I drove carefully, trying hard not to ruin my car’s upholstery. Traffic was still light before normal work hours began. The air was clear and cool and I opened the car window and inhaled the freshness of it. The sky was bright with Nevada’s pale morning light that silhouetted the buildings of Landry. My doctor’s office was in a low building near the hospital. Hers was the only office lit up when I parked my car.
Helen Ferguson, M.D. and personal savior, had seen me through two horrid bouts of flu and a bad case of shingles my third year of teaching. She was, as they say, built like a Sherman tank—short, wide-shouldered, no fat and all muscle. She kept her hair gray, short and spiky. Low maintenance to allow more time for recreation. When Helen wasn’t practicing medicine, she was hiking our mountains, skiing, working out at the gym or leaving us for weeks to go endurance riding in some unheard of part of the world. Nothing fazed Helen.
After a thorough exam, I sat in her office looking at framed color photographs of Lake Tahoe and awaiting her diagnosis.
She came in, took off her glasses and gazed at me as she sat down behind her desk. Helen had enormous eyes, so soft they belied her straightforward, sometimes gruff approach. “I think you know what your problem is,” she began.
“I keep throwing up, or wanting to.”
“Every morning.” She put her chin on her hands and the edge of her mouth curled ever so slightly
I nodded, fighting a new wave of nausea.
“Red, you’re old enough and smart enough to figure out what’s happening to your own body.”
Another wave, accompanied by a cold sweaty feeling at the back of my neck.
Helen laughed. “You’re pregnant.”
“What?”
“Not by much. I would guess about six to eight weeks, but I should run some tests to be certain.”
I was out of my chair like a shot and across the room away from her. I braced my hands against the wall and stared into a photograph of a Lake Tahoe beach, a close-up of the water’s edge. It was as if I hoped the clarity of the rocks and sand under the water would restore some sense to me. I turned around.
“Oh, Helen. This can’t be right. I’m so careful. I never forget.”
Helen put her glasses back on and looked at her desk. “Well, sometimes we don’t remember what we forgot.”
Pregnant. Oh my God.
“What do you want to do about this, Red?”
“What do you mean?”
Helen pushed her glasses farther up her nose. “I mean it’s still early enough in the pregnancy to terminate if you don’t want this baby.”
I think it was the word “baby” that sent a shock wave through me. I realized I was no longer nauseous. Now I was trembling. A baby? Did I want children? Yes, someday, particularly now that Joe and I were happy together. But I wanted to plan for them, make sure my job schedule could be accommodated. No ambivalence on his part or mine. Absolute certainty. Not a surprise. And certainly not an accident.
Helen sat patiently waiting for me to speak. Minutes passed. My brain exploded with visions and then the words that came out of my mouth surprised me. I stuttered, “Terminate? No.” My mind was racing. “I think…I think what I want…is to have this baby.”
Helen sat back and clasped her hands. The muscles around her mouth kept on moving. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Good. At your age I don’t know how easy it may be for you to get pregnant later on. So, my friend, if you want to have a child, now is probably a good time.”
I must have looked stupid staring at her. “I’m not married.”
“So what?” She stretched her remarkably muscular forearms across her desk. “Lots of unmarried women have babies these days. Some quite deliberately. You have a good income and you’re a sensible, healthy woman. Is the father a reliable fellow?”
Oh my God, reliable? What would Joe think of this? The only times we had ever talked about children, including the night before he left, he had said that he wasn’t sure he deserved children or that fate should ever let him become a father. I had dismissed it as an overreaction on his part, but what if he really meant it?
“He’s a good man,” I said, feebly.
“Well, if he’s a good man, he’ll get used to the idea and may even propose marriage, or at least be generous with child support. You should tell him, you know. In my opinion, he’s entitled to that.”
“I know.”
I dimly remember Helen giving me a prescription for vitamins, a directive to limit caffeine to two coffees a day and a perfunctory hug as I left the office in a daze. I knew I was in no shape to go to work, so I headed for the one person, other than Joe, I knew I could trust.
Sadie’s house was a single-story brick cottage on the edge of Landry. Large pots lined the edge of her paved driveway. The fat green noses of hyacinths were sticking up ready to release their color and fragrance.
At nine in the morning, Sadie would just have gotten up for breakfast and was probably sitting in her kitchen drinking coffee. I went around to the back of the house. The lilac by her back door was in fuller bloom than mine, but the smell didn’t make me dizzy.
What did make my head spin was the sight of the figure that opened the back door. Wilson McCarthy, owner of Gormley’s, dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants.
“Good morning, Red,” he said, with more cheerfulness than I had ever heard in his usually cynical voice. “Come on in.”
I’m sure my jaw was still hanging open as I walked into Sadie’s kitchen and sat down at her table. “I didn’t know you and Sadie were…”
“Close,” he said pouring a cup of coffee. “If memory serves you like a little milk in this.”
I shook my head. “Just half a cup, black please,” I said.
