Such Happiness as This

by Laina Villeneuve

  “You’re awful, you know that? I don’t know why I call you.”

  “Because I make a smile on your face. I can hear it in your voice,” Isabel said.

  Robyn could picture her in her home, phone pinched between cheek and shoulder, folding clothes, stirring supper or doing dishes. Her hands were always busy. She never had time to sit and let her mind wander, and knowing her friend, even if she did, she would not be pulled into the spiral of melancholy that had such a strong grip on Robyn.

  “Have you been to the barn? Maybe you just need a ride. Go take a long ride in the rain and get soaked. This will be a rebirth for you.”

  “Right. Very symbolic,” Robyn groused. “It kind of loses meaning when it rains most of the year.”

  “Too much rebirth. You never get the chance to mature. I can see the problem. No wonder you enjoy that little boy at the barn so much. You are like the big sister.”

  She did miss Caemon and had already told Kristine that she’d be happy to help out with him when the new baby arrived in three weeks or so. “Are you sure this is not your clock starting to tick-tock?”

  “I never wanted a kid. You know that,” Robyn said, watching rain roll off the skylight above her, her loft dim with the dark gray sky stealing the afternoon light.

  “You just wanted Barb?”

  “I wanted my person. I thought she was my person, and it turns out I was wrong. Eight years wrong.”

  “So you keep looking. But you’ve got to get out there. You’re not going to meet anyone lying around in your loft all day.”

  “I’m not lying in my loft,” Robyn lied.

  “Do not test my powers,” Isabel said.

  Robyn could see Isabel, arms crossed over her chest. She swung her feet over to the ladder and eased down into the room just as Jen passed with someone short behind her. She gave a thumbs-up as she closed the door of her studio. “I think Jen has a student,” she said.

  “Oh, this is great news! Rebirth, just like I said!” Isabel chortled.

  “How is her student an example of rebirth?” Robyn asked, listening to Jen play a note on the piano and tune the violin to it.

  “Here is my prediction. New student has a mom, a beautiful single mom who waits while her kid is getting musical instruction. You offer her a cup of tea one day, and the next thing you know, you are a happy little family.”

  “You sound very proud of yourself.”

  “I am trying to be helpful. Am I not helpful?”

  The first tentative notes of a scale crept from the studio. “I don’t want a kid, remember?”

  “Go ride your horse, then.”

  “Thanks, Isabel. You really are helpful,” Robyn said.

  “I know.”

  “You could come see me,” Isabel’s voice was gentle on the line, and Robyn knew she was thinking about the years that Robyn had kept her pain hidden.

  “Maybe I will. Your boys probably don’t even remember who I am.”

  “No. Craig keeps asking about my new friend.”

  Her spirits rising again, Robyn laughed. “Maybe I will come up for a few days and tell Barb that anything left in the shed when I get back will go to the curb.”

  “This works. It will save me from coming down there to kick her ass.”

  Robyn pocketed her phone. Isabel was right. She couldn’t move on when she had to pass the shed full of her boxed-up past on her way to her workshop every day. When had she become so passive? In the coast guard, she’d been all purpose and decisiveness. Without her job she felt adrift.

  Another reason leasing Taj was a good idea. She had something dependent on her. The little musician next door had finished warming up and had moved on to a tune. Robyn paused at the top of the stairs recognizing the halting notes of “You Are My Sunshine.”

  She began humming along as she descended the stairs and headed off to the barn.

  Chapter Nine

  “Hand over the baby and nobody gets hurt,” Grace said, pushing by Kristine.

  “She’s asleep.”

  Grace Warren turned her Administrative Director glare on Kristine and hung her black MYCRA PAC slicker by the door. She wore her shoulder-length curly red hair in an attractive French roll in an attempt to tame the mass it became with the coastal dampness. She looked every inch the professional in her standby plum Elie Tahari suit.

  “Right. One sleeping baby coming up. Wash your hands.”

