Arriving back at the house, Max greeted Zoe joyfully as she brought him her favorite stick for a tug-of-war. Olivia darted around them as if they were wild animals.
"I agree. Barbaric, aren't they? Pulling on a stick like that. What's the point?" Brenna moved aside as the dogs swept past her. "Whoa, slow down," she called as Zoe slid into the parlor rug.
"Looks like some dogs could use a run on the beach," Adam commented, hanging his jacket on the back of a kitchen chair.
"I don't really feel like running today. How about if we go down for the sunset after dinner?"
That agreed upon, they spent the rest of the afternoon inspecting the sad state of affairs the front fence and the house trim had fallen into. They agreed it wouldn't take too long to make the house presentable with the proposed summer work party. As for the gate and fence, those repairs would require a little more attention, but they could be restored. Brenna had had the roof repaired before moving in. The subjects of Victoria and bad dreams did not cross her mind as she enjoyed her time with Adam, and he did not ask about them.
That evening found them on the beach, an orange and pink sunset spread across the horizon in front of them. Adam settled himself on a piece of driftwood and Brenna sat on the soft sand between his knees as they watched their dogs cavort in the failing light.
She had not felt this contented in years, she realized as she leaned her head on his leg. His hands stroked her head slowly and then carefully released her hair claw. He watched her heavy hair tumble down, red highlights heightened by the rays of the lowering sun. The clean scent of her shampoo rose up as he combed his fingers through her hair. She sighed with pleasure and he lowered his lips to her neck, kissing her slowly...until Max and Zoe decided their people should join in on their fun and showered them with sand.
Brenna yelped and jumped up as Adam scolded his dog. "Dammit, Max! Calm down." He checked to be sure Brenna had no sand in her eyes and then shook his head. Was romance ever going to be in the cards here? Max didn't even look ashamed of himself and neither did Zoe. Fortunately, Brenna took it more in stride and laughed as she retrieved her hair claw from the sand. "Come on, Adam. Let's go home."
Back at her house, Adam pulled a chilled bottle of white wine from the refrigerator while Brenna brushed the last of the sand from her hair. She stared in the mirror at her bright eyes and pink cheeks. Definitely Adam. She didn't recall any man having this effect on her before. She thought she'd been in love once, years before...but that paled in comparison. Well, she'd have to be careful not to be too obvious; she didn't want to scare him off.
He waited for her in the parlor and handed her a glass of wine.
"Thank you, this is perfect." She smiled and lit some fat candles on the mantle and put some soft music on the CD player.
Adam looked around with appreciation. Good atmosphere.
They sat on the couch together as the twilight faded to evening and drank their wine slowly. Adam put his arm around her after a few minutes and she leaned her head on his shoulder with a smile.
"Have you discovered anymore about Victoria yet?"
So much for contentment, Brenna thought, her smile twisting wryly. "When Molly was here, we found some more stuff in the attic. Nothing important really. I haven't had time to mess with it since then."
Adam looked at her. "Why don't I quite believe you? I can't believe you'd find anything concerning Victoria unimportant."
"She can't take over my life. I have to forget about her sometime."
"You and I both know that's not going to happen. What's going on?"
Brenna was silent for a minute, frustrated the peaceful evening had been disturbed. She had to admit though, she was not being fair. She had been grateful for Adam's help and she couldn't expect him not to be curious.
Adam got up and went to the kitchen to get the bottle of wine. He returned to his seat beside her, more sorry by the minute that he'd brought the subject up, and topped off their glasses. Now he was sabotaging romance himself; he'd definitely lost his touch.
Brenna sipped her wine and then said, "I know it's not fair to expect you to just forget about her..."
Adam held up a hand. "Hey, you don't owe me anything. We don't have to talk about it."
"No, I'm being silly, running away from a painful subject. We were having such a nice evening I thought I could ignore it."
He started to speak, but she shook her head.
