CHAPTER 24
True to his word, Luke was the only member of Zach’s family, except his Granddaddy, who came to the wedding. They invited Zach’s entire fraternity, the football team, his coaches, and Abby’s list of friends and family. Emmy was maid of honor. St. Joseph’s held a high Mass on the second Saturday in March, and Abigail O’Malley became Mrs. Zachary Trudeau.
Mary watched her only daughter through a haze. Joshua was by her side, but Mary was somewhere else. All she could see was Abby as flower girl the day she’d married Jack. All she could feel was the same certainty that something was very, very wrong. Abby faded in front of her eyes. It could have been her, it could have been then. When had she first known it was wrong with Jack?
They were sitting in a booth near the back of Jack’s favorite bar. The jukebox was blaring, and Milton Berle was prancing all over the only television screen on the block.
“I know I ain’t a hero like your ole’ man was or nothin’, Mare, but I think we could make a life together, and I’ll even adopt the girl, if you want. So, do you think we ought to get married?”
Mary looked across the table at him, sipped her Coke and said, “You’ll do just fine, Jack. I guess it would be a good idea. I mean, why not? I’m sure we can make it work, and I know you’ll try to be a good father to Abby.”
Mary had given up hope of ever really being in love again. It was easier to overlook Jack’s drinking and believe he was just a gentle lost soul.
Jack had been persistent for months, showering her with flowers, taking her to movies and out to the local pubs afterwards. He didn’t seem to be bothered that she was a widow with a small child to raise. She was young and living with her parents—not really what she had planned for her life. Besides, decent men with jobs were few and far between after the war. It just made sense. Once they were married, she could help him. He would be better about his drinking, and they would be a family, she told herself.
“It’s settled then,” Jack said, as he leaned back against the worn red leather seat and smiled a self-satisfied smile. He got up and ordered himself another beer, got Mary another Coke and sat. “Yeah, Mare, this is gonna work out just fine.”
That night, she prayed very hard. “Dear God, please let this be what Frank would want. I just can’t stand to be alone anymore.”
They had a small wedding in the chapel of the neighborhood Methodist church. Abby relished the role of flower girl, while Emmy carried the ring.
“Oh, Gramma, look at Mama’s daisies. Aren’t they pretty? Am I pretty, too, Gramma?” Abby beamed.
It seemed like everything would be all right; Mary prayed it would as she looked up at this man who would share her bed. They had never even come close to an intimate moment before the wedding. Mary feared intimacy after all this time, and Jack seemed content to just hold hands.
Mary stood next to Jack and looked up at him. His face looked hard, but he was smiling. Suddenly, her hands turned ice cold, and the blood drained from her face. Mary began to panic. This isn’t how Frank and I planned it. This isn’t right. Oh, God. This is a mistake!
Jack looked down at her. Her red hair was tied up carefully behind her head with feathery golden wisps falling gently on her temples. She wore a pale blue street-length dress, simple and practical. He grinned like a Cheshire cat about to pounce on his prey.
The minister pronounced them man and wife. “The groom may now kiss the bride.”
Mary, still coming out of a distant panic, said, “What?”
“Kiss your husband, Mrs. Mitchell,” the minister pleaded, looking confused.
Mary stared at Jack in disbelief. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and escorted her toward the door. “It’ll be okay, Mare, you’ll see,” he said with confidence.
Mary wanted to run. What have I done? I don’t love him. How am I going to do this?
Jack had almost pushed her down the aisle. It was as if he needed to get her out of the church before she could change her mind.
“I do,” said Abby.
Mary looked up at the sound of Abby’s voice. She was luscious in her ivory lace gown, her hair crowned with a wreath of baby’s breath. She looked so happy. When Abby and Zach turned to walk down the aisle, Mary’s eyes filled with tears. She mouthed the words, “I love you,” and watched Abby disappear on the arm of Zachary Trudeau. A chill coursed through her, and Joshua immediately slipped his arm around her waist.
“Mary, darlin’, are you gonna be all right?”
