by Sarah Hualde
Kat shoved aside the part of herself that wanted to jab back. 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 snipping at Eloise. Poor Elli, going through her changes at the same time her mom’s an emotional roller coaster.” Flora glowed with her secret.
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.
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. 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. This baby would be her rainbow baby.
✽✽✽
Lydia, tucked in at home with the baby, played another Christmas classic and savored a peppermint scone. Bea rested calmly in her basket upstairs.
Someone knocked on the Everett’s front door. The shock caused Lydia to splash coffee on the arm of her couch. The harried surrogate rushed to the front door, tripping on her own robe belt.
“Ms. Lana, come on in.” She opened the door and invited the woman inside. Ms. Lana toted an awkward cardboard box and a duffle bag into the room. Lydia offered her coffee and a Christmas pastry and joined her at the kitchen table.
“Thanks,” the woman glanced around the room nervous and hurried. She sipped her coffee with false calmness and stumbled over small talk.
“Now, Ms. Lana, I’m happy to have you here. But I don’t think you made the cold trip from Lewiston for my coffee.”
An anxious laugh escaped as Ms. Lana geared up. “I know you’re looking for Ivy. The police brought my car back, and I’ve been worried about her ever since. I let her borrow the car, while her stepfather was still steamed.”
“I knew I recognized the car. You must have let her borrow it for tutoring sessions.” Ms. Lana nodded.
“I’ve been watching Don’s house, hoping she’ll come up the walk. I haven’t seen her, but I saw the mean creep toss out this stuff.” She motioned to her baggage. “It’s not anything useful, but a couple photos and an old quilt. But I recognized them as Ms. Annie’s.”
“Why did you bring them here?”
“Ivy and Ms. Annie spoke of you, often. I figure you’re probably Ivy’s last safe place.”
Lydia knew it was a compliment, but it jabbed at her conscience. Maybe she had been a safe place for Ivy. Maybe Ivy had been waiting to be noticed. Lydia had failed to see a girl in need and only saw a teenager with a normal attitude.
The ladies continued to chat for a long hour. They speculated on Ivy’s whereabouts and the involvement of Martin Levere. Lydia sent Ms. Lana on her way with an open-hearted invitation to come to visit again. They were at the door when the baby monitor crackled. “Oh,” Lana winked. “So, Ivy has been around?”
✽✽✽
Preacher Steven prayed over the community and then invited Sam up to the podium to give his speech. To Kat’s surprise and jubilation, Sam remembered all his lines. He stood tall and gave great care to each word in the text. He emoted and made eye contact. All her fretting had been over nothing. Her son was trying to impress his mother and his friends with his wit, but when needed, took his role to heart.
She was so proud of him and so softened by the praises of the surrounding crowd, she couldn’t imagine how she ever allowed herself to grow so grumpy over celebrating Christmas. She felt a latecomer slide into the pew before she spotted them. Intent on Sam, her attention did not allow for additional input.
When she gazed at the guest, she nearly flew off the pew sideways. Ivy Hooper sat, shivering, two yards away from Kat. She wore a jersey hoodie, not adept at keeping out the December chill, ratty jeans, and boots. Her once electric blue locks were now a dingy greenish-gray. Her skin was pale, save for the dark circles under her eyes and the fading bruise on her left cheek. Her lips trembled, and she released a weak whimper. Kat swung her leg off the pew and scooted closer to the teen. Ivy jumped, skittish and solemn.
“You look cold.” Understating, Kat took the excuse to fling her new quilt around the girl’s shoulders.
“Thanks.” Ivy managed, still shivering.
“No problem.” Kat waited for the girl to warm, watching her in her peripherals. Ivy was not slipping out the door without Kat trailing after her. As her shaking slowed, Ivy searched the room distraught with concern. “Are you looking for someone?”
“Sort of.” Ivy shrugged. “I was hoping someone would be here. I don’t see them.”
Braving a closer scoot, Kat slid down the pew and landed shoulder to shoulder with the lost girl. “Lydia?”
