” since I’d be helping out with the baby. “Have a seat,” he said. He handed Maggie to me. “I’ll let Laurel know you’re here.”
I settled down on the sofa, the sleeping baby on my knees. A few minutes later, Laurel walked into the room. She moved slowly, as though her legs were made of concrete, and I honestly wasn’t certain I would have recognized her. Her hair was long and stringy and dull, her eyes lifeless. Her face was not pale as much as jaundiced, like a tan that was fading in uneven patches. She wore a yellow robe that needed a good washing.
Seeing her, I felt deep concern that the pretty woman from the chapel had been replaced by a ghost. I could see that she had a long recovery ahead of her. Maggie’s delivery must have been horrendous.
“You have a gorgeous baby.” I lowered my eyes to Maggie to hide my shock at Laurel’s appearance.
“Thank you.” Laurel sat down in a rocking chair.
Jamie brought me a glass of iced tea I knew I wouldn’t touch. It would be sweet, no doubt. That Southern abomination.
“You two remember each other, of course,” Jamie said as he sat down on the other end of the sofa.
“Of course,” I said. “Your house is beautiful, Laurel.”
“Thanks.”
“I…Jamie and I thought I should meet with you to see if you have any special instructions about Maggie.”
Laurel shrugged as though she didn’t really care how I took care of her daughter. “Just don’t kill her,” she said.
“Laurel!” Jamie said.
My body must have jerked at Laurel’s words because Maggie started to whimper.
“Shh, honey.” I tightened the blanket around the baby, wondering if Laurel could possibly know about Sam. Who could have told her? I was afraid to look up. I didn’t want to meet her eyes.
Laurel laughed, breaking the tension in the room. “You know what I mean,” she said.
“Well, okay.” I attempted a laugh myself. “I think I can manage that.”
Jamie had a tiny office in the chapel, and that’s where I spent most of my time with Maggie because Laurel didn’t want me in the house.
“It’s not you,” Jamie reassured me. “It’s anyone right now. She’s too tired to have someone around.”
Or the baby around, I thought. It was unspoken between us, but Jamie and I both knew there was something more going on with Laurel than tiredness. Laurel wante
d Maggie out of the house. Out of her sight.
The chapel had electricity and Jamie installed a small refrigerator and a hot plate in the little office so I could heat Maggie’s formula. There was also an old-fashioned wooden cradle and a lightweight stroller. I spent my days there with Maggie, reading and teaching myself to knit when I wasn’t feeding, cuddling or changing diapers. I couldn’t believe my luck at being able to spend so much time in the beautiful, simple building. I was drawn to the panoramic windows, and I watched the sea for dolphins and the sky for pelicans. In a way, I finally had beachfront property.
When the weather was mild enough, I took Maggie for walks in the stroller. I’d push the little girl right past the Sea Tender, learning quickly there was no point in stopping in for a visit. Neither Maggie nor I would be welcome.
On Sundays, I sat next to Jamie in the chapel with Maggie on my lap. The first time, Jamie briefly explained to the thirty or so people there that I was helping him and Laurel out with Maggie. When new people came during the summer, though, I wondered if some of them thought I was Jamie’s wife.
It fascinated me to feel Maggie melt into my arms when she heard her father speak. He had a hypnotic quality in his voice that soothed not only Maggie and myself but most of the other people in the chapel as well. With the influx of tourists, the fifty seats were nearly full each week. People stood one after another to say where they recently experienced God, but I rarely stood myself. I felt too raw with emotion in the chapel during the service. In just a couple of months’ time, I’d filled up with such a painful sort of joy that I knew if I tried to speak during the service, I would lose all control. God—Jamie’s God—was with me nearly every minute of every day by then. I had a purpose: I was able to hold a tiny life in my arms. I was able to help Jamie when he so clearly needed my help. Even at home, I caught myself smiling as I made dinner or pressed Steve’s uniform or cleaned the small house we rented. I had enough joy inside myself that the sorrow over Sam, over my loveless marriage, didn’t have a chance to come through.
A few months later, Jamie told me he thought Laurel needed a friend.
“She doesn’t have any friends with babies,” he said. “Not that you have a baby. But you’re so warm and nice and kind.” He looked away from me, as though he’d said more than he meant to. “She’s depressed. She’s not taking care of herself. You know. Grooming. Hygiene.”
“Maybe she needs more help than a friend can give her,” I suggested gently. The truth was, Laurel was unpleasant to be around, and I avoided her as much as possible. There was nothing of the starry-eyed young woman left in her.
Jamie sighed. “You’re probably right.” He sounded tired. “Her doctor thinks she needs that new Prozac medication, but neither of us likes the idea of her taking drugs. I think she just needs a girlfriend.”
He looked so lost. I would have done anything to bring a smile back to his face.
“I’ll visit her one day while you have Maggie,” I said. “Then maybe she and I can have a good talk.”
It had sounded possible when I said it, but I’d had no idea how bad things had gotten with Laurel. She was incapable of having a “good talk” with anyone.
I visited her under the guise of taking over a chicken-and-rice casserole. I found her lying under a thin blanket on the sofa watching a rerun of I Dream of Jeannie. The air in the cottage smelled stale in spite of all the windows being open.
“I brought you a casserole for dinner.” I headed for the kitchen after letting myself in through the unlocked door. “I’ll just put it in the fridge, okay? It should last you at least a couple of nights.”
“Where’s the baby?” Laurel asked.
