Scrapping Plans

by Rebeca Seitz

  Zelda smiled and studied her tea. “You don’t have to know why, Kendra. Neither do you, Tandy. But you do have to leave this between your daddy and me. I said I forgive you both and I do.” She looked up, then came to her feet. Sunshine pouring in from an overhead window provided the spotlight in which she stood. “I appreciate you girls coming all this way to say you’re sorry. I’ll pray for safe travels during your drive home.”

  Kendra stared, mouth agape, while Zelda walked across the hardwood floor and through a white wooden door. It closed with finality.

  Kendra pointed a long, purple-tipped finger in the direction Zelda had gone. Her bracelets clanked together. “Did she just kick us out of her house?”

  “I think so.” Tandy shook her head. “What do we do now?”

  “Storming her bedroom—at least what I assume is her bedroom—would just give us something else to say we’re sorry for later.”

  Tandy chewed her lip. “I think we have to leave.”

  “Without Zelda? Are you nuts?”

  “What’s the alternative, Ken? She’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk anymore. We got what we came for— her forgiveness. Let’s do as she says and hit the road.” Tandy stood and put their glasses back on the tray. “Come on.”

  Kendra followed her in stupefied silence through the living room and around the corner into the kitchen.

  Tandy set the tray down on a black and brown granite surface. She had no idea why Zelda wouldn’t come back to Stars Hill, but there were eleven long hours of driving time between them and Stars Hill. Suddenly that looked like a better option than going through airport security again.

  Enough time to talk it out and formulate a plan.

  Rules were made to be broken.

  Thirteen

  My hallway looks like a toy department exploded. I can’t remember when I had this much fun.

  “Aunt Joy, it’s your turn!”

  James has more energy than a six-week-old puppy. He’s set the bowling pins up at least twenty times already, but the sparkle in his eye and laughter bubbling up from within haven’t ebbed a bit. No wonder Meg’s tired all the time.

  Scott’s hands are warm on my back as he pushes me out of our sitting position on the floor. “Go on, Aunt Joy. Knock ’em dead.”

  He’s having a ball too. Years have disappeared from his face in the few hours we’ve had James and Savannah.

  I take the plastic bowling ball from James and ruffle his hair. “Okay, go keep watch.”

  His sock-clad feet slip and slide, but James gets to the other end of the hallway and gives a triumphant grin that I can’t help but return. “Aim good, Aunt Joy!”

  We’ve rolled the oriental rug to one side, and light gleams on the hardwood floor. I close one eye and sight down the length of a few planks, then roll the ball toward the plastic multicolored pins at the other end.

  James is dancing before the ball even makes contact. “Good throw! Good throw!” With a loud crash, plastic ball hits plastic pins and they all go flying. “Did you see that, Uncle Scott? Did you? I just think Aunt Joy is the best bowler ever!” He slips across the floor, retrieving pins and placing them back in formation. “Let’s do it again.”

  Scott hauls himself up. His knee pops and I laugh. “Snap, crackle, pop, old man.”

  “Hey, watch who you’re calling old.” His arms come around my waist, and I wonder briefly if we should hug in front of James. But I’ve got thousands of pictures in my mind of Mother and Daddy hugging, dancing, kissing, laughing. It’s good for children to know the adults around them love each other.

  I hug Scott back, then push him over to where I had been. “Your turn, Uncle Scott. Show me what you’ve got.”

  He lowers his head, his big hand slides around the back of my neck, and he puts his forehead to mine. “That’ll come after we take the kids home.”

  I giggle—me! giggling!—and step backward. “We’ll see if either of us has any energy left or we end up sacked out like Savannah is right now.”

  “Come on, Uncle Scott!” James places the last pin in position. “You’ve got to hit ’em all or we’ll know Aunt Joy’s better than you.”

  Scott shakes his head, the smile never leaving his face as he aims and rolls the ball. All ten pins crash down and skid off in varying directions.

  “YAY! Great job! Great job!” James jumps up and down, hopping from pin to pin and setting up again.

  “Hey, James, how about a break from bowling?”