Ivy’s eyes scanned the probing thirty-something. “Is she here?”
Kat shook her head, and the teen removed the borrowed blanket. “She stayed home with the baby.”
✽✽✽
Ms. Lana returned indoors at Lydia’s eager prompting. She helped herself to another cup of coffee while Lydia retrieved the awakening Bea. She watched while her hostess heated a bottle.
“Is she hers?” Ms. Lana peeked over at the tiny face yawning and stretching before latching on to the bottle nipple.
“Whose?”
“Ivy’s, of course. That girl may have hidden her condition from everyone else, but no one can hide from me. I have a sixth sense for pregnant mamas. I figure she was due about two weeks ago.” Lana stroked a tiny hand and cooed at the baby. “Why she up and told Don I’ll never understand.”
Livid, Lydia snapped, “Don knew and said nothing?”
“Oh, he said plenty. Just not to us. This baby is the whole reason he kicked Ivy out. Terrible thing to do but not the worst he’s capable of.”
Lydia’s head swirled with new thoughts. All this time, her pupil was hiding her pregnancy. Lydia hadn’t noticed. She’d been too wrapped up in her own loneliness and couldn’t see anyone else’s. She asked the Lord to forgive her ignorance and apathy as she kissed Bea’s sweet head. The Father granted Lydia nine months of chances to rescue Ivy and her child. Nine months, to see someone else’s pain other than her own and she had failed. God protected the baby, despite Lydia’s stubborn ignorance. She prayed to Him, begging for Ivy’s safety.
“Nine months,” Lydia repeated out loud. “Around the time, Ms. Annie passed?”
Ms. Lana nodded, following Lydia’s thoughts. “Yep, that was when Ivy moved in with that jerk from the mall. Only lasted two weeks, but things like this only take one night.”
✽✽✽
Ivy turned to Kat, chancing eye contact. “Baby,” she croaked.
Flora turned to check on Kat in time to catch Ivy’s eye. Flora waved, at the girl, a little too excited to greet the acquaintance. Ivy returned the wave, letting the quilt fall to her waist. Kat noticed Flora’s eyes widen, and her smile stretch across her face. She followed her gaze and noticed the small circles on the front of Ivy’s hoodie.
“Yes,” Kat chimed filled with wonder, “your baby.” Ivy startled. Her mind argued with itself. Her body decided running away was out of the question. She was spent, sore, starving, and close to frozen. “Lydia has your baby. She’s safe and warm and beautiful.”
The artifice that allowed Ivy to survive the last month alone collapsed in a clamor of crying. Kat tugged the girl’s head to her shoulder, while Flora rounded the pew and held her from the other side. The encircled embrace lasted until Ivy could breathe without blubbering.
“You ready to go see your little girl,” Flora asked. She texted Kevin and escorted both Ivy and Kat to her truck.
CHAPTER 18
Lydia welcomed Ivy with a bear hug. Ivy stiffened in a defensive habit, but her exhaustion and burden were too heavy to ignore. She sobbed into the unshakable embrace. Kat and Flora ushered the troubled youth into the house.
Kat hobbled around from closet to closet. First, she gathered clean towels and set them in the bathroom. Then she invaded Joan’s room, with Lydia’s blessing, for some clean clothes. She laid them beside the fresh towels. After that, she was too winded from rushing about on crutches to be much more help. Kat resigned herself to two kitchen chairs, one for her bum and one for her foot.
Meanwhile, Flora busied herself in the kitchen. She set bone broth on the stove and made drop biscuits. She tossed some roasted chicken into the broth along with a can of mixed veggies and swayed as she stirred.
Lydia guided Ivy to the master bedroom where Bea slept in the second-hand Moses basket. Ivy’s sorrow amplified at the sight of her slumbering daughter. Her legs refused to hold her, and she rested beside the basket on the bed. Without a clue what to do next, she placed a hand on the baby’s tummy and soothed herself with the rise and fall of Bea’s breath.
“You can pick her up. She’s your baby.” Ivy shook her head. Every bone in her abused body wanted her baby wrapped up in her arms.