“Oh, Joshua, he’s so wrong for her. I just know it.”
“Give it a chance, they’re young and in love. Love can do wonders.”
“I hope so, dear God, I hope so,” Mary whispered more to herself than to him. She looked up at the tall stone statue of Christ above the altar, closed her eyes, and prayed in silence.
Cinderella and her prince began their new life together amid a hail of rice and her mother’s fears.
CHAPTER 25
Zachary Maurice Trudeau II was born in Miami two weeks before Christmas.
“He’s beautiful, darling, and very healthy, a good set of lungs,” Mary said as she smiled at her daughter.
Abby blinked her eyes against the sun as it cascaded in her window through the dancing shadows of palm fronds. A dry, weak voice squeaked, “A boy? Thank God, it’s a boy. Mama, I want to see him. Where’s Zach?”
“They tell me he’ll be here tomorrow. He knows about the baby, though. I called, and they’re letting him come home for two days.”
She sipped the last drops of tepid water by her bedside. “Two days? I won’t be out of here in two days, will I? Oh, Mama, will you stay? I don’t know anything about new babies. And I hurt right here,” she pointed to her belly. “Why do I still hurt?”
“Of course, I’ll stay. You’re sore because they had to take him by Caesarean, Abby. He was too big for you, over eight pounds. Don’t you remember, before they put you to sleep?”
Mary had been terribly worried during Abby’s labor. It went far too long, and she was in such pain. She feared for her and demanded that the doctor stop her pain. Finally, they agreed that Abby couldn’t deliver naturally, and they rolled her into the operating room with Mary in her nurse’s whites right beside her.
It was none too soon. The baby was completely wrapped up in his cord and had begun to turn blue. As soon as he got air in his lungs, his color returned, and he let out a healthy wail. But Abby didn’t need to hear all that now.
“Where is he, Mama? I want to hold him.”
“I’ll get him. You woke up just before feeding time. Rest, now, rest.” Mary left the room and came back a few minutes later with a nurse and her first grandchild. His tiny body was almost hidden in the cotton blanket that encased him like a cocoon.
Abby reached out for him. She lifted the blanket off his head and unwrapped his fingers and toes, counting each one. Satisfied, she cooed at him, placed her finger in his tiny hand and shuttered with the thrill of his grasp.
“Look, Mama, he took my finger, and he’s smiling.” Abby’s eyes overflowed with joyful tears.
“Yes, sweetheart, he is, but I don’t think he knows it yet.” Mary smiled back. “I’m going to go get a cup of coffee. I’ll be back soon. Do you want anything?”
“Something to drink. I’m so thirsty.”
Abby was captivated with her tiny bundle, so pink and perfect. She was drinking in the smell of him, his newness, his baby breath. He made new baby squeaks and gurgles that made her laugh, but laughing hurt. And then he opened his eyes and looked right at her, sending bolts of electricity through her body.
“Well, hello there, little one. I’m your Mama,” she said. He had her eyes, pale pale blue, and he had a head full of white hair, making him seem more like a little old man than a brand new baby.
She wondered how Zach would take to his new son, now that he was real flesh and blood, Zach’s flesh and blood. During her pregnancy, Zach had become increasingly distant the larger her belly gr
ew. She remembered the night she told him about Jack Mitchell. The only other people who knew the whole truth were Mama and Emmy; it had been their family secret.
“I had a step-father, and he molested me when I was a little,” she’d told him through torrents of tears. She’d gagged and coughed just getting out the words. Zach’s response had chilled and shamed her.
“I see. So that’s why you weren’t a virgin. Some filthy bastard pawed you before you were mine. Is that it? Are there anymore lies you haven’t owned up to?”
She’d answered him with stony silence, unable to speak, dirtied by his repulsion.
That was the beginning, she remembered now, when Zach began to stay out late more and more, when he stopped showing any concern for her health, for the baby, for anything. That was when she knew her only real joy would come from the life that wiggled inside of her womb.
