Not My Daughter

Epilogue

"What do you think?" Susan asked, standing back for a better view. She was with Kate, Sunny, and Pam in the attic of the old Victorian that was her new home.

She had married Rick at the end of May, but they didn't find the house until July. Rick wanted a stone front, Susan five bedrooms and a studio, and it went without saying that a lawn with an abundance of grass and trees was a must. This house had barely gone on the market when they grabbed it. Sited on an acre of land, it was closer to the center of town and twice as large as Susan's old one, and though it needed work, Rick was game. Directing the renovations, he kept a crew of locals moving quickly, so that by mid-September, new heating, plumbing, and electrical systems were in place. As soon as the hardwood floors were sanded and sealed, they moved in.

From its steep gabled roofs and wraparound porches, to its deep bay windows and staircase nooks, there was plenty to paint. You pick the colors, that's your thing, Rick said, but, given the freedom, Susan was reserved. In deference to him-and to the fact that, though she simply couldn't choose the pale blues and yellows of neighboring homes, marriage was about compromise-she had the shingles painted a light teal and the trim a crisp white. Both looked stunning against the brilliant fall leaves, at their peak now, this first week in October.

She had been more adventurous with the inside colors, going deeper in some rooms, wilder in others. Then came the attic, its newly installed skylights shaded by the crown of a hundred-year-old oak. At the back, under rafters painted sky blue with clouds, was a playroom. At the front was her studio. It was fuchsia.

This was what Susan studied now. "Too much?" she asked the others.

"Actually not," Kate decided.

"It's very you," Sunny said.

Pam had her hands on her hips, which were otherwise lost under a paint-spattered shirt. "You deserve this, Susan. You were so disciplined downstairs."

"Excuse me. Our bedroom is burgundy. Rick says he loves it, but is he just being kind? I have to keep reminding myself that it isn't only me anymore."

"It was never only you. It was Lily, too."

"But this house is half Rick's."

Kate guffawed. "The man is so in love with you, he'd let you paint the place neon green, if that was what you wanted."

Susan smiled. She had been in denial for so long that the reality of Rick continued to amaze her.

"Come on, Susan," Sunny teased softly. "Admit it. You love being married."

Susan sighed. "I do. It was a long time coming. Maybe I grew up enough."

"Maybe he did, too," Pam remarked.

Kate refastened her hair, one strand of which now matched the wall. "He was cute, living with you all those weeks, like he was going to prove that it'd work before he popped the question."

"I'm not sure it was deliberate," Susan mused. "It just crept up on both of us. Our living together definitely helped when the obvious finally hit. Still, things are different when you're married. It's final. When we get in each other's way, we have to deal. It's not like he'll be leaving in a day or two, like he always did before. I mean, obviously, he still travels," she drawled with a quick look at her watch. Rick had been on special assignment in London and was due back momentarily. Though he had been gone for only three days, she was impatient to see him. Thinking about that, she cried, "I've grown totally dependent. How pathetic is that?"

"Dependent doesn't have to be bad."

"It's scary," Susan insisted.

"For what it's worth," said Kate, "he's grown just as dependent on you. It's sweet to see."

"Well, that raises a whole other issue. I have a partner now, so my life is easier. Lily's is harder."

"Not your doing," Sunny reminded her.

"No, but it's hard to watch. I swear, Rick and I discuss this every single day when our instinct would be to just pitch in and do. Lily has to learn to care for her son without assuming we'll always be there. But I have so much more help now than I ever did that I feel guilty."

"Really." This from Kate. "There are times when I stand in my bedroom listening to the baby cry. I want to go to him, but-same thing-I know it wouldn't be good for Mary Kate. She has to do this herself."

"Isn't she?" Pam asked.

"Actually, she is. She has more strength than I'd have expected-an awful thing to say about my own child, but taking care of a baby is challenging. Will and I are still struggling with the equipment, and we've done it five times before."

"That's why you're struggling. You didn't think you'd be doing it again."

Kate lit up. "But Willie is the best thing to come along since… since Mary Kate. My boys are obsessed with him. I swear, they'll stick around even after they graduate, just to grow up with that child."

"If they stick around, it's a tribute to you," Susan said, to which Kate gave a wry smile.

"Some tributes I can do without. I still wish Mary Kate had started college, but she isn't ready, I understand that. She'll start in January, and even then she's going to have trouble leaving the baby in day care. So here's another thing I feel guilty about. I ought to offer to take him for a day or two. I know she'd be happier if he were with me. But I work. I need to work. I want to work. I suppose that what I earn will offset the cost of day care; still, I worry about it."

