The Beach House (44 page)

“But you win, Jo,” Molly said, “for being most surreptitious. How did you manage this? We were all together looking at these things. What was that artists’ colony called?”

“The Spanish Village.” Jo smiled, rather pleased with her findings. She had given Andie a glass-blown paperweight for her future office; Char, handmade earrings, the gaudiest she could find; and Molly, a beautiful set of pottery, a child-size cup and bowl for the new baby. She thought someday she’d send gifts to her other four children. As soon as she learned their names and ages.

Hugs and giggles went round the circle.

Jo said, “I just want to thank you three for…for everything. For putting up with me all those years and this past week. I have missed you so much. You’ve always been like moms to me. Not that I know from experience what a true mom is like, but I do know I have been mothered by you. Nurtured is the word.” The speech could have gone on, but her vocal cords refused to cooperate.

Andie said, “We did mother each other, didn’t we? We were ‘Super-girls’ from the very start.”

Molly nodded. “Yes. We were mature little things. Aware of each other’s needs when we should have been playing with dolls. I distinctly remember at nine years of age receiving laundry tips from you, Andie, and solace from you, Jo, when I failed a spelling test.”

Char sighed. “I do believe your moms were as
unavailable
as mine.” She tilted her head, as if waiting.

Jo perceived she wanted the adjective to sink in.
Unavailable
.

Molly responded for the three of them. “You knew we called our moms that?”

“I overheard Jo say it once.”

Jo raised her hand. “The big mouth.”

Char smiled. “We were about eighteen. I’ve appreciated that you never wanted to say it in front of me. The fact is, I think your moms were more unavailable than mine. Even after Mama died, I had those thirteen years to cherish in my heart, thirteen years of something none of you ever had. If she had lived, I don’t think Mama would have lost herself in a career like yours did, Jo. Or been so enamored with society like yours, Molly, that she missed most of my accomplishments. Or been like yours, Andie, so childish and ill-equipped to face the real world. Mama was never self-absorbed.”

Jo said, “Oh, Char. You are something.”

She patted her hair and fluttered her eyelashes. “Why, I’m just your everyday Georgia peach.”

When their chuckles faded, Andie said, “I wish we could have known your mama.”

“I wish she could have known you all. The three nerds who took me, the blond ditz, under their wings.”

Molly said, “We were such snots to you.”

“And you weren’t a ditz, Char,” Jo said. “You were smart and funny and disgustingly charming. Still are, for that matter.”

Molly and Andie nodded.

Jo said, “We were desperate for some class in our tight little nerdy threesome. Thank God for your glitter.”

The others turned surprised expressions to her.

“What?”

“Thank God?” Molly smiled.

Jo shrugged. “I suppose we could thank Babette for every good thing in our life. Shall we play the game?”

“Sure.”

As game pieces were distributed, Jo felt the outsider again. Not married, no kids, no church affiliation, no connection with God.

Good grief. Talk about a tight little threesome!

“Jo!” Molly’s panicky cry came from the hallway.

In the living room, Jo dropped the game pieces she was boxing up and raced toward her, Andie and Char on her heels.

Molly met them outside the bathroom, her face scrunched into a question mark. “I’m spotting.”

Jo grasped her hands. “How much?”

“A trace.”

“Any cramping?”

“No.”

Thank God
. “Okay. This happens.”

Molly nodded, returning Jo’s squeeze. The adrenaline surged between them. They both knew it happened, and they both knew it could be a precursor to a miscarriage. Or not.

Jo clung to the
or not
. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Molly nodded again. There wasn’t anything else to be done except stay off her feet for a while.

Like a swarm of bumblebees, the four moved down the hall and into Molly’s room. They all tucked her in, Andie doing the covers, Char patting her feet, Jo brushing hair back from her forehead.

“Moll, it’s all right. You know it doesn’t necessarily mean anything is wrong.”

Char said, “It happened with both my pregnancies.”

“Let’s pray,” Andie said.

Jo and Char looked at her; she looked back at them. An unspoken “uh” hung in the air. Even with Andie’s gallant efforts in the boutique dressing room, Molly was the prayer woman.

Jo tried not to think of Molly’s half-formed thought the day she’d heard the news, that a part of her almost hoped for another miscarriage. She hadn’t meant it. She really hadn’t meant it.
She didn’t, God
.

Andie turned to the patient. “How do we pray?”

