Beauty from Ashes

by Alana Terry

  “Who’ve you got there?” An old man with a potbelly and Santa Claus beard glances up from his recliner by the fireside. I’m half afraid that if I get close enough to glance at the newspaper he’s reading, I’ll find that I’ve somehow stepped back into the 1950s.

  “Friend of Grandma Lucy’s,” the woman replies. “Grandma!” she hollers up a flight of stairs, and I try to guess her age.

  I feel like a kid being sent to the principal’s office for truancy when Grandma Lucy appears at the top of the stairs, her spectacles falling halfway down her nose. Her shock-white hair reminds me of the icing on the gingerbread houses Sandy and I used to make with some of her younger foster kids.

  “Hello, dear,” Grandma Lucy says. Like we’ve been neighbors for decades and I’ve stopped by for our regular afternoon chat.

  “I’ll heat up some tea,” chatters Calico Lady, and I’m left alone at the bottom of the stairs watching Grandma Lucy descend.

  Before I know it, my hand is clasped warmly in hers and she’s smiling into my eyes, saying, “Now remind me, my dear, where it is that we had the privilege to meet.”

  I bite my lower lip. I can stand my ground in a room full of medical specialists whose total net worth must be in the tens of millions or more, but I feel uneasy in front of an eighty-year-old granny.

  “I was at church on Sunday. I was there when you ...”

  Grandma Lucy nods sagely and sucks in her breath. “Rachel.” She says the name with absolute certainty.

  I hate to correct her. “No, I’m Tiff.”

  Grandma Lucy’s led me into a little greenhouse room with a view of the backyard. She still hasn’t let go of my hand. “No, my dear. Rachel, the mother weeping for her children.”

  It’s been a few years since I’ve been a heavy partier. I’m not used to this feeling, this racing in my chest. “I guess that’s me,” is all I can say.

  Grandma Lucy sits me down in a gaudy upholstered loveseat with giant rose patterns splattered all over in dizzying masses. She pulls up a rocking chair and sits across from me so close our knees touch.

  “Now, tell me about your baby. I want to hear everything.”

  CHAPTER 49

  By the time Calico Lady brings us in some tea, I’ve spilled out the entire story. How Jake and I conceived a baby out of wedlock. Grandma Lucy doesn’t look too shocked at that part. I didn’t leave out any of the details about the fight that led me to Spokane, and I told her exactly what happened there.

  The only thing I don’t mention is the dream. The dream where she appeared to me and prayed over the child I was about to abort. I just explained that I got to the women’s clinic and changed my mind in the exam room, and that was all.

  And over tea, I tell her the part that terrifies me the most. “I think that maybe if I hadn’t had them put that stuff in me to get me ready for the abortion, she wouldn’t have gotten sick.”

  “What makes you say that?” Grandma Lucy isn’t smiling anymore. Part of me’s afraid she’s going to stand up at any minute and kick me out of this peaceful home because I nearly killed my own child.

  I swallow. Whoever said that confession is good for the soul was an idiot. I feel horrific having the ugliness of what I’ve done stare me in the face. But somehow I can’t stay silent. I have to tell this woman everything. When I’m done, part of me thinks she’ll transform into a bird or something and fly away, and then I’ll wake up and realize it was only another dream.

  “They put this stuff in me before they started the procedure,” I tell her. “It’s supposed to make it easier for them to take the baby out. Well, I left the clinic and removed it myself, but I think that’s maybe why Natalie had all the problems she did.”

  There’s still a hint of a frown on Grandma Lucy’s face. I knew it. She’s going to kick me out, scream that I’m a baby murderer and that I don’t deserve to be a mother.

  “Tell me about what problems you mean,” is all she says.

  I tell her about the pre-term labor. It was a few months after my trip to Spokane, but I still wonder if it’s related. I didn’t tell anyone about those sticks, not the doctor at Orchard Grove County, not the people in the NICU. Grandma Lucy and I are the only two living beings in the world who know.

