Blossom Street

24
CHAPTER

CAROL GIRARD

The two days following the IVF procedure had been the worst. The specialist had instructed Carol to stay perfectly still for forty-eight hours. The enforced rest got on her nerves after only a few hours, but with every breath she drew, with every solid beat of her heart, she made herself think positive, nurturing thoughts.

She was all too aware that she was at the very end of the road, technologically speaking, for a biological child. She and Doug had decided this was it. They got their three chances through the insurance company and two of them were gone. IVF was expensive, time-consuming, unpredictable and uncertain. Correction, some aspects of the procedure were a certainty. Injections, frequent bloodwork and ultrasounds. She’d been poked and prodded so often she barely noticed it anymore.

Carol refused to allow herself to dwell on any of the negatives. This time she’d have her baby. This time at least one of the fertilized eggs implanted in her womb would take hold—and she’d keep the pregnancy. Nine months from now, she’d hold a baby in her arms and experience the joy that had been denied her all these years.

Doug had been wonderful. He’d done everything possible to make her comfortable. Still, Carol recognized the look in his eyes, the longing that went unspoken, and the fear that despite everything, they couldn’t, wouldn’t, have a child. This wasn’t easy for Doug and while he tried to hide it, Carol knew he was worried. So was she.

Thinking positive had grown more difficult by the second day, especially with Doug tiptoeing around her. The argument that flared between them that dreadful evening was neither her fault nor his; it was an explosion of emotion and frustration. Doug had stormed out of the house and didn’t return until after midnight. Carol was relieved he hadn’t been driving, because she smelled alcohol on his breath when he returned.

They made up the next morning, just as she’d known they would, and Doug had left for work after downing two cups of coffee and refusing breakfast. Now they had to wait, three weeks to be sure of the pregnancy and three months to be confident about it. By then their patience would be even more frayed.

Ten days after the procedure, Lydia phoned. This was the first time she’d called Carol at home and it was good to hear a friendly voice.

“I haven’t heard from you and was wondering how you’re doing,” Lydia said.

“Great.” The high-pitched burst of enthusiasm betrayed her.

“I mean, how are you really feeling?” Lydia murmured.

“Not so great,” Carol admitted. “Oh, Lydia, this is hard. Right now, it’s a waiting game, and both Doug and I are so tense.”

“Let me take you to lunch, and we’ll talk.”

Lunch out sounded divine, but she knew Lydia had responsibilities. “What about the shop?”

“I’ve already talked to Mom, and she’s going to come here for a couple of hours. Would you like to meet on the waterfront? It’s such a perfect day for it.”

Carol agreed. The sun was out and Puget Sound was an intense sapphire blue. Nothing would please her more than to get away from the condo for a few hours.

They chose a restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall place that specialized in fish and chips, scallops and shrimp dishes. By the time Carol arrived, Lydia had already obtained a table on the patio. The breeze off the water had the briny scent of sea air. Seagulls shrieked in their usual exuberant way. The white-topped peaks of the Olympics glowed in the distance and a Washington State ferry was docked at the pier close by. It was everything Carol loved about living in the Pacific Northwest.

“This is an unexpected surprise,” Carol told her as she took the chair across from Lydia.

“It’s just so beautiful I couldn’t bear to stay inside a minute longer. My mother’s been after me to take some time for myself, and today I decided she was right.”

“Does she knit?”

“Only a little—enough to get by. She loves the idea of standing in for me. It gives her an emotional boost to think she’s helping, and she is.”

“Thank her for me.”

Lydia smiled. “Actually, I’m grateful for the break, too. I needed it. I’m glad you could join me at the last minute.”

