A Better Next

by Maren Cooper

  Memories of Thanksgivings past floated into her consciousness, until she grabbed one: Beth and Tom proudly helping to decorate the table with their preschool construction-paper place cards; Arthur making his special stuffing.

  A soft knock on the door pulled her out of her past. “Is everything OK in there?”

  “Uh, yes, thanks. I just spilled my tea. Sorry. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  But it took ten minutes to right herself and navigate out of the room, carrying teacup shards and apologies with her.

  The rain was coming down in sheets outside, and the wind pulled her every which way as she made her way to her car.

  Chapter 27

  Jess was halfway home before she conquered her emotions and recognized the win for the miles. She should have been prepared for Arthur to twist the knife as he lost this skirmish, and for the reality of holiday traditions that would go by the wayside now. Her body stilled. Arthur had revealed himself once more. Never again would she allow herself to hurt this much at his hand.

  She had just pulled into her garage and was still sitting in her car when her cell phone rang.

  “Oh, thank God I got you, Jess. It’s time. My water broke.” Claire spoke clearly but excitedly.

  “Wonderful! Now, breathe—it’ll be fine. I’m on my way. Are you at home?” Jess quickly shifted into gear and looked at her watch. She entered the house, grabbed her hospital bag, and changed her shirt while putting Claire through an essential Q-and-A session. The answers did not challenge her equanimity one iota. Claire had called her doula and the midwife and had been directed to go to the hospital, as planned. Her contractions were still a few minutes apart and not incapacitating.

  Jess was out the door in five minutes, at Claire’s house in fifteen, and at the hospital inside of thirty. Not bad. It was still blustery, but the rain had subsided.

  Claire was holding up beautifully even amid the contractions, which were coming ever faster and stronger. She didn’t protest when they helped her into a wheelchair for the ride to the midwife unit.

  Jess could barely suppress her excitement. “OK, let’s go in and have a baby!” she exclaimed as they arrived at the door of the unit.

  Claire responded with a hard-to-find smile. Her eyes glistened, and she took Jess’s hand. “Thank you for doing this. I may swear at you soon, so I want you to know I do appreciate that you’re here!”

  The doula, Sofia, greeted them warmly, then checked Claire into a bed. Sofia declared promptly how much progress Claire had already made and then set about procuring all sorts of comfort—except, of course, the most important part: whisking that baby right out of Claire’s body and into her welcoming arms.

  Claire asked, “How much longer?”

  Sofia, who must have known the drill backward and forward, answered tactfully, “First labors are always hard to predict. Let’s see what Alison says. She’ll be here in just a couple of minutes. But I can tell you that everything is proceeding very well.”

  Alison came and went and came and went. Sofia did the same. Jess brought ice, popsicles, distracted the mother-to-be as much as possible, and stayed calm and positive throughout. Jess watched their every move, experiencing labor from a different, and much more comfortable, angle, literally and figuratively.

  Claire didn’t swear at her but did show some impatience when Jess attempted to get her to conjugate verbs in French to distract her between contractions.

  “Really? You can’t be serious. Is that the best you can do?” Claire whined. “How about movie categories or something creative?” So they took turns thinking of movies in which they would have liked to be cast as leading women, until they realized they would mostly have preferred the male roles.

  Claire had been adamant that a midwife attend her delivery. Jess had agreed but insisted on a hospital birth with coverage by attending staff available to the midwifery service. At the advanced age of forty-three, Claire was technically a high-risk mom. Jess also wanted a neonatal unit on-site. When Claire had asked Jess to be her support through the pregnancy, birth, and child rearing, she might not have bargained for such strong opinions. But when it came to the safety of those she loved, Jess was uncompromising.

  Jess had done the homework on Alison, a bright Seattle University grad with an impressive CV and excellent clinical outcomes. She was experienced with mothers over forty and nonjudgmental about Claire’s decision to go it alone.

