by Sarah Hualde
Chapter 11
Lydia forgot how little sleep babies needed at one time. They may nap fourteen hours a day but never in a long chunk. She was fond of her six to seven hours each night.
Bea demanded fresh feedings every one hundred and eighty minutes. Lydia timed it. Ten minutes till meltdown she boiled the water, set the defrosted bag of breast milk on the counter and replaced it with a frozen one in the fridge. Two minutes till, she poured the milk into the bottle and tested its heat.
After that, she brewed a single serving of black coffee and poured that into a lidded cup. Like a Pavlovian response, the last spout of pressurized steam, married with the aroma of freshly ground beans, aroused the infant and made her mouth water in anticipation.
The baby’s cry rattled down the stairs. Even without the monitor strapped to her hip Lydia knew naptime was over. She stumbled, sleepy and steadfast up the steps to the awaiting child. “I’m here sweet Bea.” She set her coffee on the bedside table before scooping the stretching parcel out of her Moses Basket. The infant encased in pillows, she cradled Bea while holding the small bottle.
Looking into the fresh pair of blue eyes, which searched her experienced brown ones, Lydia pondered the wild events of December. There were too many pieces of too many mysteries tangled in her mind. Who had taken her purse? Lydia was now nearly certain someone had stolen it and she did not misplace it. The missing money had been a partial clue, but she knew she had been nowhere near the nursery since the Harvest Party in October.
There was, also, the missing then returned Water Well Donations. Who would steal that much money, just to give it back three days later?
The Christmas Holidays brought out the best and worst in people. Greed and fear. Love and hope. Many thefts took place in the weeks before December 25th, all in the name of gift exchanges or hunger. Several robberies were acts of convenience. People carried more cash around with them for Christmas shopping. Homes held newer more expensive items than usual, items awaiting Santa’s delivery.
But in Honey Pot, all the thefts linked back to the B.F.F. events and building. No one she’d asked was experiencing the same number crimes. Ms. Paula Lynd, once again, suffered the theft of her inflatable snow globe. However, if it was like the last five Christmases the yard ornament would return on Christmas Eve along with a tiny tower of wrapped packages.
Lydia whispered all the odd happenings to her husband during their four am video call. She introduced Joan to Bea and relied on Ethan to explain her back story.
“I don’t like it.” Ethan summarized. “I don’t like how, I’m out of town and far away when all this is going on. Promise you won’t go digging around.” His wife promised, with a guilty hue in her eyes. Ethan read her expression and let it slide. Lydia left out the incident at Ivy’s stepfather’s house. She would tell Ethan that part when we returned in late January.
“It’s not like I’m going anywhere, now. I’ve got a newborn to watch after. If I can help it, I’m not stepping outside this house until someone decides her future. There’s a stomach flu going around and it’s colder than normal. I’m not risking Bea’s health while I’m accountable for her.”
She went on, spending much of their hour explaining the help she was receiving and her plans for Christmas Day. Ethan ended the call, satisfied that his imaginative wife would stay tucked in at home for a while longer. He wasn’t foolish enough to trust her past New Year’s Eve, her curiosity was far too strong for her to control. And if her usual duo was available, they’d be egging on the situation before long. He’d need to head home, earlier than expected.
Lydia flicked her laptop closed and coiled herself around the basket set in the center of her bed. Thirty minutes until second breakfast, she noted before slipping off in slumber.
*****
Kat and Flora brought a real meal to share with the spontaneous foster mother at 8 am. They spread it out before a thrashed Lydia. Lydia without her mascara and lip balm wasn’t much unlike Lydia with it.
“What did Ethan say,” Kat asked.
Lydia swigged a steamy sip of coffee. “He’s enchanted with Bea. He’s always loved babies.” The scalding of her throat helped her awaken, and she decided the time was now. She would fill in her friends. “He’s worried and so am I.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t the first Safe Drop we’ve had in Honey Pot.” Flora passed out muffins and fruit and then shoved an entire honey bun in her mouth. Kat eyed her. Flora was like any other women, susceptible to treats, but she was normally much more deliberate in choosing her vices. Nor did she wedge entire pastries in her mouth at one time.