Carol had only known Lydia a short while, but she considered the other woman her friend. Not since her college days had she had time to invest in friendships. Lydia had mentioned her eagerness to make new friends, too; they’d arrived at a similar point in their lives but for entirely different reasons. They’d talked frequently and Lydia encouraged Carol’s growing love for knitting. It was easy to like Lydia; she was so gentle, so quiet and unassuming. Carol had never once heard Lydia raise her voice or lose her patience. Only when she talked about knitting and yarn did she become animated or excited. Carol was impressed by Lydia’s calm manner when she dealt with the outbursts between Alix and Jacqueline. It couldn’t be easy having them both in the same class. More than once Carol had to bite her tongue to keep from asking if their behavior wasn’t a little juvenile.

Seated under the shade of the overhead umbrella, Carol glanced at the menu. She decided on seafood fettuccini, a longtime favorite. She almost never ordered it in a restaurant because no recipe had ever matched the one her mother had given her. While she hadn’t done much cooking until recently, she made a delectable olive-oil-based seafood spaghetti that Doug always raved about.

They discussed knitting and friendship, shared stories of growing up and talked about books they’d both read. The highlight of their lunch was the story of Alix rescuing Jacqueline from muggers in the back alley.

Carol decided to stop at the market on her way home to pick up something for dinner. Her appetite had been nonexistent lately, ever since the procedure, and dinners had been thrown together at the last minute with little forethought or effort. If not for Doug, she would have foregone the meal entirely.

When Carol left the waterfront, she felt a great deal better. Amazing what a little girl-time could do. She bought a small sirloin tip roast at the market and walked back to the condo, feeling refreshed, glorying in the sunshine.

The moment he arrived home, Doug noticed the difference in her mood. He smiled and kissed her, then went into the bedroom to change clothes. When he reappeared, he had on his Mariners baseball jacket and hat.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” he said when he saw the look on her face. “Bill and I have tickets for the game.”

“Of course.” She shrugged off her disappointment. Her afternoon with Lydia had done her a world of good and she wouldn’t begrudge her husband a night with his longtime college friend.

Minutes later, he was out the door. It was the first time all week she’d cooked a decent meal, and Doug wouldn’t be home to enjoy it. Life seemed to be full of such little ironies.

She wasn’t feeling sorry for herself, not really, but her elated mood had definitely sagged by the time her brother phoned. They hadn’t talked since his visit the month before.

“Can I come over?” he asked, sounding depressed.

“Of course, but it’s just me. Doug’s at the Mariners’ game with Bill.”

Rick’s sigh was audible. “Actually, that’s probably better.”

This was a surprising comment. “What’s up?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there.”

Her brother showed up less than half an hour later. Carol hadn’t ever seen him look this bad—unshaven, with dark circles under his eyes. He collapsed into a chair and when she offered him a beer, he muttered, “Do you have anything stronger?”

“Sorry,” she said. “Just wine.”

“I’ll have a beer, then.” He leaned forward and braced his elbow on his knees, letting his forearms dangle.

“Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?” she asked as she handed him a cold beer.

Rick twisted off the cap and took a deep swig. “Was I born stupid or did I recently acquire this personality trait?”

“The answer depends on your problem,” she said, sitting across from him. Infuriating though Rick could be, it was difficult to stay angry with him for long. She supposed his easygoing personality was as much of a hindrance as it was an asset. Perhaps everything had come too easily for him.

“Lisa’s pregnant,” he said.

Carol stared at him blankly. “Lisa? Lisa who?”

He rubbed his eyes. “A flight attendant I’ve seen a few times.”

“Obviously you’ve done more than see her,” Carol snapped, unable to hide her anger. This was unbelievable. For a moment she thought it might be a bad joke, but one look told her he was serious. Just a few weeks ago he’d declared his undying love for his ex-wife.

“What about Ellie?” she cried. “The last time we talked, you were hoping to get back together with her.” Sleeping with some other woman certainly didn’t prove his devotion.

“I know … I love Ellie and I want her back.”

“Then what were you doing with Lisa?”

“It just sort of happened,” he mumbled dejectedly.

Carol shook her head, barely able to take in what her brother was telling her. “You just sort of fell into bed together?” Her voice grew more agitated with every word. So this was the reason Ellie didn’t trust him. She’d hinted at the truth, but Carol had refused to listen, refused to believe that her big, strong, wonderful brother had clay feet—and a clay heart.

