by Nancy Thayer
A stick of straw poked his ear. He moved his head, trying to get comfortable, and sort of sat up, and sort of scanned the streets outside in case his daddy was out there looking for him.
The street was empty, except for the blowing snow.
His lower lip quivered. Tears filled his eyes. Sadness filled his heart. Snot filled his nose—unattractive, his mommy usually told him. He couldn’t help it, though. He was scared.
33
The baby slept, but Kennedy was a bubbling emotional geyser threatening to erupt momentarily.
She had a daughter. Joy!
Then terror blasted through her. Maddox. Her little boy.
Maddox had run away because she had been horrid to him. Shame, anguish, mommy guilt of the most torturous kind.
She’d given birth without James present. Heartbreak, disappointment, more guilt—couldn’t she have waited?
Her mother had been present. Nicole had been helpful. Okay, more than helpful. Nicole had taken charge and conducted the entire chaotic mess with as much expertise as anyone could wish for. She had been an angel of kindness. More guilt, because Kennedy had been such a beast to Nicole.
Her mother was on the floor again with more towels, soaking up the natural but still rather gruesome muck of childbirth. That in itself—her mother performing manual labor—filled Kennedy with incredulity. Katya did not enjoy housework. Never had. But Katya was humming a Christmas carol, and she looked exultant. Kennedy was confused.
Most of all, where was Maddox? Shouldn’t her father and James have found her child and brought him back? She didn’t want her son to believe that she’d blithely forgotten about him, or worse, tossed him away—“You’re a bad boy!”—then lay down and gotten herself another child. Her heart wrung with worry. She was glad to have a daughter, but so frightened for Maddox.
Was this family life at its most basic? A cauldron of constantly changing sensations? Kennedy was stunned to realize that she’d been in labor all day without realizing it because she’d been so overwhelmed with intense and often ungenerous emotions. How had her own mother maneuvered through family life so serenely, like a sailboat on a windless sea? How would Kennedy survive her own family life, especially if she was as self-centered and myopic as she’d been with little Maddox?
Her sweet little boy, her darling child, with his giggle, his innocence, his wide-eyed trust in his mommy. Her heart broke when she thought of the radiant confidence on his face when he watched her. She knew she’d been cranky with him lately, restless and uncomfortable in her own body. She’d tried to explain that to him, but how could a four-year-old possibly comprehend the discomfort of a pregnant woman? She’d been mad to think he could. She’d been awful to call him a bad boy. She’d been so out of her mind she hadn’t even realized she was in labor.
Kennedy was mortified. Here she was, tucked up with her new baby in her arms, warm and well-cared-for, and her precious son was out there in the bitter stormy night. She should search for him. She struggled to sit up. Not a good idea.
“Mommy?” she quavered.
Katya responded instantly. “Yes, sweetie?”
“Would you help James and Daddy search for Maddox? I’m so afraid. They should be back with him by now.”
Katya hesitated. “Of course I’ll go. But someone should stay with you. Would you rather Nicole searched and I stayed?”
Her mother’s words appeared to be free of judgment.
“I suppose since Nicole’s a nurse, and the baby is so new, and I’m still a bit of a mess …” Kennedy let her voice trail off.
“You’re right.” Katya rose to her feet. “I’ll put on my coat and help look for Maddox. Don’t worry, darling. We’ll find him.”
“Thank you, Mommy.” Kennedy began to cry. What if they didn’t find him? What if he was hiding in the dark garage of a summer family who had gone away? What if he developed pneumonia or hypothermia?
What if Maddox thought no one was looking for him? What if he thought that because she’d told him he was bad, she no longer loved him? She imagined her son cold, lost, and frightened, and sobs broke out, startling her newborn babe. But she couldn’t stop crying.
34
Nicole entered the living room to find Katya with her own arms full of stained cloths and towels.
“I got it as dry as I could.” Katya stared ruefully at the stained rug.
“It’s fine,” Nicole told her. “The heat of the fire will dry it, and we’ll toss a throw rug over it. In fact, I know just the one. It’s a Christmas rug my grandmother hooked for me, with snowmen and decorations on it.”