Molly’s facial features were still wrinkled together. “I want this baby.” The furrows unknit themselves a centimeter at a time. “Three hours ago I could not have said that. In all honesty, I’ve been a totally unavailable mother. When I finally prayed, all I could ask God to do was change my heart.” Her eyebrows rose, the only movement in her now smooth, peaceful face. “I guess He did.”

Andie nodded and reached out to hold hands. The others did likewise until the circle was unbroken.

“We praise You, God, for changed hearts. Please keep Molly and her baby safe.”

Jo tucked herself into the twin bed on the other side of the nightstand from Molly’s.

“Jo, you don’t have to sleep in here.”

She smiled at her and turned off the lamp. “Who said anything about sleep?”

“Don’t you dare stay awake!”

“Then I’d better stay put. There’s a better chance of me sleeping in here than across the hall.”

“Jo.” Molly sighed. “You know there’s nothing you can do for me. I promise not to get up and go jogging on the beach.”

“Ha-ha. Go to sleep.”

“You too.” She yawned noisily. “My goodness, you are one hovering hen of a doctor. Scotty will have a fit over your bill.”

“I’m sure we can work something out. Like you could name the baby Josephine.”

“Or Joseph.”

“That works too.”

“Betsy’s named after you, remember?”

“Mmm.”
Betsy? Elizabeth
?

“You don’t remember.” Molly had the grace to chuckle at Jo’s memory lapse. “‘Anne’ is her middle name, you dork.”

Anne
. The same as Jo’s. “Really? Wow. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I never could work in ‘Wentworth’ so I didn’t even attempt ‘Michelle.’”

She thought of how she herself had used the others’ middle names for her miscarried baby. “That’s okay. I took care of those.”

“Yes, you did.”

Silence hung between them, interrupted only by the surf’s constant whishing sound through the open window. Jo recalled how Molly had always raised a window at night, even in the dead of a Midwest winter or in summer’s ninety humid degrees. No matter blazing furnace or overworked air conditioner, she craved fresh air.

Jo loved that earthiness about Molly. It added to her aura of solidity.

“Hey, Jo.”

“Hmm?”

“Jesus loved children. I think the unborn ones who don’t make it here go to be with Him. If that’s true, then I have one with Him and so do you.”

Jo stared into the dark.

“Who knows?” Molly’s tone carried a smile. “Maybe they’re playmates. Maybe mine is a girl too.”

“Hmm.”

“Maybe. We can hardly begin to imagine what God has in store for any of us.”

Jo continued staring into the dark. After a time, she heard Molly’s breathing pattern deepen. The doctor could go to sleep as well.

But the almost-mother heart beating in her chest could not.

Jo’s eyes remained wide open, yet images danced about in her imagination. Two chubby toddlers frolicked in a meadow. Both girls. One with black hair, one with light brown. Giggles echoed in her mind.

Ridiculous.

But it felt…nice. Good. Wholesome. Complete. Downright precious.

Childhood had been too painful of a passage for Jo. She vowed to never be a mother. Even as a little girl playing with dolls, she had cast herself as doctor, never as mommy. No one needed to point out the obvious. She simply imitated her own mother.

Whenever her best friend, Molly, envisioned the future, it always involved kids. Kids by the hundreds in the classroom and a couple of her own, one boy and one girl. The girl, of course, would be the best friend of Jo’s daughter. Sometimes Jo played along just to humor Molly.

As a doctor she did all she could to ensure healthy beginnings for parent and child, but her participation ended there. She cared for women with biological clock issues, but she never heard the ticking of one until she became pregnant. When the heartbeat of her in utero baby chugged like a minuscule train in her ears, a primal wave of intuition flooded her.

She would have been an okay mommy.

Why did You take her away from me
?

Jo bit her lip until the cry sank back down into her chest and dissolved there.

The two little girls jumped into her mind’s eye again. They laughed and ran through wildflowers, hand in hand.

You are not fair
!

Scarcely conscious of her movements, Jo got out of bed and slipped to her knees. As a child, that was how she addressed God. It was just the way things were done.

God, You are too full of fire. But I am tired of fighting and I want to see my daughter. I want to see Catherine Michelle Wentworth. Cathy. Jesus, if You are real and You love me like Molly says, give me the faith I need. I’m sorry for all the terrible things I’ve done. Please forgive me or just burn me up right now
.

And please, oh please, don’t abort Molly’s new one. If You are the Great Physician, keep this baby safe. Please, God, please keep the baby safe
.

Jo remained on her knees for a long time, wrestling and bargaining with God. She told Him everything, exhausting her supply of thoughts and emotions and promises to care for poor people if only He would keep Molly well. When there was nothing left to say, she stopped.