“Say something,” Rick urged.

Carol shook her head again, viewing her brother in an entirely different light. All these years he’d been her hero; now, all of a sudden she saw him for the weak charmer he really was. “You’ve certainly made a mess this time.”

“Trust me, little sister, you can’t say anything I haven’t already said to myself. This ruins everything.”

“And exactly whose fault is that?” she demanded. Unable to stay seated any longer, she jumped to her feet and started pacing the room. “You’re too smart to have unprotected sex, damn it!”

Rick closed his eyes.

“Does Ellie know?”

“No!” He nearly shouted the word. “I’m not telling her, either, that’s for sure.”

“What about Lisa?”

“What about her? She’s in shock, too—apparently whatever she used for birth control failed.”

“No kidding.” Carol was furious with her brother and too angry to care what he thought.

She took a few minutes to adjust to the news. She sat down again and placed her hand over her mouth. Her brother hadn’t come to her so she could rant at him. He was clearly looking for some sort of direction, although she had no idea what to suggest.

“You’re one hundred percent sure the baby is yours?”

He nodded and studied his hands. “We’ve been pretty involved lately.”

She swallowed a retort. “How far along is she?” she asked instead, her voice brisk.

“She just found out. A month, I guess.”

Carol flipped her hair away from her face and tried to concentrate. “When did she tell you?”

“Yesterday. She phoned me in a panic and, hell, I didn’t know what to say. What could I say?”

“Do you love her?”

Rick considered her question for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “I care about her and I like her, but as for loving her, not really. I know I don’t want to marry her. Why should I marry her because she forgot to swallow some pill?” Rick’s expression was miserable, shocked and angry all at once. “I love Ellie,” he murmured. “It’s Ellie I want to be with, it’s Ellie I need in my life.”

“Then you should’ve kept your pants zipped.” Carol didn’t mean to be crude, but her brother frustrated her. If he loved Ellie, truly loved her, he should be willing to do whatever it took to win her back. Sleeping with a flight attendant shouldn’t even be on that list.

“If you aren’t going to marry Lisa, then what?” Carol asked.

“I don’t know.”

With her eyes opened, Carol confronted him, daring him to tell her the truth. “This isn’t the first time, is it?”

“First time for what? If you’re asking whether I’ve fathered other kids, you’re wrong. I’ve always been careful, but Lisa said …” He let the rest fade.

“I meant this isn’t the first time you cheated on Ellie.” Technically they were divorced, so it couldn’t really be considered adultery. “That’s the reason she filed for divorce, isn’t it?”

Her brother looked up briefly and nodded.

Rick stayed for an hour, and they talked while dinner went cold. He was still in shock and, frankly, so was she. Rick had always been her idol and in the space of a few minutes he’d tumbled from his pedestal.

She ended up making steak sandwiches and coffee, and Rick left soon afterward for his hotel. He definitely needed sleep, but he and Carol planned to talk again the next day.

Doug returned home an hour later, thrilled that the Mariners had handily defeated the Yankees. Carol told him about the visit from her brother and his devastating news.

“It doesn’t surprise me,” her husband told her. They sat side by side on the sofa, Doug’s arm around her. “Rick’s always been a ladies’ man.”

Carol found it hard to believe her brother could be so morally lacking. It was as if this person she’d grown up with and loved was a stranger. “You knew and didn’t tell me?”

“I couldn’t. You always thought he could do no wrong.”

Carol felt sick to her stomach.

“He’s been doing it ever since I’ve known him. Fooling around with one woman while seeing another.” Doug held her close for several seconds. “The truth is, I’m not overly fond of Rick.”

“Doug! How can you say such a thing?” Rick was the one who’d introduced her to her husband. They’d been college friends and dorm mates. But now that she thought about it, Carol realized Doug had never shown as much enthusiasm for seeing Rick as she did.

