by Mila Summers
"Maybe he changed his mind because of the baby. That could be it," I answered with resignation.
"Somehow that doesn't sound like him. Maybe he will only care about her as long as it's unclear whether he's truly the father."
"What do you mean by that? She told him point-blank at the wedding that she was pregnant by him," I answered in bewilderment. I hadn't thought about that at all.
Perhaps it wasn't even his child. Maybe she only wanted to pin it on him. That would be a possibility. Maybe that rendezvous with Mitch's friend wasn't a one-time affair.
Hope began to grow inside me again, but I resisted it fiercely. What if I was wrong and Mitch and Samantha were trying to make it together again?
"Stacy, not everything in life is black and white. There are a variety of colors, all of which merit consideration. Don't you think so?"
With that, she left me alone in the living room. She had a date with Noah that evening. He wanted to take her out to eat.
I drank the last sip of my tea, which had cooled by then, and stared out the window. What I should do? Was there any hope or was the whole thing a delusion, an obsession in which I was lost?
What did Samantha mean by her threat when she said I should keep away from her family? Were they making wedding plans already and had they come to Chicago for that?
My smartphone's ringtone signaled the arrival of a new text message. Grateful for the diversion, I fished my phone from my handbag and glanced at the display.
The texts were from Mitch. Should I look at them? Since that morning in the library, he hadn't contacted me since. What could he want from me? I wrestled with myself but finally curiosity won out and I looked at the messages.
"Dear Stacy, I was so happy to see you again today. However, I must tell you that I have made a decision regarding my future. A future in which you have no role because I've decided for Samantha and the baby. I hope you will understand. I never intended to hurt you but being clear about the relationship will be best for everybody. Mitch."
No need to brood about it any more. The fight was lost before it had begun. Lindsey was wrong. Life was black and white. There was no in-between.
Chapter 13
My job at the museum consisted of initiating the smallest of the small into the secrets and the adventures to be found there. In the morning a class from the New Field Primary School had been scheduled.
To be sure, I had already spoken beforehand with the class teacher, Mrs. Todd, about her ideas concerning the museum visit. However, it would be the students who determined how the day would unfold in the end. That was very clear from the experiences which I had accumulated in the last four months.
An especially popular topic was the Great Chicago Fire from the year 1871 when most of the inner city was destroyed. The history of the skyscrapers was popular, too. After all, Chicago's Willis Tower was the tallest building in the world until 1998.
My repertoire of exciting stories, impressive images, and workshops had come together fairly easily. It was creative work which demanded more time than anything else. Extremely grateful, I had taken over the project three months earlier.
After Mitch's message, I would have packed my things in a mad rush and moved to the furthest reaches of the land in order not to run the risk of seeing the happy couple again. Lindsey and the museum job saved me from a grave error.
From that point on, I put all my energy into my work and I had received the reward of my efforts yesterday evening. My boss, thanks to a favorable prognosis due to additional grant funding, was able to turn my internship into a real position. I was especially happy about the dramatic increase in wages, which would now make it possible to obtain my own apartment.
At the same time, I wasn't sure if I even wanted that. I only had a small room in Lindsey's home, but it was more precious to me than being alone in an apartment with 1000 square feet.
However, I couldn't test Lindsey and her husband's patience for too long. It was clear at the outset that they would offer me a room for a limited period. There was no getting away from that.
I did get bad stomach pains though when I thought of having to live my life alone in Chicago. A shared future with a man wasn't thinkable at this time. I had more than met my need for bad experiences with men for the next few decades.
The man who could make me happy couldn't possibly exist. No, it was not an option. It would be better to look around for a shared apartment in the next few days. The bulletin board in the cafeteria sometimes had ads for rooms. Maybe there would be something for me.
So far, I had only told Aunt Anne about the permanent job. She had been beside herself with joy. She didn't think my decision to live alone in this big city was especially good, but she was less worried about me.
The event with the school class came closer. I loved children, but as of late, when I saw their happy smiles it cut to the quick.
What month would Samantha be in by now? Did Mitch, like all other fathers, rest his hand proudly on the growing belly of the expectant mother? Could they already feel the first kicks? Maybe there was a nursery with a cradle?
These demoralizing thoughts kept shooting through my head. I desperately needed to find a way to cope. In the end, I had to look to the future and live my own life. Mitch had made a decision which I had to accept.
"Mrs. Brewster? Will it take much longer?"
"Miss Brewster. It's Miss Brewster. I'm not married, you know. We'll be spending about one hour together," I tried to explain to the small blond girl in the front row.
"Really? But you're already so old. Are you sure you don't have a husband?" she continued with the sharp curiosity and charm only found in children.
"Yes, I'm fairly certain."
The smile on my lips hardened into a mask. It was so hard for me to talk about my relationship status. I desperately ignored the round of questions and went to the next exhibit with the group.
If in the future I wasn't to be waylaid by such banalities, I really needed to learn to play the hand that fate had dealt me. Mitch had broken it off with me, so it was high time that I did the same with him.
"Miss Brewster?" I heard the unmistakable voice of the small blond girl again.