  Claire approved immediately after meeting her and loved her exuberant yet professional style. She was part twentysomething, red curls bouncing around her head, and part wonder woman who had seen her share of the miracles and tragedies that make up the life of a midwife.

  Jess left the room to make a few calls, when Sofia beckoned her back. “Would you like to be here for the main event?”

  “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She sashayed back in with a bright smile and met Claire’s eyes. “Let’s meet this baby. Are you ready?”

  “More than ready. Let’s do it!” Claire responded, huffing and pushing as directed. Moments later, a beautiful baby boy came into the world, screaming his head off. “Peter in honor of my brother, James for my father, PJ for short.”

  “Oh my God, he’s so beautiful. Claire, you were wonderful. Thank you for letting me share this with you!” Jess gushed.

  Exhausted and teary-eyed, Claire hugged her doula and her midwife, thanking them in turn. After they left and Peter James was positioned on her chest, she said, “Jess, I’m not sure I could’ve done this without you. Thank you for taking such good care of me throughout this . . . well, journey covers it, right?” Her voice broke.

  Jess gathered them both into a giant hug and said, “Are you kidding? It was the least I could do after you saw me through my own challenges this year. We’re now family, of the best kind. We’ve chosen to be.” And with that, PJ squealed.

  Later, Jess left Claire to get some sleep. She let her mind drift to the birth stories of her own children. Happy events both, Arthur, the proud father, showing them off. But then she reminded herself that he had been nowhere near the labor room for either child. He had popped up so often to leave, to chat with the doctors he saw coming and going at the care station, that she had finally sent him away so she could get the job done. Amazing how you forget the pain of childbirth, she thought.

  She hoped someday soon she would forget the pain of her separation and divorce. But, starting now, she vowed to forget that damn missing picture and close the silly chapter about airline rewards miles. Arthur would always be the father of her children, and she would not do anything to break that tie. She knew better. Time to move on.

  “George, you’re a gem!” Jess praised Diane’s boyfriend after checking his work on the baby car seats he had installed in both her car and Claire’s.

  George closed the door on Claire’s new SUV and said, “I’m glad you talked Claire into getting a more sensible car. I wouldn’t have been too excited about putting a baby seat in a Jaguar.”

  “Yes, and it helps that she has garage space to keep the Jag. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to convince her to make a full switch!” Jess laughed. “Thank you for doing this. I might have been able to figure it out, but it would have taken me more time than I have at the moment.” She remembered how many times Arthur had laid claim to a fix-it or setup job around the house, only to put it off for so long that she had usually ended up furtively enlisting a handyman.

  “No problem. Piece of cake. Diane is at Claire’s house, laying in supplies, so it was no big deal for me to do this now. Let me know if anything else comes up. I’m happy to help.” George walked to Jess’s car and opened the hatch. “Do you want me to take this box into the house for you, as long as I’m here?”

  Jess peered in to see what he was looking at. “Oh. I almost forgot about that.” She saw the storage box she had brought back from the lake house, filled with her stuff. She knew she had to go through it, but this wasn’t the day. “Nah, leave it th
ere. Maybe I’ll have some downtime at Claire’s to look through it.” Jess gave him a warm smile. “Diane is so lucky to have found you, and she deserves you—actually, you deserve each other. Thank you again, George.”

  He beamed, his crinkly blue eyes showing his appreciation, and Jess almost cried. She seemed to be on the verge of tears almost as much as Claire was, but it felt different from a few months earlier, her weeping then the result of a domestic order changing irrevocably. Fortunately, that was over now.

  Jess planned to take a few days off to get Claire settled in, so she had used Claire’s three-day hospital stay to get her work in order. Dan was a great guy and very supportive, but even so, she always covered her back at work, overachievement a survival skill she had learned as a child.

  Once the car seat was installed, Jess drove to the hospital, picked up Claire and PJ, and took them home. Diane met them at Claire’s front door, which was decorated with a bright blue WELCOME, PETER JAMES sign and balloons just inside the threshold. Leave it to Diane to see to the extras that helped keep life worth living.