“It’s true, honey. The only good thing that came out of the friendship was meeting you. I’ve never liked his ethics.”

Carol let his words sink in. She was seeing her brother realistically for the very first time. He was a selfish little boy who refused to grow up. She wondered how many people had recognized it before her.

Later, as Carol snuggled close to her husband in bed, she couldn’t help thinking about life’s many injustices.

“Why is it,” she asked in a whisper, “that women who don’t want to get pregnant have such an easy time of it?”

She felt her husband’s slight nod of agreement. “I wish I had an answer, sweetheart, but life just isn’t fair.”

“No kidding,” she muttered for the second time that night.

25
CHAPTER

ALIX TOWNSEND

Alix slept late on Friday morning, lying in bed while the last remnants of sleep faded away. She was warm and comfortable and unwilling to move. Keeping her eyes closed, she let her mind linger on the kiss she’d shared with Jordan. Never in all her life had she realized a kiss could be so good.

She’d been kissed plenty, and had lots of other experience, too. Still, no kiss had affected her like that one. The men she knew tended to be rough and sweaty and urgent in their need to dominate. She’d never known such sweet pleasure from a simple kiss. But then, she reminded herself, this could all be tied up with a childhood dream that had been shattered one night in the sixth grade.

Even now, more than a week later, she remembered every nuance of his kiss. His hands had framed her face and his eyes had locked with hers. She’d seen his look of surprise—and uncertainty. They’d parted soon afterward, and it almost seemed to her that they needed to get away from each other in order to assimilate what had happened.

Alix hadn’t seen Jordan since, hadn’t talked to him, either. She tried not to dwell on that. Unsure what prompted her, on Sunday morning Alix had walked over to the Free Methodist church Jordan had mentioned. She stood across the street and chain-smoked three cigarettes while she watched people file in.

Jordan was right about one thing: only a few of the older adults wore hats and gloves and dresses. Various families came with youngsters in tow, all carrying Bibles. Alix had only ever owned one Bible and that had been so long ago, she didn’t know where it had gone. Staring at the churchgoers, she saw that most people wore casual clothes, but that wasn’t a strong enough incentive to send her inside.

She’d loitered on the corner, hoping, she guessed, that Jordan would notice her. He obviously hadn’t; she didn’t see him either.

The music was good, upbeat and lively—not what she remembered at all. Alix had heard church music as a kid and it had sounded like something out of the Middle Ages, but it wasn’t that way now. Once she’d even caught herself humming along and quickly stopped.

After about forty minutes, she’d walked away, hands buried deep in her pockets. It wouldn’t have hurt to slip into the back pew and take a look, but fear made that impossible. Analyzing her actions now, nearly a week later, Alix wasn’t sure what she’d been so afraid of. The possibility of someone talking to her, perhaps.

Rather than brood on last week’s disappointment, Alix tossed back the sheets and climbed slowly out of bed. Laurel was sitting in front of the television, an old model with a faded picture tube and tinfoil-wrapped rabbit ears. Her roommate stared intently at a kids’ cartoon.

“Morning,” Alix muttered as she wandered into their tiny kitchen.

Laurel ignored her.

“What’s your problem?” she asked irritably. They were supposed to be friends, but Laurel rarely spoke to her anymore. She’d been sulking for weeks now.

Laurel shook her head, silently indicating that she didn’t want to talk. Alix had no idea what was bothering her, but she assumed it had something to do with that worm of a used-car salesman. He hadn’t been around lately. For a while they’d been together constantly and then all of a sudden he was out of the picture. Whatever had happened remained a mystery. Laurel certainly wasn’t telling.

“Fine, be in a bad mood.” Alix reached for a banana. “See if I care.”

Once again Laurel ignored her. Peeling the banana, Alix plopped down on the one stuffed chair in the apartment. Someone had abandoned it in a vacant lot. Alix and Laurel had come upon it and carried it the three blocks back to the apartment. It was pretty ratty, but Alix had found a printed sheet and spread it over the chair. With a few tucks and folds it wasn’t half bad. No designers would be asking her to make a guest appearance on their shows, but it worked for now.

