She closed her eyes and whispered to herself. “It will get easier. Next time it will be easier.”
Problem was, she didn’t really believe it.
***
Merry snugged her jacket close around her as she waited on the beach boardwalk for Sabrina. The day was very fine, sunny and fresh, but each breath of breeze nipped at her face. She’d left her hat and scarf at home, in homage to spring, but she wished she had them now. The days were much longer now, in May, but the temperature often still hovered close to freezing.
She sighed, staring out across the bay, remembering. When she’d come to Homer the first time, running away from her life, leaves were yellowing and the brief Alaskan summer was hurrying away. Days waned, the darkness drawing in, winter hunkering down for the long months ahead, yet in that time of dwindling light and warmth she’d found Nick. Well, they’d found each other. She dropped her head, giving it a sharp shake. And now, with the promise of spring in the air, the season of rebirth and awakening, she was alone, living in a world without him. Some mornings it was next to unbearable, waking and remembering anew that Nick was gone, and the life she’d imagined was never going to be. She tried not to think about them, Cass and Nick together, but so often it was impossible. Cass was pregnant, carrying Nick’s child. What would they do? Would they get married? Her throat tightened and she shook her head again, harder, turning into the offshore breeze to cool her face. She wouldn’t lie to herself. She was still in love with Nick and she was still devastated by Cass’ betrayal. But she was going to survive this. She would weather this pain and loss and somehow, with time, the pieces of her life would reassemble themselves into a new shape. Somehow, she would move forward. It was the only way.
Sabrina rounded the corner, coming from the direction of The Twins. Willy swayed in her tall backpack like a sultan perched on the back of an elephant. The pompoms at the end of the strings of his purple wool hat swayed too, in time with Sabrina’s hurried steps. She carried two covered paper cups.
Merry grinned at them both as they joined her on the boardwalk. Willy’s face scrunched into a wide smile, his apple cheeks bright red. “Gah,” he announced happily.
“I thought maybe you’d like a coffee. I got you a nonfat latte. I hope that’s okay?” Sabrina ducked her head low as she handed Merry a cup.
They’d dropped easily into the habit of spending time together, meeting for coffee or walks, yet Sabrina was still shy with her. Merry helped her out of the backpack and parked it upright on the boardwalk, as Willy opened and closed his chubby hands in the direction of the circling seagulls.
“Gah, gah, gah!”
“Every time I see him he gets a little bigger,” Merry said, chucking him under the chin. Willy ignored her, his full attention on the gulls tumbling through the air and squawking above them.
Sabrina nodded and grinned at the ground. “He actually slept all through the night last night. First time.” She laughed. “And I was so scared when I woke up this morning because I thought maybe something had happened to him in the night.”
Merry laughed along with her. “Maybe this means you won’t be so tired all the time. Maybe this will mean you can spend more time with Ren.”
Sabrina’s face clouded briefly. “That would be nice.” She sounded glum. She stared at her fingers, and Merry noticed that her fingernails were bitten down to the quick.
Sabrina stared across the bay, her eyes unfocused. “We didn’t plan to have Willy so soon. It just…happened.” She ducked her head again, into the collar of her jacket. “He’s wonderful of course, and Ren and I both adore him, but…I kind of miss Ren. Even though he’s around all the time. Oh, I’m not explaining this right…”
“Of course you are. I understand.” Merry patted her hand. “Antonia’s still around, right? Couldn’t she watch Willy once in a while so you and Ren could have a night out?”
A shadow passed over Sabrina’s face whenever she mentioned Antonia. As far as Merry could tell, Antonia still hadn’t announced a departure date. She was just stuck there, living in Sabrina’s and Ren’s cabin, taking up room but contributing nothing. “Antonia can’t watch Willy. She doesn’t know anything about babies. It wouldn’t be fair to ask her.”
Merry stood up and grabbed the backpack. “Let me carry this big guy for a while.”