Lydia sighed, summoning the energy for the flood of information that needed to come out. She detailed all her worries and, in an hour, everyone was up to speed. Bea cried for her meal and Kat obliged with a bottle, giving Lydia a chance to shower. Flora cleared the dishes, took out the trash, and switched a load of laundry.
The visitors left Lydia, slumbering on the couch and little Bea snoring in her own bed.
*****
All was not lost, but it sure felt that way. Flora sat in the driver’s seat of her car, alone in the early morning darkness. Christmas was less than a week away and she had nothing to offer her kiddos. Their traditions were on schedule. They shared a great number of memories and laughter to see them through the season. Having nothing to unwrap on Christmas morning, felt like a rip off, even to a family that didn’t celebrate Santa.
She counted the cash in her Christmas envelope one more time, hoping the bills were stuck together. She knew better than to keep up the charade but couldn’t help it. The year had been slow, bills had been high, and the envelope was skinny. There were a couple little things she could purchase for each child, but the drive to Ashton to buy them would eat away at the meager bills. After finding Bea, and the flurry that followed, Pastor Dean neglected to pay her for the month’s cleaning. His memory would probably return with the New Year.
Mrs. Hurley, Flora’s most recent client, donated so much milk Flora felt horrible to ask her for a paycheck. It was just going to be a lean Christmas. God will supply. She kept repeating in her heart. Though she knew it to be true, her emotions were being difficult.
She blubbered, face against her steering wheel. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you. I can just be raw with you. No hiding. Thank you for hearing my heart and knowing how grateful I am, despite this moment of worry.” She prayed and cried in patterns until she depleted all her tears and she was ready to brave the Ashton Christmas crowds.
She dwelt on thoughts of the new baby. Of how sad it was to spend your first Christmas alone. She pondered the whereabouts of the mother and how she might have helped her. She wondered over how the mother had entered the locked building. Kat had stated all the doors were secured when she arrived to set up the pageant. Pastor Dean confirmed her account.
The sound of distant roosters waking their owners, stirred her daydreaming, and she set her sights toward Ashton.
Target was not her favorite store, but it was the closest and cheapest store around. Walmart was fifteen miles further from Pottersville and in a neighborhood certain to be elbow to elbow with shoppers. As she shoveled through the shelves and prayed for bargains, she recalled dropping Ivy off here just a few days ago. She looked for her face in every cluster of giggling girls. Every black leather jacket drew her attention.
Two hours of shopping and one hour of line sucked the life out of Flora. There were still unchecked boxes on her to do list and no time to dawdle. Once again in her truck, she tossed back trail mix and a protein shake as the motor warmed up. The heat surged on, replacing the frost with fog. She used the fringe of her scarf to wipe a clear patch in the glass and noticed a bright blue business sign. Perpendicular to Target, sat the office of Dr. Kon OB/GYN. She felt another item add itself to her imaginary to do list.
*****
Phone calls interrupted Kat’s napping. She could no longer ignore it. Sam and Jess, sat on the edge of the couch playing video gam
es and watching their mom sleep.
“Finally,” Sam huffed. “That phone was driving me crazy.”
“We checked every call but none of them were Daddy.” Jess added, handing Kat the annoying technological convenience. Kat ruffled Jess’ long dark hair and gazed at her beautiful children in thankful contemplation. Then with a sigh she sat and scrolled through her missed calls.
Pastor Dean and Preacher Steven made up every other voicemail and text message. Kat fought off a panic attack. She inhaled one lingering breath and squeezed her children with affection before diving headlong into the messages. Her finger hovered above the call button when the cell screeched and she tossed it across the couch.
*****
Flora, exhausted, took a moment to pray and re-center. Her eyes grew heavy, glazed and tired, complete with purple bags and mascara stains. She yanked a comb through her curly hair, creating a massive puff of frizz. She spritzed herself with oil and quick flossed her teeth. One huge swig of water and a mint later, Flora exited her truck.