  They met back at the couch, Grace’s clean hands extended for the days-old baby. Grace sank back into the couch, nestling Kristine’s newcomer to her chest. She closed her eyes and breathed in the first peace she’d felt all day. “No Caemon?”

  “He’s on an outing with his Grandpa.”

  “I got the baby if you want some wife time.”

  “Gloria’s asleep too. Sleep when the baby sleeps, you know?”

  “I think it would be better if you went to feed your horse, and I held the baby.”

  “It was that bad?” Kristine asked, worry in her voice.

  “Have you not seen my feet?” Grace waggled her beige suede Stuart Weizman pumps that would never be the same. At five eight, she did not need the added height, but she knew part of her authority came from her stature and she exploited it to its fullest.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. You’re lucky they weren’t my favorite.”

  “I’ve got some saddle soap. I could clean them up for you.”

  “Like you don’t have your hands full. How’s she sleeping?”

  “Okay. She goes about two hours, but I try to hold her off for a while, let Gloria get in another hour before she nurses.”

  “So. What? You’re out here walking the halls?”

  “She likes the bouncy ball,” Kristine said, pointing to the exercise ball in the corner.

  “If she’s hungry, why not just feed her?”

  “She’s not really hungry, so she just nurses a minute and falls back asleep. If she goes longer, she really eats. Then we can both sleep longer. If Caemon’s not up.”

  “You’ve got the life, sister.”

  Kristine curled her feet up underneath her and rested her head on the back of the couch. “Was it just your shoes?”

  “Your horse also provided me with a shower. We had a misunderstanding about how the green stuff was supposed to go in his stall, not all over me.”

  “You didn’t open the door to put it in?”

  “Have you seen how big that thing is? I thought it was safer to chuck the hay over the door. His face wasn’t there when I threw it, but then suddenly it was coming right back at me.” Kristine laughed, and Grace slapped her. “The one across the aisle is much more civilized. And you said that your friend will be back tomorrow to take over?”

  “Yes. When we made the plan for me to take care of Taj this weekend while she’s up in Spokane, I thought I had wagons of time till the baby came. You really saved my tush.”

  “What did you do yesterday when Gloria was still in the hospital?”

  “Yesterday was easy. Gloria had the nurses to take care of her and Eliza. I spent the day with Caemon, and he loves to play at the barn.”

  “Any cute single nurses?”

  “Not your type.”

  “You don’t know my type.”

  “I assume your type isn’t male.”

  Grace laughed. “You got me there. Well, I was happy to help, but I’m off the hook tomorrow?”

  Kristine’s face fell.

  “What?”

  “I just realized I don’t have Robyn’s number. I should have had you leave a note for her with my number. Baby brain,” Kristine apologized.

  “Don’t worry about it. As long as I don’t have to muck, it’s not that big of a deal.” Grace brushed the soft down of Eliza’s brown hair with her lips, drinking in her baby smell. Wrapped in a luxurious yellow velour blanket, Eliza radiated warmth that soothed Grace’s soul and made the added trials of her day worth it. She looked over at Kristine, who had fallen asleep sitting up.r />
  Grace admired the baby’s delicate eyelashes. Under Grace’s intense stare, Eliza’s eyes fluttered open. “Hello dear one,” she whispered. “Your mommies are sleeping. You don’t mind hanging out with Auntie Grace, do you?” Eliza opened her eyes, two wide almonds. Her lips formed a rosebud O. “You’re a lucky girl, you know that? You have the two greatest moms ever and a fantastic big brother. And you’ve got me for fashion advice. That cowgirl thing works for your mama, and your mommy’s got a great relationship with green thanks to her Fish and Game ranger uniform, but there are other things to wear. I’m here for you.”

  She chatted with the baby about picking shoes for style rather than comfort and about how there are rules about colors and seasons. The baby listened, focused raptly on the cadence of Grace’s low-pitched voice. Prodding at Eliza’s fist, Grace delighted when tiny fingers wrapped around hers. She marveled at each slender digit and the delicate fingernails. “I’ll make sure your moms get you violin lessons when you’re older, or you can play cello. Lots of people think the violin is more versatile, but I love the cello’s voice.” She told Eliza about her favorite compositions, and by the time Gloria emerged from the bedroom, flushed with her blond hair sleep-rumpled, Grace had moved on to listing the trials of her day.

