Brenna and Zoe slept late the next morning, Brenna waking only when Olivia came upstairs and started patting her face with her paw. “Adam’s right, I have to get a dog door,” she grumbled, rolling out of bed reluctantly. Adam. She smiled at the memory of the night before. At this rate, she'd get premature smile wrinkles. If a kiss could make her feel so light-hearted, what would more accomplish? Hmm. Tying her robe, she heard the rain pounding on the porch overhang and sighed at the promise of another wet day.
Nails clicking, Zoe followed Brenna downstairs and joined the cats at the back door. As soon as the door opened, Zoe and Olivia darted out, but Brenna had to catch Madeline and Tubby and toss them outside after they saw the steady rain. “Out you go. You’ve done without a litterbox this long, some rain won’t melt you.”
After starting the coffeemaker, she slapped her face gently. “This is not going to be a bad day. Just because it’s yukky out and you have no plans." She went to the living room, turned on all the lights and, after turning on a dulcimer CD, started a fire and lit some candles. “There, that’s better.”
Hearing frantic scratching at the back door, she opened it to masses of shaking wet fur. “Here, here, let me dry you off !” She managed to catch Zoe, but the cats streaked for the living room. Chasing them down, she saw with relief that at least they had gone for the hearth.
After pouring steaming coffee and warming a croissant, Brenna curled up in her rocker in front of the fire with a new mystery. She read for a couple of hours, moving only to change position, until the phone rang. Groaning, she unfolded herself and stretched.
“Hello,” she grumbled.
“Hi, sleepyhead! Weren’t you awake yet?” asked Molly, in an unbearably cheerful voice.
“Yes, I was, as a matter of fact. I just had to get out of my rocker and my body didn’t want to. What’s up, how are you?” Brenna asked, sinking into the chair by the phone.
“Do you feel like some company this weekend, or are you busy?”
“I’m never too busy for a visit from you. This has been such a week,” Brenna said, and proceeded to relate the week’s events.
“Well, it's about time you wangled a kiss out of Adam! I go back to Portland and everything interesting happens. Are there any mysteries left for me?”
Brenna laughed. “I hope not. I’ve had enough for awhile, thank you. I’ll keep the box of baby clothes out for you to see.” As if I’d climb up there to put them away myself, she shuddered.
“I’ll see you tomorrow around noon, okay? Bye, sweetie,” and Molly hung up.
Brenna sighed and finally stirred herself to go upstairs and get dressed in warm sweats. She spent the afternoon cleaning and dusting until the house felt cozy and smelled of lemon polish. Occasionally she eyed the silent telephone, wondering if she had imagined the emotion she had felt between her and Adam the night before. Evening crept in and looking outside into the gathering twilight, she saw the rain had finally stopped. Pushing up a window in the parlor, she cut some pink roses and, after shaking the raindrops off them gently, closed the window and put them in a green vase by the phone.
After receiving a call from Ruth setting a day to visit, Brenna and Zoe retired to her bedroom. She looked around with satisfaction; she had chosen the perfect wall color. It gave off a warm glow like the pink lining of a seashell. She determined not to worry about Adam until she had a good reason. He didn't have to call every day. Still, she couldn't help but wonder how it would be to cuddle in her snug bed with him instead of a Golden Retriever.
Looking through her closet, Brenna found a rosy satin hanger and carefully hung the christening gown and bonnet on it. She located the little nail she had seen sticking out of the north wall and placed the hanger there. “Victoria, you have a place here. Happy now? No more dreams okay? Your mother’s fine and you’ve been acknowledged, so let’s have some peace.” Crawling into bed, Zoe at her side, Brenna snuggled down and read herself to sleep.
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, blurring her vision and dotting the small pieces of pastel fabric she was piecing together. She pulled her flowered hankie from her dress pocket, wiped her face and blew her nose. Now straighten up, she advised herself. This little quilt should be made with love and caring, not tears of grief and envy. She still had a fair amount of work to do on it and she wanted it finished before Margaret’s baby arrived. Margaret would be so pleased; she often admired her handiwork. This was Margaret’s first baby and she could tell sometimes Margaret didn’t know what to say around her, not wanting to cause her distress. She always assured her she wanted to hear everything and to be a help during this wonderful event, and it was the truth, but sometimes she felt as though her heart would break. Why was it so easy for other people to have children? The O’Briens had eight! But she and Martin, whom she was sure would have made good, loving parents, could have none. Surely this was one of life’s heaviest crosses to bear. There. With all of her woolgathering, she had finished another row. All cried out, she sighed and stretched; sometimes she felt better after a good cry. She critically eyed the small quilt top taking place before her, the stitches tiny and even, colors blending well. Sighing again, she folded the material and put it away. It was time to fix Martin’s dinner.
Chapter 27