Katya, who had obviously recovered from her sentimental moment, looked horrified.
“Maddox will like it,” Nicole reminded her. “He’ll think it’s a decoration and won’t know what it’s hiding.”
“Mommy’s going to go look for Maddox,” Kennedy said from the sofa. She was weeping steadily. “They should be back by now.”
Nicole set the tray of warm drinks on the coffee table. Squeezing onto the sofa next to Kennedy, she lifted the young woman’s arm and put her fingers on her wrist, taking her pulse.
“You’re fine, Kennedy. I’m sure Maddox is fine, too. He can’t have gone far. The three of us need to take a moment to settle down. We’ve all been part of a momentous occasion. Let’s have some coffee—hot chocolate for you, Kennedy. If they’re still not back by the time we’ve finished our drinks, Katya or I can go out and look, too.” She handed the drinks around.
Katya was content to let Nicole take charge. She sipped her coffee, so rich and fragrant, with the kick of Bailey’s in it. “Alcohol?”
Nicole nodded. “For medicinal purposes,” she said, not quite joking. She took a restoring sip of her own coffee.
Katya peered over at her granddaughter, tucked securely in Kennedy’s arms. “What is she doing?”
“She’s sleeping,” Kennedy said. Glancing at Nicole, she asked, “That’s okay, right?”
“That’s absolutely okay. She’s probably tired, too. She’s just been born. She’s warm, she can smell her mommy, you’re holding her next to your heart so she can hear it beating, she’s exactly where she should be.”
“If only Maddox were here,” Kennedy wept. “Today’s been such a jumble. I feel like I’ve done everything wrong. I can’t even love this new baby as much as I should because I’m so frightened for Maddox.”
Katya chuckled. “Mommy fear. It’s the worst. I used to be terrified when you took gymnastics. I often had to leave the meet to throw up.”
“I never knew that,” Kennedy said.
Katya shrugged. “I thought it would be unhealthy for you to be aware of my emotional turmoil.”
Kennedy gawped. “You had emotional turmoil?”
Nicole hid her smile by drinking more coffee.
Katya rolled her eyes. Obviously the coffee had helped her regain her composure. “Thank you for this most reviving drink, Nicole.” She emitted the most elegant, subtle of sighs. “It will help. I promised Kennedy I’d help search for Maddox.”
“I’ll go.” Nicole stood up. “You should stay with your daughter.”
“But you’re the nurse,” Katya reasoned. “You should stay, in case something goes wrong.”
“Nothing will go wrong,” Nicole promised Katya. At the same time, a warmth flushed through her, not entirely caused by the Bailey’s and coffee. Katya trusted her with her daughter and the new baby. Katya had stepped down from her pedestal. Perhaps they could never be friends, but possibly she and Kennedy’s mother, Sebastian’s former wife, could be allies.
Katya glanced toward the window, almost completely iced over by blowing snow. She shivered delicately. “Perhaps I will stay here … with my daughter.”
Nicole didn’t hesitate. “Of course,” she agreed, heading to the hall and her coat.
35
Snix snored so enormously he woke himself. It took him a moment to realize where he was—he’d slept in so many different places during h
is young life.
He was lying in straw inside a shed, warm as warm could be, cuddled next to his boy Maddox.
But Maddox was crying.
Snix sat up and licked Maddox’s cheeks. The tears tasted salty and made Snix even hungrier.
“Oh, Pooh,” Maddox sniffled. “I don’t know what to do. I want my mommy and daddy. I want to go home.”
Snix sat up straight, attempting to look large and confident. For one thing, he knew he had to think of himself as Pooh if he wanted to stay with the boy, and oh boy, did he want to stay with this boy. For another thing … well, what? What could he do?
He wagged his tail, hopefully. He gave a yip of encouragement. He tried to look bright-eyed.
His stomach growled.
Maddox’s stomach growled.
Perhaps … Pooh chewed a stick of straw. Nope, didn’t work. He spit it out.
