The Beach Quilt (19 page)

Cindy was making a pot of coffee while Joe sat at the kitchen table, flipping through a catalog of construction materials. He still hadn't told his family in Chicago or in Brunswick that Sarah was pregnant. Cindy wasn't sure about the wisdom of this. Not telling could easily be construed as hiding, which would imply shame or embarrassment. But as she knew they would, matters had come to a head quite on their own.

“I heard from Ben this morning,” Joe said. “Seems word of Sarah's situation has reached Brunswick.”

“Oh.” Cindy kept her tone neutral though she felt her heart race a bit. “What did he say exactly?”

“Wanted to know if it was true, what he'd heard. I said, if what you've heard is that Sarah is having a baby come August, then yes, it's true.”

“Well, we knew the truth would spread at some point,” Cindy said. “Everyone will know eventually. You can't hide a baby for long. And we mustn't let people think we're ashamed.”

“I could never be ashamed of my own child.”

“I know that,” Cindy assured him, bringing the coffeepot and two cups to the table. “Let's hope that other people know that, too.”

“Ben knows that. He and Jill are family. They understand.”

Cindy winced. It had been the fear of her father's condemnation that had held her back from telling him about Sarah's pregnancy. But she had underestimated him.
Lesson learned,
she thought.
Don't presume another person's thoughts. People can
always
surprise you.

“Ben said he and Jill have a stroller from their last,” Joe said then. “Said it's in good shape and we can have it if we want.”

“That's good of them. I'll call Jill tomorrow. I owe her a phone call anyway.”

“And I suppose Jonas would want to know. About Sarah.”

Cindy smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging way. “Yes, I'm sure he would. Marie too. I'll let them know as well.”

Joe nodded. “Any more of that coffee cake left?”

Cindy brought what remained of the cake to the table and cut a piece for her husband. “I'd better make another one today. The three of you never seem to get enough of it.”

Joe ate the cake, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and got up from the table. “Best coffee cake in this world,” he said. He kissed his wife's cheek and left to return to the job site.

Cindy felt tears prick at her eyes. She was truly blessed with this man. She knew he was happy to sacrifice for his family, but she wished that he didn't have to work so hard. She wished there was something more she could contribute to the household.

And then it struck her. Maybe there
was
something more she could contribute. She wondered why the idea hadn't occurred to her earlier. It was so simple!
Well,
she thought, getting up from the table,
better late than never.

The girls were in Cordelia's room. Pinky the Worse for Wear Unicorn sat on her lap, and she was absentmindedly stroking him. (It was interesting, Cordelia thought, that she no longer cared about keeping her relationship with Pinky a secret.) Clarissa, who as usual was perched on Stevie—first, on a shoulder, then on her lap, and briefly, on her head—had eyed Pinky with what Cordelia thought was great suspicion. A good sniff had brought her around, and she had ignored him since.

“What do you think will happen?” Stevie said suddenly.

Cordelia frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you think things will work out? Sarah and her baby living at home with us and all.”

“I hope so!” Cordelia cried. “I can't imagine what else she would do, can you? Unless she moved in with me and my parents!”

“Move up to Portland or to some other city and live in a shelter, I guess.”

“Stevie! That's a horrible thing to say!”

Stevie shrugged. “Why? It's what happens to lots of girls who get pregnant and have no place else to go. At least, that's what I've heard. They go to shelters or care facilities of some sort.”

“Well, sure,” Cordelia said, “but that will never happen to Sarah.”

“I hope not. It's good the shelters exist, though. And the other places.”

“Sure, of course. Social services are important. But can we not talk about this?”

Stevie shrugged again. “Okay.”

The thought of her friend having to live in a shelter made Cordelia shudder. The world of poverty and abandonment had never touched Cordelia's in any close or direct way and now that the specter of it had, Cordelia suddenly felt deeply frightened. Was everyone's security so precarious? Could everything you took for granted, like a home and parents and school and your own phone and computer and nice clothes, fall away so suddenly and completely?

