by Misha Crews
Warmth spread through Rose as she nodded. That was probably the nicest compliment she had ever received, and Jenna had delivered it without even making a big deal out of it.
It must be wonderful to be an adult, Rose had thought, and be able to say such perfect things without even trying.
Then she’d blurted out, “So how are you similar to Dr. Malloy?”
Jenna had been so surprised that she’d dropped her lipstick, and turned to face Rose with a severe look on her face. “There are very few people in my life who could ask a question like that and get away with it,” she said. Then her face softened. “But you’re one of them. And I guess it’s a fair question, considering our conversation.” She played with the folds of her dress while she thought about it.
“Frank and I have both lost people that we love,” she said at length. “And until you live through that, you don’t really understand what it’s like. We comfort each other.”
Rose waited, knowing that there had to be more. Jenna was going to marry Dr. Malloy, after all, so there had to be more. Didn’t there?
“But of course, we also have a lot in common,” Jenna went on, much to Rose’s relief. “It’s hard to explain, actually, but Dr. Malloy and I both share a similar outlook on many things — politics, and human rights, and art — so many things that I’m passionate about. And Christopher, of course.” Jenna’s eyes lit with love as she spoke her son’s name. “Frank is a gentle man. He’ll be a wonderful father. I think that’s the most important thing.”
“And you love him,” Rose dared to say.
Jenna’s head snapped up and her eyes narrowed. “Of course I do.”
But Rose had had the distinct impression that, whether Jenna knew it or not, this was one of the times when she wasn’t being completely sincere.
Stella padded into the dining room, rousing Rose from her thoughts.
“What are you up to, sweetie? Still bored?” Stella leaned over and gave Rose a loud kiss on the ear.
“Not really,” Rose admitted.
Stella gingerly touched the edge of the sketchpad. “That’s a beautiful drawing,” she said admiringly. “I think you get better every day, you know that?”
Rose blushed. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
Stella hunkered down and ruffled Rose’s hair in a way that Rose loved and hated at the same time. “Tell you what, kid, since this day has turned out to be a wash — no pun intended — why don’t we make ice cream tonight? What do you say?”
Without waiting for an answer, Stella planted another kiss on Rose’s cheek, and tickled her side. Rose giggled in spite of herself. She loved Jenna in her way and admired her greatly. But she was always so, so glad that Stella was her mom.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
IT WAS NOT THE WORST RAIN that the city had ever seen, but it was bad enough. Flash floods took drivers by surprise, police erected barricades along several streets, minor traffic collisions caused cuts and bruises. And although most folks agreed that it was no night for pyrotechnics, Arlington Hospital treated a typical number of people for minor burns from firecrackers.
But Jenna, for one, was glad for the storm. When she had gotten up that morning and heard the weather report on the radio, her heart had lightened. Stormy weather meant that it was going to be a day just for herself and her son, and that was the kind of day Jenna liked best of all.
The first thing they’d done was spend a few hours “having school” in the dining room. Christopher had started playschool in the spring, and ever since then he had been begging Jenna to send him to “real school.” He’d taken it very hard when she had explained that he would have to wait until September of the following year to start kindergarten. As far as Christopher was concerned, that was eons away.
So on some mornings they’d have school at home, and Christopher always considered this a special treat. Since Jenna knew that it wouldn’t be long before school became the bane of his existence, she had decided to enjoy his enthusiasm while it lasted. And she did so love to watch him grip that oversized pencil in his little fist and diligently trace the letters that she’d drawn for him.
After school was over, they had lunch. Christopher decided to share his bologna sandwich with Fritz, which Jenna elected not to notice. And after lunch, Christopher picked out one of his favorite books, and they settled down on the sofa to read.
Jenna was halfway through Peter Rabbit before she realized that her son had fallen asleep with his head on her lap. His dark hair curled at his temples, damp with perspiration. Jenna fanned him gently with her hand as she leaned her head back against the sofa. She smiled to herself, feeling the good warmth of her son’s body next to her own. This was a good day.
There won’t be many more days like this.
The thought made her wince. Eventually she and Frank would get married, and the little family unit of herself and her son would have to expand to accommodate a third party. It was all for the best, though. As she told herself so often, Christopher needed a father. Jenna had grown up without a mother, and although Lucien had done the best he could, Jenna knew that she’d missed out on a very special relationship.
Well, she didn’t want her son to miss out on anything. Not ever. He was going to have a father, and that’s all there was to it.
But he has a father, her mind whispered. He has a real father, who wants to be close to him.
Jenna pushed the thought away and tried to relax. The sound of the rain pounding against the windows was soothing. Her eyes drifted closed as she sighed.
There were so many things she didn’t want to think about. Frank. Adam, and the sad, lost look he had worn when she had left him in Dupont Circle. Maya and her little boy Joseph. Jenna wondered what they were doing today, wondered if she would ever hear from Maya’s brother. It had been weeks since she’d gone to his house, and she’d heard nothing so far. So many things….
Jenna had just drifted off to sleep when a cold, wet nose shoved firmly into her hand. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked around the living room, which was dim from the storm. The cold nose touched her hand again, and she focused on Fritz, whose giant head was almost level with her own.