Snow whirled into the shed, glittering in the glow from the spotlight.
“We’ve got to go back out there, Pooh.” Maddox stood up. “We’ve got to go home.”
Pooh yapped once.
Maddox frowned. He thought out loud: “I’m sure they’ll take me back.” Looking down at Pooh, he clenched his fists. “But I won’t let them take you away from me, Pooh. I’ll protect you. Even if we have to run away again.”
Pooh’s heart sank. He wasn’t sure he could survive much longer without food.
“MADDOX? MADDOX!”
Running footsteps came toward them. Snow exploded as four booted feet stomped through the drifts in front of the shed. Two huge figures fell on their knees.
“Maddox.” The boy’s father reached out and clutched the boy to him. “Maddox, hey guy, I’m so glad I found you. What a smart kid you are to discover such a warm place to stay. Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want to go home? Your mommy and grandmommy and Nicole are so worried about you. Granddad and I have been looking everywhere for you.”
Pooh watched as the boy’s father ran his hands over the boy’s head and body, as if checking to be certain he was still all there.
“I’m sorry, Daddy, don’t be mad at me—”
“I’m not mad, Maddox. Granddad and I are so glad to find you—”
“Maddox, you need a hat. Take mine.” Granddad pulled his wool cap over the boy’s head.
Pooh trembled as he heard the humans babble, everyone talking at once. The great big men had tears in their eyes. They hugged and touched Maddox as if he were the most precious thing in the world.
“Come on, Mad Man. We’re going home. It’s Christmas Eve.” The daddy lifted Maddox up in his arms and held him tight.
Pooh whimpered, just a tiny whimper that kind of slipped out …
“I want Pooh!” Maddox wriggled in his father’s arms. “I won’t go without Pooh.”
Pooh shivered with hope and terror.
Two huge arms reached in and picked Pooh up. “I’ve got Pooh,” the grandfather said. “He’s coming home with us, too.”
“In the house,” Maddox stipulated.
“Of course in the house,” said the daddy. “We wouldn’t leave a puppy out in the cold on a night like this.”
The granddaddy wrapped the outside of his coat around Pooh. “We need to give this dog some food. I can feel his ribs.”
The men set off tramping through the falling snow. They passed Sweet Inspirations with its windows full of candy. They passed Zero Main with its bright Christmas wreath. They passed Petticoat Row Bakery with its windows full of gingersnaps and cookies shaped like stars. They zigzagged around the tall brick Jared Coffin House, which had been standing since 1845 and still stood undaunted in the ferocious blizzard.
Pooh could feel the granddaddy’s heart beating. The man’s arms were big and held him much more securely than Maddox’s thin arms had done—not that Pooh was complaining about Maddox, who was his true champion and best friend.
They went up Centre Street, past the Congregational Church. They forked left onto Westchester. Most of the houses were dark and closed, but one house glowed with light.
“Back door,” the granddaddy yelled. “We’re covered with snow. We can kick off our boots in the mudroom.”
Pooh sagged. His memories of the mudroom were not good ones. The woman who didn’t like dogs, the yelling …
He had no choice. He could struggle out and run away, but where would he go? Surely this time they would allow him to stay.
Doors opened and closed. Pooh was set on the floor. Boots were kicked off, scattering snow onto the already wet throw rug.
Pooh saw a pair of men’s feet in red socks leave the room. Then a man’s feet in brown socks left.
“We found him!” the daddy yelled.
“Oh, thank heavens!” Voices poured from the front of the house.
“Good Lord!” one of the men cried.
Shouts of jubilation rose and what sounded like dozens of voices intertwined. A thin baby’s wail sirened through the noise and the voices softened.
Pooh sat in the mudroom, dripping, probably smelling of wet dog hair, alone.
“This calls for champagne,” a man announced.
Footsteps grew closer to the kitchen. Pooh peered around the door. Only his nose and eyes …
“Hey, you.” The granddaddy saw Pooh looking.
Pooh flinched and went small.