“I’m all dirty,” She whispered, applying the words to more than just her clothing. Lydia followed her thoughts and put a hand on Ivy’s shaking shoulders.
“We all are, baby.”
At Ivy’s request, Lydia sat next to the steamy shower. Ivy was dizzy with hunger, fright, and stress. The teen doubted she was strong enough to stand through the entire shower. Lydia was there, just in case, she needed assistance.
Flora, without a pump nearby, explained how to express built up breast milk under the hot water. Ivy followed her advice. The relief was immediate and overwhelming.
Bundled in clean sweats and an oversized t-shirt, Ivy sipped on Flora’s soup and nibbled on a couple of biscuits. She was hungry, but her throat wouldn’t let her swallow as quickly as her stomach wanted. She’d gone too long without a real meal.
No one questioned Ivy as she ate. No one spoke. They each supported the new mother with their silent service and expectation of her needs. Still refusing to hold Bea, Ivy slid into the guest bed and its clean-smelling blankets. She breathed her first relaxed breath in months. The running was over. What happened next, only God knew. She would let Him handle it.
Lydia shut the bedroom door. Bea stirred and Lydia hurried to her, so she would not awaken her mother. Flora and Kat snoozed on the couch but came to full attention when Lydia brought Bea into the room.
“Any guesses what Ivy will do,” Flora asked.
Lydia only shrugged and fed the little one in her arms.
“Will Gus have to bring Ivy in for abandonment,” Kat asked.
“I’m not sure. But I don’t think so. I think he has enough of the story to weed out the true villains.”
“I sure hope so,” Flora added, kneading her hands and rocking.
“I guess it depends on Ivy. I mean she might still split. This may have been a huge, uncomfortable coincidence. She might have never intended to come back for Bea.”
Flora gasped, but Lydia smiled. “No, I bet she’ll stay. She had forty weeks to decide differently, and instead, she braved childbirth. She’ll brave motherhood, too. She’ll just need a lot of coaching and a lot of love.”
✽✽✽
Lydia turned on the tree lights and adjusted the thermostat. Frost decorated the sliding glass door in the dining room. It wouldn’t be long before the delicate frost turned to ice. She re-wrapped Bea into burrito form and snuggled her into the portable bassinet by the couch. Ivy slept on.
Lydia decided food was the first job of the day. She chose to make pumpkin flapjacks and a red pepper frittata. She tied on a cheesy Christmas apron and started gathering ingredients.
Cracking eggs and whipping batter, she prayed. “Father, show me how to be a friend to Ivy. A better friend than I’ve been so far. Give me the strength to represent you and not throw stones.” Pepper and ginger flavored the air. Right on cue, Bea wriggled at the sound of the coffee pot finishing its brew. Lydia began feeding her a freshly warmed bottle of Mrs. Hurley’s milk.
Ivy stumbled into the room, wearing her quilt like a robe. She didn’t speak, just scanned the room. “C’ mon, Mama,” Lydia called to her without turning. “She’s ready for her breakfast.” Ivy sat sore and scared. Lydia locked eyes with her guest. “We’ve got a lot to talk about today. But for now, relax. When you’re ready, we’ll eat.” Bea stopped sucking, cooed, and craned her neck. “She knows you’re here.” Ivy’s eyes lit up and then saddened.
“She just has gas,” Ivy’s voice crackled and squeaked.
“Nope. Look at her. She knows you.” The baby twisted in Lydia’s arms. “She recognizes your voice. She missed you.” Tears escaped onto Ivy’s cheeks. “Do you want to try feeding her?” She shook her blue, green hair. “Maybe we’ll try, later?”
“Maybe.”
Lydia coaxed Bea to finish her bottle before handing her off to her mother. Ivy took the baby into her arms and then squeezed the tiny girl close to her face. She smiled and cried as she kissed her daughter’s dimples, fingertips, and eyelids. Happy that Ivy cherished her baby, Lydia settled into a sense of peace. This mama wasn’t leaving her girl a second time.