He handed me the cup and smiled. Broadly. I had never seen Wilson smile broadly. He hardly smiled at all in Gormley’s. His humor was famously cynical. This gentler and much cheerier version of Wilson would take some getting used to.
“How long have you and Sadie…”
“A month and a week,” said a woman’s voice behind me.
I turned. Sadie was in the doorway dressed in an elegant blue satin robe, her white hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders. Her face was smooth with sleep but her cheeks were pink. With embarrassment at my intrusion?
I stammered, “Why didn’t you say something to me? Why didn’t you tell me about you two?”
Sadie smiled at Wilson and the look between them lasted for several seconds. “I was enjoying the secret of it,” she said.
“Nonsense,” said Wilson, leaning against the refrigerator. “She just wasn’t sure things were going to work out between us.”
I scrutinized him. Long-legged, lean with a well-muscled chest and arms. Good face with fine features, gray hair, rimless glasses that made him look scholarly. Yes, Wilson McCarthy was attractive. I wondered why I had never noticed before.
Sadie sat down and covered my hand with her. “I’m sorry, dear Red. I just wanted to be sure about this. Actually, I haven’t told anyone yet, and you would have been the first.”
I squeezed her hand. “Well, whatever this is, it’s most becoming. You look very pretty this morning.”
Wilson pushed off from the refrigerator and headed for the door. “I think I’ll leave you ladies alone.” He patted my shoulder on his way out. “So the dean of journalism can ask all those inappropriate questions that are flooding her mind.”
I still held Sadie’s hand. “Does your son know?”
Sadie got up and went to the coffee pot. “I haven’t told him yet. Although I think his wife suspects something. I invited Wilson over for dinner last week when Bill and Nancy were visiting. My daughter-in-law is a shrewd observer.”
“Why were you worried this wouldn’t work? Everyone knows Wilson’s had a thing for you for year
s.”
Sadie sighed and returned to her chair. “Wilson’s younger than I am. By several years.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
A dreamy smile. “No. Not at all.”
I cleared my throat. “I take it he is in good health.”
“He’s in excellent health.”
“Sadie, your eyes are twinkling.”
“Yes. That happens rather frequently now.”
“Oh, honey. This is good news. You should tell your kids. You should tell the world.”
Her eyes took on a faraway gaze as she looked out the window. “I never thought I’d love another man after Jed died. And I’m still timid about it. Love among the ruins, you know.”
“Love whenever it happens is wonderful.”
“Yes, but the thought of sexual love involving people my age makes the children shudder.”
“They’ll get over it. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you, Red.” Her gaze returned to me. “But I’ve been so distracted I forgot to ask what brings you here so early in the morning. You usually call before.”
“Sorry to barge in unannounced, but I have some news of my own I needed to tell you about.”
“You have my full attention.”
I sat back and took a final sip of coffee and a deep breath. Sadie’s face turned from radiant to concerned.
“I’m going to have a baby.”
Her hands flew up in the air. “A baby? Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I’m thrilled. When?”
“October or November. Dr. Ferguson isn’t sure yet. She needs to do more tests.”
Sadie got up and wrapped her arms around me and kissed my forehead. “A baby for the holidays. Oh, Red. This is terrific. How did Joe take the news?”
I felt my eyes tear up. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“Ah. That’s right. Joe’s gone undercover in Reno.”
“I haven’t seen him for days, and I never know when or if he’s going to call at night.”
Sadie took my hand again. “Oh, darling. You can’t tell him this news over the phone. And certainly not while he’s in the middle of a dangerous investigation. You’ll have to wait until he’s back and then pick a time when the two of you are alone in some peaceful place.”
“I agree. But I’m really nervous about telling him at all.”
“Really, why? Joe’s great with kids. He’s marvelous with his niece and nephew. I think he’ll be delirious you’re having his baby.”
“I don’t know about that. Remember the kid in Chicago?”
“The one he shot by accident?”
“That preys on Joe’s mind. He said not long ago that he still feels so guilty he doesn’t think he deserves to father a child of his own.”
An awkward quiet settled over both of us. Sadie got up again and poured more coffee. She brought a container of milk over to the table. “Do you want something to eat for breakfast?”
“I’m afraid I usually lose my breakfast now.”
“Try some saltines and club soda or ginger ale. That worked for me. And this will pass after the first trimester.”
My eyes watered up again and this time the tears flowed. “Oh God. I’m a mess. I’m so frightened. I’m so scared Joe won’t want me to have this baby.” I grabbed her hand again. “But I’ve made up my mind. I am going to have this baby, no matter what he says.”
Sadie pulled some tissues out of her pocket and handed them to me. Through my sniffling, I kept on. “When Ferguson said the word baby, I actually had a vision of one. In my arms. Looking up at me. Chubby legs moving. Tiny fingers around one of mine. Little bubbles between its lips. Dammit, Sadie. I saw myself with this child, and I knew I wanted it more than anything in the world.”
Sadie almost whispered, “Then you shall have this child. Trust me, you will adore it and you will raise it beautifully. I am here for you. And, sooner or later, I think Joe will come around and be here for you too.”