Of course it could, and for all sorts of reasons.

And if that was true, then life was even more precarious than Cordelia had ever thought, even in her darkest moment, which, admittedly, had never been very dark.

“It's weird, but a part of me is angry with Sarah for getting pregnant,” Stevie said, breaking the silence. “Like, what right did she have to mess up our family like this? And another part of me is kind of disappointed in her. I hate feeling this way. I mean, I've always really looked up to Sarah as, like, this perfect older sister. And now . . .”

“Now she's proved that she's only human like the rest of us,” Cordelia said. “I know. I feel kind of angry and disappointed, too.”

“Yeah. I guess it's not fair of me to—well, to punish her for not being perfect. Even though it's only in my head that I'm punishing her.”

“It's probably not fair,” Cordelia agreed, “but I think it's normal. I mean, I've been doing it, too, and I'm as normal as you get!”

“And all the attention she's getting from my mom and dad . . .” Stevie fiddled with one of her string bracelets. “I mean, it's not like I want the sort of attention she's getting because that would mean I'd done something bad or irresponsible. But still . . . I guess I just hope that they remember I'm there, too.”

“I'm sure they do,” Cordelia said, but she really had no idea what Mr. and Mrs. Bauer were thinking these days.

“My mom forgot to pick me up after swim class at the Y the other day,” Stevie said abruptly.

“Oh.” Cordelia cringed. “How long did you wait around for her?”

“About a half hour. I guess it was no big deal in the end. My friend's mom drove me home. And my mom couldn't stop apologizing.” Stevie laughed a bit. “She insisted on making whatever I wanted for dinner.”

“What did you choose?” It was an inane question, but Cordelia didn't know what else to say without sounding as if she were criticizing Mrs. Bauer.

“I couldn't think of anything I wanted so badly, so I just said spaghetti and meatballs.”

“Oh. Well, spaghetti and meatballs are always good.”

“Yeah. My mom's a pretty good cook.”

“So what do you want to do for your birthday?” Cordelia asked. “Are you having a party?”

“I don't really like parties. Anyway, it's no big deal.”

“A birthday is always a big deal. Besides, you deserve some attention.”

Stevie shrugged. “Why? Because I said that Sarah's been getting it all?”

“Well, yeah. And the fact that you only turn fourteen once.”

“I do like cake.”

“Listen,” Cordelia said, and she was very, very serious. “One of my rules in life is this: If there's an opportunity to eat cake, take it.”

“It's nice to be working outside, isn't it?”

Sarah smiled at her mother. “Yes. I'd always rather be outdoors.”

The five women were gathered at the picnic table in the Bauers' backyard to work on the quilt. It was a beautiful afternoon. Earlier in the day, Sarah had been to the pond on their neighbor Mrs. Wade's property, enjoying the coolness under the trees, watching little frogs hopping from shore to water, enjoying the antics of scurrying chipmunks, and admiring the various wildflowers that grew near the pond's edge.
The lazy days of summer,
she thought now. Her
last
lazy summer, ever, as this time next year she would be chasing a busy toddler around the yard and watching that he didn't fall into Mrs. Wade's pond.

Cordelia frowned. “I'd just better not get a sunburn.”

Mrs. Kane laughed. “Cordelia, you're covered from head to toe!”

It was true. While Sarah, her mother and her sister, and Mrs. Kane were dressed in summer-appropriate clothing—short sleeves, sandals, bare heads—Cordelia was wearing a big, floppy, brimmed hat, a long-sleeved blouse buttoned up to the neck, and long pants. Sarah figured the only reason she wasn't also wearing gloves was that it would be too difficult to hold a needle.

“But the weather guy said the sun was going to be particularly strong today,” Cordelia protested. “Or something like that. I'm not taking any chances.”

