Oh, well. I had to be an adult about this. I forced myself to ring the bell.
Instead of running footsteps, I heard nothing. Silence. I noticed that the Brunos’ house looked pretty dark. Had I gotten my dates mixed up? No, Logan had definitely said Valentine’s Day, and this was Valentine’s Day. Wrong house? No way.
Just as I was wondering what could possibly be wrong — and just as I was growing a teeny bit scared — the front door creaked open. Shadowed against a dim light from the kitchen down the hall stood Logan. He was wearing a tux and holding a box containing a wrist corsage.
Oh, this was just too much. A wrist corsage (an orchid) for Olivia? I half expected Logan to say, “Oh, it’s just you,” and to look over my shoulder to see if Olivia was arriving yet.
Instead, Logan smiled slowly and shyly at me. “Hi, Mary Anne,” he said. Then he added, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Hi, Logan,” I replied.
“Come on in.”
Logan held the door open for me, and I slipped past him, into the hallway. “Where are Hunter and Kerry?” I asked as I took off my jacket. “I’ve never heard your house this quiet.”
“Oh, they’re here,” Logan told me. “They’re down in the rec room with Mom and Dad. I made them promise to stay there all evening.”
“I thought your parents were going out tonight,” I said, puzzled and somewhat apprehensive. “That’s why I —”
Logan interrupted me by putting his finger to my lips. “Shh,” he said. “Come see.” He took my hand and led me to the dining room. There I saw the table set for a romantic dinner for two. Candles burned in silver holders. A white cloth covered the table. The Brunos’ best china gleamed next to crystal glasses and sparkling silverware.
Torture.
Logan was making me see how he and Olivia were going to spend Valentine’s Day evening. How low could a person get?
I was about to say something when Logan spoke up first. “Surprise,” he said softly. He opened the box and slipped the corsage onto my wrist.
“Huh?” I asked brightly.
“This is for us, Mary Anne. You’re not here to baby-sit. That was … well, it was a trick. It was the only way I could give you this present, this evening. Anyway, like I said, everyone’s in the rec room. They won’t bother us. Tonight is our night.”
My jaw dropped open. “I thought we were going to cool our —”
“We did,” said Logan. “And now I’m ready to try warming it up again. Here, have a seat. My family helped me make this special dinner just for us.”
I was completely overwhelmed. So I sat down. I think that if Logan had said (as gently and as sweetly as he had spoken just now), “Here. Shave your head, get each of your ears pierced four times and your nose once, and go be a sheepherder in the mountains,” I would have done it.
“Are you hungry?” Logan asked. He was standing at my elbow, like a waiter.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Good. We’ll be eating soon. But first I have some things for you. Just a minute. Stay right here.”
Logan disappeared into the kitchen, swinging the door shut behind him. When he returned, his arms were loaded. Grinning, he set a small gift-wrapped package by my plate, and then a red heart-shaped box. After that, he handed me a single red rose. “For you,” he said.
“But you already gave me a flower,” I replied, looking at the orchid on my wrist. I was completely bewildered.
“Red roses are traditional on Valentine’s Day.”
I wasn’t sure what to do with the rose (its stem was very long; also thorny), so I just laid it next to my plate on the white tablecloth.
Logan was nudging the present and the heart-shaped box closer to me. (He still hadn’t sat down.) “Go ahead. Open them,” he said.
“Only if you’ll sit down, too,” I said with a nervous smile. I just could not believe what was going on. It had happened too fast. I was supposed to be baby-sitting, but here I was in a candlelit room, a world of romance. And Logan, all dressed up, was presenting me with gift after gift, while I sat dumbfounded, feeling guilty because I hadn’t even bought Logan that card I’d seen.
Logan sat. I looked at the boxes in front of me. “Which one first?” I asked.
“Mmm … that one.” Logan pointed to the heart-shaped box.
In all honesty, I must say that the box was pretty gaudy. It was adorned with a gigantic pink plastic rose and tied with red voile. (Or toile. Whatever that stuff wedding veils are made of.)
I slipped off the voile or toile. Inside the box were five pounds of chocolate candy. “Yum,” I said. “Thanks, Logan.”