"At least Jacob's helping," Sunny reminded her. "Adam is long gone. He won't be coming back much."

"Has he admitted he was the one?" Susan asked.

"No. He never will."

"Do you know that he is?"

"Jessica says so, and his parents are so quick to walk the other way when I come near, that I think they know it, too."

"How can they not be curious?"

"What kind of people would deny their own grandson?"

Sunny held up a let's not go there hand. "Dan periodically suggests taking him to court to force a paternity test, but to what good? I agree with Jessica on this. If Adam wants no part of the baby, we're better off without him. Besides, do I want him butting into our lives? N-O. Adam isn't the nice guy Robbie is. You're lucky, Susan. Robbie's there just enough, gone just enough."

"Is Lily warming to him?" Kate asked.

"She likes him a lot. She always did. And now? She's impressed with how good he is with Noah and how well he handles his mother-who, by the way, is curious. She and Bill drop over once a week. But does Lily want to marry Robbie? Not yet. They both have a lot of growing to do." She shot Pam a sheepish look. "I'm sorry. We always seem to be talking about this."

Good sport that she had become, Pam listened graciously, and though she wasn't clamoring to babysit, she went out of her way to help out with PC Wool when baby emergencies cropped up. Moreover, with Abby at college and Tanner accepting that his wife had a right to a life, she had become the face of PC Wool at trade shows. At the same time, her voice on the school board continued to grow. Two of the men, Morgan and Lombard, had decided not to run again, so she was recruiting replacements, and the initiative was self-perpetuating. The more she spoke up, the more people listened, and the stronger she grew. It was about self-confidence. She didn't work as hard now at being tight with Susan, Sunny, and Kate-the upshot of which was that she more naturally fit in.

"Hey, it's okay," she said now. "I'm glad it's you guys and not me."

"What's the latest from Abby?" Kate asked. "Will they let her dump her lousy roommate?"

"No, but she's found someone to live with second semester, and she loves her classes. Fall break is next weekend. I can't wait to have her home."

Susan was looking forward to seeing her. Not that she didn't feel a quick twinge. Abby was doing what she had wanted Lily to do.

But dreams of the past were fading, those wistful moments few and far between. Lily was an attentive, capable mother, and the baby-well, the baby was a miracle. At five months, he was becoming a smiler, remarkable for an infant who had survived a life-threatening condition. His temperament had been sweet from that first little cry in the delivery room, moments after the balloon had been removed from his trachea, as if he was simply grateful to be alive.

Susan couldn't picture life without him. But then, her own life had changed so much that it was hard making comparisons to the past, period.

For one thing, her job was secure now in ways it had never been before. The town knew the worst and had stuck with her. She had proven herself under fire.

For another, there was Rick. A rock, he had remained calm through Lily's labor and Noah's surgery, and he willingly changed diapers when Lily truly needed the sleep. Likewise, he did his share of work around the house-not that he was perfect. Susan was still training him to wipe out the bathroom sink after he shaved, to take dirty towels to the laundry room, and even-Yes, Rick, that basket is full!-put the wash in himself. But if she had to be dependent on anyone, Rick was a good choice.

And then there was Susan's mom, the non-traveler who now shuttled between Oklahoma and Maine like a pro. Jack had charged Susan with making unfair demands of her, and though Ellen hadn't argued, she didn't change a thing. She seemed content in Zaganack, smiling more than Susan ever remembered her doing. She liked Susan's friends, and, now that Lily was fully recovered from childbirth and able to take care of Noah, Ellen had taken to being at the PC Wool barn with Kate. Timid about doing the actual dyeing, she busied herself with other chores at the oak table in the back. Kate and company had come to look forward to her visits.

So, surprisingly, had Susan, though she found it easier to think of Ellen as a friend. The mother part was shadowed by the past, and with their relationship comfortable now, neither wanted to rock the boat. When sensitive issues popped up, Ellen steered them back to the present. And maybe she was right, Susan decided. Motherhood was about picking up and moving ahead. It was about trying to do better, rather than being paralyzed by what couldn't be changed.

She and Ellen were enjoying life and each other. Wasn't that the important thing?

Lily was thinking along similar lines as she sat at the harbor with Mary Kate and Jess. Lulled by the fall breeze off the ocean and the sough of waves against the pier, all three babies were asleep. Neither the cry of the gulls nor the clang of moorings had woken them. It was a rare moment.