The baby squirmed in Abby’s arms, jolting her back to reality. Mary walked in and traded little Zach for a tall glass of cold ginger ale.
“Have a nice time with your new son?”
“Oh, yes. He’s so sweet and innocent. It’s a shame they have to grow up, isn’t it, Mama?”
“Yes, it is, but the young years are worth it. They carry you through the tough times.”
The baby let out a howl. Abby looked worried.
“Just a little gas,” Grandma Mary said with confidence. A cheerful nurse came in just as Mary was patting the baby on his back.
“Time for this one to go to the nursery.” The nurse smiled and reached for Zach Jr., who disappeared in her arms. “There, there, little one, your mama needs a rest; you’ll give her plenty to worry about later!”
Abby felt like a part of her was being ripped away, but she was too tired to protest. “Goodbye, sweet baby.” Abby’s eyes closed again when he was gone.
Mary touched Abby’s cheek and looked over at the silent, black telephone on the bedside table. She scowled. Zach still had not called.
CHAPTER 26
Emily Pierce Barron moved slowly to the white lacquered wrought iron and glass table with her perspiring ice tea glass, the kind with crushed ice raised bumps on the outside. She thought of Abby as she melted into one of the chairs. It was 1974 and just over ten years since her cousin had married her football hero. Five pro trades and five moves to new cities had taken Abby and her three beautiful babies, Zach Jr. and the twins, Zoe and Luke, from one end of the country to the other. Emmy’s address book was a pattern of scribbles under the letter ‘A’. She could never quite bring herself to put Abby under ‘T’ for Trudeau.
Emmy took out a handful of paper and her special letter writing fountain pen, the one with her name and the word CROSS engraved in gold. It had been a birthday present from Abby. Every time she used it, she felt the miles between them disappear.
Dear Abby,
I’m just sitting here by the pool, watching the girls, and I thought about the times we used to go to City Park. Remember? We had so much fun in the lake and all. I miss that lake. It’s all gone now, you know, but I can still picture it there.
Things have been so busy this summer, what with the girls home from school and all their lessons, and the real-estate course I’m taking, and John working such long hours at the bank. Sometimes, I feel like blowing up that stupid bank. Daddy was hardly home either, and like a fool I went and married another one. Banker’s hours, ha! That’s a laugh.
I know it’s got to be worse being married to a football player. I should count my blessings. At least we have weekends together, and they’re still a few romantic moments between all the hoity-toity social events we have to go to, if you know what I mean!
She stopped writing to look up at her children.
“Havin’ fun, you little water bugs?” They were too busy to hear. They’ll sleep well tonight, she smiled to herself. She thought of them as gifts, wrapped in very different shaped and colored boxes, revealing their treasures as they unfolded year after year.
One day that innocence would be gone. She shook off the thought. Her face darkened as though a thundercloud had descended without warning. One day, they would grow up and marry. She prayed they’d fare better than Abby. Yes, Abby seemed to have it all, but Emmy knew better. She could feel the sadness that seemed to deepen each year. Abby wouldn’t talk about her life or marriage; she would only talk about the kids these days. But Emmy could see that Abby and Zach had grown a huge empty space between them that only the children could traverse.
The girls flung themselves out of the pool and ran to their mother, coming to stand beside her, dripping puddles next to their feet.
“Did you see my somersault, Mama? Did you see the horsefly that tried to bite us? I’m hungry. Me, too. What’s for lunch? Can Sally come over and play? When’s Daddy coming home?” The questions tumbled off their tongues like a pebbles.
Emmy watched her offspring skip off through the sliding porch door and run to the kitchen, dripping pool water like Hansel and Gretel crumbs.
Emmy began her letter again.
How’s ZJ doing with peewee football? Are Luke and Zoe ready to be in separate classes next year? God, I still can’t imagine how you’ve managed twins being alone so much. I wish you were here so I could help, so we could help each other. But at least I have your mother and mine when I go nuts. Hug those little monsters of yours for me.
Are you ok? I mean really ok? I worry about you, you know!