  “Claire, you look amazing! Mothering must agree with you,” Diane said. Claire was sporting glowing skin, shining eyes, and a never-ending smile.

  “And this little bundle of a boy. He’s very handsome. Hello, Peter James. Welcome home!” Diane took the baby from the car seat and, once Claire was steady on her feet, handed him back to her for the important first trip into the house.

  Claire cooed, “Here we are, PJ. Home sweet home,” as she carefully watched her footing up the steps. She stopped just inside the door and snuggled her son. “It’s you and me, babe, and we’re gonna be so happy here.” She looked around and added, “Oh my God, it’s so good to be home. I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed!”

  Once Jess had lugged in all of the paraphernalia and they had caught their breath, she sniffed and said, “Diane, what have you concocted here while you were waiting for us to arrive? I smell marzipan or almond. Could it be?”

  Claire laid a sleeping PJ in the bassinet in the great room, started for the kitchen to put on the kettle, and then noticed the table was already laid for tea. She walked over to Diane. Tears spilling down her cheeks, she gave her a long hug and sobbed unabashedly. After crumpling into an armchair at the table, she managed, “I totally hit the jackpot this past year. A poor decision on my part to have unprotected sex led to a pregnancy that I never knew I wanted. Now, here I am, surrounded by incredible friends and a gift from the heavens that I will cherish forever. It’s almost too much to take in. I’m overwhelmed.”

  “And exhausted and hormonal,” Jess added. “You’ll soon regain your equilibrium and be the brilliant and powerful executive you were born to be. And you’ll do it with us supporting you.” She rounded the table and gave Claire a hug before sitting down.

  “And now, Diane, you haven’t answered me yet. Is it almond tart or a marzipan kringle? Do we need to feed the young mother here something else first, or go straight to the . . .”

  Diane didn’t answer; she simply went into the kitchen and returned carrying a salad of farro, spinach, mangoes, and black beans, followed by a steaming cranberry-almond tart to serve as a centerpiece that would motivate her diners to eat their vegetables first.

  Diane lifted her glass of sparkling apple juice. “To Claire and Peter James, a loving duo forever, through sleepless nights, dirty diapers, temper tantrums . . .” They all clinked glasses and laughed.

  The first week with PJ was certainly a change of routine for both Jess and Claire. Peter James was a good baby, but even good babies need time to adjust to the world. However, Claire seemed a natural mother and was so enamored of him that she happily let Jess wait on her hand and foot.

  When not busy fetching and carrying for Claire or oohing and aahing over PJ, Jess had time to reflect on helping her friend with the challenges that accompanied a surprise mid-life pregnancy. Jess met many comments fraught with guilt, regret, and fear on Claire’s part with what she hoped was calm, rational, realistic input. Focusing on Claire and the new life she was preparing for also saved Jess from going over the edge into despair about Arthur. That, and needing to stay solid for Beth and Tom.

  Claire knew well that the stigma of having a baby alone could harm her rise up the corporate ladder, which was still filled mostly with men, some more enlightened than others. Jess remembered Claire’s humorous take on how a conversation might go in the anteroom of a corporate boardroom between a powerful CEO and a headhunter pitching Claire for a position. “So, what’s the story on her personal life? She’s raising a baby on her own?”

  But even the potential negatives couldn’t outweigh the irresistible value of creating her own family. Claire had been hungry for a child without being able to identify it. Seeing her with PJ now, Jess could tell how powerful that emotion was.

  It helped that Claire had been proactive in sorting out her situation with PJ’s father. After making her decision to keep the baby, she had done the right thing: she had flown to Belgium and discussed the situation with him. In recounting the story later for Jess, Claire said she wasn’t sure who was more relieved: the Belgian, who was already engaged and didn’t want his fiancée to know anything about his indiscretion, or Claire, who happily left the country with a good understanding of his family medical history and a signed document relinquishing his paternal rights.

