The Beach Quilt (10 page)

Adelaide shifted on her stool. Her back had been hurting her a lot lately; it might be time for a newer pair of Duck Head shoes. She had given up heels years earlier, keeping only two pairs, one black and one tan, for “occasions” that never seemed to happen. And honestly, even if someone they knew did decide to throw a big party for a graduation or a milestone birthday, “occasions” in Maine didn't usually require heels or anything resembling formal attire.

Adelaide realized that she had been stirring her cup of tea for several minutes. It was probably lukewarm by now. She considered putting it into the microwave for a moment but didn't have the energy to get up and cross the room. These past days, since she had learned about poor Sarah, she seemed to be alternating between brief states of frantic energy and long periods of great lassitude. And then, there were the headaches.

Heavy footsteps alerted Adelaide to Cordelia's impending arrival. “Mom,” she said when she arrived in the kitchen, “I need to talk to you about something. I mean, I have to tell you something.”

Before Adelaide even saw the look on her daughter's face, her tone of voice, almost sepulchral, told her what she needed to know.

“I think I might know what it is,” Adelaide said. “Come, sit down.”

Cordelia dropped onto the stool next to where her mother sat. “I don't know how to say it. It's awful. It's the worst thing that's ever happened.”

“Let me help you then,” Adelaide said. “I had a long talk with Cindy, with Mrs. Bauer.”

Adelaide watched as her daughter literally sagged in relief. “So you know about Sarah?”

“I do.”

“I thought I was going to throw up at first. I mean, I don't think I ever felt more shocked in my life.”

“Shocked is certainly the word,” Adelaide agreed. “I know it can happen to anyone but . . . Sarah? It just doesn't seem possible. But it is, and we have to do all we can to help the Bauers.”

“Sarah said she's keeping the baby.”

“I know.”

Cordelia clutched her head with both hands. It was a gesture she had been fond of since she was a little girl. “I . . . I can't imagine it. Having a baby at sixteen. Well, I guess she'll be seventeen by then but still. It seems—surreal. Is that the right word?”

“It'll do. It's a life-changing thing,” Adelaide said, as if speaking to herself. “Well, having a baby at any time changes everything, but especially when you're so young and alone.”

“But Sarah
does
have her parents. She's not really alone.”

“Oh, yes, of course. They'll be a huge help.”
But,
Adelaide thought,
the toll it will take on them will be enormous.

“I wonder how Stevie feels about it,” Cordelia said.

“Oh, Lord, I'd forgotten all about Stevie! Poor thing, I hope she doesn't get entirely lost in the mix. Not that Cindy and Joe would purposely ignore her, but their attention is certainly going to be focused on Sarah.”

“And on the new baby.”

It was suddenly twenty-one years earlier. Adelaide's baby, only moments new to the world, a helpless, howling little being, was at that very moment being taken from her. Adelaide put a hand over her eyes in a futile attempt to hide the tears coursing down her cheeks.

“Oh, Mom, don't cry! If you start, I will, too!”

“I'm sorry,” she managed after a moment. “It's just so sad.”

“I guess you've told Dad.”

“Of course,” Adelaide said, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “Sarah's not only a family friend, but she's also one of his students. He's devastated. And knowing your father, I'm pretty sure he feels he's in some way responsible.”

“But how could he be?” Cordelia asked, shaking her head.

“He isn't, but he'll think he should have paid more attention to the fact that Sarah was dating an older boy. And a boy like Justin, too. So—so silly. Your father remembers Justin from when he was a student a few years back. Always goofing off. Well, maybe we all should have paid more attention. The adults, I mean.”

“So you think Mr. and Mrs. Bauer feel guilty, too?” Cordelia asked. “I mean, for letting Sarah date Justin.”

Adelaide desperately wanted to steer the conversation away from the topic of parental responsibility. It would only bring on more bad memories of how her parents had virtually washed their hands of her and her “stupid mistake.” “Maybe,” she said. “Well, I hope that they
don't
feel guilty. They're wonderful parents to those girls. And they couldn't have known. . . .”

