10. Rafferty

10

RAFFERTY

A rabella crawled out of my lap and knelt near the box. First, we found several articles from the now-defunct local paper. The Bluefern Star had closed about ten years previous, unable to compete with the digital world. But before that, the paper had covered all local events.

Arabella held one of the articles aloft. “This is about a production of Our Town at the high school. My mother’s in it. She played Emily.” She thrust it toward me. “Sally Nixon. That’s her on stage.”

I looked down at the article. Indeed, the photograph was of a young woman with dark hair and big eyes wearing a costume reflecting the early 20 th century—a woman who looked remarkably like Arabella. The writer of the article was complimentary of the cast but especially of Sally Nixon, who played Emily Webb.

I read it out loud. “Miss Sally Nixon, who played Emily Webb, was remarkably good, bringing this crusty old writer to tears several times during the play. We have a little star right here in Bluefern. I’m sure I’m not alone in wishing this young woman good luck when she graduates in the spring and goes to the University of Montana to study theater.”

“I had no idea she wanted to be an actress or that she was the star of high school plays.” Arabella took the article from my hand, clearly reading it again.

We dug through the rest of the box. There were report cards and several essays written by a young Sally, with A-plus marks on the top of the page. Journals from various ages with the same neat handwriting dated back to the mid-80s. I scanned the first page of one but quickly discarded it, feeling as though I was spying on a teenage girl. Of what I read, it was a typical diary of a teenager, talking about friends and a boy she liked but was too shy to even say hello to.

Next, Arabella pulled out a yearbook. “Look at this.”

My mother had yearbooks from high school as well, but she was older than Arabella’s mother by four years, so they were not the same ones I was looking at now. How strange, though, that Mama and Sally Nixon had endured the same fate—getting pregnant and marrying right out of school, giving up their college dreams in exchange for living with a monster.

“Have you ever asked my mother about Sally? She might have known her.”

“No. I did what my father wanted me to—act as if Sally Nixon never existed.”

My chest tightened, thinking about Sally and the abuse she must have endured while married to Collins. Robbing a woman of her child was perhaps the greatest cruelty one human could do to another.

“What a horrible man he was,” Arabella said simply.

We opened one of the yearbooks and quickly found Sally’s senior year photograph, as well as photos of her from several more school plays.

“She’s only fifty,” Arabella said. “Unless she went back to drugs, it’s very likely she’s still alive.”

“Agreed.” I wanted to pick up the phone and call immediately, but knew it was not my choice to make.

“Why did my father keep all this stuff? Was he going to share it with me at some point and then changed his mind?”

“I can’t understand it,” I said. “I’d have thought he’d have tossed them in the fire.”

Arabella picked up one of the journals and opened it to the first page but closed it just as quickly. “She was fourteen when she wrote in this one. I can’t look. Not until I know if she’s alive or not.”

“It does seem invasive. Like a voyeur.”

“Exactly.” She touched my face with the tips of her cold fingers. “Thank you for being here. You’re so wonderful. Do you know that?”

I smiled and covered her hand with mine before bringing it to my mouth for a soft kiss. “You’re pretty wonderful yourself. Let’s take a break from this and have a sandwich.”

“Your mother’s coming by soon to help me figure out what to do to get this place on the market. Maybe she’ll remember something about Sally.”

I helped Arabella gather the cards and put them in the right envelopes. She then tucked everything back into her mother’s keepsake box, carrying it down to the kitchen.

While I made her lunch, she sat hunched over the small table, reading the cards again. They made her smile, then tear up, then smile again.

My mother arrived a few minutes later. She walked into the kitchen, unraveling her thick scarf, her sweeping gaze taking us in, as well as the box on the table next to Arabella. “You found something of interest in the attic?” Mama asked in a tone that made me marvel at her intuition.

“You won’t believe it,” Arabella said.

“She found a box with some of her mother’s things.” I described the newspaper articles and yearbooks. “And there are birthday cards to Arabella every year since she turned five.”

“You should read the last two,” Arabella said, pulling them from the bottom of the stack and handing them to her.

Mama read for a second before she gasped and put her hand over her mouth. When she was finished with both cards, she handed them back to Arabella and took a seat at the rickety old table. “What do you want to do?”

“I guess I’d like to call the number and see if anyone answers. But it’s been fourteen years since she sent this.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“Later today,” Arabella said, sounding resolute. “After we meet with the Realtor.”

“She’ll be here any minute,” Mama said.

