Family Be Mine

by Tracy Kelleher

  “That’s enough for today. Your dog is tired because he’s had to use his mind. That’s both rewarding and exhausting. Here’s the sheet reviewing what we learned from this class. Remember, work on what we’ve done all through the week, using positive reinforcement and marking each time your dog responds, teaching him that he’s doing the right thing. Next week, we’ll move on to loose-leash walking and ‘sit.’”

  Hunt and Sarah gathered up all the dog paraphernalia and Fred. For once, the dog wasn’t pulling as they walked out. “Fred did great, don’t you think? Much better than that poodle,” Hunt said.

  Sarah waited for the automatic doors to open and read the behavior tip sheet again. “Maybe I should get this laminated and put it up over the baby’s crib? Frankly, I need all the help I can get since I know just about nothing about babies, let alone bringing up kids.”

  “What do you mean? You were raised on a farm. I thought things like birth and babies and tiny little feet running around were as natural as churning butter.”

  “Excuse me, I grew up on a farm, not a commune. And we had machines to milk the cows. I did not sit around pulling on teats. As to taking care of kids, I was the baby in the family. Everybody else looked after me. By the time my brothers had children of their own, I had already gone to New York. And where I was living in Queens, nobody had kids.”

  Hunt let Fred take a weary pee on a sycamore tree before they crossed the street to his parked car. He angled the driver’s seat forward so that Fred could hop in the back. The dog was so tired he stumbled over the seat belt.

  Sarah circled the car to get to the passenger seat and bent down to open the door. “You know, this car seems lower and lower to me every day.”

  Hunt came around and held open her door until she lowered herself in. He watched her struggle as she tried to swivel around to get the seat belt. “Here, let me get it.”

  “Thank you.” Sarah watched him pull it out as far as it could go. He reached across her, his arm resting lightly on her stomach, and was locking it in place when she grabbed his arm.

  “What? Is something wrong?” he asked, worry in his voice.

  She shook her head. “I was just thinking. Don’t…don’t tell anyone I said that—about not knowing anything about babies. They might get the impression that I can’t handle the whole being-a-single-mom thing.”

  Hunt studied her face. “Your secret is safe with me.” He smiled. Suddenly he switched his focus to her belly. “Hey, was that the baby? I felt something.”

  Sarah placed her hand on her stomach. “Yeah, he seemed to have enjoyed the obedience class, too. Here…” She picked up his hand and moved it to the left. “Can you feel? He’s really kicking up a storm.”

  “So you know it’s a boy?” He moved his hand more to the center as the baby shifted inside her.

  “No, I told the ultrasound technician not to tell me. I wanted it to be a secret.” She looked down at her stomach and Hunt’s hand resting atop, his face aglow as he followed the baby’s movements. It all seemed so right, so meant to be. It would be so easy to pretend that they were a couple, bringing their dog to class and now going home to read the newspaper together, have some tea, maybe take a nap….

  Sarah looked away. Who was she kidding? They weren’t a couple. “I think he’s stopped moving now,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah.” Hunt seemed reluctant to remove his hand. “But that was something. Thanks.”

  She could tell from his tone that he wanted her to look at him, but Sarah refused. She kept her eyes focused on the blank wall of the high school.

  Hunt came around and started up the car. They drove for a block in silence, coming to a halt at the stop sign by the Choir College. Across the street was a memorial garden for a former Grantham mayor, the purples and pinks of fall mums recalling her favorite colors. Hunt turned to her as he waited to proceed through the intersection.

  “So, tell me, have you made any arrangements for child care?”

  Sarah looked around. “I think you can go now,” she said.

  He put the car in gear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Sarah breathed in slowly and rested her head against the headrest. “No, it’s a fair question. I’ve got a six-week maternity leave from work. When I go back, Katarina’s housekeeper, Amada, has already offered to help out three days a week.”

  “That still leaves two not covered.” Hunt waited at the traffic light on Main Street.