When the reconciliation was over, and Ivy laid her child back down to sleep, the teen turned bloodshot eyes toward her host. “You said there was breakfast?”
Lydia hopped to her feet and tossed opened the oven. “If I haven’t cremated it! Take a seat at the table. We’ll chat as we eat. You want coffee, orange juice, almond milk, or water?”
“Coffee sounds great. But it’s not good for her, is it?” Ivy didn’t take her eyes off the couch until Lydia set down a full plate of pancakes and frittata. “I’ll take water, please. And thank you.” Lydia smiled and slid into the seat next to Ivy. Her plate was as full as the teen’s. The day would need a lot of comfort food and require a lot of energy.
“I’ll make more if we run out.” Ivy scarfed down three cakes before Lydia handed over the powdered sugar. “I don’t want to push you, but I’m a mother and a nosy lady. I will expect you to give me the full scoop. In your time, but the entire story.”
Ivy shifted. The food was too delicious to ignore and too available to pass up. She wanted to trust Lydia. Lydia had always been kind to her. She tutored her for free, let her come at odd hours, and gave her a warm place to sleep. She’d taken care of her baby when Ivy couldn’t. Lydia had even found breast milk for her.
But her husband was the sheriff. He could take her baby away whenever he wanted. He might lock her away for stealing, and again for abandoning her baby. Would Lydia and her husband buy Ivy’s story, or would they kick her out? Just as Don had done. Ivy refilled her plate before deciding.
“Her name’s Scout,” Ivy said.
“Scout? I like that. It suits her.”
Ivy smiled unrestrainedly. “It does, doesn’t it?” She shuddered and sighed before she resolved to share her secrets. “I found out I was pregnant and hid it as long as possible. But I got scared. On Thanksgiving, I decided to ask Don for help. Instead, he kicked me out because I would not get rid of her. It didn’t matter that I was too far along for that.” Lydia didn’t flinch. She sipped her coffee and listened. “I had no other options. So, I visited my ex at work. At first, I thought he’d give me a place to stay. Deep down, I knew it was hopeless.”
“He kicked you out, too.” Lydia took a gigantic
chunk of egg and chewed, trying to swallow her rage and sadness along with her breakfast.
“I didn’t know what else to do. I drove Ms. Lana’s bug to Honey Pot, hoping to find help. I talked to my friend Emily, but her situation is hard enough. I didn’t even tell her about Scout. At the B.F.F., there was always something happening. I poked around and found the storage attic. Nothing but boxes and dust. Still, it was warmer than outside.”
“Not much.”
“Not at first. Then, I made a nook out of boxes and a bed out of some quilts and slept on the floor. After the first night, it was bearable.” Lydia shrugged a response. They would talk about the quilts later. “I ventured out during the day and did my best to be back before someone locked up.”
Ivy pushed her plate away and shivered. “I got locked outside once.” The light in her eyes settled back into her mind.
Ivy was far away, remembering something she deemed unnecessary to share. Lydia reached over and squeezed her hand. Such a simple gesture and tears jetted from Ivy’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand why I’m crying.”
“Baby girl, you’ve been through a lot. You’re a sixteen-year-old girl, and you just gave birth. Childbirth always messes with a woman’s hormones. Get used to it. For a while, you will be a mood swinging mess.” Lydia took the girl’s shoulders into her hands. Ivy jumped, breaking Lydia’s heart. Lydia backed away, lowering her arms but not her gaze. She stared right into Ivy’s eyes with as much strength and softness as she could force into them. “I’d love to be here for you while you’re going through it. You don’t have to do it alone.”
Hope flashed and vanished from the new mother’s face. Scout whimpered. “It’s almost time to feed her again.”
“Could you show me how?” Embarrassed Ivy nodded to her chest.
“I’ll do my best. If you and I can’t figure it out, I know someone who can.”
CHAPTER 19
Kat’s family donned their traditional Christmas Eve pajamas, their slippers, winter coats, and beanies. They piled stacks of wrapped presents in the back of their van and laid trays of Christmas treats next to them.
