A Baby by Easter (6 page)

“The ones you've decided are safe for her, right?”
Susannah smiled at Darla but her tone was troubled. “I hope you don't regret it,” she said quietly.

David was going to ask what she meant but Darla snagged his attention, showing him the massive cone she was trying to eat before it melted. She giggled and laughed, teased Susannah about the pickle juice that had spattered her shirt and insisted David taste her triple-fudge-and-marshmallow ice cream.

David discarded Susannah's comment. Darla was happy, like a big kid enjoying the pleasures of life. That was exactly what he wanted for her.

Wasn't it?

Unbidden, the image of Darla twirling in front of the store's floor-length mirror in her red dress fluttered through his mind. Not a kid, a woman. He felt the intensity of a stare and caught Susannah looking at him.

She was good for his sister. He didn't deny that. But there were things in Darla's life that
were
working, things that didn't need changing. One of those was soccer.

He urged them back to the car and drove Susannah to Connie's, anxious to escape her probing questions and retreat to the normalcy of his home.

But that night, when the house had quieted and there was no one to disturb his thoughts, David couldn't dislodge Susannah's warning from his brain.

I hope you don't regret it.

“Maybe I'm not supposed to worry about things, Lord,” he whispered as he sat in the dark, watching stars diamond-stud the black velvet of the night sky. “But I am worried. She's changing everything. What if Susannah's wrong about Darla?”

But what if she was right?

T
his is wrong.

It wasn't the first time Susannah had thought those words as she stood in the church basement and watched Darla try to interact with the young girls in the club.

It wasn't that they were mean or did anything to Darla. In fact, they were most impressed with Darla's new outfit and offered many compliments.

The problem was Darla didn't fit here and she knew it. The other girls were younger, faster and more nimble with their handicrafts. Darla tried, but only halfheartedly, and when her kite didn't work out, she crushed it and threw it into the trash in a fit of anger.

Susannah saw the glint in her eye and the set of her jaw and knew the girl was not happy. The ride home was tense. On an impulse she pulled into a park.

“Let's go for a walk,” she said.

After they'd gone a short way, Darla stopped.

“I hate girls' club. I can't do it.” She stamped her foot, caught Susannah's eye and sighed. “I'm sorry,” she said, flopping onto the grass.

“Actually, I think you did very well at girls' club, but maybe you've been there long enough,” Susannah mused,
sitting beside her. Maybe here Darla would open up and speak of things she did want to do.

“Davy likes girls' club. He says it's safe.”

“I suppose it is safe,” Susannah said, striving to sound noncommittal.

“It's for little kids. I'm not little.” After a few minutes Darla began talking about the bed of flowers nearby. She described each one.

“You know a lot about flowers.” Susannah's mind had begun to whirl with ideas but she gave nothing away. She'd have to talk to David first, get his permission. And that would probably not be easy.

“I like them. Flowers don't make me feel stupid,” Darla muttered. Then her face brightened. “There's the ice cream man. I love ice cream. Maybe they have pistachio. Can I get one, Susannah?” Darla begged.

“I don't know if I have enough cash. Maybe you should find out how much a cone costs first?” Susannah stayed where she was, swamped by a rush of tiredness as Darla raced across the grass.

In a few minutes Darla came rushing back. Susannah held out her wallet and Darla counted out what she needed. It seemed a lot to Susannah. She'd been trying to save every cent she could for the baby but these little side trips were digging into that meager account.

Still, it was worth it to see Darla's proud face as she returned with two fudge bars.

“One for you and one for me.”

“Thank you.” Susannah took the bar, impressed again by Darla's kind heart. “That's very kind of you to share. Didn't they have pistachio?”

“I'd rather have a fudge one with you,” Darla said.

She'd given up her first choice to share. Susannah felt proud as any new mom.

While they ate their cones, Darla talked about her brother.

“Davy's an awfully good brother,” she said, her eyes soft with love. “He was on a vacation when my dad died. Davy had to come home and take over his work. When my mom got sick, Davy looked after her, too.” Her smile dimmed. “And he always looks after me.”

“He loves you a lot.”

“I love him, too,” Darla said. “I wish he would have gotten married. But Erin didn't want me around.” Darla peeked sideways at Susannah, her guilt obvious.

“What happened?” She kept her voice even.

“I wasn't nice. I spilled ketchup on her shirt. Her favorite shirt.” A glower replaced Darla's sunny smile. “She told Davy I was a baby, too young to make pots.”