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve already started to look into day care, but on my salary the places that I liked the most are kind of out of my reach, which, truthfully, does have me a bit worried.”

  She stared at Hunt. “And don’t tell anyone that, either, especially Katarina and Julie. And Lena and Wanda. If they found out, the whole town would know. So, you’ve got to promise. You, too, Fred.” She glanced over her shoulder. The dog was fast asleep, curled up like a tight little fuzzy doughnut.

  Hunt turned into the side street beside his house. Sarah, on wordless cue, removed the automatic garage door opener from the glove box. He waited as the door rumbled open. “Don’t worry. Our lips are sealed, but that still doesn’t mean I can’t help out. I’m happy to, you know.”

  “I know. Thanks.” She nodded and tears welled in her eyes.

  Hunt pulled on the hand brake. “What’s the matter?” He put his hand under her chin to raise her face.

  Sarah sniffed. “Hey, you’re stopped in the middle of the street. Aren’t you worried you might block someone wanting to get by?”

  “Let them figure it out.” Her turned her head to face him. “Let me propose something radical.”

  Her heartbeat picked up.

  “Why not move in with me for a while—after the baby’s born? I mean, I’m still getting back on my feet, trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. You’re still up in the air about how to take care of the baby. If you’re here, I can help out, at least until you’re more settled. I don’t see any reason why not to. After all, you’re not attached. I’m not attached. It’s not as if I’m talking about a long-term commitment.”

  No, he wasn’t, was he? Sarah thought to herself. Was she disappointed? In a way, yes. But those thoughts were just a fantasy—not reality. Not everyday life. Everyday life required admitting you were just like everybody else, not that different from your family back in Minnesota. That you needed to make compromises, make do, take joy in small things.

  “Let me think about it,” she said. She knew what he suggested made logical sense. But deep inside she still wanted to hold on to her privacy and independence, while at the same time dreaming of something bigger….

  Hunt shifted in his seat. “Well, while you’re thinking about it, think about this, too.” He cupped the side of her head and brought her face close to his. And then he kissed her, starting lightly but quickly easing apart her lips to explore and share. Sarah felt herself responding immediately to the tastes, the feel, the giving that passed from his lips to hers.

  Until he finally pulled back. “In case you’re interested, that wasn’t part of my social rehabilitation,” he said. There was a satisfied smile on his lips.

  Sarah could just imagine what her lips looked like. She shook her head, astonished. This couldn’t be happening, could it? “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m pregnant,” she said in an attempt to de-mystify the moment.

  “As far as I know neither lymphoma nor chemo has done anything to diminish my eyesight.”

  “But I mean, you don’t really find that attractive, do you? I mean, look! I’m as big as a mountain!”

  He studied her through narrowed eyes. “Interesting about that. There’s no denying that you’re an attractive woman. And somehow, your being pregnant now, only makes you more womanly, ergo more sexy.”

  “But what about the fact that this is someone else’s baby?”

  He frowned in thought. “Frankly, I don’t see that as a problem. Say you’d been married before and already had a kid. Would I
reject him out of hand? Of course not.”

  She looked at him baffled. “You’re weird, you know that?”

  “It’s part of my charm. So tell me you’ll at least think about my offer?”

  She rubbed her mouth. Her lips were definitely swollen. She nodded, bobbing her head. “No guarantees, though.”

  “Are there ever any?” He turned and released the emergency brake. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling pretty chipper at the moment. So good in fact, that I’m thinking of calling up Ben and Katarina and inviting them for dinner at our place. I still have the boeuf Bourguignon in the fridge, you know.”

  “I know.” She had lifted the lid on the stew that morning. There was enough to feed all of central New Jersey.

  “Can we at least wait until Fred has learned ‘sit’?” But two words resonated in her mind—our place.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “SWITCH,” LENA SHOUTED to Wanda as she crossed from the deuce to the ad side of the tennis court. It was the resumption of their suspended match with the mother and grown daughter. Normally, Lena knew how Wanda took particular delight in thrashing a player who was a good thirty years younger than she. But since Tiger had died, not much had been normal for her.