“Any time. Let’s save them for dessert. Open the other present.”
I reached for the small silver-wrapped box and unwrapped it. When I lifted the lid I saw … a bracelet made of tiny gold hearts linked together.
I gasped. And Logan leaned over and kissed my cheek.
At that moment I still felt overwhelmed. But I felt something new, too. It was a gnawing sense of dread.
I was in over my head with Logan. This was not at all the way things were supposed to be working. And I didn’t know what to do, how to fix them.
“Logan, this is beautiful,” I ventured.
“I knew you’d like it,” was Logan’s answer. He fastened it around my wrist.
It really was beautiful — but now I had to say sheepishly, “Logan, I didn’t get anything for you. I saw this card, but …” My voice trailed off.
“That’s okay,” he said. “Eating dinner with you is enough of a gift.”
I wanted to cry.
Logan went back into the kitchen then, and returned carrying two plates of food — lasagna, broccoli with some sort of sauce on it, and a serving of salad.
“Wow!” I couldn’t help being impressed.
“Just remember,” said Logan, as he set one of the plates in front of me, “I had a little help with this.”
“And now you’re forcing your family to spend the evening in the rec room?”
“Under penalty of death,” replied Logan.
We began to eat. For awhile, we ate in silence. When the silence became excruciating, I said, “Logan, I feel really bad that I don’t have anything for you. You’ve given me flowers, candy, a bracelet, and dinner.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been planning this as a surprise. How could you have known about it?”
I just shook my head.
We made it through dinner. We made it through dessert (chocolate cake and chocolate candy — Claudia would have been in heaven). As soon as dessert was over, I looked at my watch.
“Logan, I better go,” I said.
“Okay, I’ll ask Mom or Dad to drive us to your house.”
“Wait! Before we leave I have to say something.” My heart was pounding but I was determined to speak up. “Logan — Logan, when I said we should cool our relationship, I meant it.”
“I know. And we did cool it. But like I said, I’m ready to start it up again.”
I’m not, I thought. Logan had not understood at all.
The bracelet on my wrist felt as heavy as an iron chain.
As you can tell, Jessi was ecstatic over her unexpected sitting job. Jenny is not one of her favorite sitting charges, but new babies are exciting, and besides, Mr. P. really did need someone to come over quickly.
So Jessi’s Aunt Cecelia drove her to the Prezziosos’. Jessi knew that accepting this job without consulting Kristy or the other club members was okay. It was an emergency. Besides, Mr. P. had said over the phone, “Your friends are either out already, or their lines are busy.”
“Well, I’m free,” Jessi had told him. Two minutes later, she was sitting beside Cecelia in the front seat of her aunt’s car.
Before she knew it, her aunt was pulling to a stop in front of the Prezziosos’.
“ ’Bye, Aunt Cecelia!” Jessi called, as she scrambled out of the door. “I’ll call when I hear any news. If I don’t call, I’ll be home by s
ix. Mr. Prezzioso said that either he would come home then or, if he needed to stay at the hospital, Mrs. Frank from down the street will come spend the night with Jenny.”
Aunt Cecelia smiled. “That’s fine,” she said. “I can’t wait to hear the news.” Jessi closed the door then, and her aunt drove slowly and carefully down the street, pausing once to let a squirrel cross the road.
Jessi, however, literally sprinted to Jenny’s front door. She didn’t even have to ring the bell. The door was flung open by Mr. P. Sitting nearby, on a bench in the hallway, was Mrs. P., a suitcase next to her. Both Mr. and Mrs. P. looked pretty tired. I guess you don’t sleep well when you’re expecting a baby.
“Where’s Jenny?” was the first thing Jessi asked after she and the Prezziosos had hastily greeted one another.
“Still asleep,” said Mrs. P., with a smile. “Jenny could sleep until noon every day, but we usually don’t let her. However, we thought it would be okay today.”
“So Jenny doesn’t know you’re leaving for the hospital?” asked Jessi, astounded. This did not seem like a very good situation to her.
“No,” replied Mr. P., “but when she gets up, tell her I’ll try to call her several times today. With any luck, one of the calls will be to say that the baby has arrived. But I’ll call no matter what. We don’t want Jenny to think we’ve abandoned her.”
