A Sister's Promise (Promises)

by Lenfestey, Karen

  Mitch’s mom, who had crinkles around her eyes from a lifetime of smiles and a soft middle from a lifetime of Italian cooking, crossed the room and handed Kate a present. Looped around the ribbon was a Scottie dog tree ornament with a coordinating plaid bow.

  Instead of sitting next to her, Mitch had chosen a seat across the room. Carefully unwrapping one end of the gift, Kate lifted a shoebox lid to reveal a white hat and scarf. “Thank you, Beverly.”

  “I hope you like them. I just started taking knitting classes this year.” Beverly stuffed her hands in her pockets and turned pink.

  “They’re beautiful. I can’t believe you made them.”

  She smiled, looking as proud as a child who flipped a pancake that didn’t land halfway off the griddle. “Come on, everybody. Chime in. ‘With every Christmas card I write, may your days be merr-y and bri-i-i-i-i-ght.’ Hey, you guys aren’t singing!”

  Kate usually thought it was adorable that Beverly tried every year to sing carols even though Mitch and his dad consistently refused. This year it just emphasized the chasm between men and women.

  Mitch started to pick up the discarded wrapping paper near his dad’s feet. “So, did you like the gift I gave you?”

  His dad, featuring the same black bushy eyebrows as Mitch, stared at the Denver Broncos highlights DVD in his hand. “What’s the point of revisiting the past? You already know how it’s going to turn out.”

  Mitch grabbed another ball of colored paper and marched to the trash can in the kitchen. His dad flipped on ESPN loud enough to drown out Bing Crosby.

  Christmas was over.

  # # #

  Beverly had asked Kate right after she and Mitch married, to call her Mom, but Kate couldn’t. Kate’s heart hurt when she thought of uttering that term of endearment. No one, no matter how generous and kind, could ever be referred to as her mom.

  And yet spending time with Beverly always made Kate envious—thinking the woman epitomized motherhood. In fact, when Kate and Mitch had their first big fight as a married couple (over the proper way to load the dishwasher—something trivial yet monumental, as was everything when you were newlyweds), Kate considered calling Beverly for consolation. The logical part of her knew she would’ve been forced to side with her own son. That’s what maternal instinct was all about. So Kate didn’t make the call. Part of her wondered, though, if his mom wouldn’t have found a diplomatic way to comfort her while remaining loyal to Mitch. Kate wondered whose side she would be on now.

  On December 26th Kate gladly headed out with Beverly to hit all of the big day-after-Christmas sales. That way she didn’t have to be in the same room with Mitch, trying to hide the awkwardness between them.

  At Lord & Taylor Kate bought a gray wool skirt and some fur-lined leather gloves. Then they browsed in a tiny store called “Remember Paris”, displaying plates with the French flag painted on them and a lamp with an Eiffel Tower base. While listening to lively accordion music, Kate admired the store’s linen dish towels embroidered with the days of the week: Lundi, Mardi, Mercredi, Jeudi, Vendredi, Samedi and Dimanche. She carried them as she looked at the rest of the décor.

  In the corner of the store hung baby clothes. Kate was drawn to a pink and white toile dress. White lace adorned the puffy sleeves and skirt hem. When she picked it up, she saw the tag said it was hand-made in France. On the back $90 was written in blue ink. Kate had no idea how much baby clothes cost, but that seemed a bit pricey. She just loved it, though. She draped it over her arm.

  “Anything I should know?” Beverly asked.

  Kate handed the dress to the cashier. “No, no. It’s a gift for a friend.”

  “Oh.” She sighed. “You know, I’ve been waiting an awfully long time for a grandchild.”

  Kate laughed nervously. Everyone was so sure she should have a baby: Joely, Nancy, and now Beverly. Everyone except the two people who mattered the most.

  Kate swiped her Visa card without paying attention to the total. Grabbing the receipt and bag, she left the boutique.

  They walked in silence until Beverly pointed to an art gallery. “Do you want to go in here?”