She relished the feel of Willy’s solid body pressed against her back, his slippered feet occasionally knocking against her arms as they wandered down the shore. The terrible memory of her catastrophic miscarriage, which had heralded the beginning of the end of her marriage to Michael, was more distant now. Even so, a deep abyss of regret still sometimes opened inside her when she saw babies, knowing that the damage to her body meant she would never mother one of her own. Up to the point in her life when that dream was lost, she’d assumed that she and Michael would have a family one day, their own babies to love and cherish. But today, with the sun in her face and Sabrina leading the way down the shore, the weight of Willy wasn’t a reminder of what was lost, but a sweet, warm comfort.
They strolled along the beach, stopping from time to time to see what the receding tide had left behind. Sabrina seemed fascinated with every broken shell and oddly-shaped rock they came across. It was slow going, but Merry enjoyed Sabrina’s quiet company. Sabrina reminded her of a younger version of herself, the person she had been before her marriage had fallen apart and forced her to face the world in a different way, to find another path forward. She remembered walking along the beach in Florida, lighthearted and carefree, delighting in the tickle and scrape of sand between her toes, mesmerized by the lacy edges of waves decorating the shore. The world then was framed by complex and captivating beauty, not the dark weight of sorrow that was yet to come. Merry shifted the backpack to a new position on her shoulders. Willy was indeed getting bigger—and heavier.
Sabrina broke into a coltish jog, arms swinging high above her head. “What a wonderful day!” Merry loved to see Sabrina like this, in the occasional moments when she was carefree and loose, her shyness temporarily abandoned. She was such a lovely young woman, but she lacked confidence in herself, and Merry worried about her. Sabrina never complained, but Merry strongly suspected that the situation in her little cabin wasn’t always happy. And Merry also strongly suspected that Antonia was part of the reason.
Chapter 9
Cassandra pushed her chair away from the slowing wheel, wincing as its legs screeched against the floorboards. She pressed her hands against her lower back and groaned. She loved the challenge of throwing massive pots, but taming huge lumps of clay and wrestling them into shape was hard work, and she had to muster her strength and concentration. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, adding to the dried smears of gray clay already there.
Once again, time had disappeared. It was almost dusk. She had settled down to throw mid-morning, and the hours slid away without a whisper. Only now did she realize that she was starving, and that brought on a pang of guilt. After all, she was eating for two. She sighed.
Dr. Renata had given her a clean bill of health. “Healthy as the proverbial horse,” he said. “I don’t foresee any problems.” He had frowned at her then, and tried to open a conversation about having the baby, and what it would mean, and was she sure she wanted this, but she cut him off quickly and left. The truth was that she wasn’t sure about anything, but nothing Dr. Renata could say would help her sort through her feelings, which these days bounced through just about every emotion imaginable.
She’d had a little morning sickness, but Dr. Renata said the queasiness would most likely pass soon. When she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, her stomach still was flat, her skin taut. No outward sign yet of the turmoil within. A new person. I have a whole new person inside of me. The thought was terrifying.
She rinsed her hands and pulled a mug from the kitchen cabinet, pouring herself some milk. Maybe Nick would be by soon. He’d been stopping by most days, checking on her, asking if she needed anything. He was alwa
ys kind, always concerned. He hugged her close, right away, sometimes stroking her hair. When he was holding her, she stilled herself, waiting, hoping that the moment would change into something different, something that would signal that Nick’s feelings for her reflected the way she felt about him. She told herself that he needed time to adjust to their new relationship, to their new commitment.
Cat jumped onto the counter and meowed. Cass bit her lip. She’d forgotten to put out food for him again this morning. Her entire focus had been on the clay, the work, the way she planned to round the pot’s huge belly and contour its neck, visualizing the final shape it would take, and considering the combination of glazes that would perfect it. She was doing some of her best work ever, work that energized and excited her. Ideas for new pieces snuck into her head at night when she was half asleep, and so she kept a paper and pencil on her nightstand, capturing them in loose scribbles and notes. Her work was more sculptural now, moving into entirely new directions.