I saw Wills the other day at the hardware store. He had two of his three kids with him. I hear Sue Ann has another in the oven. I can’t imagine so many so fast. He asked about you though, and I told him you were fine, considering you’d rather be home. The farm is doing well, although Jasper’s been laid up with arthritis pretty bad and can’t do much farming anymore. But Wills says Sue Ann is taking great care of the old fella and keeping him busy whenever he’s up to it. Do you ever wonder? Well, no point in it now, huh? He still looks good though, and it was real nice to see him.
Well, gotta go, Ab. It’s so godawful hot, I’m even going to pour my bones into a suit and get in the pool for a while. The girls will love that, somebody to dunk besides each other! Write soon.
Love, Em
Abby met the mailman at the box and found Emmy’s letter smiling up at her. Emmy always drew a big smile on the flap. Sometimes, Emmy let the girls color it in with their crayons. Abby ripped open the envelope and devoured every word at least five times. The aching for family was real. She could feel it deep within her bones.
It was time to get home.
While the children were at playschool and camp, those precious few hours in the morning, Abby normally cleaned her house, did her laundry, paid the bills, and tried to get to the market. This time it could all wait. She had to answer Emmy’s letter.
Dear Emmy,
I opened the mail this morning, so excited to get your letter. Oh, I miss you, too! More than you know. It’s time the kids and I came for a visit. Zach won’t care. He’s in summer training camp up north for the next month anyway, and the kids are finished with their camps next week. I’ll call you when I figure out just when and make the arrangements. Mama has been after me, too. We’ll have to make some time without the kids for a day on the town and shopping or something. God, it seems like ages since we had a day together without babies on our hips!
Things are the same here. No Zach, and three busy kids. I’m the taxi service, meal ticket, and maid. Nobody said it would be like this! But, yeah, I’m ok. Lonely, but ok. I’ve made friends with some of the player’s wives, and a bunch of us have children the same age, so we help each other from time to time.
The children are growing like weeds, of course. Luke and I still seem to connect the best, just like I do with his namesake, and Zoe is so grown up for her age. And ZJ, well he’s so much like Zach it scares me. You know he looks like a miniature, and the older he gets, the harder he tries to be just like Zach. I just wish his father would notice him, but you know Zach, he’s always too busy to be bothe
red. Except for Zoe. She wraps him around her little pinkie; it drives me nuts. I say no, Zach says sure, why not? I’m ok, really.
You sound hassled and harried. Is motherhood like this for everybody? I just keep thinking - they’ll grow up - someday. I try to enjoy the little ones while I can. And I do enjoy them. They make me laugh, and I love watching them discover new things. Luke came home from camp insisting he had to have an ant farm. He’d seen one in the science fair, and he wanted to ‘grow his own ants.’ How could I resist that?
So you saw Wills, huh? I haven’t seen him since a couple Christmases ago when he was with his whole family at the airport, remember that? I guess some relative of his wife’s was coming when we were going. He still sends a card every year. I do wonder sometimes, but what’s the point? We’re on different pages of a book now. It’s silly to even think about how much I...Oh never mind. Do ask after Jasper for me, though. What a dear man. Please let him know he’s in my thoughts if you get a chance.
I have to go pick up the kids; it’s nearly noon. But I wanted to get this off to you right away. What’s it been, almost eight months since I’ve been home? God, Em, I miss y’all. Tell Mama I’ll call next week and set things up. See you soon, I hope.
Love and hugs to the girls and John, Ab
Abby’s visit was over too soon for either of them. They stood in Emmy’s kitchen sipping coffee while the children got in their last swim.
“I hate to go. I want to stay here with you and Mama and everybody forever.” Abby tried not to cry. She hated goodbyes and especially goodbyes to Emmy. She bit her lower lip and her chin began to tremble. Emmy turned to hug her.
“Well, we did have ourselves some fun at least, and you’ll be back at Christmas, that’s only a little over four months away. We’ll make it that far, but don’t stay away this long again. Promise?”
“I promise,” Abby said.
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