  “Sure.” Once inside they saw several average-looking oil paintings of mountains and waterfalls.

  “You could do better than this,” Beverly whispered.

  Kate smiled self-consciously. “I’m not much of a painter.”

  “Neither is this guy.”

  They both giggled and left the small gallery. “Even I could do better than him,” Beverly said as they walked through the mall.

  Kate faced Beverly. “Do you paint?”

  “I used to.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Kate said.

  “Sure. I was even accepted to art school, but I married and started a family instead.”

  Now that Kate thought about it, Beverly was always doing something creative—the knitting and gift-wrapping. Even the mixture of purples and yellows in her summer garden was like a Monet painting. “Wow. You must’ve been really good. You’ll have to show me some of your work when we get back to the house.”

  Beverly accidentally dropped one of her bags. She bent over to pick it up. “Oh, I don’t know. It was a long time ago.” She checked her watch. “We’d better get home so I can put dinner in the oven.”

  “What do you think Mitch and his dad are doing?”

  “They’re probably watching sports and talking to the screen more than they are to each other.”

  Kate nodded. The old hurt never seemed to go away.

  # # #

  That night Kate was surprised to hear Mitch humming “White Christmas” as he carried his toothbrush into the nearby bathroom. She sat on the guest room’s antique iron bed and waited. He had stayed up late the night before, talking to his mom as if to avoid speaking with Kate. Then he’d snuck into the guest bedroom after Kate had fallen asleep.

  She didn’t want to keep pretending. She didn’t want to sleep next to him and not be able to touch his stubbly chin or wrap her leg over his. She dreaded the announcement that she would never hear his breathing in bed next to her again.

  When Mitch returned from the bathroom, fear constricted her throat. She was too afraid to ask about the state of their marriage.

  He closed the door and stood, keeping the distance between them.

  The awkward silence tortured her. “Did you know your mom was accepted to art school?”

  “Yeah. I think she mentioned it once.”

  “Have you seen any of her work?”

  “Sure. It’s up in the attic.”

  Kate ran her hand across the pastel bedspread designed by his mother, thinking of the Impressionistic landscapes and flowers she had seen. “She’s really good. I think it’s kind of sad.”

  “What is?”

  “It’s sad that she never pursued her art. Her dream. Instead she gave it up to be a housewife.”

  Wavy lines formed across his forehead. “Maybe. But what’s your excuse? You haven’t done anything with your art, either.”

  “It’s not the same. I’m not an artist; I just enjoyed taking art classes in college as electives. Your mom was accepted to art school.”

  He placed his watch on the nightstand next to an old-fashioned alarm clock with two brass bells on top. “Maybe she was afraid she wasn’t good enough, just like you.”

  Kate walked over to the dark window and started digging through the suitcase—not really sure what she was looking for. Her hands pushed aside socks and neatly folded shirts. Everyone knew she wasn’t the creative one in the family. Under her matching bra and panties, she felt a bottle of lotion. She pulled it out, squirted some into her palm and rubbed it in.

  Her dad always said she was “book smart” like Grandpa, while Joely was creative like him and Mom. She believed in her dad’s statements without question, the same as she believed in God.

  Kate thought about the package wrapped in brown grocery paper that arrived in the mail a few days ago. Her sister had given her a fami
ly portrait on canvas. The faces of Kate, Joely, their mom and dad, were close together and smiling, posed like at an Olan Mills Portrait Studio. Joely captured the short-lived happiness their nuclear family once experienced, of which Kate had no photographic evidence. It was a true display of Joely’s talent. Kate could never have done anything like that.

  Mitch came over and placed his palms on Kate’s shoulders. She stiffened.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said. “It’s just that your drawings are amazing. It’s a shame no one else gets to see them.”

  She closed her eyes and wished things could go back to the way they were. One washing dishes and the other drying. One picking the tv show and the other getting a foot rub. One talking about their dreams and the other listening.

  They stood there for a while and she enjoyed the feel of his body heat behind her. His breath tickled the back of her ear. She wanted more than anything to turn around and hold him.

