Daphne tapped on the door one night when Onion was working the dinner shift. Brooke was bouncing Jodie on her knee while seated at the table, trying to tire her daughter so she’d finally go to sleep. Since Jodie had started crawling, she seemed to have unlimited energy and curiosity, was endlessly getting into stuff left on the floor, had just today pulled the trash can over on herself. Fortunately it was plastic and not heavy, but the clatter and the scattering of beer cans and food wrappers had frightened them both. You’d have thought that lesson would have slowed the toddler; but not a half hour later she’d pulled the cooler lid shut on her fingers as Brooke unpacked some fish Bridge had brought by for their dinner and the freezer. Jodie was into everything and beginning to accumulate the nicks and scars of her adventures—a crooked left pinky finger from somehow dropping the crib side on her hand (Crab Howard, the island’s resident homeopathic healer, had assured her it would grow out straight; but Brooke wasn’t so sure) and a small scar over her right eye from somehow sliding out of her highchair. Everybody else seemed to think these the requisite marks of normal childhood; but every time Brooke looked at them she felt guilty, somehow negligent in her one responsibility in life—Jodie wasn’t yet a year old and already scarred forever!
“You know it’s open,” Brooke yelled as she tried, unsuccessfully, to get Jodie to engage in a round of patty-cake. If she can endlessly reach for the candle on the window sill, why can’t she focus on playing patty-cake?
“Didn’t want to startle you,” Daphne said as she closed the door behind her and sat across the table.
“No surprises in this warzone!”
“Long day, huh?”
“Wouldn’t be so bad if we could get outside.” They were into their sixth consecutive day of a cold mist and drizzle as a front had backed in off the ocean and stalled over the island.
“Sometimes the island’s shortest days are its longest.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve never liked winter, but this is ridiculous! Get yourself a beer.”
Daphne laughed. “The island remedy to all ills! Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“On the wagon?”
Daphne shook her head.
“Hungover from last night?”
She laughed. “No. Test tomorrow.”
Brooke chuckled, recalling her long ago college days. “Since when did that matter?”
Daphne shrugged and looked away.
“Well, if you’re not going to partake, how about getting me one. I’ve got my hands full at the moment.”
Daphne jumped up, got a beer out of the fridge, opened it, and slid it across to Brooke.
“Brooke took a long swallow and breathed an audible sigh of relief. Then she noticed Daphne’s stare. “If you’re counting, this is my first.”
Daphne shook her head emphatically. “No. No. I was just thinking you’re such a good mother.”
Brooke laughed sarcastically. “I was just thinking the exact opposite!” Jodie reached for the beer can.
“Lately, you’re never apart from Jodie. It’s like she’s attached to you.”
“Don’t I know that, and still she gets into all kinds of mischief!” Jodie kept fighting to touch the can. Brooke finally held it close to her daughter. Jodie wrapped her tiny hands on either side and pulled the can to her lips and nursed on the side of the cold metal.
Daphne laughed. “I wish I had my camera.”
“Probably get me arrested.”
“Not out here. A rite of passage.”
“Babies and beer?”
“Everything and beer.”
Brooke took the can back from Jodie. She thought the baby would start crying, but instead she threw herself forward into her mother’s chest, in apparent exhaustion or exasperation. The adult gesture startled Brooke.
Daphne laughed. “Already a Howard!”
Brooke laughed too. But something in the remark stuck in her head. She turned the can in her hand, stared at the red and blue print on its white background.
“Are you glad you had Jodie?”
Brooke looked up quickly. “Of course! Why?”
“Just curious. You were so young. Still are!” She laughed then grew serious again. “You had so many other choices.”
“I wanted to start my adult life.”
“So it wasn’t a mistake.”
Brooke tried to weigh the meaning of her statement. Though it wasn’t voiced as a question, she responded as if it were. “Strictly speaking, the pregnancy wasn’t planned. But neither did I take steps to avoid it. I knew the likely outcome.”
“And Onion?”
Brooke laughed. “Do boys ever think about that?”
“They should.”
“They don’t. Never assume they do.”
Daphne nodded slowly. “But you did.”
“Somewhere beneath all the fireworks? Yes.”
“And you’re happy the way it turned out?”
Brooke was afraid it would come around to this. She patted the back of Jodie’s head, gently brushed her daughter’s curly brown hair. Jodie was asleep against her breast. She smiled down then looked up to Daphne. “How could I not be?” But suddenly tears rose to her eyes. She glanced to the side and quickly blinked them away.
Daphne saw her sister-in-law’s reaction as a powerful affirmative answer to her question. After a few seconds, she laughed to break the silence. “That calls for a beer!” She rose and got one out of the fridge and opened it. “To Jodie,” she said and raised the can.
“To Jodie,” Brooke said and tapped Daphne’s can.
They both drank to the sleeping toddler.
“What about your test?” Brooke asked.
“Since when did that matter?” Daphne said.
Brooke laughed then stood to put the subject of their toast to bed.