Crossroads

Chapter Seven

“Cal? Are you ready?” Annie rinsed the cereal bowl and stacked it with her coffee cup and plate in the sink to wash later. Yesterday she’d done the same thing with Hollis—something she hadn’t done with anyone since she’d left home. Such a simple activity. Clearing away the remains of a meal. Working together, talking easily, sharing a few moments of daily life.

She’d never had times like those with anyone except her family, and then the activities had been regimented, planned, and ordered. Chores—cleaning, milking, harvesting, cooking, mending, and all the other “girl work” assigned to her—were something to be gotten out of the way because there was always more work to do. She’d wanted to ride the tractor with her brothers when she was eight, but she’d been told that was for the boys. She had other work to do with her sisters and her mother. She’d wanted to be outside, working in the hot sun, surrounded by the smell of animals and growing things and life. Instead, she’d spent much of her time inside, venturing out as far as the back porch to hang up the wash or to the kitchen garden to fill a basket with tomatoes and cucumbers and corn for dinner. She’d only escaped living the same life that her mother and her younger sisters led because she had excelled in school. The community valued one of their own learning a necessary skill and had expected her to come home to practice it.

Everything had changed when she’d come to the city and discovered what other women had known for decades—that she wasn’t limited to women’s work. The world expanded before her very eyes, filled with endless possibility and excitement. She’d been exhilarated and terrified at the same time, a little lost but still determined to see and do everything. Jeff had become her guide, her teacher both literally and figuratively, and she’d never questioned that he might not be what he claimed to be, or what she wanted. Who she wanted. He’d offered her an anchor in a rapidly changing universe, and she’d grasped it only to be cut free when she’d needed him most. Her poor judgment.

“Mommy,” Callie said from behind her, “I can’t find my sneakers.”

Annie put a smile on, quickly dried her hands, and bent down until she was eye to eye with her daughter. “Hmm. I don’t think you can go out without your sneakers. That’s a long way to walk barefoot.”

Callie giggled. “I can’t walk anywhere except the backyard with no shoes on. The streets are dirty.”

“Well, some of them are. What do you think we should do?”

“Find my sneakers.”

“Good idea. When was the last time you remember having them?”

Callie frowned in concentration, the small crease between her reddish gold brows transforming her perfectly angelic face into a fleeting glimpse of what she would look like as she grew older—a gorgeous teenager and a beautiful woman. Annie resisted the urge to scoop her up and squeeze. She couldn’t stop time any more than she could turn it back.

“I wore them to school,” Callie said with a note of pride.

“You did. I remember that. And what did you do when you got home from school?”

“I sat on the sofa and I watched television and I took off my sneakers.”

“Then I think that’s where we should start our search.”

Five minutes later, Callie was dressed in one of her favorite T-shirts, faded Oshkosh overalls, and her missing sneakers. “I’m ready.”

“All right then. Let’s take a walk.”

The park, Annie had quickly learned, was a meeting ground for the neighborhood, and on Saturday mornings parents gathered there to read the newspapers and drink coffee while the kids played under the safe watch of many communal eyes. Callie already knew most of the children her age from school, and Annie was slowly getting to know everyone by sight. She looked forward to it as a chance to unwind while doing something with Callie. They stopped at a corner grocer at the midpoint of their four-block walk to the park, and Annie purchased a takeout cup of coffee, a newspaper, and a juice for Callie. She hesitated, studying the pastries in a glass cabinet on the counter next to the register. “Are those cranberry scones?”

“They certainly are,” the middle-aged proprietor said, her eyes lighting up. “I get them delivered from Principato’s bakery, two streets over, fresh every day. You won’t find better in the whole city.”

“I’ll take one—and one of those powdered sugar doughnuts.”

“Is that one for me?” Callie asked.

“I don’t know. Do you want one?”

Callie laughed. “Sugar are my favorite.”

“Then I guess that one will be for you.” Smiling, Annie paid the owner, tucked her newspaper under her arm, and handed Callie the bag to carry while she opened the lid of her coffee. Memorial Day weekend had dawned bright and sunny, and the weather report promised temperatures in the low eighties for the next three days with no rain in sight. Perfect weather and she was off call. What could be better. She couldn’t think of a single thing she wanted, and yet a trickle of unease shimmered between her shoulder blades, as if she’d forgotten something very important.