  He lifted his hands and she suddenly felt cold. “Come sit with me,” he said.

  She followed him back to the wrinkled quilt.

  He took a deep breath as if he’d rehearsed what he wanted to say. “Do you still want to have a baby?”

  Kate swallowed hard. Careful you don’t say the wrong thing. . . . “Maybe.”

  “While I was gone, I went to the doctor about a vasectomy.”

  She sucked in her breath. The sound of her heartbeat echoed loudly inside her head. “You did what? Even after I begged you not to?”

  He nodded.

  “I can’t believe you—“

  “I felt betrayed when you started pushing me to have a kid.” He ran his hand through his black hair.

  He cracked his knuckles one at a time. “I stood outside the office doors for almost an hour. But something made me hesitate. For some reason, I just couldn’t make myself go in.” He switched to his other hand and popped the knuckles. “It made me think.”

  Thank God. Kate sighed with relief.

  “Being here in this house brings back so many memories—good and bad.” He paused. “You know I couldn’t have asked for a more devoted mom. But did I ever tell you that Dad refused to pay my college tuition if I majored in anything but engineering?”

  “No.”

  “Because he wanted me to work for his company after graduation.”

  His dad still hadn’t forgiven him for moving away. Mitch confessed to her once that had he not established his own career, he would’ve felt like his success was because of nepotism and not because of his abilities. Kate thought it would be great to have a family business to go into, so she struggled to understand Mitch’s point of view. How could you not want to be around your dad?

  Mitch rubbed the back of his neck. “His money always came with strings attached. And his love conditional.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He looked at the unused football resting on the bookshelf next to his high school calculus book. He picked up Kate’s hands. “When I was all alone in that hotel room, I had a lot of time to think. I’d get up every morning and go to work. Then I’d return to that impersonal shoebox of a room and realize I had nothing. There has to be more to life than just work. . . and I have no life at all without you.”

  Kate’s pulse quickened. “So. . .you’re coming home?”

  “Yes. And if starting a family is that important to you, I’m ready for that, too.”

  Kate’s head felt light, what she imagined a runner’s high to be like. She wrapped her arms around Mitch, excited to unite in their goals once again. They hadn’t had something to look forward to in a long time. First came love, then marriage and all of these years later, a baby carriage.

  “God,” she said. “I was afraid you wanted a divorce.”

  “No way. I love you,” he whispered. “It killed me to leave.”

  “Don’t ever leave me again.” Her voice quivered.

  Mitch squeezed her tight. “I won’t. I swear.”

  Outside the window, snow started to fall in the moonlight. Eventually Kate’s fingers slid down Mitch’s arms so they could hold hands and look at each other. “What about your job—you said they were letting people go.”

  “Peter said my job is safe.” Mitch smiled. “So. . .do you want a boy or a girl?”

  She thought about how no one would sing Christmas carols with Beverly. “A girl, I think. I wouldn’t know what to do with a boy. But you would be great with a son.”

  He was quiet for a while, as if mulling over the idea of a son. “What names do you like?”

  “I don’t know. You’ve really caught me off-guard here.” Joely always liked Anna Jo and Thomas, but Kate hadn’t thought much about it. “What about you?”

  “I like Ebenezer.”

  Kate nudged him. “Don’t be silly.”

  He chuckled. “I haven’t had much time to think of names, either. Maybe we should buy one of those baby name books and just point randomly at a page.”

  “I don’t think so. Which room should be the nursery? I always thought the office would be a nice girl’s room, but you painted it beige.”

  Mitch laughed good-naturedly. “I can paint it again. Whatever you want.”

  She turned her head and kissed him. On his cheeks, on his nose and on his lips. . . .

  # # #

  Later that night, Kate rested her head on Mitch’s chest, doubting their plan. “Are you awake?”

  “Yes,” he whispered back.

  “I’m scared. Scared that I won’t be a good mom. It’s not like I had much of a role model.”

  “Kate, you’ll be a great mom. You have a degree in counseling and several years experience working with families. You’re probably more qualified to be a parent than most everybody else on this planet.”