"Really, it's okay, I'm being silly. Molly and I found some old pictures and jewelry of Helena's. It was kind of upsetting. And I went back to the hospital to visit. I had a good time, but found out one of my favorite patients had died."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too, but then life would have been very hard for him. He had a lot of physical problems. I guess it's not so hard to talk about Victoria after thinking about him after all. Here," Brenna said, handing Adam her glass. "I'll go get the pictures."
She ran up and down the staircase, sure-footed on it now. Sitting down beside Adam again, she put their wine glasses on the floor and placed the large old photo album in his lap.
"I didn't even think, there are a lot of pictures of your grandmother and her family in here. Although maybe your family has copies of these because of the fire."
"Maybe, but I never cared about this stuff growing up so I may not have seen them." Adam opened the album to see the wedding photo on the first page.
"Cool picture. That's a beautiful dress. Is it the one you found upstairs?"
"Yes, it's in my room. I'd bring it down, but it weighs a ton in the garment bag."
"That's okay, I can look at it another time." He turned the page. Brenna pointed to the train picture.
"We found her hat and gloves in the same trunk. And her negligee, it's beautiful."
"What's this?" He picked up the envelope tucked into the center of the album.
Brenna's throat constricted. Man, why does this affect me so much? "It's a picture of Victoria."
Adam frowned, puzzled. "I thought she was born dead."
"She was. It's a picture of her dressed up in her casket."
"That's kind of morbid, isn't it?" He pulled the picture out of the envelope. "I guess if you couldn't have any other picture though..."
They looked at the tiny baby with her lamb. "Your grandmother knitted her that dress."
"No kidding. What's this?" He pulled out a piece of paper that had been tucked behind the picture.
"I don't know, I didn't see it before. I was kind of in a hurry to put the picture away."
Adam looked at her. "Is this bothering you?"
"No, I'm better now. I think it was just the shock of finding it at the time." She looked over at the scrap of paper. "What does it say?"
"It's a poem." He read it aloud.
" 'It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make Man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it fall and die that night-
It was the plant and flower of Light.
In small proportions we just beauties see;
And in short measures life may perfect be.' "
Brenna smiled, her eyes misty. "I have this in needlepoint on my bedroom wall. Helena must have loved this poem."
Adam read it to himself again, absorbing its meaning. "True, isn't it? Every SIDS baby I've picked up has seemed a whole person to me, when I really think about it." Putting the picture and poem back in their envelope, he returned it to its place in the album.
"Do you want to put this away?" he asked.
"Oh, no, you haven't seen all your family pictures yet. I'm okay." She reached over and turned another page, leaning on his shoulder.
His heart skipped a beat as her hair fell over his shoulder and she rested her hand on his knee. Get a grip, buddy, you're looking at family photos, that's all.
The time
passed quickly as they took in a lifetime's worth of pictures, chronicling happy and sad times in both families' lives. They laughed at the picture of Adam's father's first birthday, cake smeared all over his face, his chubby hand grasping a little truck. "Hey, my dad still has that truck. My mom found it half-buried in the dirt in his yard before they got married and she rescued it. Now it's in a cupboard with all the china and stuff she's collected."
Brenna smiled. "Funny, the things that bring back memories. I have a doll I got for my sixth birthday and when I look at her, I swear I can still smell the candles burning on the cake and taste the ice cream."
Adam laughed and said, "Yeah and the smell of Bactine brings back the first time I fell out of a tree. I got all banged up plus I got yelled at because Jake tried to save me and fell out of the tree himself. I never did figure out the logic behind that one."
They were nearly done when suddenly Adam's pager came to life with its shrill alarm.
"501, 502, 504, respond to 741 Ocean Court for report of a house fire, unknown if occupied." The pager repeated its message as Adam quickly gave the album back to Brenna, kissed her and ran for the door with Max close behind.
"Call me when you're done, I don't care what time it is," she called after him as she ran to close the door.
"Okay," floated through the night followed by the roar of the truck's engine and a screech as Adam backed out of the drive.