“Pots? Oh, you mean pottery?” She shrugged. “Maybe you were too young, honey. I'm afraid I don't know anything about it.”

“I do. A man came to my school and showed us how to make pots. He said mine was the best,” she said proudly. “Davy put it in the garden.”

“You mean the blue one?” Susannah asked, surprised by the information.

“Uh-huh. It was going to be a fountain but it dried too hard and I couldn't put a hole in it.” She sighed. “The teacher told me I should try again.”

“Maybe you should.”

“You mean it, Susannah? You'll let me do pottery?” Darla leaned over and hugged her tightly. “Oh, thank you.”

Susannah ignored the blob of chocolate on her shirt-front and hugged back. “It isn't up to me, so don't get in a rush. I have to ask your brother. He's the boss and if he says no—”

She left it hanging. Finished with the ice cream, they rinsed off under a tap and then drove home. Darla immediately stormed David with a demand to make pottery.

As Susannah watched them, she grew very conscious of the way he surveyed her, his gaze resting on the twin ice cream stains the two of them wore. Well, so what? They'd had fun.

His mouth pursed in that thin line that meant he was going to deny Darla's request out of hand. Susannah had to do something.

“Darla, would you show me the pot you made? I'd really like to see it again.” She followed the young woman to the back garden to admire the shiny blue pot that held a barrel cactus. “It would have made a lovely fountain,” she agreed.

After much discussion about pottery, Mrs. Peters came to ask Darla's help. Darla left, and David turned to her. Susannah stiffened, knowing what was coming.

“Why this sudden need for pottery?” David asked. He pointed to a chair. “Please sit down. You look worn out.”

Just what every woman wanted to hear.

“It's not
my
need, it's Darla's,” she said, folding into the comfortable garden chair with relief. “She didn't have the best time at clubs—again.”

“What happened,” he demanded. “What did she do?”

“Darla didn't
do
anything,” Susannah told him. “But she's too big for that club and she knows it. It doesn't interest her.” She straightened and told him in a rush, “I don't think she should go anymore.”

“What?” He glared at her. “Why not?”

“David, Darla can do so much more than play with little girls. She's lost some faculties, but she still has lots
of skills and interests. Plants, for instance,” she said, cutting off the question she knew was coming.

“I suppose I could clear out some of the things my mother planted,” he said, studying the lovely garden.

“You could, but she needs more than that.” Susannah struggled to explain what she'd begun to understand about Darla. “What would you do if you didn't have your work, David?” she asked.

“Me?” He shrugged. “I always wanted to fly. I have my private license. Why?”

“You have options. Darla is trying to figure out what hers are,” Susannah told him. “She wants to do something that makes her feel good about herself, something that shows for her efforts, and maybe something that helps others. She needs to feel confident about herself first, though.”

“I don't think pottery is an option right now,” he mused. “I don't think there are any classes going that she could attend. What else do you have in mind to help her learn this confidence?”

“Swimming.” She shook her head at him. “I know
you're
afraid for her, but I think she's ready to challenge herself. She's ashamed that she can't go with her class when they go for swimming lessons. She knows she's missing out, David. Think how much self-esteem she'd have if she went with the class and had no problem in the water.”

She knew he understood. He was clever and thoughtful and he wanted Darla to be happy. But something was holding him back.

“What if she panics?” he demanded in a tense voice.

“What if she does? They have trained staff who deal with that all the time. Darla isn't the first one to be afraid
of water.” Susannah touched his hand. “I know you want to keep her safe. And she will be. But she needs personal and physical challenges to grow and develop.”

“But swimming?” He drew back from her touch, his face shadowed by the awning above.

A thought crossed Susannah's mind. “Do you swim, David?”

“Why do you ask?” He looked at her then, straight and head on.

“I ask because it seems like you're projecting your fears onto Darla. And I know that isn't what you want to do.” She waited a few moments, watching the truth fill his face. “What happened?” she murmured.

“Are you psychoanalyzing me, Ms. Wells?”

“Do you have something to hide, Mr. Foster?”

It took several moments before he let out a deep breath.

“I was twenty-five. Old enough I suppose, but I never expected—” He shook his head. “My mother was a swimmer. We used to have a pool back here. She loved that pool, did laps every day. I came home one afternoon and found her floating on the water. She'd had a stroke.”