  Kate half smiled.

  “I know your mom got sick when you were young, but you have some fond memories of her, don’t you?”

  “Mom did neat stuff with us before her hands betrayed her.” Kate embraced the vision that came to her. “For Halloween one year we made tiny ghosts out of lollipops by covering them with white tissue paper and drawing scary faces on them. Mom unwrapped one of the suckers and asked, ‘How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?’. So the three of us tried to count, seeing who could resist the longest before biting through the sweet shell. Mom was the first to cave, then Joely and then me.”

  Then her thoughts turned dark. “It’s hard, though, to separate the woman who spent an entire afternoon decorating my shoes with glitter from the woman who would scream when I wouldn’t get dressed fast enough. Why is it so hard for me to reconcile the two?”

  “I’m sorry.” He rubbed her back. “She must have been in a lot of pain.”

  Kate nodded. Joely had said sometimes the pain came out as anger. “I guess you had the mom I always wanted and I had the dad you wanted.”

  “This is our chance to do things right. To raise a child the way we wish we had been raised.”

  She nodded again, her eyes wet. They lay like that, listening to each other breathe, for a long time.

  Mitch lightly touched her hair. “If we’re serious about this, I think you should get tested first. To make sure you don’t have lupus.”

  An anchor dropped in Kate’s stomach.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Who really wants to know how they’re going to die? Or even worse—that they’ll live a long time, only in excruciating pain? To Mitch, it seemed obvious that Kate should find out if lupus lingered inside of her. But Kate didn’t really want to know.

  Part of her struggled to share Mitch’s enthusiasm about starting a family because having a baby would force her to face her own mortality. Now that she’d won him over, she’d unintentionally created even more stress for herself. She actually welcomed the end of Winter Break so she could focus on other people’s troubles.

  The first day after vacation Kate awoke early, curious to see who replaced Mrs. B. On the way to school, she slowed to take what
would probably be her last look at Foxworth’s Christmas lights. She noticed the plaid-shirted homeless woman walking down the center of the road toward her. Her exposed hands were pink and her tennis shoes discolored from the salty slush. When she came near enough for Kate to see her angular face, Kate realized something. Something familiar. Kate knew her. It was Renee Teagarten, a former student.

  Two years ago Kate thought Renee was one of those adolescents she didn’t need to worry about. Everything indicated that she was headed for a better life than the one her single mother had. Renee was in National Honor Society and served as the Student Council secretary. Until suddenly her grades started slipping and she quit attending club meetings. Noticing dark circles under her eyes, Kate spoke to her every week, trying to get through to her but she kept holding back. Finally Renee admitted she got lonely while her mom worked at night so she hung out with some older guys. The guys introduced her to crystal meth. And she loved it. She loved it so much she didn’t care any more about school, her future, anything. After Kate facilitated a confession to Renee’s mom in her office, Renee started seeing an addictions counselor, but it didn’t help. Eventually she dropped out of school and Kate hadn’t seen her until now.

  Kate stopped the car and lowered her window, feeling the icy air waft in. “Renee.” The woman ignored Kate. Kate took off her new fur-lined gloves and held them out the window to her. “Renee, it’s me. Mrs. Hopper.” Renee’s pupils dilated like a cornered alley cat. “Take these.” Instead, the thin woman turned and ran up the hill. “Please, Renee. . . please. . . .” Kate stayed there for a minute watching her flee.

  Maybe if Kate had figured out sooner that Renee was on drugs, Renee’s treatment could have succeeded. Kate let the doubt and guilt twist inside of her like a grapevine. The price of some mistakes was just too high.

  Kate dropped her gloves in the gray snow.

  # # #

  Still bundled in her coat and scarf, Kate headed to Mrs. B’s former classroom. As the river of students parted around her, a member of her careers group walked up to her. His gait seemed labored and Kate wondered if his electricity had been shut-off again. Last time it had been a week of temperatures in the teens before he finally asked for help. His family had been using a gas stove as a heater.