Brenna returned to the parlor, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Geez, and I don't even have to go on the call. But Adam did and to her a house fire sounded dangerous. She hoped no one was left inside the burning house as she let the animals out for their night time duties. Rinsing out the wine glasses, she left them in the sink for the night, the adrenaline rush quickly followed by exhaustion. She let her menagerie back in the house and put the album on the parlor table before going upstairs. I really don't feel like having this upstairs tonight. What am I afraid of? That it will make me dream some more. Illogical, but there it was. And who said I had to be logical anyway, she thought, stripping and pulling an old t-shirt over her head. She snuggled down under the covers, suddenly realizing she had no phone upstairs so she wouldn't know if Adam called or not. Although she hadn't prayed for anyone's safety since her parents' accident, she found herself praying for Adam's now. Hedging her bets, she guessed. Zoe laid down against her back, snuffled once in her hair and they both fell asleep.
The book in her lap was so heavy. She caressed the gold gilt leather cover and traced the stamped letters 'HOLY BIBLE'. A wedding present from her parents, she had forgotten to unpack it right away since she wasn't in the habit of reading a bible anymore. She had viewed it as a token gift, an elaborate place to write out the family tree. Now she knew her family tree stopped here; there would be no more branches from her side. She opened the thick cover and turned to the center of the book between the Old and New Testaments where the family tree pages were folded. She pulled open the pages to reveal an elaborate tree, edged in gold, covering several generations. Each line was empty, no pen had as yet been set to these pages. And no pen would be today either. She flipped through the book, listening to the gilt-edged paper separate crisply as the pages opened for the first time. Remembering the story of Sarah, who had born a miracle child in her eighties, she skimmed across the Old Testament, stopping here and there. The Psalms, she had always enjoyed the poetry of the Psalms as a child when her father would read the bible to them at breakfast on Sunday mornings. Psalm 113, she had always liked that: 'From the rising of the sun to its going down the Lord's name is to be praised...' Her heart jumped at the last verse, she had not remembered this one at all. 'He maketh the barren woman to keep house and to be a joyful mother of children. Praise ye the Lord!'. Praise the Lord for what? She didn't ask for a home, she already had a home. What good was a home when all day long the only sounds you heard were the ones you yourself initiated? The only footsteps, the only chair moved, the only silverware dropped in the sink...by you alone. With Martin in Eugene, several days would pass before someone else would make a sound in this house. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the cover of the bible as she flipped it closed with a thud. She rose from the rocker and put the heavy book on the lower shelf of her nightstand. Drying her tears with the edge of her apron, she went downstairs. Married just over a year and already depressed and lonely. How ridiculous, there were so many people in more dire straits...but right now she could not think of a one.
She started as a faint knocking sound came from the back door. Peering through its lace curtain, she saw a little girl carrying a cardboard box. She opened the door to her.
"Can I help you?"
"Would you like a free kitten?"
She opened her mouth to say 'no', but noticed the dried tracks of tears on the girl's cheeks. Surely it wasn't easy to give her kittens away, the least she could do was look. Leaning over, she peered into the box to see three fuzzy kittens, barely six weeks old.
"Are they weaned from their mama?"
"No, not yet, but my dad said he was gonna drown 'em if I didn't find someone to give 'em to." The little girl's voice was resigned as if she'd said this many times today, to no avail. "The lady next door took one, but I still have these ones left."
The lady next door...Margaret had been talking to the girl while she was mooning around, feeling sorry for herself. She made a decision.
"Let me see your kittens again."
The girl held up the box.
"I'll tell you what. I'll take all three and pay you for them too. Do you want to come in and have a cookie while I get my purse?"
The girl's face lit up and she stepped into the kitchen. After eating three cookies and pocketing three dollars, one for each kitten, she said 'thank you' and headed for the door.
"Now, that money is for you to spend, okay? Not to give to your dad. You can come visit the kittens whenever you like."