  “Aw, but I want to bowl some more.” He doesn’t look up, intent on getting every pin just right.

  “Even though I’m about to make chocolate chip cookies?”

  The red pin in his hand clatters to the floor. “Cookies? Can I help? Mom lets me help sometimes, and I’m really good. I promise. You can ask her.”

  “I believe you, James. Let’s go to the kitchen and get our aprons on.”

  “You’re sure sugar this late at night is a good idea?” Scott’s putting pins back into their box.

  “If this child is still awake in an hour, I’ll give up my subscription to Living.”

  “Wow. What are you planning to do? Put Benadryl in his milk?”

  “No. Everybody knows warm cookies and milk do the trick every time.”

  “And eight hours of nonstop playing.” He puts the last pin in the box and hefts it onto his side.

  “That too.” I kiss him—a short, quick, happy-to-be-with-you kiss—as I head toward the kitchen.

  Soon we could be playing with our own children. In the blink of an eye, the whole scene comes fully formed into my mind and stops my feet. Our little girl, sitting on the kitchen counter with flour on her nose and a wooden spoon in her hand, chattering away about the butterflies and bluebirds outside. She’ll be fascinated with nature because I’ll introduce her to it early on. I’ll explain how the hummingbird hovers just outside the window and how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly. She’ll laugh and lick batter off the spoon, then her fingers. I’ll put her in a red corduroy dress because that will be so striking next to her black hair.

  “Aunt Joy! I found my apron!” James’s voice dispels the image, and I feel a bit of sadness as it slips away. What if the doctor tells us tomorrow that we can’t have children? What if I never have a little girl to teach about baking and singing and nature? Can I be happy without a child?

  “Aunt Joy!”

  I get my feet into gear and hurry through the entryway. James stands, surrounded by kitchen towels, holding up an apron. “Look! I found a blue one. Can I wear the blue one?”

  “Sure you can.” I kneel before him and slip it over his head. “Now, do you know the first thing we do before we make cookies?” I have to wrap the blue ties around him twice and tuck the bottom of the apron into the waistband so he won’t trip.

  “What?”

  “We wash our hands. Do you know how to wash your hands?”

  His little eyes are serious as he nods. “Yep. Mommy taught me when my nose was running away. I washed my hands so it would stay on my face.”

  Only creative Meg could make up a story about a running nose to impress the importance of washing hands on a seven-year-old. I pull a stool over to the sink.

  “Right. Well, we also wash our hands so the food stays clean while we work. Now hop up here and let’s get to work on some cookies.”

  * * *

  “COME ON T, I’m exhausted and so are you. Let’s enjoy a couple of days here in the sunshine, do some wedding planning, and then go home.” Storefronts and strip malls whizzed by as they traveled down Pine Ridge Road. Kendra pulled a yellow bandana from her bag and tied it over her head to keep her hair down.

  “Don’t you want to get back to Darin?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then why the full-court press on staying here a few days?”

  “Didn’t you just tell me you need some time to figure out why Zelda’s not coming back to Stars Hill with us?”

  Tandy nodded, stopping at a red
light.

  “Okay, then let’s go sit on a beach and think about it. Maybe if we come up with something, we’ll take another crack at getting her to come back with us.”

  This made Tandy nibble her lip, and Kendra knew she’d just been granted a couple of days in sunshine.

  “You’ve got a point.”

  “I usually do.”

  “Yeah, but this time it’s a good point.”

  Kendra stuck her tongue out before glancing back around them. “Pull in over there at that 7-11. I’ll bet we can get a map and figure out where the beach is.”

  “The beach is this way.” Tandy turned the car in the opposite direction of the convenience store.

  “You know Naples?”

  “I know the beach. Something about the way the sky looks over the beach.” Tandy pointed out the windshield. “See that gorgeous blue? That’s a beach sky.”

  Kendra squinted, then twisted in her seat. Nope, the sky behind them looked just like the sky Tandy pointed at. “I don’t get it.”