No sooner had she said that than the Realtor’s car pulled in front of the house. “You two stay inside where it’s warm,” I said. “I’ll go out to greet her.”

Maisie Templeton was around my mother’s age and had been in business for as long as I could remember. She knew the territory better than most. I felt hopeful she could advise Arabella about the market and what we needed to do to get the house ready.

I hustled over to open her car door, offering my hand as she plunged boot-clad feet into the snow.

“Hello there, Dr. Moon.” Maisie smiled warmly and gave me a hug.

“You’ve known me my whole life. I think Rafferty is just fine.”

Maisie’s hazel eyes sparkled behind attractive, thick-framed glasses. She wore her silvery hair in a spiky, short style that suited her. As long as I’d known her, she’d always dressed impeccably. I could remember noticing her panache when I was in high school and vowed to be that way someday myself.

“Tell me before we go in—how’s Dr. Collins holding up?”

I offered her my arm as the walkway was slick. “She’s all right. But motivated to sell, that’s for certain. There are a lot of bad memories for her here.”

“I’m assuming the house needs some work?”

“Yeah. Honestly, it needs a full gut job. Which we understand will affect the selling price. Regardless, Arabella doesn’t want to spend the time or money fixing it up before selling. She wants this done as soon as possible.”

“That’s fair.”

We were on the porch by this time. I opened the door and waited for her to pass through before following.

After we had Maisie and Arabella settled at the table with sandwiches and mugs of hot tea, Mama and I excused ourselves to give them a little privacy. I needed to get to work, and Mama had errands to do.

We walked out to her car, and I reached down to open her door, but she put her hand on my arm to stop me. “What’s going on with you and Arabella? I thought you two were enemies?” She raised one saucy eyebrow.

“Well, spending a night snowed in changed things a little.”

“So, it seems.”

“Truth is—I’ve got all kinds of feelings for her. It’s weird, Mama. But maybe I’ve always had strong reactions to her because she evokes so much passion in me.”

“Interesting.”

Typical Mama, waiting for me to tell her everything, which she knew I would. She’d done this when we were young, waiting us out until we confessed to whatever it was we had done or not done.

“We’ve shared a few intimate moments,” I said.

“How intimate?” Again, with a raised eyebrow.

“A few kisses. But this morning, when I found her like that, surrounded by all those birthday cards, a part of my heart broke for her. I wish I could do something to help.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea that she reach out to her mother?”

“I don’t think she’ll be able to keep herself from doing so. Do you remember her at all?”

“Sally? Sure. But she was about four or five years younger than me, so I didn’t know her well. If I recall correctly, her mother was deeply involved in the church. I always got the feeling they were very strict with Sally. She had that look about her.”

“What look is that?”

“Kind of beaten down. Careful. Skittish. One time, I saw her in a play at the high school, and she really blossomed under the lights. It’s such a shame what happened to her. I had no idea what Collins did to her.” She shook her head sadly. “I know what it’s like to be kept down, treated as if you don’t matter. They all let her down, maybe most especially her mother. She should have been paying attention. Forbidden her to see a man ten years older.”

“She might not have known.”

“It’s possible. Teenagers can be sneaky. Regardless, what happened to her in this town where we’re supposed to look after one another is unforgivable. And pushing her downstairs and breaking her leg like that? He’s the one who should have been in jail.”

My cell phone went off, startling both of us.

“It’s Caspian,” I said. “I bet it’s baby time.”

I answered and didn’t even have time to say hello.

“Raff, the baby’s coming. We’ve been timing contractions, and they’re one minute apart. Can you come?” His voice was shaking, and he sounded as if he’d just run up the side of a mountain.

“Mama’s with me. Should I bring her too?” Caspian and Elliot had asked for a home birth, which I’d reluctantly agreed to. I didn’t love the idea, but it was their choice.

“Yes, that would be great. I’m a wreck. Please hurry.”

“We’re on our way.”

When Mama and I arrived at Caspian and Elliot’s house, we let ourselves in through the back door. We found Caspian and Elliot in the guest bedroom, where they’d planned to have the birth. I’d expected to see the doula they’d hired, but it was only the two of them. Elliot was sitting on an exercise ball, clearly between contractions. Caspian was pacing around the room muttering to himself.

Mama rushed over to Elliot. “What can I do to help?”

“Keep him calm?” Elliot gestured toward her husband.

“What happened to the doula?” I asked. They’d convinced me they’d rather have her than my nurse, which I hadn’t been thrilled about either, but again, I wanted to honor their wishes.