“Well, hello,” Mrs. Hurley chimed and escorted her guest inside. They planted on the green couch as children swirled around them in a flurry. “I’ve only had time to pump a few bags. But the baby ate a little while ago, so I’m primed for at least two small bags.”
“Take your time. I’m pooped.” Flora kicked off her sensible slip-on shoes and curled up on the couch, warming her feet under her flowing skirt. She rubbed her hands together and settled in for a visit. Mrs. Hurley made herbal tea for the mothers and collected her pump and supplies.
“Christmas is hard on everyone. Sad isn’t it?” Mrs. Hurley petted one young red head as it sped past, whooping. “People can take the simplest of wonders and clutter it with drama and pressure. Why can’t we celebrate and be glad?”
“Good point.” The warm tea bubbled up in Flora’s cold belly. It defrosted her from the inside out, up the spine and around the shoulders, making its way to her toes.
Mrs. Hurley connected the pump to its bag and the appropriate tubing and attached it to her breast, business-like and beautiful. “So, what’s happening with the pageant?”
“Kat just called. The Church of Christ is hosting it. It will be much simpler but still a community gathering. “
“How’s Kat dealing with it?”
“She’s better than you’d think. Re-injuring herself made the whole thing a lot less urgent.”
“Finding a real baby in the manger, didn’t do it for her?” Mrs. Hurley chuckled and switched out bags. She sipped her tea before continuing. “How’s the baby doing?”
“Well, she’s eating a lot. Thus, the pre-Christmas pick up.”
One once chortling child cried and screamed down the hallway, another rushed to console it. “Shh, the baby is sleeping.”
“Excuse me, Flora,” Mrs. Hurley set down her equipment and left to check on her children. Arguments waved and climaxed and stilled. Flora listened, missing her own children. Unexpected tears dripped from her face and she smudged them away right before the newest Hurley bawled. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
The mother returned with her baby, now snuggling and silent. She passed her to Flora, who took her with eager arms. Mrs. Hurley went back to pumping, which went quicker and smoother with her newborn close by.
Two bags later, the smell of dinner and the nearness of her mother grew too much for the baby to handle. Her nap came to a loud and desperate closing. She went from yawning to balling in an instant. Mrs. Hurley shot to her feet, set the washables in the sink, and tossed the bags in the freezer, faster than Flora could transfer the hungry infant to her other arm. “I’ve got her,” Mrs. H scooped up her baby and latched her before sitting again.
Flora crossed her arms, straightening her back. Her chest ached at the contact. She rubbed at her pecks as inconspicuously as possible. She was greeted by two mini puddles.
“You’ve got something happening.” Mrs. Hurley scanned Flora’s shirt.
“Power of suggestion?” Flora reasoned.
“You sure about that?”
Flora surveyed the past months in her mind and decided to visit the clinic on the way home.
*****
Dr. Lawrence smiled at his friend. Flora and he often worked side by side. She never overstepped his authority but always stood by her beliefs and was honest in her assessments. She’d been on his table for the same purpose multiple times in the last ten years. He hoped good news would mark up her file, soon.
The pee test lit up positive. Understanding Flora’s past pain he knew she wouldn’t breathe easy until the baby survived its first twelve weeks in her womb, her personal safety zone.
He geared up his sonogram machine and left Flora to converse it up with the only nurse on duty. Devon was chatty, the perfect distraction for an eager and alarmed mother. He could hear them talking about the pageant, Kat’s broken foot, and future Christmas excitements. Dr. Lawrence let the ladies visit. Laughter healed, and he needed Flora to relax before gelling up her belly.
When the time was right, Devon joined them in the room. She held Flora’s hand as the doctor set up. Paper apron in place, goo applied, Dr. Lawrence slid the wand over Flora’s abdomen. Flora asked no questions and did her best not to look at the screen. She trusted Dr. Lawrence and wanted to know what was going on before she watched the present unfold.
