Family Tree Page 14

  This time, Dana answered.

  For a split second, Dorothy wavered. She didn’t normally do things that she knew would upset Eaton, and it wasn’t a matter of obedience, but respect. His instincts were good, and his heart was usually in the right place. The problem was, she didn’t know where his heart was now.

  So, boldly, she said, “Dana, this is Dorothy.” She usually called herself “Mom,” but Dana preferred “Dorothy,” and maybe she had a point. “How are you?”

  There was a pause, then a cautious “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “Very well, thank you,” Dorothy said as though nothing was wrong. “Tell me how the baby is.”

  “She’s adorable,” Dana said in a lighter tone. “I swear she just smiled. I know it’s too early, that it’s probably gas, but it did look pretty.”

  “How is she eating?”

  “Very well. I think we’ve found a rhythm.”

  “What about sleeping?”

  “Uh, still a ways to go with that. She’s a little confused between day and night.”

  “Do you keep the light off when you’re with her at night?”

  “I use a nightlight.”

  “Good. There should be no playing, then. Let her sleep nighttimes as long as she will, but wake her every four hours during the day.” Hearing her own words, she added quickly, “Actually, those are just suggestions. I had my turn, my son Robert always says when I start telling him how to handle his children.”

  There was a pause, then Dana said, “I’m open to suggestions. The only thing I can’t change is Lizzie’s color.”

  “Are you calling her Lizzie, then? That’s very sweet for a little girl. ‘Elizabeth’ is just a beautiful name, and she may grow up to insist that we all call her that, but ‘Lizzie’ works for a baby. Funny, Robert was always a Robert, never a Bob to anyone but Hugh. How is Hugh doing, by the way? Is he helping you with the baby? Did I ever tell you that Eaton never changed a diaper? Not a one, but then, none of his friends did, either. Back then, it was really up to us moms to do things like that, because we were full-time mothers—not that there’s anything wrong with not being a full-time mother.” She paused, concerned by Dana’s silence. “Are you there, dear?”

  “I’m here,” Dana said.

  “I would like to come over,” Dorothy announced. “I picked up a little something for you and Lizzie, and I’d like to see her. She’s probably changed a lot, even in four days.”

  “Not her color, Dorothy. You need to know that.”

  “I know it,” Dorothy acknowledged quietly. Then, because that didn’t seem like enough to say on the subject, she added, “I’m not trying to deny her heritage, because I’ve been thinking of little else for the past few days. But that baby just happens to be my grandchild.”

  “There are people who aren’t sure about that,” Dana said, and Dorothy felt ashamed. The business at the hospital that first day would haunt her always.

  “When one suffers a shock—not suffers, experiences a shock, it’s very easy to lash out. I do believe that Lizzie is my grandchild.”

  “And Eaton?”

  “I’m speaking for myself now.”

  “Does he know you’ve called?”

  “No,” Dorothy said before it occurred to her to lie, then backpedaled, “but that’s neither here nor there, because I want to see my grandchild. Tomorrow isn’t a good day, but Monday would be.” Eaton would be in his office and wouldn’t be any the wiser if she told him she was going into Boston to shop. “Would that work for you?”

  “I’ll be at the yarn store on Monday. My grandmother broke her foot, so I’m trying to help there.”

  “Broke her foot? Oh dear. I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it isn’t a bad break?”

  “No, but it means she can’t move around as easily as she’d like.”

  “But what about the baby?” Dorothy asked. “Who’s with her while you’re at the yarn shop? Now, that’s something I could help with. I could babysit while you fill in for Eleanor.”

  “I need Lizzie with me since I’m nursing. We have a cradle there.”

  “Oh. Well, then, would Tuesday work?” Eaton would be playing tennis again. “I take it Hugh will be back at work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that’s perfect,” Dorothy crowed. She didn’t care to see Hugh right now, any more than she wanted Eaton knowing what she was doing. This was between Dana, Lizzie, and her. “I could come early, as soon as Hugh left for the office, and I could even bring breakfast.”

  “I promised Tara I’d meet her for breakfast,” said Dana.

  “Is it wise to take a baby so young out to a restaurant?”

  “It’s a local place, just a five-minute drive from here, and the pediatrician says it’s fine.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Dorothy remarked brightly, though her spirits fell. It sounded like Dana didn’t want her around, which wasn’t entirely unjustified. The thing was, Dorothy really did want to see the baby.

  “Tuesday late morning might work,” Dana said. “We should be home by ten. I wouldn’t be leaving for The Stitchery until after lunch.”

  Dorothy perked up. “I’ll bring lunch. That will be so nice. I know you like Rosie’s. I could stop there on the way. Tell me what you’d like.”

  “Any kind of salad with grilled chicken—”

  “No, no. Please be very specific.”

  “A grilled-chicken Caesar, lightly dressed.”