She put down her mug and dug in the cabinet for the bag of cat food which, she saw, was almost empty. She sighed again and shook her head. I can’t even take care of a cat. What will it be like to have a baby?
Cat pushed his head against her hand, urging her to hurry. He had made himself at home in the cabin, sometimes scurrying out the door in the morning and disappearing for several hours but always returning by nightfall, to snuggle against the warm wood stove and snooze. At night he curled into a tight ball at the end of her bed, and sometimes she felt rather than heard the vibration of his contented purr. In her mind, though, she didn’t own him. He had arrived and decided to stay, and so she let him. She fed him, but he wasn’t her pet, and he wasn’t her companion. He was more like a very small roommate. And any day he might decide to move on, or to go back to wherever he came from.
She froze when she thought she heard the crunch of gravel outside, but maybe she hadn’t, because there was no roar from Nick’s big pickup engine and no slam from the cab door. It could be a moose passing through, though they were usually quiet-footed despite their huge, bulky bodies. She stroked Cat’s fur absently. She had lived alone her entire adult life, by her choice. Her aunt and uncle had raised her in a loving home, after her mother had left town one day and never returned, but as soon as she was old enough, she’d moved into her cabin, cherishing the isolation and the freedom it gave her. Even after the terror she’d endured in Chicago, she’d yearned to return here, to be alone. Solitude didn’t scare her. Sounds didn’t unnerve her. Trees rustled, winds murmured and sometimes howled, ice creaked and cracked in the middle of the night. Noises were everywhere, but it was just the northern world carrying on.
She scratched Cat’s neck and he arched his back to meet her fingers. Lately, though…for the past few weeks she sometimes had an odd sensation, when she was outside the cabin or even when she was inside throwing at the wheel, a prickly sense that she wasn’t quite alone. Once she’d whipped around to look behind her, but of course no one was there.
And the flowers she’d found, on her doorstep. Where had the flowers come from? She had been sure that Nick had left them, but when she’d made mention of them, casually, Nick just looked confused, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. His brow wrinkled and he turned to stare at her, so she quickly changed the subject. She didn’t want him to worry about her. She wanted him to see her as strong and capable, a competent woman he could love, not as a child he needed to protect. The flowers were a mystery, but they weren’t important.
***
May brought some warmer days, finally banishing the last of the crusty snow from the protected hollows around tree trunks. As summer crept closer, daylight pushed long into the evening hours, the sun surprisingly warm and bright when it made an appearance and when the breeze fell quiet, but on other days, the rain muted the green landscape into drippy grayness. Cass paid little heed to the changes in the weather. She’d delivered her first load of new ceramics to Moira, and the pitchers and bowls perched gracefully on a central table in the gallery, awaiting the swelling tide of tourists. She’d turned her attention to new work, asymmetrical souring forms, more sculptural than functional, losing herself in the pleasure of the slippery clay with its bright tinny smell, hours passing without notice. New pieces lined the shelves along the cabin walls, awaiting the bisque kiln or the finishing touch of the glazes.
This morning, she’d once again glanced into the peeling bathroom mirror at her naked body, and perhaps there was a slight mound forming on her belly, but she was relieved that she still had to look hard to find it. The baby remained a secret kept by Nick and her alone. They’d never talked about that, but somehow a silent agreement had been forged. No one else knew. At some point they’d have to share the news, but not yet. She’d bit her lip and turned away, dressing quickly, pulling on a long purple tunic and her loose jeans, and then draping herself with her apron, getting ready to work at the wheel.
The rattle of loose gravel and the rumble of Nick’s truck engine distracted her. She peered up at the old clock above the kitchen sink. Nick was early today; it was only nine o’clock. She slid her hands down her body to straighten her clothes and brush clay crumbles from the apron, sighing. Her heart always lurched with pleasure when he drove in each day, checking up on her, but after a moment or two, after he’d hugged her and said hello, a vast chasm of things unsaid seemed to open between them. He always asked how she was feeling and if she needed anything, could he run to town to get her some groceries, had she seen the doctor, was she eating. His concern was genuine, she was sure, but it was beginning to feel like regular visits from a very nice public health nurse.