He pranced impatiently, emitting an urgent whimper that had her rolling her eyes.
“Now?” she whispered to him. “I’ve been trying to get you to go out for hours, and you choose now?”
His only answer was to whine — but softly, as if he knew that Christopher was asleep and didn’t want to wake him.
Jenna sighed. “Fine,” she said, and she set about trying to stand up without disturbing her son. She settled Christopher gently on the couch before following the anxious German Shepherd to the back door and opening it for him. She watched with amusement as he launched himself outside in spite of the heavy downpour. Usually Fritz hated going out in the rain.
The phone on the wall rang, and she reached out to pick it up. It was probably Kitty, calling to make sure they were okay.
But it wasn’t Kitty’s voice that she heard when she put the receiver to her ear. It was Adam’s. Jenna stiffened, the knowledge of her trip to find Maya biting heavily into her conscience.
“I heard on the radio that there’s been flash-flooding in some areas.” Adam’s voice echoed hollowly down the phone line. “I just wanted to make sure that you and Christopher are all right, that you have supplies on-hand in case the power goes out.”
Jenna forced herself to relax. He sounded genuinely concerned, not as though he was in the mood to pressure her into confessing something. “Yes, we’re fine. We probably won’t even lose power, but if we do we’ve got candles and batteries — everything we need.” A smile formed on her face. “It’ll be like camping. Christopher will probably enjoy it.”
“Sounds like fun,” Adam said. Jenna could hear a wistful sound in his voice, and she knew that he wanted to be there with them, looking after them, enjoying his family.
And suddenly she realized that she wanted him to be there, too. In fact, he was pro
bably the only person that she would welcome into the house that day, the only one whose presence wouldn’t create ripples in the serenity of her day with Christopher. Adam, she knew, would fit in. And that worried her.
She hurried to change the subject. “How’s your house coming along?”
After a pause, Adam said, “Just fine, thanks. Should be finished by September, along with the other two on the street.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jenna said, and meant it. “I’m glad that you’re going to stay in the area. It means a lot to Bill and Kitty to have you around.”
“Just them?” His voice turned soft.
She twirled the phone cord around her finger. “Christopher too, of course.”
“And you?”
“Me? Well, I — oh, for God’s sake!” The words burst out of her lips as Fritz came barreling back inside and started to shake out his coat, exploding dog-scented water all over her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She explained what had happened as she pulled some rags from under the sink. She wiped the dog’s thick wet fur and his muddy paws. Then she shook her head as he galloped happily away, probably going to check on Christopher.
“That dog is a nuisance,” she said. “But Christopher loves him, so what am I going to do?” She sighed as she looked around the kitchen. Beads of muddy water clung to every surface — including her blouse and shorts.
“You need a man around that house,” Adam said with mock-sternness. Then he laughed. “Someone to help with the heavy lifting and dog-related chores.”
Jenna was silent, not sure what to say.
After a moment, Adam caught on. When he spoke again, all the humor was gone from his voice. “But of course, you’re going to have a man around your house soon enough, aren’t you?”
“That’s right,” she answered tightly.
Pain wormed its way down the line. “Well, maybe I should let you off the phone in case he’s trying to call. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s worried about you and Christopher.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” Jenna kept her voice indifferent. “I need to get this place cleaned up anyway.”
There was a long pause. Then, “Fine. You know where to find me if you need me.”
Jenna heard a click. She stared at the phone, a long-familiar pain sitting dully in her heart. “But that’s just the point,” she whispered. “When I need you, where will you be next?”
* * *
In the living room, Fritz had curled up on the rug by the sofa. Christopher’s arm hung down, and he was petting the dog in his sleep. Fritz was smiling, tongue lolling out blissfully as he panted.
Jenna smiled back as she looked at the two of them. “You’re lucky my son likes you so much,” she said to the dog as she reached down to pat his head. “Because most days, you make me crazy.”
Fritz seemed to wink, and his tongue lolled a bit more.
Jenna reached down and adjusted her sleeping son, tucking his arm back on the sofa so it wouldn’t ache when he woke up.
“Watch him for me,” Jenna said to Fritz, as if the dog could understand her. “I’m going upstairs for a few minutes.”
The small room at the end of the short hallway had been used for storage ever since Jenna and Bud had moved into the house years earlier. They needed it, too, since Bud was an incurable pack rat, and Jenna found that she, too, had many things she didn’t want to let go. Most of Bud’s things were still here, as were her father’s personal effects, few though they were.
Jenna moved briskly inside the crowded space. Memories were huddled in every corner of this room, and she didn’t have the heart to go exploring the past today. She was looking for something specific, and she knew right where it was.
In the far corner of the room, wedged between the wall and Lucien’s old footlocker, was a long object, a few inches thick and wrapped in white cloth. She had to lean over several boxes to reach it, and she pulled it out gingerly so as not to scratch or tear its flat surface. When she had it in both her hands, she propped it up and unwrapped it. Then she took a step back.