“Dear?” spoke up Mrs. P. “I really think we should leave now.” She grimaced.
“Oh! Oh, right,” exclaimed her husband, sounding nervous again. He turned once more to Jessi. “You know where the emergency numbers are, you know where we’ll be, and if you have any problems, Mrs. Frank will be home all day.”
“Dear?” said Mrs. P. again.
With that, Mr. P. appeared to forget about Jessi. He helped his wife to her feet, picked up the suitcase, and walked her out the door, which Jessi held open for them. As they made their way slowly down the front walk, Mrs. P. leaned heavily on Mr. P. and Jessi had a sense of déjà vu. She remembered her old house in Oakley, New Jersey, she and Becca standing at their front door, their grandmother behind them, as all three watched Mr. Ramsey escort Mrs. Ramsey to the family car. Later that night, Squirt had been born.
Gosh, thought Jessi. That was about a year and a half ago. It could have been yesterday. And now Squirt was walking, climbing stairs….
Jessi shook her head. The Prezziosos’ car backed hurriedly down the driveway and into the street. Jessi watched until it was out of sight. Then she closed the front door and tiptoed up the stairs to Jenny’s room. Her door was ajar, so Jessi peeked in. Jenny lay sprawled on her back, the covers kicked off, one arm slung over the side of the bed.
Jessi smiled, then tiptoed back downstairs. I’ll fix Jenny a nice breakfast, she thought. Maybe that will take the sting out of waking up to find her parents gone — and her position as an only child about to come to an end.
Jessi had set the table, poured juice for Jenny, and was setting down bread and cereal, when Jenny shuffled into the kitchen.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” teased Jessi. Then she added, “Do you remember who I am?” (She doesn’t sit for Jenny very often.)
“Jessi?” said Jenny questioningly.
“That’s right! You have a good memory.”
“You’re a baby-sitter,” was Jenny’s reply. She sounded as if she were accusing Jessi of committing a crime.
“That’s right,” said Jessi again.
“Then where are my mommy and daddy?”
“Why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast,” suggested Jessi. “I’ll tell you everything while you’re eating.”
“Okay.” Reluctantly, Jenny climbed onto her chair.
Jessi handed her a piece of toast and a bowl of cereal. Then she sat down across from Jenny. “Something wonderful happened this morning while you were asleep,” she began, choosing her words carefully.
“What?” asked Jenny suspiciously.
“Your mommy decided she was ready to have the baby. So she and your daddy went to the hospital. Pretty soon you’ll have a new brother or sister. Oh, and your daddy promised to call you today whenever he can. So you’ll get to talk to him on the phone.”
Jenny stopped eating her cereal, her spoon halfway to her mouth. She looked bewildered, then puzzled. Finally she said, “What about the stork?”
“The stork?” repeated Jessi. And then she remembered. She had read the BSC notebook and knew about Jenny’s conversation with Stacey and Claud and me before Mrs. P.’s baby shower.
Uh-oh, thought Jessi. But she composed herself and said, “Jenny, storks don’t bring babies. That’s just a silly story. Babies grow inside of mommies.”
Jenny looked quite thoughtful for several moments. She returned her spoon to her bowl. Then she opened her mouth (Jessi braced herself for the worst) and said, “I thought that stork thing sounded funny!”
And that was the end of the conversation. Jessi breathed a sigh of relief.
* * *
When breakfast was over, Jessi took Jenny upstairs to help her brush her teeth and get dressed. She let Jenny choose her own outfit (something she was pretty sure picky Mrs. P. never did). She figured it wouldn’t matter. Mrs. P. would not see Jenny that day.
Jenny had just finished putting on her clothes — a pink jean skirt, a red shirt, yellow knee socks, and blue sandals — when the phone rang.
“Maybe it’s Daddy!” Jenny shrieked. “Maybe my baby is here.” (Her baby? wondered Jessi.) “Can I answer the phone? Please?”
“Do you know how to?” asked Jessi.
“Yes! Mommy taught me. It is a very grown-up thing to do. You can listen if you want.” Jenny was already heading for the phone in her parents’ bedroom.