  “Then that’s what you’ll have.”

  Chapter 14

  Dana didn’t tell Hugh that his mother had called. Petty, she knew. And controlling. But she was feeling more vulnerable than she ever had. Lizzie’s birth was forcing her to think about her own father and the issue of race. Time and again, she looked in the mirror, wondering how her life would have been different if her skin had been Lizzie’s color. For one thing, she doubted she would be married to Hugh.

  But she was. And that weekend was a difficult one. He was two different people—guarded with her, enthusiastic with friends. When Julian pulled out his camera and insisted on taking a family photo, Hugh was all smiles. He put his arms around Dana and held the baby and her close. Hypocritical though she thought it, his manner set the tone for their friends—which, ironically, made her point. Yes, there were questions, but once he explained that Dana had never known her father, that was the end of it. Tell people the truth and they move on, she had said. Show excitement and they show it in return.

  No, the problem was when they were alone. The DNA test lay between them, tethering each to his own side of their king-size bed.

  When Hugh went to the hospital Sunday morning to visit Jay Kostas, he brought a bag full of books, a remote-control toy car, and an oversize Patriots shirt. The boy was in a quad. Only two of the beds were taken, the other by a child whose parents kept the drapes drawn.

  Jay wasn’t a large boy. The body cast gave the impression of girth, until one looked at his arms and legs, which were extremely thin. When Hugh arrived, he was watching cartoons on an overhead TV set and Crystal was sleeping, sitting in the chair. The boy recognized him from his previous visit. His eyes lit when he saw the gifts.

  “Wake up, Mommy,” he whispered.

  Crystal lifted her head. She was a minute focusing, which said something about the rest she wasn’t getting in her own bed at home. Still, she managed a sleepy “Hi.”

  “How’s it going?” Hugh asked.

  She stretched. “Not bad.”

  “Whaddaya got?” Jay asked, with his eyes on the gifts.

  “These are for your mom.”

  The boy’s face fell.

  Hugh laughed. “Just kidding.” He put the bag of books on the tray table. “These may or may not work. I had to rely on the recommendation of a clerk. It’s been a while since I was four. But the car’s something else.”

  Jay had already reached for that, then reached for the shirt. “Does it have a number on it?”

  “Sure does.”

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nbsp; “What number?”

  “Four,” Hugh said, and helped unfold the shirt.

  He was about to tell him that four was Vinatieri’s number, when Jay said excitedly, “Can I put it on, Mommy?”

  Hugh guessed that would take a little work. Crystal was already unbuttoning the pajama top. Lifting Jay forward, she removed it. The cast was like a vest with a mandarin collar, starting just under his chin, ending at his hip. “That’s not so bad,” Hugh remarked. “How’s it feel?”

  “It itches,” said the boy.

  “I should’ve brought a back scratcher.”

  The weight of the cast was another problem. Hugh could see how heavy it was from the way Crystal was struggling to hold the boy up and pull on the shirt at the same time. He gave her a hand.

  When it was done, Jay said, “Wow. This is my best shirt.” He reached for the control bar and began to work the car. His enthusiasm was a gift that wasn’t lost on Hugh. Likewise, his smugness when he finished a particularly good run. It was J. Stan Hutchinson all the way.

  He watched Crystal playing with her son, thinking that not only was she attractive but she was a good mother. Her smile told him she appreciated what he’d done.

  It was nice to feel appreciated. He was thinking it would serve Dana right if he was drawn to another woman. Only he didn’t want another woman.

  “I’m working on remembering things,” Crystal said, moving to his side.

  “Anything you want to share?”

  “Not yet.” She looked past him. “Here’s the doctor.”

  The man in white was watching Jay. “Nothing wrong with his thumbs,” he remarked before extending a hand to Hugh. “Steven Howe.”

  “Hugh Clarke. I talked with an associate of yours the other day. He hadn’t seen the release Crystal signed and didn’t feel free to talk.”

  “I’ve seen it,” the doctor said. “I have a few minutes now.” He led the way to a small office adjacent to the nurses’ station. “What do you want to know?”

  “The exact nature of the injury and what needs to be done to heal it,” Hugh said.

  “The accident caused a compression fracture of the L-4 vertebral body,” the doctor began, “with bilateral pelvic numbness. Emergent imaging studies showed retropulsed bone bulging into the spinal canal, which in turn resulted in the effacing and deforming of the thecal sac at that level.”

  “Translation?”

  “A vertebral fracture caused bone fragments from the spine to break into the spinal canal and push on nerve roots there. We opened the spine and removed enough of the fragments to relieve pressure on the nerve roots. Had we not done this within the first few hours, there might have been permanent neurological damage.”

  “No permanent damage, then?”

  “Not neurological. The Risser cast will hold the fracture in a safe position until it heals. I don’t anticipate any problem on that score.”