  “I was on bedrest,” I say. “I had to stay in the hospital four weeks, and even then she still came a little early.”

  “And that’s why she has health problems now?” Grandma Lucy asks.

  “No,” I answer. “At least, I don’t think so. She was fine at first. Everything looked perfect. But it was a really long labor, and she had bleeding on her brain, and ...”

  I stop myself. I’m perfectly capable of telling a woman I’ve just met about how I went in to have an abortion, changed my mind, and was too ashamed to consult a doctor or anything after I removed the dilator sticks myself. I can tell her about the research I did online, about how I’m convinced that’s why I went into preterm labor and got put on bedrest to begin with. But I can’t tell her what happened in the delivery room that morning. Not in any sort of detail.

  “She stopped breathing and got transferred to Seattle right away.” My story ends there.

  Grandma Lucy’s rocking slightly in her chair. Her body is so relaxed I wonder if she’s about to fall asleep. Then Calico Lady enters the room with a tray full of dainty snacks and two flowery mugs she fills from a petite lily-patterned teapot.

  I wait for something magical to happen now. For Grandma Lucy to quote a Bible verse that will wash off all the stains of my past. For her to pray for my child and tell me I can go home now because Natalie’s perfectly healed.

  Instead, she smiles and says, “Have a snack, my dear. You look hungry.”

  CHAPTER 50

  From the greenhouse room, I can see the sky turn that shade of pale violet you only see in the winter. The sun will be setting any minute now. I’ve got to get home or I’ll be late fixing dinner.

  So much for turning into Supermom who can take care of the cooking, cleaning, and child-rearing. I didn’t even last a full day.

  Grandma Lucy and I have finished our snacks. She’s sipping her tea, rocking slowly back and forth, back and forth, like I’ll be here all night and well into the morning. People like that make me uncomfortable, people who don’t realize some folks follow something called a schedule.

  I don’t feel any better after telling Grandma Lucy about Natalie, and I wonder why I bothered to come at all. The urge that tugged me so strongly here now feels immature and irresponsible. Patricia’s sick. Jake’s not used to suctioning out the baby. Natalie was due for a tube-feed an hour and a half ago, and if Patricia didn’t drag herself out of bed, we’ll have to make it up sometime tonight when we all should be sleeping.

  I set my flowered plate on the arm of the hideous loveseat. “Thank you so much for the tea,” I say. “Everything was delicious.”

  Grandma Lucy doesn’t respond. I’m not even sure she can hear me.

  I make a move like I’m about to stand. “I better get going. It’s close to dinner time.”

  No response. Great. The old woman’s having a stroke. My plan is to go find Calico Lady to let her know something’s wrong, but before I can sneak past her, Grandma Lucy reaches for my hand.

  “Your daughter will live.” She’s speaking the words so softly I’m only half sure I heard right.

  “What did you say?”

  “Natalie will live.” She’s got such conviction in her voice. Such finality. Like a judge handing down a sentence.

  How do you know? That’s what I want to ask, but for some reason I can’t form the words. I should demand more information. Make her tell me exactly what she means and how she can be so certain, but something stops me.

  Because in the core of my being — that place deep within my soul where if I venture too long I might lose myself forever — I know Grandma Lucy is right.

  CHAPTER 51

  You’d think I’d be high as a kite since I left Baxter Loop and drove b
ack to the trailer park. Either that, or you’d think I’d dismiss what Grandma Lucy said as the words of an old woman whose sanity is already in question.

  I don’t doubt her at all, though. As soon as she told me my daughter would live, it’s like I’d known that from the beginning. I just needed someone to teach me how to have that faith. I’ve never been into signs and wonders and junk like that. Even when I lived with Sandy, her husband’s church was way more subdued. You wouldn’t find white-haired grannies standing up and making proclamations or prophesies directly from the Lord. But even though this kind of faith is so far out of my comfort zone, it fits me. It suits me.

  The irony is that my soul is even heavier now than it was when I went in search of Grandma Lucy. Because now that I’ve told someone the whole story start to finish, I’m even more convinced that everything that happened to my daughter was my fault. The preterm labor. The bedrest. Who knows, probably even the brain hemorrhage — they’re all my fault for going to that clinic.