“She’s sick.” Caspian ran a hand through his hair. By the way, it stuck up on both sides of his head. I guessed this wasn’t the first time. “So, it’s just me, and apparently, I’m falling apart. No one told me she was going to be in this much pain.”

As if prompted, Elliot groaned and started panting. She fell to her knees, draping her arms around the ball. Mama dropped down beside her, rubbing her lower back. “You’re doing good,” Mama said. “Just keep breathing.”

Caspian gestured helplessly toward his wife, clearly at a loss. “Can you do something? This isn’t normal, is it? I mean, look at her.”

“It’s totally normal for a birth without an epidural. The pain means everything’s moving along. You need to breathe, too.” I gripped his shoulder. “Think of this as another night in your kitchen. You and Elliot baked up something wonderful, and it’s about to come out of the oven. Haven’t you always told me that staying calm is your secret to success?”

“My beautiful wife did all the cooking in this case,” Caspian said. “But I get your point.”

“I’ll see how far along she is once she’s through this contraction. Can you get some ice chips for her?”

Caspian smacked his forehead. “Right. I forgot about those. God, I’m a mess.”

“It’s all right, Dad,” I said. “This is all new and scary, but you’re all going to be fine.”

“I’ll get the ice.” Caspian ran from the room.

After the contraction had subsided, I guided Elliot to lie back on the bed so I could check her progress. Mama sat on the edge of the bed, dabbing Elliot’s sweaty face with a damp cloth.

“All right, Elliot,” I said gently, positioning myself to examine her as I pulled on a pair of gloves. “Let’s see how close we are.” After a quick check, I glanced up and gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re almost fully dilated—just a little bit more to go. You’re doing amazing. I can’t believe you got this far along before calling me.”

“The birthing class went over all of it. Once they were one minute apart, we knew to call. I can do this, right?” Elliot let out a shaky breath, relief and determination mingling in her eyes.

“You’re doing it right now,” Mama said, stroking her hair. “It will all be worth it, I promise.”

Caspian burst into the room, carrying a glass of ice. “What did I miss?”

“I’m almost fully dilated,” Elliot said, giving him a tired smile. “Which means we get to meet our baby really soon.”

“Soon. Okay. Yeah. Totally ready.” Caspian shook the glass of ice. “And I’ve got these.”

Another contraction made the mother-to-be cry out in pain.

Caspian looked as though he might burst into tears. “I can’t take it.”

“Suck on one of those ice chips,” I said to my brother. “When she’s through this contraction, give her one. She’ll need a little hydration. We’re close.”

“Yeah, okay.” Caspian went to sit on the other side of his wife. When the pain had subsided, he gave her a small piece of ice and then stroked her hair. “You’re amazing, baby. So strong.”

“I’ll be glad when this part is over,” Elliot said.

The next fifteen minutes were a blur of contractions and breathing, with Caspian obsessed with serving her ice. At least it kept him busy. I’d never seen him so unsteady. I was only a little ashamed by how entertaining I found him.

I examined her again and was delighted to see she was fully dilated. “You’re at ten, Elliot. You ready?”

“I think so,” Elliot said, sounding weak.

“Let’s do this,” I said, grinning as I pulled on gloves. “Caspian, I want you to get behind her and wrap your legs on either side of her. And hold her while she pushes.”

“What? Really? Yeah, okay.”

Caspian climbed onto the bed behind her, wrapping his arms around her sides. He pressed his cheek against hers, whispering words of encouragement.

“I see the baby’s head,” I said from my quarterback position. I instructed her to push as soon as the next contraction came. Seconds later, she cried out but braced herself against Caspian and bore down as instructed.

“You’ve got this, baby,” Caspian murmured.

Elliot’s face glistened from the effort. Caspian’s arms remained around her as he murmured soft words of encouragement into her ear.

“All right, Elliot,” I said, keeping my voice calm and steady. “A few more should do it.”

Elliot nodded, determination flashing in her eyes as another contraction came. She took a deep breath and bore down, her grip tightening around Caspian’s wrists. The baby’s head emerged, and this time came all the way out. “We’ve got a head, people.”

Another contraction caused Elliot’s face to contort with the effort. Caspian was right there with her.

The baby’s shoulders emerged, and I carefully guided and supported the tiny body out and into the world.

“One more, Elliot,” I said, my own voice filled with excitement now. “Nice and easy. Half the effort as before.”

She drew in a final, powerful breath, and with one last push, the baby slipped free. A tiny cry filled the room. I held up the little bundle, grinning. “It’s a girl. You have a girl.” Gently, I placed her on Elliot’s chest, her small body wriggling as she took in the world for the first time.