  “Landlubber,” Tandy teased. “Trust me.” She turned the radio on and smiled when the bouncy notes of Bop poured from the car’s speakers.

  “You’re kidding me. Bop?” Kendra wrinkled her nose.

  “Oh, be quiet. You know you love it.”

  They giggled and bopped their heads back and forth in time to the music. Tandy steered the car another three blocks, then pulled into a parking space and cut the engine.

  “Um, sis, this is a parking lot.”

  Tandy hooked her thumb behind them. “And that’s the ocean. Come on.” She was out her door before Kendra had time to tell her that a building lay behind them, not the ocean.

  Kendra scrambled to catch up. “Wait a second. Wait just a second. Where are you going?” She hurried after Tandy, who now stood at the end of a sand-covered sidewalk.

  “I thought you wanted to go to the beach.”

  “I do.”

  Tandy held out her arm and Kendra looped her own through its crook. “Then come along, sister dear.”

  People in various states of swimwear met them from the other direction as they strode down the long paved walkway. Kendra barely suppressed a giggle when a heavyset fortyish man came into their line of vision; his red spandex Speedo left little to the imagination.

  When he’d passed, Kendra leaned over to Tandy and whispered, “If Clay or Darin ever does that, they will never be allowed to leave the house again.”

  “Absolutely.”

  A little girl with red pigtails and a bright yellow polkadot bathing suit came bounding down the walkway, followed closely by a tall, lithe woman whose hair bore the same red hue.

  “Sally! Stop right there until Mommy catches up!” The woman hefted a turquoise beach bag higher on her shoulder. Her other hand gripped a matching beach lounge chair. “Do you hear me, Sally?”

  “Yes, Mommy,” came the tiny voice. “I waiting!”

  Kendra glanced behind them to see that Sally had, indeed, stopped in her tracks. “You think Joy’s kids will be that obedient?”

  “I think they’d better.”

  They strolled further until, at last, just over a small rise, Kendra saw a slice of ocean.

  “Ooh! I see it!” She pulled Tandy at a faster pace. “Come on!”

  “What are you, two?” Tandy chuckled but let herself be hurried.

  “Hey, you got to live near this long enough to take it for granted. I’m so Stars Hill, my bones are frozen for the winter.” Kendra let go of Tandy’s arm and jogged the rest of the way down what had now become a wood-planked boardwalk. “Ah! Warm sand!” Kendra dug her toes into the white powder and tilted her face to the sun. “Heaven.”

  “Not quite, but it’s close.” Tandy breathed in the salty air. “Feel better now that you’re at the beach?”

  “I’ll feel better when we have a hotel room and I know I’m going to get a whole day of the beach.”

  “Okay, okay. We’ll stay a couple of days, long enough to figure out the next step with Zelda, and then hurry home. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great. Hey, let’s find one of those little mom-and-pop hotels that are here on the beach.”

  “No way. You know I’m a hotel snob.”

  “This is Naples, T. Even the little locally owned outfits are going to be fine. Besides, you can stay in your precious Hilton anytime.”

  Tandy sighed. “I’m going to regret this.”

  “No, you won’t. Even if we have to fight off cockroaches all night, we’ll have a funny story in the morning.”

  “Unless the cockroaches get us in our sleep and all they find in the morning are our bones.”

  “That’s gross.”

  “That’s the reality of staying in a motel.”

  “You really are a snob.”

  Tandy rolled her eyes. “It’s not like this is a surprise.”

  “We let you stay in the city too long, sister.” Kendra looped her arm back through Tandy’s and tugged her back to the sidewalk. “You’ve forgotten the cultural ambience of locally owned establishments.”

  “Now there’s a spin.”

  “Behold the skill.”

  “There’s a name for that kind of skill.”

  “Watch it, lady.”

  Tandy laughed. “Okay, let’s go see what locally owned establishment we’re calling home for the night.”

  Fourteen

  This office is frigid. Why do doctors’ offices have to be so cold? I read somewhere that the point is to make the environment inhospitable to the growth of germs. Well, it’s also inhospitable to the comfort of humans. Someone should tell them that.