“We didn’t forget you.” The granddaddy lifted Pooh up, carried him a few feet, and set him down again. “But we’ve got a new baby in the house, the prettiest little girl you’ve ever seen. My goodness, there is no end to the wonders that can happen. Leave the house for thirty minutes and come home to a granddaughter!” He poured milk into a bowl and set the bowl in the microwave. The man opened the freezer and scrabbled around, all the while singing “Jingle Bells.”
Pooh reflected silently, but not unhappily, that human beings were odd.
“Here,” said the granddaddy. “I warmed the milk in the microwave. Drink up while I thaw some meatloaf for you, little fellow. Don’t tell Nicole. She won’t miss it anyway, with all the food in the house. Now where’s the champagne?”
Pooh lapped up the warm milk as fast as his pink tongue could go while the man gathered glasses and popped a cork and set them on a tray.
“Dinner is served, your majesty.” The man set a plate in front of Pooh. Suddenly, while Pooh watched, he pulled his sweater off over his head and piled it on the floor next to the vent. “Here. When you’re through eating, you can rest on this. I’m too damned hot with all this excitement.” He picked up the tray and started to leave the room. Stopping, he said to Pooh with a serious tone, “No accidents now, okay?”
Pooh sat down, lifted his head into its most noble pose and remained still, doing the best he could to signal his comprehension and agreement.
The man chortled. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” He hurried away.
Pooh dove into the plate of warm delicious meatloaf.
36
The living room was crowded with people all talking at once. Nicole took off the coat she’d just put on and settled into a chair in the corner to watch the grand reunion. Kennedy handed the baby to Katya and opened her arms to Maddox who threw himself into her embrace. James stood swaying in front of the baby, looking so green Nicole thought he might vomit.
James fell on his knees in front of his wife and took her face in his hands.
“How did you do this?” he asked, his face shining with tears. “We weren’t gone more than half an hour, and you had the baby? Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital? It’s a girl? How can it be a girl? Kennedy, I love you.”
Katya sank gracefully into another armchair, both arms supporting her tiny granddaughter. “When I had Kennedy,” she mused aloud, “I didn’t comprehend her at first. I was sort of dozy on painkillers of some sort. Look at this splendid infant. She seems so peaceful.”
Maddox squirmed away from his mother and ran to Katya. “Let me see her, Grandmama.”
Katya held the bundle out fo
r Maddox to see. “Careful,” she warned. “The baby is brand-new and fragile.”
As she viewed the lucky family—James with Kennedy, Katya with Maddox and the baby, Nicole allowed herself a moment of self-indulgence. She was spent. The adrenaline and calm ecstasy of practiced, knowledgeable, focused skill that had flooded her when Kennedy began to give birth drained away now, leaving her limp. She was not as young as she used to be. She’d done all the kneeling and bracing and assisting and cleaning with the swift ease of a ballerina, but right now her joints and muscles informed her they needed a nice hot bath with Epsom salts.
Her emotions were in upheaval, too. The birth of a baby was always—to use a terribly overused word—an awesome event. She hadn’t recovered yet from the anxiety, like background music in her mind, that something was wrong with Kennedy or the baby, or could go wrong during the delivery, or, she hardly dared think it, that she could have done something wrong. If she hadn’t been a trained nurse and a mature adult, she would have shrieked and screamed right along with Kennedy all through the delivery. The effort of pretending to be calm had taken its toil on her strength.
She could scarcely summon up the energy to keep the proper expression on her face, a smile that asserted “I’m so happy for you all,” instead of a childish pout declaring “Doesn’t anyone care about me?” and she felt wearily guilty about that.
Sebastian entered the living room with a tray of flutes and an opened bottle of champagne. He set it on the side table by the window. “Champagne for everyone.”
“Even me?” Maddox asked.
Sebastian and the other adults laughed indulgently.
“It’s a special day, so you may have a sip of mine,” James told his son.
Sebastian couldn’t stop smiling. He stepped away from the table for a moment, drawn inexorably to the sight of his granddaughter. He leaned over the back of the chair where Katya sat holding the baby while Maddox raised himself up on tiptoes to peek at the blanketed bundle.