Shrugging off the irksome sensation, she found an unoccupied wooden bench in the center of the park halfway around the tiny pond—no bigger than a backyard swimming pool, but big enough for the kids to throw bread to the ducks and launch a boat or two. She opened the newspaper and scanned the headlines, one eye on Callie as she ran to join several children on a nearby swing set. She drank her coffee, read, and people-watched while Callie played. Usually these lazy hours were the most relaxing of her week, but today she couldn’t settle. Her body hummed with restless energy and her mind kept jumping back to the disrupted meeting with Hollis and the unexpected lunch that followed. When Callie climbed up next to her on the bench, Annie welcomed the diversion from her own aimless thoughts. She offered Callie half the doughnut. “You ready for this?”

“Yes, please.”

Callie leaned against her and Annie slid an arm around her slim shoulders. She folded the paper and set it aside and went back to people-gazing. Her gaze settled on one person and the others faded away. Hollis Monroe occupied a bench across the pond, her arms spread out along the back of the bench, her head thrown back and canted at a distinctly uncomfortable-looking angle. She had to be asleep because no one would voluntarily assume that position. She was wearing scrubs and must have just come from the hospital. On impulse, Annie stood and held out her hand. “Come on, Cal, let’s walk a little bit.”

“Okay.” Callie jumped down beside her and took her hand, the remnant of the doughnut in her other one.

Annie led the way along the rough stone path that circled the pond until she reached the bench where Hollis slept. She was pale, dark smudges beneath her eyes and fatigue creasing her cheeks. Now that she was there, Annie wasn’t certain why she’d come or what she ought to do. She should leave Hollis to whatever rest she might be able to get, but Hollis looked so tired and uncomfortable, Annie just couldn’t walk away. She gently shook Hollis’s shoulder. “Hey. Hollis?”

Hollis jerked and opened her eyes, peering blearily in Annie’s direction.

“Hey,” Hollis whispered, her voice rusty. She looked around, her confused expression rapidly clearing. She snapped to attention and sat upright. “Annie, hey.” She rubbed her face. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Annie said, laughing softly. “How’s your neck?”

Hollis winced and rubbed her neck. “Broken, I think. Thanks for waking me up before I was permanently damaged.”

“I hated to do it, but I was a little worried about you.”

Annie’s words sent an unexpected surge of pleasure through Hollis’s chest. She spent her life caring for others and rarely needed and never sought the comfort of others. Her work kept her busy enough to banish the occasional ache of loneliness, but it was nice that Annie was worried about her. She smiled at the gorgeous child by Annie’s side, the green eyes that matched her mother’s large and curious behind the lenses of her glasses. “Hi. I’m Hollis.”

“I’m Callie,” the child announced. “You have scrubs like my mommy’s. Are you a midwife like her?”

Hollis laughed, the mantle of fatigue falling from her shoulders. She caught Annie’s expression of horror and grinned even more. “Well, sort of. I do take care of women who are going to have babies, like your mom.”

“Did you have baby call last night?”

“I did.” Hollis glanced at Annie.

“Sorry,” Annie muttered.

“No problem.” Hollis gestured to the bench beside her. “You want to sit?”

“What do you think, Cal? You want to play some more?”

“Can I go back to the swings?”

“I don’t think so, honey, it’s too far and I won’t be able to see you over there.”

Callie looked around and her face lit up. “There’s Mike. Can I play with Mike?”

“Yes, as long as you stay with Mike and his mother. All right?”

“All right.” Callie dashed away and Annie watched her go until she reached Mike and Robin. Robin looked in her direction and waved. Annie waved back, calling, “Thank you.”

“She’s adorable,” Hollis said.

Annie sat and stretched her legs into a patch of sunlight. The heat on her legs trailed up, settling in her middle, and the restless feeling slipped away. “I’m prejudiced, of course, but she is.”

“She looks like you.”

Annie laughed. “You know the way to a mother’s heart.”

“I’m being serious.”

“She’s the best thing in my life.”

Hollis nodded. “I can certainly understand that.”

“She was so small when she was—well, you know that, don’t you.”

“I remember. A little over four pounds.”

“God,” Annie said, “you really do have an amazing memory.” Her gaze found Callie, followed her as she ran with Mike.

Annie’s pensive expression bordered on sadness and Hollis wondered what memory she’d triggered. “What is it?”