The doctor snickered and whistled an old hymn. Flora startled and could no longer restrain her curiosity. She looked at the screen and the familiar curves. Static, gray, and a steady beating heart greeted her crying eyes. This baby was not just beginning. She was farther along then she’d counted.
“I’m thinking, we’re nearly out of the first trimester. With your abnormal cycle, I can’t be positive. Come Christmas day, this baby should be out of the scary zone. But don’t stop praying. I won’t. Tell me about the last couple months.”
Flora went over every detail she could recall. Her moodiness, her reoccurring flu symptoms, and her premature lactation that afternoon were all signs of this new grace. She failed at remaining unmoved or unattached. She already loved the creation growing inside her. Devon cleaned off the jelly and steeped tea for Flora as she dressed. Flora sang and whispered to her belly. She praised and prayed. The doctor and nurse could hear her jubilation. They too, joined hands and offered thanks to God for blessing their friend.
*****
The Millers arrived at the Community Caroling Event, later than planned. Intending to honor Kat, the Church of Christ dedicated the front row to the pageant director and her family. Kat’s foot required an entire pew to prop it up. She invited Thad to join the kids in the front and she claimed the back row.
Ms. Jacqui spotted her and sauntered over carrying a large gift bag. Kat straightened readying herself for the impending confrontation. The older lady huffed and plopped down a row ahead of Kat. She handed the gift bag to Kat with reluctance.
“For me?” Kat said, stunned.
“Of course, it’s for you. Your name is on the tag, isn’t it?”
Giddy and choosing not to hide it, Kat blushed and beamed. Her obvious joy intimidated her antagonist and softened her. She didn’t allow her face to show her delight as Kat’s unwrapping revealed the quilt Ms. Jacqui had worked weeks creating just for her.
“Oh Ms. Jacqui, it’s lovely. Thank you, thank you, and thank you.” Hearing his wife’s exclamation Thad turned to look back at her, thankful at her happiness. The handmade blanket was red and green in the theme and seasonal in spirit. There were sheep and angels and even a manger hidden in the prints. Kat hugged the gift to her chest before fluffing it open and covering her legs with it. Ms. Jacqui helped her straighten and stretch the quilt over her body and tucked it in around her feet. “This means so much thank you.”
The quilter waved a hand at her gratitude. “Oh, poo, we do one for every pageant director. It gives them something to remember their service. Though, I doubt anyone will forget this year.”
Kat shoved aside the part of
herself that wanted to take the jab personally. Instead, she hugged the quilt once more and reached out a hand to touch the other woman’s. Stunned, Ms. Jacqui patted Kat’s hand in reply and then retreated from her presence wiping at her cheeks. Kat snuggled into the peace that enveloped her more than her new blanket.
Flora and her family arrived, just as the festivities began. She sent her kids and husband ahead and sat down in front of Kat.
“Have you told him yet?” Kat hinted.
“I’m waiting until Christmas morning. He will be thrilled. I can’t believe I’m so far along, without knowing it. No wonder I’ve been so snippy at Eloise. Poor Elle, going through her changes at the same time her mom’s an emotional roller coaster.” Flora beamed overwhelmed and glowing with her secret. This baby would be her rainbow baby.
For ten years Flora helped other women become mothers. The last eight of those years carried grief and discouragement for her and her husband. Believing their baby years were over, they contented themselves in the comfort of their three children. A miscarriage for each of their earthly births persuaded them to set aside their dreams.
Now, amazed and astounded at the goodness of God, Flora rested her arms across her belly, the home of a child almost out of the first trimester. All of her wacky symptoms and misplaced breakdowns made sense considering her condition and by the end of June a new baby E would grace the Brandes family. Her worries over a sparse Christmas morning fled in the marvel of the moment. God had out given her, again, she mused as the singing began.
*****
Lydia tucked in at home with the baby played another Christmas classic and savored another peppermint scone. Bea rested calmly in her basket upstairs.