“Yeah.” Cordelia groaned. “Mom, I just don't know what to do. I mean, how am I supposed to help? Maybe Sarah doesn't even
want
my help, but I feel like I need to do something, not just sit around and . . . and wait!”

Adelaide put her arm around her daughter's shoulder. “I think we're just going to have to take things as they come. There's no game plan for a situation like this.”

“That's for sure. But you know what? There
should
be! There should be a huge book of game plans somewhere, with the solution to every problem that could ever come up!”

Adelaide couldn't help but laugh. “Maybe someday there will be,” she said. “But I doubt it.”

Cindy had finished cleaning the bathroom and was almost done vacuuming the upstairs hall. She didn't mind vacuuming, but cleaning the bathroom was her least favorite household chore. Still, it would be good to have a second one. In a few years' time, there would be a fifth person using the one toilet and shower and sink.

Cindy sighed. If only they had enough money to add a powder room or, better yet, a half bath on the first floor. Joe could do the job for less than it would cost if he had to hire a contractor. But they would still have to pay for the fixtures and the services of a professional plumber and where would they
put
the bathroom, anyway? Well, Joe could figure that out, too—if they had the money for the project.

Cindy turned off the vacuum, wrapped the cord around the handle, and placed it back in the hall's narrow linen closet. She closed the closet door and looked from one bedroom to the next. Where would the baby sleep? Well, in Sarah's room, of course. There was just room enough for a small crib. Then again, maybe it would be better to have the crib in the master bedroom. Joe probably wouldn't mind, and Sarah would have a bit more peace and quiet to do her homework, because she would have to finish high school. There was no question in Cindy's mind about that. Of course, a crib on wheels would allow them to move the baby from room to room....

It was one more question to be decided.

Cindy went downstairs to the kitchen to make herself some lunch. There was some sliced ham and Swiss cheese for a sandwich. As she took the bread out of the breadbox and the mayonnaise out of the fridge, she thought about how the day before she had found Sarah sobbing on her bed. The sight had been disconcerting. Sarah hadn't broken down like that since she had witnessed a tiny bird fly into the living room window and die on the ground below. That had been nine or ten years ago.

Cindy had sat on the edge of the bed, soothing her as best she could, smoothing back her hair, murmuring comforting words.

“Mom,” Sarah had said, her voice thick, “I'm so scared.”

She hadn't been able to tell Sarah that she, too, was scared, that her father, too, was frightened of what might come. Sarah might be on the brink of becoming a parent, but she was Cindy's child, Cindy's responsibility to comfort and encourage for as long as Sarah needed her. Which looked like it could be for a very long time.

Cindy had felt in that moment just how much she missed her own mother. Oh, how she could use her strength, her calming presence, and her everyday practical wisdom, of which she had had an ample store.

“Are you very sure you want to keep the baby?” Cindy had asked.

Sarah had nodded.

“You don't want to talk about an adoption?”

“No.”

Cindy had felt enormously relieved. She believed that adoption was a fine and reasonable option. It just wasn't an option she wanted for her daughter or for their family.

Finally, exhausted, Sarah had fallen into a sleep that Cindy could only pray was peaceful, untroubled by dreams of what might have been or, more frightening, of what was to come.

Cindy brought her sandwich to the table and sat. Suddenly, she felt ravenous. She finished the sandwich in record time and debated making another one. Only the thought that Sarah might want the remaining ham and cheese as a snack when she got home from school restrained her.

“Those earrings are okay,” Cordelia murmured. “But not worth thirty dollars!”

Cordelia was killing time online. A cool pair of sneakers from Zappos and a neon orange statement necklace she found on the
Lucky
magazine site came in at numbers one and two on today's wish list. Still, she wasn't getting quite the satisfaction she usually got from virtual shopping, which was a bummer.

Cordelia exited the Internet and sighed. She felt restless and discontent. Sarah hadn't wanted to hang out with her that afternoon after school (she said she needed to be alone and think about things), and as much as Cordelia had been disappointed, she had also been kind of relieved. The fact was that she felt a bit awkward with Sarah now. It was like her friend had become a stranger overnight, the same on the outside (not for long!) but so very different on the inside.