“I'm so sorry.” He was in his own world now, tied up in a knot of guilt. Susannah tried to nudge him out. “Did she recover?”

“Not really. She was paralyzed till she died. She never swam again.”

“But that wasn't your fault.” Something in his face didn't compute. “David?”

“I was so scared,” he blurted. “I did all the wrong things. It took forever to get her out of the water because I was afraid of hurting her. I should have done more resuscitation but when she didn't come to, I panicked.”
He stared at her. “If it hadn't been for my friend Jared showing up, she would have died.”

“So you had the pool filled in and you've been blaming yourself and trying desperately to stop anything like that from happening to Darla.” Susannah smiled sadly. “But you're drowning her with your rules and regulations, David.”

He held her gaze, not looking away even when Darla returned.

“It's late. I'd better go.” Susannah rose slowly, forcing herself not to give away the fact that the yard was spinning.

“Can Susannah stay for dinner, Davy?” Darla asked.

“Not tonight, thanks,” Susannah said before he could refuse. “I think I'm going to go home and lie down.”

“Shall I drive you?” David's face was drawn and serious.

“Don't be silly. It's just a couple of blocks.” She headed for the front door.

“All the same, you look pale. I think you should ride.” He told Darla to stay with Mrs. Peters, then took Susannah's elbow and escorted her to his car.

“This is silly. I'm fine,” she protested, but he ignored her.

“You're overdoing it. That was not my intent when you took this job. Maybe you should cut back. I can find someone else to work with Darla.” He backed out of his driveway and pulled onto the street.

“Look, the doctor assures me that part of pregnancy is the occasional tiredness. I'm really fine.” She saw him glance at her stomach and pulled down her shirt defensively. “I'm not some delicate flower. I'm tough, resilient.” She breathed a mocking laugh. “I survived Nick. I can handle having a baby.”

“Nick's the guy who left you?” he asked as he pulled up in front of Connie's house.

“He was the man I thought I married.” Shame washed over her. “I stupidly thought he loved me.”

“Why stupidly?” David turned in his seat to face her. “Why wouldn't he love you?”

“Because I'm a total failure,” she told him, trying to suppress the tears. “People like me aren't the type who get happily ever after. I'm not like Connie. She took her life and made something of it. I messed up.”

Susannah was too ashamed to sit there and let him see her give way to tears so she hastily exited the car.

“Thanks for the ride. Good night.”

She hurried away, listening for the sound of the car leaving. But in her room, when she glanced out of the window, she saw him still sitting there, a puzzled look on his face.

A long time passed before he finally left.

“And now it's finally clear to him what a twit I am.” Susannah sighed and started a bath. Some days were better forgotten. This was definitely one of them.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror just before she stepped into the tub.

“Your mother is an idiot,” she whispered, allowing the tears to fall unheeded. “Not the kind of mommy you deserve at all.”

 

“Darla, did Susannah seem okay today?” David pretended nonchalance as he waited for his sister's response later that evening.

“I dunno.” Darla looked up. “She gets tired sometimes. I pretend I am, too, so she can rest.”

“That's nice of you. What did you do today?” He
listened as Darla recited their activities. “That doesn't seem too bad.”

“No. But I don't think Susannah has much money. When we were in the park, I wanted an ice cream cone, but when she opened her wallet, I saw that she only had enough money for me to have a cone. So I got two little bars instead. One for each of us.”

“I'm proud of you for thinking of that.” David's chest swelled.

“Yeah.” She grinned at him.

“Maybe she doesn't carry much money with her,” he mused.

“She always puts some of her money in a little can at Connie's. It's her baby can. She's saving.” Darla grabbed the remote. “Can I watch my TV program now?”

“Sure.”

Susannah didn't have much money. Well, of course she didn't. He'd forgotten to give her money for gas. Darla's old hot rod would bankrupt Midas.

Come to think of it, Susannah wouldn't have an easy time with those bucket seats a few months down the road, either. Maybe it was time to trade it in. The car had been secondhand when he'd got it for Darla, just before her skiing accident. It still ran, but he didn't like the idea of Susannah possibly getting stopped somewhere.

You're worried about her safety now?
The chiding voice in the back of his head mocked.

David returned to the television room, oblivious to Darla's program. He wanted to shut that voice down, but the memory of Susannah's face when he'd driven her home, the pain in her voice as she'd spoken about the louse who dumped her, the thought of her innocent child caught in the midst of it all—well, David couldn't get rid of those thoughts.