  I’d been holding onto a shred of hope that maybe the two things were unrelated. I didn’t go through with the abortion. And for a little bit, I was smug enough to think that made me a decent mother.

  If I was a decent mother, I would have never driven myself to Spokane in the first place. I would have never allowed that nurse to insert those stupid sticks up inside me. And I would have gone straight to a doctor instead of driving home to Orchard Grove once I took them out.

  A thought flashes uninvited through my mind. I could sue the abortion clinic. They didn’t tell me what would happen if I left early. But in order to do that, I’d have to let Jake and his mom and the whole world know what I did. I’d have to sit there while a lawyer proved that my daughter would be perfectly healthy if the clinic hadn’t prepped me for an elective abortion.

  Nothing’s worth that amount of torture. Not even a settlement large enough to buy a dozen trailer parks.

  I’m pulling onto our street. It’s so ugly here. Ugly and colorless. No wonder I’m unhappy all the time. It’d be different if I lived in one of those cute little rustic homes on Baxter Loop.

  Safe Anchorage Farm is less than ten minutes away. I wonder if I’ll ever go back and visit with Grandma Lucy again.

  I doubt it.

  Something’s wrong. My brain registers danger before my eyes tell me what they’re seeing. I speed up.

  Red strobing lights.

  Strangers on my lawn.

  An ambulance in front of my house.

  CHAPTER 52

  I swerve up and slam on my brakes behind the ambulance. I have to get in. Have to make sure my daughter’s safe. I haven’t even told Jake that I don’t want the DNR anymore.

  What if I’m too late? What if everything Grandma Lucy told me was a lie?

  I’m breathless. Breathless and dizzy and like I’m about to throw up. My legs can hardly support my weight. “Where’s Natalie?” I demand before my brain has the chance to focus on any of the faces I’m seeing. “I’m her mom. Where’s my daughter?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  I don’t recognize the voice. I can only vaguely make out the man’s features. Why won’t someone tell me what they’ve done with my child?

  “I’m her mom,” I repeat. Maybe I’m trying to remind God. I don’t know. Didn’t he just promise me through some eccentric old lady that Natalie would be fine?

  Someone’s got their hand on my shoulder. They’re leading me to the baby seat in the living room. What’s that? Is it her? I scoop my baby up and clutch her to my chest. Why did I leave her alone for so long? What was I thinking?

  My eyes still aren’t processing everything. It’s pixilated, like when your internet clogs up when you’re streaming a movie. I have to examine my daughter with my fingers to try to determine where she’s been injured since my eyes won’t focus.

  You can’t do this God, I pray. You can’t tell me one minute she’s going to be healed and the next minute take her away from me like this.

  “What happened?” I demand.

  “Everything’s fine, ma’am.” My vision narrows in on a man with a stubby blonde beard. It says Captain on his name badge. Good. Someone I can trust. “Your husband was suctioning out your daughter, and he nicked the back of her throat with the Yankauer. It’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

  Nothing to worry about? Then why is there an ambulance parked in front of my house?

  “She bled a little, so he gave us a call. He did the right thing, but it’s nothing serious. She’s got a scrape in the back of her throat. Might be uncomfortable for a little bit, but she’s perfectly healthy.”

  Perfectly healthy? He’s a horrible liar.

  I sink onto the couch, still holding my daughter. My mind is racing as the paramedics get ready to leave. It takes forever. Like back in Massachusetts when Sandy would invite thirty people over for Christmas Eve dinner, and from the time the guests started to say goodbye until we had the house back to ourselves again it could be two hours or longer.

  Someone’s asking me about the car. Telling me to move it. I hand the keys to a man without a face. I don’t know if it’s Jake or not. I can’t take all this noise and motion. I can’t take all these strangers. I need them out of my house.

  “Tiff? Tiff?”

  My eyes barely manage to focus on my husband. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be mad at him or not.