  “Who’s in the doghouse?” Gloria asked, putting one of Kristine’s flannels on over a stretchy tank top.

  “Ceramics. I had them set to show in Old Town, but now Ferguson isn’t happy with half the pieces his seniors have done.”

  “You’ll whip them into shape, I’m sure.”

  “That’s right,” Grace said, speaking again to Eliza. “No one messes with me, not if they want a future in art.”

  Gloria held her arms out for Eliza. “My boobs say it’s time to eat.”

  “Mommy’s playing the boob card. I can’t argue with that, kiddo,” Grace said, handing Eliza over. “You’re back in your pre-pregnancy clothes already?” she noted.

  Gloria snapped the waist of her gray yoga pants. “They’re elastic and have a lot of give. A lot. I still feel like a broodmare.” She easily maneuvered the tank top out of the way to let Eliza nurse.

  “Broodmares are important,” Kristine mumbled.

  “You’re not supposed to agree with me,” Gloria said.

  “You’re still sexy. Grace, isn’t my wife sexy?”

  “I am so not answering that,” Grace said, pointedly not watching her nurse. “I thought you were out cold.”

  “I got scared that if I opened my eyes, you’d get on me about the prints I owe you. The only other person as persistent as you is Gloria’s mom, and once I smartened up and took the teaching job here…”

  “Smartened up and chose true love over your career,” Gloria inserted.

  “As I was saying, when I chose Gloria over a promising career in nature photography, my now mother-in-law eased up on her demands for new prints.”

  “I cut new moms some slack.” Grace perched on the edge of the couch, knowing she should go but was enjoying their banter too much. She’d had her baby fix and should leave the couple to their quiet evening, but she couldn’t make herself stand. The couple never made her feel like the third wheel, always welcoming her into their home.

  She’d accepted their hospitality, and then their friendship. From the moment Grace had joined the staff at Humboldt State, Kristine had pulled her into their circle. As colleagues they worked well together, and when Grace spent time with them it was easy for her to picture finding someone who could fit with her the way Kristine and Gloria naturally fit each other.

  She adored their boy Caemon and lived vicariously through them. She’d never been interested in having her own family—she knew she didn’t have the patience for it—but she found that she really enjoyed the toddler. It felt like a gift to be able to stop by to take him on a walk, and his moms always seemed happy to hand him over in hour-long increments.

  They had become her family, but she couldn’t help envying their partnership. She wanted to feel the peace of Kristine and Gloria’s home. Their space had a settled quality, even with kid stuff scattered all about. Grace was seeking what they had found.

  Even when she was comfortable, she heard a voice in the back of her head that continuously urged her to keep busy. It reminded her that she still had to cook dinner and that she ought to stop by the store to pick up more bread for breakfast. Once the list started, she couldn’t stop it. She pushed to her feet.

  “You have to go?” Kristine asked, opening one eye.

  “I can’t take the smell of these shoes any longer. I promise to give you space to settle in, but Kristine, I’ll see you in a week.”

  Kristine groaned. “Don’t even talk about next week.”

  “I control many things but do not recall you ever asking for my advice about whether to have another baby in the middle of the fall semester.”

  “Thanks for your help, Grace,” Gloria said, moving the baby to her shoulder for a burp.

  “Anytime,” Grace said. She was happy to be able to offer help so easily, but at the same time, being able to do so made her aware of how empty her own life was.

  Chapter Ten

  The hiking boots she’d pulled from a box in the garage clashed horribly with her black Calvin Klein skirt suit but were far better suited for the puddle-riddled drive and dusty aisles at the barn. She slid into a raincoat and zipped it against the fine mist hanging in the air.