  Lena, of course, was much too mature to relish beating people simply because they were younger and fitter. She liked beating anyone, period.

  “I got it,” Wanda called out. She backpedaled for a lob, her left foot crossing over her right. A light breeze caused the ball to drift farther back than she anticipated. The frame of her racket tipped the ball, and the ball ricocheted. And the outside edge of her right tennis shoe slipped on the court at an awkward angle. She cried out, falling to the ground. She clutched her ankle.

  Lena came running. “Wanda, are you all right?”

  Wanda looked up and frowned as their opponents came from the other side of the court. “They’re here to inspect the damage,” she said under her breath.

  “Stop it,” Lena chastised. “They’re just concerned.” Lena looked over and explained the situation. “I think it’s just a little sprain,” she said. “But we really do intend to finish this match.”

  The out-of-work banker daughter, who had previously been so snippy, held her tongue.

  “Good then,” Lena said when she didn’t get any complaints. “Next week it is, right, Wanda?”

  Wanda screwed up her face in pain. “This is so irritating. We were just about to break them, and we could have taken the first set.” She swatted Lena away when she put her hand under her elbow to help her up. Instead, she rolled to her left side, braced herself on the butt of her racket, and hoisted herself up. She hopped to the chairs at the side of the court.

  “There are other things besides winning,” Lena said, following her.

  “So you say. Given my age and current single status, sex is not on the horizon. That leaves only death and taxes. For joy, for joy.”

  The mother and daughter cooed their “get well soon’s” and packed up their gear.

  Wanda barely acknowledged their sympathies. “That’s all I need. Another injury. First my elbow, now my ankle. I’m falling apart in front of my eyes, and I don’t have Tiger to help me get through it. I made him promise to live a long life, and look what happened?” she grumbled.

  “C’mon,” Lena said. “We will go and get some cold on it right away. I have a bag of frozen peas in the freezer just for such an occasion. I think Katarina even left an Ace bandage in the bathroom vanity from when she was living with me last year. If it’s not there, I can always call her.”

  “Watch! It won’t be Katarina we’re going to need to call. It’ll be Sarah.”

  “You don’t need Sarah,” Lena hushed her. “She has enough on her mind.”

  “You mean the appointment with Julie this morning? From the way she apologized for canceling our PT session, you would have thought she was cutting me off without bread and water.”

  “I know. She’s too conscientious for her own good. I texted Hunt, and he promised to let me know if there were any complications about those fainting spells of hers.”

  Wanda reached around and slipped her warm-up jacket off the back of the chair. Then she picked up her tennis racket and worked it into her bag. There was no yapping from Tiger to greet her or to complain about being crowded. Wanda sighed.

  “I suppose it’s good that Hunt went with her. I know I said she’s a strong and capable woman, but in moments of stress, especially at the doctor’s office, it’s nice to have another set of ears. Remember how you used to come with me to see the surgeon after I found out I had breast cancer?” She sniffed.

  “Of course I came with you. What are friends for?” She stood to the side, holding herself back when Wanda got to her feet. That didn’t stop her from grabbing Wanda’s bag and walking slowly next to her as she hobbled to her car.

  Lena pursed her mouth. She didn’t like this attitude she was seeing from Wanda. Something wasn’t right. She waited until they got to the cars, and when Wanda was about to open her car door, she looked her in the eye. “What are you really talking about, Wanda? I know you went for a mammogram appointment last week. Did your breast cancer come back again and you’re not telling me?”

  Wanda shook her head. “I won’t get the results until next week, but, no, I’m not worried. I’m sure everything is fine.”

  A squirrel ran across the grass and jumped down the steps by the courts. He snickered as he raced up a Norway maple.

  Wanda watched him disappear. She turned back to Lena. “I know you said next week for tennis, but I’m not so sure.”