  He’s rubbing my shoulders. Gives Natalie a kiss on the top of her head. I can’t remember the last time he’s touched her.

  “I’m sorry. I know I should have texted you, but she was bleeding, and I thought I’d punctured her windpipe or something, so I called the ambulance. I’m sorry to scare you like that.”

  “It’s ok,” I answer before I know if I’m telling him the truth or not.

  He plants another kiss on Natalie’s head and then one on my cheek.

  “I’m just glad she’s ok. Know what I mean?” He’s scared too. I can hear it in his tone. I’m about to tell him it’s not his fault, but a grating, fingernails-on-chalkboard voice jumps in ahead of me.

  “Of course, none of this would have ever happened if you hadn’t just run off without so much as a word about when you’d be back.”

  CHAPTER 53

  “It’s not her fault.”

  It’s cute the way Jake is trying to protect me from his mother. I need to start giving that boy more credit from time to time.

  “Nobody said it was her fault.” Patricia is sitting at one of the dining room chairs, swollen bags under her eyes. Her skin is some shade between yellow and gray, and her hair hangs in ragged, sweaty clumps around her neck. “All I said was if she’d had the common courtesy to tell me she’d be gone for so long, I could have been out here to suction the baby myself.”

  “I know how to take care of my own daughter.” Jake’s talking so fast my brain can’t keep up in time to form a response of my own.

  “Nobody said anything about knowing how to do it.” She’s lecturing her son like he’s a six-year-old asking why Daddy has so many late evenings working with his pretty blond secretary. “I’m talking about experience. You haven’t had the chance to practice as much, so I was just ...”

  “How am I supposed to get the practice if you’re always here doing it for me?” Jake demands. This is new, hearing him go at it with his mom. I wonder if he feels nervous. Scared.

  Or maybe exhilarated.

  I keep my mouth shut.

  Patricia forces her lips to turn upward, but her eyes are as cool and calculating as ever. “You’re a good boy, Jake. I’m sorry life hasn’t given you the rewards you deserve.”

  He doesn’t say anything, but I can see the tremor racing up his arms from his clenched fists.

  “It’s kind of you to care so much about your little girl.” Patricia’s voice drips with sweetness. Like poisoned honey. “I’m just sorry you don’t have the kind of help you need around here.”

  She tosses her head in my direction so we all know wh
o she’s talking about, but she doesn’t have the courage to meet my eyes.

  The coward.

  Jake’s jaw is clenched shut, and he’s not saying anything. Like an actor who’s forgotten his lines. I want to feed the script to him. Remind him that we’ve come to the part where he kicks Mommy out of the house.

  Unfortunately, Patricia’s not nearly so tongue-tied. “You know, back when you and Abby were little, I had to learn how to do everything myself. Your father wasn’t around to help.”

  “That’s because my father is an arrogant jerk who’d be better off ...”

  “Easy, easy.” Patricia’s eyes are wide as if she’s surprised by Jake’s outburst. As if she didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect after mentioning his dad. “All I’m saying is if you want your home to run smoothly, you find a woman who knows how to take care of the children and who doesn’t run off whenever she gets it in her head.”

  I’m not about to risk the chance that Jake will forget how to stand up for me. Now my hands are in fists, too. “I told Jake exactly where I was going,” I declare. Of course, what I told him was a lie, and I’m sure everyone here knows it by now, but how dare she accuse me like that to my face?

  Patricia opens her mouth to respond, but I’m not about to give her the smallest inch of leeway.

  “And you know what? While you were sleeping, Jake was out here watching Natalie, and he was doing a perfectly fine job.” He was probably glued to his smartphone, but I don’t care. Patricia’s got to learn her place, or so help me she won’t be alive to welcome in the New Year. “So he ran into a problem with the Yankauer. Know what? They warned us about that in the NICU. Said it happens to everybody no matter how careful they are. So I don’t see where you get off telling him the he doesn’t know how to take care of his own daughter, or that I’m some sort of irresponsible, flighty mother who ...”