  Scott looks worried. I don’t blame him, of course, but I wish there were something I could do to wipe those worry lines from his face. He’s been concerned ever since he came in here and let them draw blood and other fluids to run tests on. I wonder how he’ll react if there is something wrong with him.

  I wonder how I’ll react.

  Perfect. Now I have worry lines.

  I’ll still love him. That should go without saying, though I felt the need to say it anyway. I wonder why? I’ll still love him even if the doctor says that we can never conceive a child. We can always adopt, right? I was adopted. I believe in adoption. I’m all right with that option.

  I think.

  “Hello, Joy, Scott.” Dr. Goodman’s white coat looks inhospitable for germs as well. I wish the door to his office wasn’t behind us.

  Scott stands, so I do as well.

  “Hello, Dr. Goodman.” Scott’s hand is tan inside Dr. Goodman’s pale one when they shake. Lots of hours on the golf course. I sneak a look at Scott’s other hand and see that it’s a shade or two lighter. Must be the golf glove. “You have news for us?”

  Dr. Goodman settles himself into that leather chair. His face doesn’t look as promising as it did the last time I sat before this desk, with Meg here as my support.

  “The good news is that we’ve isolated the barrier to conception.”

  Which, of course, means there is a barrier to conception. Scott stiffens beside me, and I reach out to hold his tan hand. The coolness of his skin startles me. Shouldn’t tan hands be warm?

  “A barrier to conception?” I ask because it appears Scott isn’t going to say a word.

  “Yes. And it’s a problem that can be easily overcome using today’s technologies.”

  Oh, good. Technology to get pregnant. That sounds … sterile.

  “Scott, it appears you suffer from a condition called oligospermia.”

  The muscle in Scott’s jaw is working. I’m fairly certain his teeth are clamped tighter than a street peddler’s wallet.

  Dr. Goodman keeps speaking into the silence. “That’s simply a long way of saying you have a low sperm count. There are easy treatments—injections of hormones to increase the sperm count, or extraction of the sperm you have and IVF to bring about conception within Joy’s womb, or a number of other options. The point here is, we now know what we’re deali
ng with, and there are very easy ways to address the situation.”

  Silence stretches and I keep my eyes on my husband. I know this isn’t easy to hear, but I also know he’s a capable man who does not shy away from life’s difficulties. Finally Scott clears his throat.

  “All right. Where do we go from here?”

  Just six words, but oh how my heart lifts with the sound of them!

  “You’ll need to see an andrologist, which is a doctor specializing in male fertility. Dr. Murray is excellent. His office is one hallway over from this one. If you’d like, I can get you an appointment this week.”

  “That fast?”

  Dr. Goodman smiles. “I assume you two have had enough waiting to last a lifetime?”

  “Oh, yes!” I can’t help myself. Knowing the problem is key to conquering the problem, and now we’ve got a name for our problem: oligospermia. It’s an awful-sounding word, but Dr. Goodman gives me hope.

  “Then I’ll have Tina set it up. Just wait right here.”

  I wait until Dr. Goodman leaves before turning toward Scott. “Isn’t this wonderful news?”

  “Wonderful news?” His eyes widen, and I realize my blunder too late. “I can’t give you the children we want, and you call that wonderful news?”

  “But you can! We might need a little help, but who cares about that?”

  Storm clouds enter those eyes I love. “I care, Joy.”

  I rush to assure him. “I care too, Scott. I don’t mean to say I don’t care. I’m just so happy there isn’t something wrong that we can’t overcome, can’t find a solution for.”

  His smile is small, but it parts the storm clouds a bit. “I know what you meant.”

  “And you know that I love you, right?”

  “Right.”

  That will have to be enough for now.

  Dr. Goodman returns to the office, and the optimistic look on his face keeps my hopes rising. “Good news again! Dr. Murray had a cancellation this afternoon and is willing to work you in if you’d like.”

  “We would!”

  “Then 2:30 it is.” He hands a white appointment card to Scott. My dear husband tucks that card of hope into his shirt pocket.