“Okay,” said Jessi. “Go to it.”
Jenny snatched up the receiver. “Hello, Prezziosos’. Who’s calling, please?” She listened for a moment. Then she said, “What? … What?” and then, “I have to ask.” She took the phone away from her ear. “Jessi,” she said, “the man wouldn’t tell me his name. But he wants to know if we want to buy some … cyclopediments?”
Jessi, suppressing a smile, said, “Tell him no, then say thank you and good-bye and hang up the phone.”
Jenny did as she was told. Almost immediately the phone rang again. And Jenny snatched it up again. “Daddy!” she cried a moment later. “The stork story isn’t true after all. Do I have a new baby yet?” She paused, then said, “Oh. Okay. Do you promise you’ll call later? … Okay. ’Bye.” Jenny sounded disappointed.
“Don’t worry,” said Jessi, confused because she thought Jenny didn’t want the baby. “You’ll have a new brother or sister by tonight. Or maybe tomorrow.”
“Darn old baby,” muttered Jenny, kicking at a chest of drawers. “I didn’t know Mommy and Daddy would have to go away to get the baby. It’ll never be just me and Mommy and Daddy again. The baby’s got them all to itself right now. And I’ll never have them to myself again.”
Oh, thought Jessi. So that was why Jenny wanted the baby to come home soon. She didn’t want it to have too much time alone with her parents. And she probably thought that if she took care of the baby as “hers,” then Mr. and Mrs. P. would have more time to spend with Jenny.
It was very complicated.
* * *
Jessi managed to entertain Jenny for the rest of the morning. She made a few phone calls to let some of the other BSC members know what was going on. She gave Jenny lunch.
Jenny was just finishing her peanut butter sandwich when the phone rang again. Jenny made a leap for it. “I hope it’s my daddy!” she cried.
It was, but he didn’t have any news. No baby yet.
Jenny was becoming edgy. And cranky.
“How about a nap?” asked Jessi tiredly.
“NO!”
“Okay, okay.”
At 4:15, the phone rang again. “You get it this time,” said Jenny, who was slumped in a chair, the picture of depression.
So Jessi did. And it
was Mr. P. “The baby’s here!” he said excitedly. “It’s a girl, she weighs seven and a half pounds, and she’s twenty-one inches long. Her name is Andrea.”
“Congratulations!” shouted Jessi. “Wait, let me put Jenny on the phone.”
Jenny listened to her father with absolutely no expression on her face. Then she said good-bye and slumped back into her chair.
Jessi barely noticed. She called her family and every single club member, including Logan and Shannon, to spread the news. When she finally got off the phone, she said excitedly to Jenny, “So what do you think? You have a baby sister.”
Jenny narrowed her eyes. “I wanted a brother,” she said, and marched up to her room.
Jessi watched her helplessly.
Mrs. Prezzioso and Andrea stayed in the hospital for three days. On Tuesday afternoon, Mr. P. was allowed to bring them home. The day before, he had called during the BSC meeting to line up a sitter for Jenny for the afternoon. I had gotten the job.
When I rang the Prezziosos’ bell on Tuesday, I was greeted by Mrs. Frank, who had been staying with Jenny since the night before. I had a feeling that Jenny’s life since Saturday had consisted of a string of baby-sitters. I also had a feeling that Jenny was not going to be in a good mood. I was right about both things.
I said good-bye to Mrs. Frank and let her out the front door. Then I walked into the living room, where Jenny and Mrs. Frank had obviously been reading books.
“Hey, Jen,” I greeted her. “Andrea comes home today!” I sounded as perky and as excited as I was able.
“So?” countered Jenny.
“Well, today is sort of important. You’re a big sister and your baby sister is coming home.”
Jenny didn’t answer me.
“Your dad’s going to drive everyone home in an hour or so.”
“Yup.” Jenny finally looked up from her copy of The Little Engine That Could. “And I will never have Mommy and Daddy all to myself again.”
“Oh, Jen.” I sat on the floor beside her. “That’s not true. Mommies and daddies have time for more than one child. Think about Mal’s family.”