And
that
was all Justin Morrow's doing!

And the bum was walking around Yorktide like nothing earth-shattering had happened! Sure, he had offered to marry Sarah, but that was a joke. Everyone knew he was just a big goof-off. Cordelia wondered what she would say or do if she bumped into Justin one day. Maybe she would just turn around and run away. It wasn't that she was afraid of him—ha!—it was just that when she thought of coming face-to-face with him a big bubble of anger seemed to well up in her chest. She felt like she might punch him in the nose! She had never before felt an urge to violence but then again, no one had ever hurt someone she loved so badly. Cordelia Anne Kane, Avenging Angel. It had a certain ring to it. She almost smiled.

Not that she condoned violence as a means to an end, of course. Her parents were strictly pacifistic, and she had inherited their views on physical and verbal abuse. Still, the thought of Justin walking around all innocent as if he had done nothing wrong to Sarah made her furious. And the injustice of it made her feel helpless.

Cordelia went over to her bed and sank down with a sigh. She reached for Pinky and held him to her chest.

Justin had probably thought he was so wonderful, giving Sarah all those stupid little trinkets. If it were she (and no way would it ever be because any guy who wanted to go out with her was going to have to give her
real
gifts, gifts that were worth something, gifts he had to sacrifice to afford!), she would have destroyed every ugly troll doll and every ridiculous plastic heart, torn them apart and then burned them and then buried the ashes. And then stomped on the ground to make sure the ashes never saw the light of day ever again.

Cordelia sighed and remembered the conversation she had had with her mother the previous evening.

“Did you know that Sarah was having sex with Justin?” her mother had asked her.

“I had no idea,” Cordelia had admitted. “I mean, I guess I should have known it was a possibility but . . . but I just didn't think it was something Sarah would be doing.”

“Because she's so smart?”

Cordelia had shrugged, embarrassed. “Because she's Sarah. I know that sounds ridiculous. I mean, just because someone doesn't act all flirty or boy crazy or . . .”

“Yes. Everyone is a sexual person. Some people choose not to cultivate or to emphasize that part of themselves, but that doesn't mean they aren't sexual beings.”

“And she never said anything to me about . . . about what she and Justin did when they were alone.”

“Some girls might have been dying to tell all to their best friend,” her mother had noted. “But certainly not Sarah.”

“Mom,” Cordelia had asked, “do you think if she had told me, if I had known what was going on, I could have, I don't know, talked her out of it or made sure she had birth control or something?”

“You might have been able to counsel her, but in the end, it still would have been her decision to have sex with Justin.”

“I guess. But what if she had told me she was having sex or even that she was only thinking about it? Would I have been under an obligation to tell you? You know, because she's only sixteen?”

Her mother had considered a moment before answering. “That's a tough question,” she had said finally. “You certainly wouldn't have been wrong to tell me, though I'm not sure you would have been under an obligation to say anything. Of course, the question then becomes, would I have had an obligation to tell Sarah's mother? And yes, I think that I would have, as a concerned friend.”

Cordelia toyed with Pinky's tail (it was regrettably skinny these days). All the time Sarah had been fooling around with Justin, Cordelia had been in the dark! Okay, it wasn't her business what they did together, she knew that, but still, she felt kind of duped.

Why hadn't Sarah told her? Maybe she had thought Cordelia wouldn't understand, but what was there to not understand! Or maybe Sarah had thought that she was too immature to handle the information without, what, freaking out? Huh. Maybe, Cordelia thought, it was her own naïveté that was bothering her now, not the fact that Sarah had kept her personal life to herself.

Cordelia put Pinky back against the pillows and went to her desk.
Enough,
she scolded herself.
You have got to stop thinking about Sarah and her mess and do your homework. Because if you don't, you'll have your own mess to deal with!
She could see the headline in the school paper now. “Principal's Daughter Fails Junior Year. Laziness Suspected.” It didn't have a very good ring to it.