“The first time I saw her, she was in an incubator in the NICU. She had a funny little hat to help keep her warm, a pulse ox taped to her tiny chest, and an IV in her leg. I had to ask one of the nurses if I could hold her.”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t get a chance to see her right after she was born,” Hollis said. “It took her just a second to take her first breath. As soon as I suctioned her, she opened her eyes and took a great big breath. She was beautiful then too.”

Annie turned from Callie to meet Hollis’s gaze. “I’m glad you remember.” She looked away again. “She had some neonatal jaundice and her lungs were a little immature. They think the prolonged oxygen may have contributed to her visual problems. A small price to pay.”

Hollis’s stomach tightened but she kept her voice even. Preemies often had side effects from the delivery or the supportive therapy. Not her fault, but she felt the responsibility weigh heavily on her all the same. “She’s okay with the glasses, though?”

“Yes, she’s nearsighted, but the eye docs don’t think there’ll be any long-term problems other than that.”

“I’m glad.”

“She never complains. Nothing stops her, and that’s all that matters.” Annie straightened. “Did you work all night?”

Hollis was coming to recognize the tough set to Annie’s shoulders as a sign Annie was putting aside whatever bothered her. Her admiration for Annie grew—she hadn’t folded when many faced with even lesser obstacles would have. She didn’t imagine Annie needed her to say so, but she wanted to. Instead she said, “I was up most of the night. One of my mothers developed a postpartum infection. Rare, but we still see it. The baby’s fine.”

“And mom?”

“Much better this morning. I didn’t want to leave until the infectious disease people had seen her and we’d gotten her squared away on an antibiotic regimen.”

“That’s going the extra mile.”

Hollis shrugged. “Something like that, you can’t take it lightly.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Too much coffee to contemplate.” Hollis rubbed her stomach, the acid burn reminding her she hadn’t slept in almost two days.

“Can I tempt you with a cranberry scone?”

“You could tempt me with the paper bag at this point.”

Laughing, Annie extracted the scone along with a napkin and handed it to Hollis. “Here. You need this more than I do.”

“Thanks, want to share?”

Annie’s lips parted, her quick smile soft and sensuous. “Just a little piece.”

Hollis paused, the scone cradled in her palm. Annie’s eyes had a faint ring of golden brown around the deep green irises. Sunlight flickered through the trees behind her head and her golden hair glowed. The sounds of children’s laughter filtered into her awareness, and she was carried back to a time when the world was fresh and new and filled with possibility. She ached with the memory of long-ago innocence. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Annie took the piece of scone Hollis broke off and nibbled on it. “You should eat the rest of that before I do.”

“Oh.” Hollis grinned and bit into the scone, instantly moaning with pleasure. “You got this from Principato’s, didn’t you?”

“From the grocer at the corner of Morris. They got it from Principato’s.”

“Good to know,” Hollis said around another bite. “Fabulous.”

“Mom!” Callie raced up with a blond boy right behind her. “We’re going to Mike’s tomorrow, right?”

“We are.” Annie smiled up at Robin. “Hi. Robin, this is Hollis Monroe.”

“Hi.” Robin held out her hand to Hollis. “We’ve met, but you probably don’t remember me. I’m Robin Henderson, Linda O’Malley’s wife. She’s a nurse at PMC.”

“Of course. I know Linda,” Hollis said. “Good to see you again.”

Robin pointed across the park to the side opposite Hollis’s house. “We’re just over there on School House. We’re having a neighborhood thing tomorrow about one. You’re invited—just follow the noise.”

“Uh.” Hollis floundered. A neighborhood thing was so far out of her comfort zone, her instant response was to make up an excuse.

Robin must have read her discomfort and added, “Having an escort under three feet in height is not a requirement.”

Hollis laughed and glanced at Annie and Callie, both of whom were watching her. Annie had said they were going. She’d know someone, at least. She was probably imagining that Annie seemed anxious for her answer. “Okay. Sure, that sounds great. Thanks.”

“Great. See you then.” Robin tugged Mike’s striped T-shirt sleeve. “Let’s go home and make Mommy some tea. What do you say?”

“’Kay.”

“We ought to go too.” Annie stood and took Callie’s hand. “You should try sleeping at home and not on the bench, Hollis.”

“I will. Thanks for the scone.”

Annie smiled. “Anytime. See you tomorrow.”

“Have a great day,” Hollis said, watching Annie walk away with Robin and the kids. She couldn’t believe she’d just agreed to go to a neighborhood barbecue, and knowing why didn’t make it any less crazy. Annie was going to be there, and she wanted to see her again.