Biting into the banana, Alix noticed that the baby blanket she was knitting lay on the floor.

“What the hell happened here?” she demanded. She flew off the chair to rescue her project. The ball of yarn had unwound and ended up near the apartment door.

Laurel wasn’t paying her any heed.

Standing directly in front of the television, Alix glared at her roommate. “I don’t know what your problem is, but get over it.”

“Keep your knitting away from me.”

Alix snickered; she couldn’t help it. “What’s the matter? Did it chase after you?”

“It was in my way.”

“So you threw it at the door?” Talk about unreasonable!

Laurel didn’t answer.

Alix examined the nearly completed blanket, unsure what she’d do if Laurel had caused her to drop stitches or worse, pulled out the needles. Laurel was treading precariously close to a fight. Alix was sick of her roommate’s bad moods, sick of her slovenly habits and sick of her mooning over a man who was a loser with a capital L.

“Get a grip, will you?” she snapped on her way back to the bedroom. They shared the one bedroom, which made life all the more difficult. The latest rumors floating around said the apartment building had been sold. Where they’d move next was as unclear as the stitches Alix had yet to master.

“You wouldn’t be so cruel if you …” Laurel didn’t finish. Instead she buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.

Alix felt awful. Sitting next to Laurel, she sighed. “It’s lover boy, isn’t it?”

Laurel nodded. “He said … he doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

Anything Alix could say at that moment would have been wrong. Laurel didn’t want to hear what a loser John was. Alix didn’t understand why Laurel couldn’t see it when everyone else did. Okay, so John had a decent job. Nevertheless, he was a sleaze and nothing would discount that sad truth.

Laurel pulled her feet up and locked her arms around her knees. She’d been overweight when they met but now she seemed to be even bigger than Alix remembered. She’d obviously gained weight since the breakup. Now that Alix thought about it, they’d been going through a lot of groceries lately.

“Eating isn’t going to help.” Alix strived to sound sympathetic.

“Are you saying I’m fat?”

“Not fat, exactly.”

“Okay, I’m fat and ugly. You think I don’t know that?” Her voice dipped with venom and her greasy blond hair fell forward as she buried her face in her knees. “And mean.”

“Mean?” Alix asked, her suspicions growing.

Laurel nodded. “Jordan stopped by the store on Tuesday and asked me to give you a message and I didn’t.”

A chill came over Alix. “What was the message?”

“He … he wanted to take you roller-skating.”

“When?”

“This afternoon with a bunch of kids from his church and I didn’t tell you…. I know I should have, but I didn’t want you to have a man when I don’t. I’m fat and ugly and no one wants me.”

Laurel stood and reached inside her jeans for a folded-up piece of paper. “I was supposed to give you this.”

Alix unfolded the flyer and saw that it announced an afternoon skating party at a rink five blocks away. Alix stared at the page and turned it over to find a note Jordan had written her. “Alix, I’m looking for a partner. You interested?”

The way her heart nearly exploded told her she was. But skating? Her? Alix had never put on a pair of skates in her life. When she was five or six, all the kids who lived in the same apartment complex had roller skates. Alix had desperately longed for a pair. But finances were always a problem for her family. There wasn’t enough money for beer, cigarettes, drugs and roller skates, too.

“You want to come?” she asked Laurel, well aware of what it felt like to be excluded.

Laurel looked up, then shook her head. “No. Are you actually doing it?” She didn’t hide her astonishment.

Alix shrugged. “Maybe.”

She took an hour to think it over. Jordan claimed he liked her for herself. She wasn’t sure she should believe him; what he remembered was the girl she’d been at eleven, which was a far sight from the woman she was now. Despite her doubts she realized she wanted to trust him, wanted to be with him, the same way she had all those years ago.