They hadn’t talked about what was going to happen next. She knew that he would support her, and that he would take care of her, in any way she needed. But how would it be between them? Nick hadn’t raised the subject and neither had she. They were just carrying on, day by day, not talking about the future.
She watched through the window as he unloaded some grocery bags from the back of his truck, and then as he paused, staring back into the woods, swiping at the air around his face, probably shooing away the latest crop of newly-hatched and hungry mosquitoes.
She bit her lip and turned away from the window. Merry would know what to do. She dug her fingernails into her palm. Stupid. She was being stupid. That friendship was long gone. Of course it was. Merry had come back to build a life with Nick, only to find Cass had stepped in and taken Nick away. But…had she?
Moira made sure that Cass heard all about Merry, that she was staying with Scary, for who knows how long. How Nick and Merry got on, Moira couldn’t say. She had offered Cass lots of opportunities to fill in some blanks with what she knew, what Nick had said, but that certainly wasn’t going to happen. Apparently, Nick and Merry also evaded her questions. They weren’t clueless after all. Telling your story to Moira was tantamount to publishing it in the Homer Tribune.
Cass had seen Merry a few times, once at a distance on the main street near the hardware store, and once when Merry was driving Scary’s car out of the gas station. As she drove by her, Cass lifted her hand in a wave, almost an automatic gesture, but Merry’s expression was stony and her hands stayed on the steering wheel. They’d come face to face one day at The Twins, for just a few moments. Cass was bustling in to order some tea, and Merry was just heading out, holding two paper cups and following a young woman with a baby in a backpack. Their eyes met for a stunned instant, and Merry had nodded, sharply and just once, before walking out the door. That brief look affirmed what Cass already knew: Merry didn’t want anything to do with her.
Nick’s steps thumped onto the front stairs, and she heard him grunt as he squatted to drop the bags down next to the door. She quickly pulled her thoughts back. Maybe she should bring it up with Nick today, start the conversation. What will happen after the baby is born? Are you going to move in here? Am I going to move into your cabin? Are we getting married?
She knew why she hadn’t ask
ed. If she did, she knew exactly what he would say.He’d frown, and look away from her, and ask, “Well, Cass, what do you want us to do?”
And as much as she loved him, as much as she wanted to be with him, she didn’t know the right answer to that question.
~ * ~
Her head held high, staring straight ahead, Cassandra strode past the white plastic bucket of sand and cigarette butts adorning the entry to the Homer Police Department, into the tiny lobby with the stained, bumpy vinyl floor. She scanned the walls, papered with brochures about babysitting safety, boating tips and suicide awareness, near a framed display of law enforcement badges. Moving to the security window and clearing her throat, she willed her voice to be steady.
“I want to talk to someone. I want to file a report. I’m being...harassed.”
Were those even the right words? The sentences echoed in her head, stiff and awkward. She fought a sudden impulsive urge to turn on her heels and leave, walk right out the door and forget all this. But the repulsive package she clutched in her hand had to be dealt with. After a few seconds, the door facing her buzzed and opened. A portly man in a dark uniform straining over his protruding belly and a shiny badge pinned to his chest looked her up and down, then turned and held the door open for her.
The big room reeked of stale coffee and musty old papers. Chipped Formica tables huddled together in awkward groupings, their edges not quite meeting up. The cop led her through the untidy maze of furniture to a grimy computer squatting on a metal desk next to a crushed pack of cigarettes and a crumpled newspaper.
He sat down heavily, the rolling chair creaking under his weight. She hesitated and then slid onto the smaller chair next to the desk. “Well?” he said, his eyebrows shooting skyward as he looked at her. One corner of his mouth inched upwards. “What can I do for you?” He didn’t add the words “little lady,” but she could almost hear them in his raspy voice.
A Late Hard Frost Page 7