  “What do you mean you’re not so sure? It’s a little sprain. You act like it’s the end of the world. What’s going on?”

  “I’m merely being realistic. At my age, you just don’t bounce back from injuries, no matter how seemingly minor.”

  “What do you mean at your age? You’re two years younger than I am, and you don’t see me slowing down.”

  Wanda shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, so maybe I am a little nervous about the mammogram. But once you’ve had cancer, no matter what, it’s always in the back of your mind. And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I can go through it again.”

  “Wanda.” Lena touched the sleeve of her friend’s warm-up outfit—black with rhinestones, typical Wanda.

  “If the news turns out to be bad, you and I, we will get through this again. You are a strong woman. The strongest I know.”

  Wanda held up her hand. “Not anymore. Not since Tiger died.”

  Lena said a silent, aha. She rubbed Wanda’s shoulder in comfort. “I know how much he meant to you.”

  “People who don’t have dogs can’t begin to imagine the loss,” Wanda said.

  “Maybe. But I can identify with the death of a dear one.” Her husband, Radek, might be dead for more than fifty years, but there were times when she still got a catch in her throat—on the date of their anniversary, on the birth of their grandchild, when the sun shone a certain way over the snow crystals and made the world sparkle like a Fabergé egg. But now was not her time to grieve.

  “You can get another dog, Wanda,” she suggested.

  “No, I couldn’t take breaking in a new dog. And I certainly couldn’t take having another one die on me. It would be too much. In fact, everything is too much for me these days.” Wanda looked at her friend with an expression of exhaustion. “These days I even find owning a house too much. The mortgage payments alone—they’re too much, especially on my fixed income! I was a public schoolteacher not John D. Rockefeller.”

  “But your house is fairly new compared to mine,” Lena said. Lena’s modest clapboard home, like the other houses on her tree-lined street, dated back to the nineteenth century. Newly arrived yuppies to Grantham were rediscovering the street’s architectural funkiness and convenient proximity to the coffee shops, specialty stores and neighborhood restaurants.

  Wanda, on the other hand, lived in a sixties development of modest s
plit-levels near the shopping center. She had a garage and a bay window, but none of the charm of Lena’s place.

  “Nobody wants a place like that anymore,” Wanda said, stating what they both knew. “You know that house that finally sold on my street a few months ago? It went for forty thousand below the asking price. And now the new owners are tearing it down to build some McMansion.”

  She sighed again. “Besides, any house requires work, and I’m just not up to it anymore. I hate getting ripped off by workmen who see this little old lady and immediately get dollar signs in front of their eyes.” She mimicked her words with her hands in front of her face. “I’m not like you. You’ve always been handy. I wouldn’t know how to use a screwdriver if you told me which end was which.” Wanda turned to open the back door of her Maxima. “Here. Give me my bag.”

  Lena watched Wanda stow her case. “Okay, I understand what you are saying, but what does using a screwdriver have to do with cancer?”

  Wanda frowned and held up her hands beseechingly. “Nothing. And everything. The bottom line is everything is falling apart—my body, my house. And all of it takes money and time to fix—two things I don’t have a lot of in the long run. I know, I know, you say you’ll help, and you’ve always been a great friend. But now you have Katarina living in town. And Ben and Matt. Pretty soon, who knows, you’ll have a great-grandchild. My God, just saying that makes me feel ancient.”

  “If you feel ancient, how about me?” Lena asked, still trying to buck up her friend even though she realized it was going to take more than a bit of kidding around.

  “At least you are growing older with a family. All the time I was teaching, my students were my family. What can I say? I read The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie at an impressionable age.”

  “From this Brodie lady I know nothing. But I do know how much you influenced your students. Look how many still send you Christmas cards and announcements when they have children.”

  “But have I ever been able to send someone a photo of me holding a tiny baby? And don’t say my nephews, because as we all know they were never tiny bundles of joy.”