Nothing had ever come easy for Alix. Everything had been a struggle. If she was going to have a good life, she had to make it happen herself. That recognition fired her determination to give this relationship a chance.

Alix was waiting outside the skating rink, leaning against the building, when the big yellow church bus pulled up. The doors opened and about a thousand preteens poured out. No one paid much attention to Alix until Jordan walked over to her, wearing the biggest grin she’d ever seen.

“I was hoping you’d show up.”

“I’m not skating.” She wanted that understood. “I came to watch.” She wasn’t willing to play the role of klutz in front of a crowd of teenyboppers.

“You’ll be missing out on all the fun.”

She didn’t care; no one was strapping her into a pair of skates.

The rink opened and the kids swarmed inside. Alix hung around on the street, smoking a cigarette, then casually wandered into the rink. Already kids were skating on the polished wooden floor, speeding around and around with the music blasting. This wasn’t music Alix recognized—but then she realized she did. She’d heard one of the songs while she was standing outside the church last Sunday morning. The rink apparently provided Christian rock.

Alix had to look for Jordan. Then she saw him, surrounded by kids. They followed him wherever he went—as though he were Moses, she thought with a smile. Some of that Bible stuff had definitely stuck. Jordan was busy helping them with their skates and putting on his own. Before he ventured into the rink, he stopped and gazed around. When he saw her, he smiled that lazy, happy grin and she nodded her head in acknowledgement. He winked back, and it felt as if the sun was shining directly on her.

Despite her curiosity, Alix remained in the background, taking everything in. Jordan finally skated into the rink, faltering a bit before he found his balance. Once he did, he began skating smoothly and confidently; she found it a pleasure to watch. A few of the kids skated around him, and some of them were really good, skating backward and doing creative dance-style moves to the music.

When Alix lost sight of Jordan, she moved closer to the railing. Jordan skated past and waved. It didn’t take long for the church kids to notice the attention he paid Alix. Several stopped to look at her and chat among themselves. Alix ignored them.

“Is Jordan your friend?” a girl asked. She couldn’t be more than thirteen, with perfect dark hair and olive skin. Another girl, a blonde in braces, stood beside her.

Alix nodded.

“He mentioned you,” Blondie said.

Okay, so Alix was curious. “What did he say?”

The other girl answered. “Jordan said he’d invited a friend to join him. He said you used to be his valentine.”

Alix shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”

“He’s kinda cute, don’t you think?” Blondie said.

Alix shrugged again. Anything she said was sure to get back to Jordan.

“Aren’t you going to skate?” the first girl asked.

“Maybe later.”

Jordan went around the rink at least a dozen times, then pleaded fatigue and glided over to stand next to Alix. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been around.”

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

She almost hadn’t, but she didn’t mention the reason.

“You’ve never skated before, have you?”

“Every kid’s skated,” she returned, rather than confess the truth.

An hour later, Alix was wearing a pair of skates. Before she knew it, her two newfound friends had convinced her to give it a try. Once Alix had on the skates, the girls led her into the rink, each holding one of her hands.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t going to let you fall,” the blond girl promised.

The girls gripped her fingers hard enough for Alix to believe it.

She shouldn’t have.

Two feet onto the slick wooden floor, Alix started flailing. Not ten seconds later, she was flat on her butt. She didn’t have a chance to even think before Jordan came up behind her and tucked his arms under hers, swooping her upright.

“Everyone falls.” Then with his arm around her waist and his free hand holding hers, they made one full circuit of the rink. Kids whizzed past them at speeds that made Alix dizzy. She didn’t look. Couldn’t look. She needed all her concentration to remain upright.

“This isn’t so hard.” She was starting to get the feel of it. Despite herself she laughed. It was as if she were six years old again and Santa had delivered that pair of roller skates, after all.

“Cherie says you’re cool.”

Alix didn’t care what the little blond girl thought. “What do you say?” she asked Jordan.

He grinned down at her. “I think you’re pretty cool, too.”

His words were more beautiful than any music she’d ever heard.