The subject of the sun was dropped, and the five women worked quietly for some time, stopping only for a drink of lemonade or ice water. For her part, Sarah was thinking about the generous check her uncle Jonas and aunt Marie had sent for the baby. The accompanying note, which had been written by her uncle (his handwriting was very distinctive), had said: “We're so happy to welcome a new member to the Bauer family and hope this contribution will be of help.”

Her father, Sarah thought now, had seemed a bit embarrassed by his brother's generosity. She wondered if there was rivalry between them. Her father had never said as much, but then again he wasn't the sort to talk about his relationships with people. He just lived them. Anyway, he hadn't told her to return the check, and neither had her mother.

Sarah had been touched. She had only seen her aunt and uncle a few times in her life, so she thought it was awfully nice of them to think of her welfare. She had deposited the check in the bank with the intention of it being the start of an education fund for her child. Well, she hoped that it would last that long untouched. After all, she had no clear idea of how she would pay for her baby's immediate needs, like diapers and food and doctor visits, let alone his higher education. Sarah glanced across the table at her mother. On second thought, she supposed the answer to that question lay with her parents. It would be
their
money that supported both the baby and Sarah until she could get out on her own and take charge, as a parent was supposed to do. Problem was, she had no idea when that would be. Having lost her babysitting clients hadn't helped, and she doubted anyone would hire her back when she had her own baby to watch. Thanks to Mrs. Kane she still had a few hours at The Busy Bee, but it was amazing how quickly money went, even when you were being very careful with it.

“Did I tell you about this awesome bag for sale at the new thrift store in town?” Cordelia asked suddenly, startling Sarah from her thoughts about her financial future.

“Uh, no,” Sarah replied. “I don't think so.”

“It's dark green suede. It would be totally perfect for fall.”

Sarah smiled noncommittally and went back to her thoughts. She wondered, maybe unfairly, if the next season was as far ahead as Cordelia ever thought. She, Sarah, was more and more thinking years ahead—and not always with good results. For example, just the other day, she had had the brilliant idea of making a will. It was only when she sat down to make a list of her assets that she realized she had nothing of value to leave behind to her child. A measly bank account was all, and that was the property of her parents until she was eighteen. She had no valuable jewelry. (What a thought! Even her mother had only her wedding band and a silver cross on a silver-plated chain.) And her books would bring virtually nothing; they were mostly already third- or fourth-hand paperback volumes. It was a slightly terrifying thought, that in a materialistic sense she was worthless. Possessions had never meant anything to Sarah, nor had money (it was necessary for food and shelter, of course), but now, suddenly, she glimpsed one way in which possessions and money were worth something tangible and useful. That she hadn't realized this before made her feel dumb and naive.

“I'm glad Clarissa is inside,” Stevie announced. “Look up at the sky.”

They did, to see a hawk circling overhead, looking for prey (like small cats!) or maybe just enjoying the fact of flight. Sarah wondered. Did the ability to feel pleasure, not the kind that was only sensual, but the kind you felt inside, require sentience?
Was
that hawk enjoying his afternoon on the wing in the same way she enjoyed walking through the woods? Animals weren't supposed to be sentient, were they, and yet, how odd to try to imagine a living thing
not
being sentient. It was impossible, really.

Oh, Sarah thought, looking back to her sewing, if she were a bird her life would be so much simpler. Maybe it wouldn't be very easy overall. She would have to search for her food every day and build a home and shelter and protect her young from predators, but life would definitely be much
simpler
. She wouldn't have to choose the best schools and select the most affordable health insurance and shuttle her children from soccer to piano to dance practice and . . .

“Sarah?” It was her mother. “Are you feeling okay? You've got this big scowl on your face. Maybe you've been out in the sun too long.”

“Told you,” Cordelia said.

Mrs. Kane cleared her throat. “And, um, is that a starfish you're cutting out?”

Sarah nodded and looked down at the piece of purple cotton velvet in her hands. “Oh,” she said. “How many arms are starfish supposed to have?”

Stevie laughed. “Not thirteen!”

Sarah smiled. Where had her thoughts taken her?! “I guess maybe I
have
been out in the sun too long,” she said.