"I think we lucked out," Lily said, rocking Noah's carriage with her foot. "Our moms adore these kids."

"What's not to adore?" Mary Kate asked.

"Crying," remarked Jess. Addison Hope Barros spit up all the time. She had just been diagnosed with reflux.

"It'll be better once the medicine kicks in," Lily said in encouragement, "and besides, she'll outgrow this. Your mom knows that. She isn't asking you to go live with Delilah."

In the hope that holding Addie upright would keep her food down, Jess had her in a carrier on her chest. Peering down, she adjusted her hat. "Delilah wouldn't be good with illness. My mom is. She's right on top of the medicine thing. She keeps lists."

"Are you being sarcastic?" Mary Kate asked.

"I am not. She's been awesome. I mean, if there's a problem, I look up and there she is with whatever I need."

That made Lily's point. "She's adapted. They all have."

"So have we," Mary Kate said quietly.

Lily knew she was thinking about college. How not to, when friends there were constantly sending them excited messages?

Well, not constantly. The texting had slowed. Lily had to adapt to that, too. "No more word from Jacob?"

"Not in four days. I guess that's okay. He knows I'll tell him if there's a problem."

"Doesn't he want to know what Willie's doing?" Jess asked.

Mary Kate shot her a wry look. "Eating, sleeping, pooping? I mean, that's pathetic, but it's what being four months old is about. I get a smile from him once in a while, and he's precious when he coos. I could watch him sleep for hours. Jacob wants him to play. Think about it. Right now, these babies are pretty boring."

"I don't have time to think about it," Jess remarked. "I'm too busy cleaning spit-up."

As she could do only with these two, Lily said, "I do think about it. I think about what I was doing this time last year. I mean, I wouldn't change a thing. But, boy, is life different-and in good ways even aside from Noah," she said, because Susan taught her to look at the positive first. "I have a new house. I have a dad. I have grandparents."

Mary Kate's eyes went wide. "Are Ellen and Big Rick dating?"

"Not officially. But she likes it when he comes."

"Like you like it when Robbie comes?" Jess teased.

"I like it," Lily informed her, "because I think it's good for the baby. Robbie enjoys him."

"Is he still texting so much?"

"Oh, yeah." His messages came multiple times each day, and he had been home twice since classes started. He really was so cute with Noah, and since Noah meant everything to Lily, she would start thinking Robbie had potential. Then he'd return to school and annoy her by starting to text again. "Every few hours I get a blow-by-blow of college life. Like I can identify."

"With all-nighters?" Mary Kate asked in a high voice. "I can identify with that. Of course, they sleep until ten the next morning. When was the last time we did that? I did sleep for four straight hours last night. That's a record."

Lily's record was five, making Noah the best sleeper of the three. With his organs now neatly tucked where they should be, he seemed to be eating to make up for lost time. Maybe that was why he slept well. But then, he was an easygoing guy. Jess's Addie was higher strung. To Lily's knowledge, she was still screaming for food at the three-hour mark. Of course, she was only fourteen weeks to Noah's twenty.

A wail came from her now. Jess jumped up, adjusted the pacifier, and, swearing softly, began a frenetic swaying.

"You can't do that, Jess," Mary Kate warned.

"Swear?"

"Get tense. She senses it. You have to relax."

"That's easy for you to say. You don't have to worry whether your baby is getting enough food." But she did slow the swaying to a calmer pace. "It's like she's always hungry. I'm not sure the new formula is doing a thing."

Lily wondered if breast milk would have been better, but Jess had stopped nursing after three weeks when the baby couldn't seem to get enough. They would never know whether reflux, not lack of food, had caused the crying. Or whether it was Jess's nervousness. Or just Addie's personality.

But Lily agreed with Mary Kate. Jess had to relax. "If this formula doesn't help," she said, "you'll try another, and then another, and before you know it, she'll be past this stage."

"I guess," Jess said, swaying more tiredly now. "It's probably a good thing Adam isn't around. He'd hate this. Did I honestly think he'd be a good father?"

"We never asked ourselves that. We didn't want them involved raising our kids. Adam has good genes. That's what counts." Or so they had said. But Lily liked seeing Robbie with Noah. She liked seeing Rick with him, too. And Big Rick. And Ellen. Not to mention the fact that when someone else played with the baby, she got a break. Even with six hours of sleep, she couldn't believe how tired she was. She had no sooner changed him than he pooped, had no sooner washed his clothes than more were dirty. The work never ended.