“Oh my God, she’s perfect,” Caspian said, tears running down his face as he stared at their daughter with an expression of pure awe. He climbed out from behind Elliot, adjusting the pillows behind her.

Elliot only had eyes for her baby girl. She smiled and cooed. “Hello, little one. It’s so good to meet you.”

Mama leaned in, smiling down at the baby and then squeezing Elliot’s shoulder. “A baby girl. I thought for sure it would be a boy. You did good, Mama.”

“How does it feel to be a grandmother for the second time?” I asked.

“Third. Chloe’s ours, too,” Mama said.

“Right. Third then?”

“It feels like winning the lottery,” Mama said. “The most perfect gift.”

“Time to cut the cord,” I said. “You up for it, Dad?”

“I…I guess so. It won’t hurt either of them, will it?”

“I thought you said they went over everything in the birthing class,” I said, teasing.

“Caspian wasn’t the best listener if we’re telling the truth,” Elliot said, with a loving look in her husband’s direction.

Caspian shrugged. “I get distracted easily. And I’ve never been good at school. I’ll know how to do everything next time,” Caspian said.

“I don’t know if there’s going to be a next time,” Elliot said. “That was hard.”

“But you were a rock star,” Caspian said.

I offered him the sterile scissors used to cut the cord. His hands trembled slightly as he took the scissors from me, shifting so he could get a clear view of the cord connecting his wife to their child. With a deep breath, Caspian positioned the scissors carefully, jaw clenched as he brought them to the small, pulsing cord. With a gentle snip, the cord was severed, officially bringing their daughter fully into the world. He set the scissors aside, his eyes never leaving his little girl.

“Okay, time to deliver the placenta,” I said. “Caspian, take the baby.”

Caspian nodded, his eyelids reddening. Elliot placed her in his strong arms, and I watched a grown man melt into nothing but a heart. “Hey, sweetheart. This is your dad.” He kissed his daughter’s damp head. “Welcome home, baby girl.”

In no time at all, Elliot had pushed out the placenta. I almost laughed when I saw Caspian’s look of horror at the sight. “People eat that stuff?”

“Not this person,” Elliot said, closing her eyes.

“You’re going to have to give the baby over to me for a few minutes,” I said to my brother. “I’ll get her cleaned up and weighed and make sure all is well.”

“I’ll help to get you all cleaned up and change the bedding, all that,” Mama said to the new mother. “I’m not a nurse, but I had five boys.”

“What do I do?” Caspian asked, his gaze following me as I gathered the infant against my chest. “I should do something.”

Mama chuckled and handed him a damp cloth. “Here, honey. Wipe that sweat off your face. Then call your dad. He’s also a nervous wreck, probably wearing a path through my new carpet, pacing back and forth. After that, get your wife a sandwich and some water. She needs to rebuild her strength.”

“Make a sandwich. Now that’s something I can do.” Caspian leaned over to give his wife a kiss. “I thought I loved you as much as humanly possible yesterday. But I was wrong. You were spectacular. I’ve never seen anything like it. Thank you for giving me the greatest gift imaginable.”

“You had a little something to do with it.” Elliot laughed softly, barely audible over the sounds of the baby’s cry. “And I love you too.”

Caspian left, and I bathed the baby with a warm cloth while Mama worked on Elliot. Soon, both baby and mother were ready for the next steps: bonding and nursing.

“Eight pounds, three ounces,” I said, looking at the scale the doula had dropped off last week in preparation. “And twenty-one inches. She’s perfectly healthy.” I chuckled as I put a tiny diaper on my niece, then swaddled her in a soft cotton blanket and brought her back to Elliot. “You ready to try nursing?”

“I’m nervous,” Elliot said.

“Don’t be,” Mama said. “You’ll both know what to do.”

“Do you have a name?” Mama asked, gazing lovingly at the baby as Elliot positioned the baby on her chest. The baby immediately latched on, thank goodness. I was not about to handle my sister-in-law’s breasts not even in the name of medicine.

“Yes, we’re naming her Madeleine—after my favorite pastry.” Elliot stroked Madeleine’s tiny head as the baby suckled. “Not even a pastry can compare to this.”

“And just like that, you’re a mama bear,” Mama said, brushing stray hair from Elliot’s forehead. “Not much better in this life, I can tell you that.”

I thought about Arabella’s mother, how she’d had to leave her baby behind, and how it must have broken her heart.

Would there finally be a reconciliation? Justice and peace and last?