  Jess looked hard at the storage box from the lake house, now tucked away in a corner of Claire’s porch. She couldn’t justify more delay. The nanny, Melody, would start tomorrow, and PJ and Claire were down for a nap. If she took time to go through it now, she could sort out the items she no longer wanted and drop them off at Goodwill. No sense bringing into her own house stuff that would remind her of things she should forget. She made a cup of tea and headed for the den, grabbed a few brown bags, and began to sort.

  Pretty easy to decide she wouldn’t be keeping the out-of-style shorts, faded shirts, and worn jackets. And the boots had seen better days. She steeled herself not to let her mind wander to the good times she and Arthur had enjoyed on the Katy Trail, along the banks of the Missouri River. Not so easy to decide if she should keep the commemorative poster of the Lake of the Ozarks Festival. But where would she put it?

  The books. She had left the ones that she thought Tom or Beth might someday choose to read at the lake. She had been undecided about the volumes on wildflowers, so she had kept them. Now, looking at those she had hauled home, she wondered why. She had read them, so it was time to share. Maybe Claire or Diane? If they didn’t want them, she would save them for the library book sale next summer.

  She teared up when she spied the pottery vase that Beth had made for Mother’s Day and the woven basket that Tom had crafted under the guidance of the local resort owner. “I’ll keep these forever.” She put an end to her tears with that declaration and gently moved them from the box. As she did so, she saw the lake house guest book. She thought now that it was almost like a time capsule; it memorialized that era for her. She was glad that Arthur didn’t want it. Bearing an old-fashioned leather binding with ribbon ties, she knew the book chronicled entries from guests through the years, as well as jottings about the weather, wildlife sightings, and assorted gems. She took a sip of tea and argued with herself about whether she should tempt her emotions by opening it now.

  No real decision made, she halfheartedly paged through it. She especially loved Tom’s cryptic notes about the lake, which he entered devotedly every time he was there. “Gray on gray.” “Silver with dark blue overtones.” She smiled. She recognized the names of friends who had enjoyed the lake house with them over the years—grateful comments from city folk awed by the beauty of the setting.

  This would be a great keepsake, if she didn’t get too morose about it. She sighed. She was about to put it in the “keep” pile, when she noticed the scrawl of a name she couldn’t read, following a lengthy comment: “So thankful we had the winning bid. A great spot! Deer came around morning and nigh
t to check on us, and the sunsets were gorgeous. Romantic evening on the deck. Thank you, Dr. Steele, for your generosity.”

  Winning bid? She looked at the date: two years ago, August. She looked at the scrawl again. She was stumped. She emptied the remaining books from the box and started putting the items from the “keep” pile back into it. She now had a pile of books to offer to her friends, two bags of clothing for Goodwill, a bag of books for the library sale, and a much lighter box to lug back out to her car.

  As she hoisted the storage box up and headed to the door, she connected the dots and stopped in her tracks. Winning bid. The golf tournament sponsored by the university hospital medical staff. Arthur had donated a long weekend to the silent auction for the benefit of the hospital’s cancer-research program. It all added up. Someone had made a generous donation and used the lake house for a weekend. She remembered it vaguely but not who had won. She put the box down by the door and walked back to the den to look more closely at the name. Doctors and their signatures. Never easy to read. Oh well.

  She had just finished loading the big box and bags for Goodwill and the library in the back of her car, when a van turned into Claire’s driveway. A young man got out of the driver’s side, after checking his packages, and headed for the door. He removed his earphones and approached her. “Is there a Jessica Lawson at this address?”

  “I’m Jessica Lawson, but this isn’t my residence. Who is it you’re looking for?”

  “Then I’m looking for you. I was redirected from your office to this location. I was told I’d find you here, and that if I didn’t, I should keep looking until I did.” He handed her a large manila envelope and a clipboard to sign.

  “Thanks for finding me, I guess.” She smiled at his grin. Jeez, she’d been out of the office for only a few days. What now?

  Chapter 28