With narrowed eyes, I read the name tag on the girl's shirt. I had to face my fears. To look her in the eye would surely be a good start.
"Yes, Lilian. How can I help you?" I strove for peaceful, calm tone of voice.
"Where is the bathroom?"
A hundred-pound load slipped from me. Obviously she had decided not to ask any further questions regarding my marital status.
"Go straight down the hall until it ends and then it's the door on the left side. Should somebody go with you or can you do it alone?" I answered with the benefit of experience.
"No, I'm not a baby anymore. I can do it all alone," the half pint boasted confidently before she set off.
Two hours later I was sitting in my small office, which I only had to share with Drew. At the start, I didn't have the luxury of my own space. Instead, each day I had to be on the lookout for a free desk.
After all the tours and workshops with the school groups and youth groups, I looked over the small feedback cards which I had handed out at the end of each session.
Today was no exception. I reached for the small postcard-sized notes in the box before me. Most of the children had just drawn a picture on them and immortalized their names. The bare white wall behind Drew's back was decorated with similar drawings.
But one card had a scrawling, barely decipherable sentence.
"Miss Brewster, I wish you to have a husband so you can finally be a Mrs. Love, Lilian."
The small angel with the tinsel hair came to my thoughts. Her loving words brought tears to my eyes. The girl obviously had compassion for me. Apparently the thought that I would go through life alone left her no peace of mind.
For several minutes I just sat and stared at the few words before me on the desk. Until Drew unexpectedly came through t
he door and startled me so much I almost knocked over my coffee cup.
"Is everything okay with you?" she quickly asked.
"I'm fine. How else should I be?" my response was hardly believable.
"You look like you were caught doing something. Were you just watching a dirty video on the computer or did I disturb you doing something else?" she stubbornly continued.
"I was just immersed in evaluating my tour today. Nothing more. What are you doing back already? I thought you were doing training," I tried to change the subject expertly.
"It was cancelled. Lucky. So I can give you one of my delicious donuts, which I had planned to share with George. Chocolate or glazed?" she held up the two tasty pastries.
I decided on the donut in her left hand and immediately bit in with pleasure as a piece of dark glaze fell to the floor. Since the carpet in our office was new, I quickly bent over to pick up the crumbs.
"Oh, by the way. I met your aunt down in the foyer. She was frantically looking for you. I told her I would send you right down."
"Who did you meet again?"
I rubbed the back of my head with my hand after I bumped it on my desktop trying with some difficulty to get on my feet.
"Who did you say you saw? My aunt Anne? Never in my life. She wouldn't make the long drive from South Wilmington. You must be mistaken."
"I'm telling you. Your aunt is waiting down there for you. She urgently needs to speak with you. She didn't want to give more details," Drew persisted.
"Something bad must have happened if Aunt Anne came to see me in Chicago without warning me beforehand. I'll go right down. Are you ok here without me?"
"Of course. Go on down. I'll see you later. Hopefully nothing is wrong."
I fervently hoped so too. Aunt Anne was the only family I had left. I ran along the hall to the elevator, pounded on the button, and couldn't refrain from an impatient "come on."
As I arrived in the foyer I saw a multitude of school groups. I didn't catch sight of the older lady. Perhaps Marge at the ticket counter had seen her. Resolutely, I walked up to her and asked for help. Unfortunately to no avail.
Funny. Where was she? First she's in a rush to see me and now she's playing hide-and-seek. This wasn't like my aunt at all. What in heaven's name was going on?
My heart was pounding as it pumped massive amounts of blood through my body. As if driven by an unseen force, I hurried through the exhibition, which I knew as intimately as the back of my hand. Nothing.
When I had reached such a state of desperation I was going to ask Marge to make an announcement, I saw a small, plump figure near one of our largest exhibition pieces, the Pioneer Locomotive.
I could have sworn that I had already gone by the locomotive several times. Either I hadn't noticed Aunt Anne before or she had just appeared out of nowhere.
Be that as it may. I headed purposefully towards her as I tried to calm down and not give away my feelings. Who could know what kind of condition she was in? I didn't want to scare her and give her a heart attack.
"Hello Aunt Anne," I hesitantly began as I gently laid my hand on her shoulder.
At this the small gray-haired woman turned towards me with an embarrassed smile. Why hadn't I noticed the resemblance before?
So I had not been wrong. Aunt Anne was surely still sitting in her small house in South Wilmington and knitting socks for the charity bazaar on the coming Saturday.
She had not taken it on herself to visit me. Instead, this woman was standing before me, whom I had never expected to see again in my lifetime. I dreaded this visit and what she was going to say to me.
Images flashed through my mind which I could not shake off. Why hadn't I stayed in my office to eat my donut in peace? I could easily do without what was about to follow.
Chapter 14
"You?"
"Yes, it's me."
"What are you doing here?"
"I would like to tell you a story. Do you have time for a coffee?"
"What are you thinking? I'm here at work. How did you even find me?"
"Stacy, that's irrelevant. Let's go to the cafeteria for a quick visit. Only ten minutes. That should be enough."