"I feel guilty complaining," Jess said. "Addie didn't ask for this. There are times when I'm cleaning her up and she gives me this really apologetic look, like she's saying, 'I'm sorry, Mommy. I didn't mean it. I won't do it again,' and I feel so bad. I do have a lot going for me. Darcy can't get enough of Addie. Dad takes her for walks. And Mom, she's loosened up a lot. Sometimes I think that the less neurotic she is, the more I am-like it's drained out of her and into me."

"You aren't neurotic," Lily said. "You worry, is all."

They were silent for a bit, resting there by the pier. Finally Mary Kate cleared her throat. "Have we decided what to do when Abby is home this weekend? She wants us at her house."

"Not just us," Jess said. "She's invited everyone who'll be home. What'll we have to say to them?"

"We can listen," Lily offered. "They love to talk."

"So do I. Will they ask about my life?"

"No. But Abby really wants us there. She'll be disappointed if we don't go."

There was another silence, then from Mary Kate a cautious "We could bring the babies."

Lily shook her head at the same time that Jess said a firm "No."

"What if we went for just an hour and asked our moms to babysit?" Mary Kate tried.

Lily knew why Mary Kate wanted to go. "Will Jacob be there?"

"I don't know, I haven't asked," she said, "but it'd only be for an hour. I mean"-she looked from Lily to Jess-"okay, so we hate to ask. Our parents have not been begging us to let them babysit. As far as they're concerned, giving up a social life was part of the pact." Her voice grew more meek. "But maybe they'd do it just this once?"

Lily didn't answer. She was wondering how her mother had managed with no one, ever, to help. In that instant, it struck her that getting pregnant was the easy part. Giving birth wasn't bad either, what with a room full of people pitching in. The hard part was what came after-taking care of a baby three-sixty-five twenty-four-seven.

Her mother had done it alone. That was scary. Lily didn't know what she would do if she didn't have Susan around.

Seeming to read her mind, or perhaps just ready for a shot of mom-support herself, Jess said, "I think we should start back. Addie'll be wanting to eat."

Minutes later, each lost in thought as they crossed Main Street, they were startled by the honk of a horn. It was Rachel Bishop, back from Vassar. Slowing, she waved excitedly, pointed to the babies, and gave a thumbs-up, then accelerated again and was gone.

In her wake, all was still. Two carriages, one BabyBjorn, and three young mothers walked on.

Susan had decided that if the baby's half of the attic had a cloud-strewn sky, her half needed grass. They were in the process of adding windblown blades to the lower walls when Susan glanced at her watch. Setting her brush aside, she stood and went to the window-and there he was, pulling into the driveway.

Heart pounding, she trotted down two flights of stairs and outside, feeling an excitement she wouldn't have expected. She had known Rick most of her life, had been with him sexually more than half of that, but with commitment, their roles were redefined. Marriage said that he wasn't going away, that he would be part of her life forever, that he loved her. It gave her license to be excited.

He was grinning when he climbed from the car and, arms opening, scooped her up-and here was another change. Public Display of Affection was totally okay. When it was done, she took his hand and dragged him up those two flights of stairs.

"Whoa," he said when the fuchsia hit him.

"You hate it?" Susan asked worriedly, but he was already looking past Susan's part to the sky with its billowy white clouds.

"That I love," he said, eyes sparkling with hellos to Kate, Sunny, and Pam.

"But you hate the fuchsia."

He grinned crookedly. "As long as I'm not the one working here, the fuchsia is great."

"It'll be better when the grass is done. I may even add some giant sunflowers."

"Add whatever you want. It's your space. We can always hang a curtain to pull if it bothers me when I'm playing trains with the boy," he teased, then said quietly, "No carriage on the porch. Where'd they go?"

"The pier. They'll be back any minute."

He went to the window and had barely glanced toward the harbor end of the street when he said, "There," and was off like a shot.

Taking his place at the window, Susan watched him stride down the front walk and turn onto the sidewalk as the caravan of girls and their babies appeared.

"He is adorable," said Kate from her elbow.

From her shoulder, Pam said, "So excited, like it's his own child."

"It is," Susan murmured, thinking of Lily, because Rick hugged her first. Leaving a hand on her arm, he kissed each of the other girls, then leaned down to see Noah.

"The piece de resistance," Sunny whispered in appreciation.

As they watched, Rick reached in and picked up the baby and, cradling him with admirable ease, guided the girls up the walk.

"Blown off for a five-month-old," Pam announced.

But Susan only smiled. She couldn't ask to see anything better. Sharing was precious.

She was a mother. She had learned this.