  Her stride was long and confident even though she hadn’t been in a stable since she’d followed her father from stall to stall as he mucked. It hadn’t been her thing then, and she was no more comfortable now, but Kristine had given her so much and she was pleased to be able to extend a kindness to her. She was much more at home on city streets looking for a boutique restaurant, or finding an exciting show or exhibition. The few people she saw at the barn grasped travel mugs steaming with coffee probably poured from an old stained coffee carafe. If she drank coffee, it was foam-topped and syrup-sweetened and enjoyed in a comfortable chair with a good book, not standing in the middle of a round corral flicking a wickedly long whip with one hand and taking sips of her coffee with the other.

  She was merely a visitor in Kristine’s world, one she had only heard about in the office and occasionally seen in her photographs, and would be happy to hand off the assignment to Robyn. No sign of life around the stall across from Kristine’s, Grace turned her attention to the lock on Kristine’s tack shed where she kept the horse’s food. Bean swung his neck out over the partial door and nickered for the flakes of hay she had peeled from the bale.

  “Step back,” she ordered, sliding the latch to free the door. “Your mom says this will save me from another alfalfa shower.” She placed a tentative hand on his chest, blocking the doorway with her body while she maneuvered the hay into the stall. He dropped his head and ran it the length of her body, turning her into a scratching post. She hurled the hay into the stall and stumbled out to slam the door.

  After she secured it, she turned to check her skirt. “Damn,” she muttered, finding that he’d lifted her raincoat and used her as a tissue as well. She looked for something in the tack shed to remove the slimy trail he’d left on her skirt. Her watch confirmed that she didn’t have time to double back and change before she was due in her office at the Art Department. Growling, she grabbed a brush from a bucket and whisked it across the fabric in an attempt to be presentable.

  She looked around once more for the woman Kristine had sworn would take over Bean’s care and still saw no one. She would have preferred checking in with the woman in person to leaving a note. Her busy brain worried that if Robyn had to extend her trip for some reason, the horses would go hungry. She shooed away the nonproductive concern, knowing that a barn manager would keep such a thing from happening.

  Just as she slid Kristine’s padlock back on the tack room door and the note she’d prepared in her hand, Grace spotted a striking woman approaching the stall across from her. Kristine had said Robyn mu
st have Asian ancestry which Grace could clearly see in her coloring, sculpted eyebrows and dense closely-cropped black hair.

  “I hope you’re Robyn,” she said, pocketing the note. The woman looked surprised, so she quickly added, “Kristine’s at home this week with the new baby. She said she’d talked to you about caring for the horse but never got your number.”

  Grace felt the woman’s gaze shift from her to the stall behind her and back again. She smiled. “Boy or girl?”

  “I think it’s a boy.” Grace glanced into the stall. “Does it matter?” Her puzzlement added a terseness into her voice.

  Robyn looked puzzled. “The baby?”

  “Oh, god!” Grace brushed a few tendrils of hair from her forehead with her forearms, not trusting her hands to be clean. “The baby is a girl. Eliza. Cutest little thing. Seven and a half pounds, almost twenty inches, ten fingers and toes.”

  “How long does she want me to look after Bean?”

  “The rest of this week, at least. She’s back to work on Monday,” she said, surprised by how quickly Robyn turned the conversation back to the horse.

  “Has he been out?”

  “You’re kidding me, right? I only signed up for putting food in.”

  “Not a stall mucker?”

  Grace thought the question might have carried a hint of a tease, so she lingered longer than she had intended.

  “And get dirt under my nails?” she asked, studying them.

  “Let her know I’ll take care of him. The works,” she said pointedly.

  “You’re a kinder woman than I.”

  Grace studied Robyn for a moment, taking in her calm. There was a precision about her, no hint of excess in her speech, her practical attire, even in how her hair feathered back from her makeup-free face, nothing to accentuate the palest blue eyes she’d ever seen. She felt time slow for a moment as she tried to place the color. A shallow ocean with white sand…aquamarine…the water only barely reflecting the blue of the sky.