I blew my nose. “But you’re not certain about Joe, are you?”
Sadie turned her head and her gaze returned to the window. “One can never be certain about another’s feelings.”
Chapter 8
I never thought of myself as needing family, but as I drove away from Sadie’s, all I could think of was that I was an orphan, a pregnant orphan with no mother to hover over me and give me advice and no father to hug me and tell me he was delighted to become a grandparent. Thank God for Sadie. But I needed more. Especially with my uncertainty about Joe’s reaction. Especially with Joe away.
When I got to my house I looked up the number of my father’s sister. Evangeline Solaris Mulgrew lived in Sacramento where she taught physics at Sacramento State. She was younger than my father, and, although they had been devoted to each other when they were young and in college, the two had never spent much time together after my parents married. Evangeline and my mother, Emily, didn’t get along, and Ohio was far enough away from California to guarantee little family contact. But Evangeline was my only living relative and would be my child’s great-aunt.
I left a message on her office phone and went in search of some salted crackers and ginger ale. I called Nell and told her I would be out of the office for the day and to forward any call from Joe to my cell, but otherwise to please leave me alone to rest up from what I described as flu.
Half an hour later, Evangeline returned my call. She was surprised to hear from me but pleased when I asked if I could drive to Sacramento and talk to her.
“Come to the house,” she said. “I’ve finished my last class for today, and I’ll make us a late lunch so we can catch up. It will be great to see you, Meredith. It’s been at least three years since I visited you there. I’m dying to hear all about your new job as dean.”
The drive gave me time to think about the incredible events of the morning and the views of the Sierra offered by Interstate 80 made me realize how fortunate I was to live in a beautiful part of the world. The rain we had gotten in the valley surrounding Landry had turned to snow in the higher elevations. Enormous evergreens grew out of thick white blankets. As I passed by the summit and a glistening Donner Lake, I realized how much I wished Joe were beside me. Much as I wanted him to find Rosie’s cousin, I wanted him with me when I told my aunt I was pregnant. I wanted her to admire and congratulate him. I wanted her to meet the man I had finally found to love.
The tall pines and the bright sky reminded me of the weekends Joe and I had spent in the mountains at his parents’ cottage. Those were the times we had talked about what mattered most to us. Not his work as a detective or mine as an educator, but our childhood memories, the people we had loved and lost. That’s when Joe had opened up about the loss of his best friend, Charlie, who died in an automobile accident in his senior year of college. Charlie had inspired the name of our Golden Retriever.
That was the time I had confessed my hatred for my mother’s drinking and what her disease had done to me and to my father—my wonderful, imaginative father who had perished in the maelstrom of Alzheimer’s.
That’s when Joe and I had first begun to talk about the troubles in our parents’ marriages and our own doubts and insecurities about ever being good at sustaining long-term relationships. We had tried so hard to reassure each other. We were falling in love and wanted ours to be a perfect union in spite of the odds against us.
The red dirt cliffs of Auburn, California came into view as the road began to descend. The snow disappeared as the air warmed. California’s deciduous trees were starting to bud. I should have felt elated by the sight, but my mind stayed on Joe and his ever-present and unrelenting uncertainty.
Evangeline’s house was set back from the street in the old part of Sacramento. She had been widowed for several years and her children were grown and gone, so she had moved to a small house with a white fence around a green lawn. S
he greeted me at the door looking so much like my dead father that my chest contracted. She was tall and slim just as he had been and her hair matched his graying brown. But it was the set of her mouth and the lines around her eyes that most reminded me of the first man I had ever adored.
She led me through the house, past a short hall lined with photographs of her family and a few of my father and me when we were all much younger. Her kitchen was large and painted yellow with white trim and white cabinets. Evidence of her interest in good cooking was everywhere I looked: bookshelves holding cookbooks and casseroles and skillets hanging over the sink. This was the kind of kitchen Joe would love, and Evangeline was the kind of serious, elegant woman he would enjoy knowing if they ever met.
The kitchen door opened to a sunny patio where she had set up a table under an umbrella. “Meredith, my darling, it’s so good to see you. It’s been much too long.”
We sat and sipped lemonade. I picked at the pretty fruit salad she had made and we talked about the life of an academic. “I’m so proud you have been made dean of your school,” she said. “Your father would have been over the moon about your success. I so wish he’d lived to see it.”
“I’m not sure he would have understood much about my academic career. He seemed pleased when I left journalism for grad school and later when Mountain West offered me a job, but Dad didn’t even know who I was the last few times I saw him.”
“I know. Alzheimer’s can be crueler to the family than the patient. But, Meredith, an additional cruelty is that sometimes the patients know more and feel more than we realize. I promise you, your father loved you with all his heart even as his mind failed him, even if he couldn’t articulate it.”
“Oh, I don’t know about ‘all his heart.’ I think the lion’s share of his heart went to my mother.”
Evangeline frowned. “Probably not. You were the light of his life. Your mother, I fear, was more the bane of his existence.”
Red Solaris Mystery Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 52