The tear-smudged face lit up again as the girl nodded and let herself out. The kittens mewed and squirmed over each other in the box.
"Now, what am I going to do with all of you? I haven't had a cat in years." She picked up each one in turn, kitten breath warm on her face as she held them close. What had that father been thinking of, to threaten his child like that? Getting to her feet, she fetched a tin of sardines from the cupboard and mashed them up. She put the tin in the cardboard box and as the kittens scrambled to check out this new food, she went to the dining room window and looked out over her new little rhododendrons toward her friend's house. She had been so preoccupied with herself lately she hadn't bothered to return Margaret's calls or visits. She went to the kitchen and pulled out her big mixing bowl. It was about time she returned a visit and she would take Margaret's favorite cake along.
Brenna heard a faint ringing and then a familiar voice...her own. The new answering machine. Stumbling out of bed, she flipped on the hall light and hurried down the staircase as fast as was safely possible. But not in time to catch the phone. Oh, well. She pushed the message button and the tape rewound. Then she heard another familiar voice.
"You said to call. I'm sure you're sleeping, but I'll leave a message. I'm fine. No one was in the house, but it was an older mobile home and it's a complete loss. = They go up like a tinderbox. I'll talk to you tomorrow, bye."
She pushed the button again to hear his voice one more time and then returned to bed. As she pushed Zoe off her warm spot and climbed in, she remembered the dream. Here we go again. Interesting, though, Helena must have had cats for the rest of her life...until now anyway. Maybe she should take one of them to the rest home to visit. Olivia would probably tolerate it the best.
The tiny baby lay spread-eagled in the radiant warmer, her arms and legs in soft restraints to keep her from moving and pulling out any tubes. While a respiratory therapist adjusted the ventilator tubing and settings, she rolled over a stand and opened a sterile arterial line kit for the neonatologist. A minute later, the doctor's deft hands had finished inserti
ng the tiny catheter into the umbilical artery and he called for an x-ray to check for placement. As soon as it was confirmed as accurate, much needed fluids and drugs were infusing through both the UA line and a peripheral line. Amazing how clear fluid could return a healthy flush to a pale baby's skin. Perspiration rolled down her back to saturate the waistband of her uniform and her shoes made sticky sounds as she walked through some spilled D10W. She called housekeeping to clean it up and after stepping on the pedal of the trashcan to open the lid, she absentmindedly looked up only to see the mother's agonized face at the window, hands pressed to the glass. Helena young...but Helena was much older than she was, wasn't she...she looked back at the baby in the warmer. Going to the door, she said, "Would you like to come in and see your baby now?" Tears renewed themselves as Helena asked, "Is she going to be alright?" She started to answer, but the heart and sat monitor alarms went off and she let the door fall closed behind her as she ran to the warmer. This baby couldn't die, Helena couldn't lose her again...the doctor and respiratory therapist came running and she started chest compressions as resuscitation meds were pushed into the IV lines. The alarms continued as the heart rate drew a straight line across the screen. A noise came from behind her and she turned to see Helena pounding her hands on the glass until fine cracks appeared. She continued to hit the window as the glass began to pierce her hands and blood began to drip down the window. Oh, Helena, I can't help you...I can't save anybody anymore...I can't...
Drip, drip,drip...the blood began to pound against the window as one of the nurses wiped the sweat from her face with a wet rag...geez, ring it out...Brenna pushed Zoe away as she came awake sweating, a headache pounding. A storm had blown in and wind drove the rain against the glass like needles. Oh, God. Brenna stumbled downstairs for some aspirin and grabbed a clean t-shirt off the dryer, hurriedly exchanging it for the damp one she had on. Nails clicked on the kitchen floor; Zoe had followed her downstairs. Brenna ruffled her soft fur and made her way back upstairs to burrow down in her blankets, head covered. She wouldn't think about the dream now, wouldn't think about anything...lights out.
Chapter 38