I looked at her across the breakfast bar. “With Jamie. He’s doing some paperwork in the chapel office. I thought I’d just bring this over and say hi.”
Laurel actually wrinkled her nose as though visiting with me was the last thing she felt like doing.
Tough, I thought. Someone needed to get through to her. She was hurting her husband, not to mention her baby.
I sat down in the rocker near the sofa. “How are you?” I asked.
“Okay.” Laurel kept her gaze glued to the TV.
I leaned toward her. “Seriously, Laurel. How are you feeling?”
She sighed. “Tired.”
“Jamie said your doctor suggested Prozac.” I thought Jamie was wrong to discourage antidepressants.
“That’s none of your business,” Laurel said.
Was she right? Maybe. But I was taking care of her baby and that did make it my business in a way.
“I have a really good friend in Michigan who takes Prozac and it’s made a world of difference for her,” I said.
“I’m not depressed,” Laurel said. “I’m tired. You’d be tired, too, if you had to be up all night with a screaming baby.”
“You’re a nurse,” I said. “You must know depression can be a medical problem. Jamie said you don’t care about anything. Not even Maggie.” I worried I might be going too far. “You were excited about having a baby. I saw that when you announced your pregnancy in the chapel. I think it’s a definite sign of depression that you’re so…disinterested in her.”
Laurel looked at me. “I want you to leave,” she said.
I was blowing it, handling it all wrong. The last thing I wanted to do was make things worse for Jamie, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “You’re not being fair to Jamie,” I said. “It’s like he’s a single parent. He’s great with Maggie, but she’s not even going to know who you are.”
I turned at the creaking of the screen door. A young guy walked into the living room and it took me a second to remember that Jamie’s brother, Marcus, lived with them. The rebel, Jamie had called him. He looked harmless. Slender, tan and messy-haired, wearing a T-shirt and green bathing suit.
“You must be Marcus.” I stood up. “I’m Sara Weston.”
“The babysitter.” He’d been drinking, and it was not even noon. I could smell it on him.
“Right. I wanted to stop in to see Laurel.”
“She came over to tell me I’m a shitty mother and a shitty wife,” Laurel said.
“Laurel!” I was stunned. “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry if I—”
“I told her to leave but she won’t,” Laurel said to Marcus.
I felt my cheeks blaze.
“If she wants you to go, you’d better go,” Marcus said.
“All right.” I raised my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry,” I said, walking to the door. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
In the chapel office, Jamie looked up from his small, wooden desk.
“How’d it go?” he whispered so he wouldn’t wake Maggie, asleep in the cradle.
I was embarrassed when I started to cry. “I didn’t handle it well at all.” I sank into the only other chair in the office. “She kicked me out, and I don’t blame her.”
“Why? What happened?”
I told him about the conversation, grappling in my diaper bag—yes, I had come to think of the diaper bag as mine—for a tissue. I pressed it to my eyes.
“Sara.” Jamie’s chair was on wheels and he moved it closer to take both my hands in his. “It’s not your fault, all right? I set you up for failure. You worked such miracles for Maggie and me that I guess I hoped you could work them for Laurel, too.” He smoothed his thumbs over the back of my hands as he spoke. I curled my own hands involuntarily around his, gripping his fingers.
How do you stand it? I wanted to ask him. How do you stand her? I’d wanted to feel sympathy for Laurel because clearly the woman was ill. But my sympathy could reach only so far. Laurel had a live, beautiful child and she was doing nothing to mother her.
“I didn’t realize what you were coping with at home,” I said. “How bad it is.”
“I hope it’ll pass,” he said. “It’s just going to take more time than I thought.”
“Maybe she does need antidepressants,” I said.
“Maybe,” he acknowledged.
“What keeps you going?” I asked.
“Oh, Sara.” He smiled. “Silly question. I have so much to keep me going. The chapel, to begin with. And her.” He nodded toward Maggie in her cradle. “And the fact that I love Laurel.” He looked at me as if reminding me that he and I were only friends, nothing more.
But the way his thumbs stroked the back of my hands told me something completely different.
Chapter Nine
Keith
DAWN PARKED AT THE END OF THE ROAD BY THE LOCKWOODS’ house so that Stump Sound was right smack in front of us. You could drive straight into it if you wanted. No guardrail or anything. I thought about Jordy Matthews’s mother flying off the high-rise bridge. What would it be like to be inside a car with water pouring in through the windows? If you wanted to die, would you panic or could you peacefully let yourself drown?
The Lockwoods’ house was on our left. There were a few other cars parked nearby, and I wondered how many people would be at this thing, whatever it was.
Dawn looked at me. “You all right, sugar?” she asked. “You look a little green.”
“Never better.” This was the last place I wanted to be. Maggie Lockwood’s house. I was doing it for my mother. Otherwise, no way in hell I’d be there.
The past two mornings, the second I woke up, I looked out the window above my bed, hoping to see my mother’s car. Hoping it had miraculously reappeared overnight. When I saw that it hadn’t, I felt this panic building inside me. It was like when I woke up in the hospital with that effing breathing tube down my throat. I’d never wanted to have that feeling again.
“Okay.” Dawn unsnapped her seat belt. “Let’s go.”
We walked up the sidewalk to the house, which was yellow, the only thing it had in common with our trailer. The house was big for Topsail. Grand, my mother called it. I wouldn’t have gone that far, but having the sound in your yard was nothing to sneeze at.
I’d been there plenty of times back before Maggie torched me and my mother and Laurel’d been friends, but not since then. Not since I found out that I was a Lockwood, too.
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