I felt at odds with myself. Should I risk it and have a conversation with Mitch's aunt? My inner voice urgently advised me to leave Heather there and return to my office to review the rest of the colorful children's drawings. But curiosity finally won out.
"Ok, you get ten minutes, but not one second more."
"That will be enough. Come with me, my child. I've baked a few extra cookies for us," she said, pulling me along. Arguing was pointless.
"Heather, I'm grateful that you came. Really. But Mitch made a decision which we all must accept. Your cookies won't change that and what's more, the fact that nobody in the family can stand Samantha is irrelevant." I tried yet again to make it clear that the old lady's visit was completely in vain. Although that wasn't totally true. Her cookies were the bomb. The partially-eaten donut up on my desk didn't rate next to these.
"But, Stacy, I'm telling you there must be a mix-up. These new-fashioned gadgets make mistakes all the time. The message must have come from a completely different Mitch."
That must have been it. It had to be. Everything else was impossible and absurd. How could I explain that to Mitch's aunt? Slowly but surely my patience was wearing thin. In order to do something nice for my tormented nerves, I stuffed one cookie after the other into my mouth.
Of course I couldn't answer while chewing and I closed my ears as well. Mitch wouldn't want me if I were fat so this was a way to kill two birds with one stone.
"The strange thing is that Mitch was with me on that evening. I don't remember him holding his phone. Not once that entire evening. I'm sure of it. I had had my neighbor get me an air conditioner. Mitch, that good boy, was so dear as to install it for me. There were brownies for dessert. He loves those and..."
"When was he with you?"
"Well, I said it was on that evening when you were supposed to have gotten that message. Your phone must be broken. It's beeping constantly and blinking like crazy. If you ask me, those things will never catch on. At the latest, in one, two years, everybody will just go home to make calls and ..."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Well, I'm no oracle, but ..."
"Not the smartphones, I mean Mitch."
"Oh, I see. Yes, completely certain. Eric, my neighbor, was at my place on Saturday. He has no time during the week, you know. He works quite a ways from Chicago. What is that place called again? I'll think of it soon. Something with "Little" or something similar ..."
"And Mitch was with you that same evening?"
"But of course, my child. Mitch came to my place that same evening, because the coming week was supposed to get incredibly hot. He had pity on his old auntie. Would you like another cookie?"
"If Mitch was with you and supposedly didn't use his phone ..."
"Not supposedly. I'm absolutely sure of it."
"How can it be then that I got a message from him on that same evening?"
"I said those things are not worth the money. Makes more sense to invest in air conditioning. That always gets used," Aunt Heather answered, smacking her lips.
Doubt began to spread deep inside me. What if Aunt Heather were right? How could it be that I got this message on the evening when Mitch was at her place? Technical failure or human error?
"Well, dear, I need to be on my way home. Thank you for taking time for me. Think about what I said. Don't let almost a half-century pass by before you face your problems like I did," she ended her moralizing.
To say goodbye, she gave me two quick kisses on the cheek and handed me the rest of the cookies. There really weren't very many left. This way I could return the favor for the chocolate donut Drew gave me.
As I watched Aunt Heather briskly leave the museum from the main entrance, my thoughts continually circled around the question "What if?"
"And? How is your a
unt? Is everything ok with her or what was it?" Drew peppered me with questions before I was even in the office.
"Hmm?"
"Is everything ok with your aunt?" she asked again as her gaze landed on the plate of cookies in my hand.
"Are those homemade?"
"Yes, they are."
"With walnuts?"
"Yes, there are quite a few in there. I almost lost a filling eating them."
"Is it dark or milk chocolate?"
"What would you think about just taking one and judging the quality of the ingredients for yourself?"
"Ok, if you put it like that."
"Say, Drew, you have a car, right?"
"Yes, it's down in the garage. Why?"
"Could I maybe borrow it today?"
"Sure. No problem. My Betsy, my nickname for her, isn't all that young anymore. Make sure she's not running too hot and you two should do ok together."
"You're a dear. Just for that, you can take the rest of the cookies."
"Thanks. For such yummy cookies, you can take Betsy out anytime. Here are the keys."
"I'm heading out now. I still have a couple hours of overtime that I should use up. Are you going to be ok alone?"
"Of course. Was something wrong with your aunt? Should I worry?"
"No, everything is great. Maybe even better than ever before. Fingers crossed."
"I've got mine crossed. Why are we..."
Without letting her finish, I grabbed Drew's keys, hauled my handbag up and fished out my phone from the desk. With a happy "see you tomorrow," I said goodbye to my colleague and rushed for the door.
"What a load of crap. Come on, Betsy. You can't be serious," I tried to bring the degenerate rust bucket, which Drew had passed off as a car, to life. Without success.
On the middle of Interstate 55, Betsy just didn't want to go any more and she gave up the ghost. I barely managed to drive her to the side of the road. Now I stood there and once again was regretting my hasty actions. I seemed not to be able to learn from my mistakes,
I needed a cool head now. My situation was not completely hopeless. I found the hood release in the car, popped it open, and left the air-conditioned vehicle to check out the situation.