The painting was just as she remembered. Vivid shapes of green, interspersed with yellow and brown, gave the impression of sun filtering through the cool green leaves of a tree. It was abstract: not quite expressionistic, definitely not quite Cubist, painted in the long-ago time when Picasso ruled New York and Kandinsky ruled Paris. Jenna could remember it hanging on the wall of their living room when her father was stationed in Chicago. Along with their other meager possessions — after all, military tumbleweeds can’t afford to accumulate too much property — the painting had followed her and Lucien around the world: to Cape Town, to Cuba, to New York and Nevada. And it had followed them back here, to Virginia.
She’d never completely understood why Lucien was so attached to the picture. It was beautiful, to be sure, but they’d left many beautiful things behind on their travels. She hadn’t ever taken the time or had the courage to ask him about it. Of course, a lot of things fell into that category, and now that her father was gone, she was left with the feeling that she had lived with a man that she didn’t know. Her father had raised her, had loved her, but she didn’t know him — not the whole man, not the true man.
This painting had been hanging on Lucien’s bedroom wall when he died in 1948, and the last time Jenna had laid eyes on it was the day that she and Kitty had taken it down from that wall and wrapped it in white fabric. So what, Jenna wondered, had possessed her to come up here and look at it today?
She had the answer before she could even finish asking the question: Bud.
Of course, Bud. She felt stupid for not realizing it right away.
Her father and her husband. Two men she’d loved and never really known. And when she finally felt ready to ask them the difficult questions, they were gone. Beyond her reach.
And in her mind, Adam fell into the same category. He was still here, still alive, but he was beyond her reach. He was brave, kind, and loving, but the two of them could never seem to find their footing when they were together. And for all that she loved him, there were too many secrets, and too much time apart.
Yes, definitely beyond her reach.
So, she decided, she would let him have the painting. She’d take this beautiful thing that her father had loved, and give it to Adam. Maybe it would bring some happiness to him, and some peace to her.
God knew that they both deserved it.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“SWEETHEART, I DON’T THINK YOU SHOULD eat that whole thing by yourself. You’re going to make yourself sick.” Jenna tried desperately not to laugh as she watched her small son try to balance two large scoops of chocolate ice cream. He held the unwieldy cone with both hands, shrugging off her attempts to help him, determined to manage his prize all by himself.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ve got it,” his little bird’s voice assured her, eyes wide and glowing at the tower of joy in his grasp.
Jenna looked over at her mother-in-law. “Kitty, you know you’re spoiling him with all that.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” Kitty held a wad of napkins at the ready, and reached over to swab ice cream off Christopher’s face when he came up for air. “It’s not like we do this every day. It’s a special occasion.”
The three of them were sitting at one of the small square oak tables in Gifford’s Ice Cream parlor. The air was cool and filled with the heady scent of sugar cones. Around them, tables buzzed and chirped with families and groups of teenagers enjoying a Saturday afternoon treat.
“What special occasion?” Jenna’s eyes were only for her son as his little pink tongue traveled repeatedly from the bottom of his ice cream to the top with determination and perseverance.
“I talked to Adam today.”
Kitty’s words seized hold of Jenna’s attention like a sailor cranking in a fluttering jib.
“He said his house is almost finished, and he’s planning a housewarming party for some time in Oc
tober.”
Jenna felt her heart thunk hollowly, the way it did whenever Adam’s name came up. They hadn’t really spoken since the Fourth of July, which was almost a month behind them. And although they’d bumped into each other once or twice over the past few weeks, the contact was always awkward. She lifted her chin and spoke with determined cheer. “Well, that’s wonderful. October’s practically just around the corner. They must have been working like demons to get it done.”
“That’s just what I said to Adam! I told him that we should celebrate the news, and he told me to take Christopher out and buy him an ice cream.” Kitty laughed. “Isn’t that sweet?”
Jenna felt her mask of cheer slip a notch. “Sweet,” she murmured.
Christopher didn’t eat his whole cone, although it wasn’t for lack of trying. It was a team effort for her and Kitty to get him cleaned up, and as they walked slowly back to the car, Jenna tried to remember if she had any ginger ale in the house, in case her little boy developed a stomachache later in the day. She had just made up her mind that they should stop at the grocer’s and buy some when the sight of a familiar face stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Mr. Graves!” she exclaimed, before she could think better of it.
Alexander Graves looked up, startled. He had just come out of the alley next to the hardware store, with a can of paint in one hand and a small bag in the other. He glanced around swiftly, as if making sure no one could see them. His eyes took in Christopher and Kitty in the same quick sweep. He didn’t exactly seem happy to see her, Jenna thought, but he covered his discomfort with the same impeccable manners that he had used on their last meeting.
“Mrs. Appleton,” he said pleasantly. He shifted the bag he was carrying so he could hold it under his arm and removed his hat in a gesture that was both courteous and graceful. “It’s a pleasure to see you.” His eyes lighted on Kitty and he nodded formally. “How do you do, madam?”
Kitty turned to Jenna, waiting for an introduction. Jenna smiled hesitantly, feeling the awkwardness of the situation. “Kitty, this is Mr. Graves. Mr. Graves, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Appleton.”