  “His mother mentioned growth plates.”

  “There’s the problem. I would guess, given Jay’s initial fracture and my experience with similar ones, that there has been some level of damage to the inferior and superior plates on the right side of the body. If this proves to be the case, the boy’s left side grows while the right side doesn’t. This would cause a scoliotic deformity.”

  “Meaning?”

  “His torso will pitch over to the right. If this happens, his body will try to compensate, and in so doing create a whole new set of problems. We don’t want those to arise, which is why we recommend early surgical intervention.”

  Hugh heard a “but” and dipped his head.

  “It’s a very specialized field,” the doctor said.

  “She mentioned St. Louis.”

  “The best man is there.”

  Hugh would probably have to depose him, too. For now, though, he asked, “Would you be willing to give an affidavit covering all of the above?”

  “Of course.” The doctor pulled out his card.

  “Is the prognosis good?” Hugh asked.

  “For Jay? With proper medical treatment, very good. He’d be home now if it weren’t for the leg cast. We don’t want him walking on it for a couple of weeks, and the Risser makes crutches difficult. We’re training him on a walker. Once he can handle that, he’ll be discharged. We’ll see him in six weeks and get a better grasp then on the situation with the growth plates. If he gets down to St. Louis soon after that, he could be playing soccer next year.”

  “And if not?”

  “He’ll be watching from the sidelines for good.”

  Dana was returning from the yarn shop late Sunday afternoon, carrying a sleeping Lizzie to the patio in her car seat, when David and Ali came out of their house to barbecue on the deck. David spared Dana a glance before busying himself with the grill. Ali waved and shouted, then looked at her father and was silent.

  Dana was having none of that. No matter how David felt about Hugh, she didn’t want Ali suffering for it. Leaving Lizzie safe in the carrier, she crossed her own yard into theirs. “Hey,” she said. “You guys are back earlier than I thought you’d be. How was camping?”

  As though Dana’s entry into their yard was the magic key, Ali ran over to her. Her hair was a tangled mess and her tee shirt stained blue, but her cheeks were pink and her dark eyes danced. “It was awesome! Daddy and me walked for hours, then”—she began waving her hands to illustrate—“we found this little place where the trees weren’t too close, and we put up a tent and collected sticks and cooked over a fire.”

  “What’d you cook?”

  “Marshmallows.”

  “Marshmallows. Is that all?”

  “Oh, there was other stuff, but the marshmallows were the best.” She started moving her hands again. “First you have to get a stick, then you use this little knife to clean it off and sharpen it, and then you push marshmallows onto the stick. You have to hold the stick over the fire,” she demonstrated, “and turn it all the time, or else it’s gonna catch fire and get chaired—”

  “Charred,” David said.

  “Charred.” She turned to Dana. “Are we knitting tomorrow? You promised you’d teach me.”

  “And I will, yes, tomorrow.”

  “Oh, good. I have swimming—when do I have that, Daddy?”

  “Two,” David said.

  “Two, so we could do it before that, maybe at eight or nine or ten.” She was bouncing on her toes, looking toward the car carrier. “Is the baby in that thing?”

  “She is.”

  “Can I see her?” she asked, taking Dana by the hand.

  “Ali—” David warned.

  “It’s okay,” Dana said. “We’ll be right back.” Breaking into a trot to keep up, she ran with Ali to the carrier.

  Ali made a hushed sound and, kneeling on the stone, clutched the sides of the carrier. “She’s sleeping again,” she said, looking up at Dana. “Why is she always sleeping?”

  “That’s what babies do. They aren’t able to do much else until they grow bigger, and in order to grow bigger, they need sleep.”

  “And food,” Ali added, stage-whispering now. “I’ll bet Baby E-lizabeth would love marshmallows toasted all nice and brown and gooey—” She stopped short, broke into a big grin, and stood.

  Hugh had materialized at the screen door. He came out with his eyes on Ali and his head cocked to the side. He wore the teasingly skeptical expression that Dana loved. “That can’t be Alissa Johnson,” he said. “The one I remember is at least a foot shorter and nowhere near as grown-up as the young lady here. So who is this?”

  Ali continued to grin. “It’s Ali.”

  Hugh held up his hand for a high five. The child slapped it. When he moved it higher, she jumped to slap it again. “Atta girl,” Hugh said.

  “Ali,” David called.

  “I have to go now,” Ali said. “I promised Daddy I’d help him make dinner.” She ran across the lawn.

  Hugh stared after her. “Do you think David told her what’s going on?”
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  “I think he told her not to bother us because of the new baby. I can’t imagine he said anything else.”

  “You ought to ask him.”

  “I think you should.”

  He shot her a vexed look. “I can’t.”

  “You’ll have to apologize to him at some point.”

  “Yeah, well, not yet,” he said, and there it was again, the paternity test coming between them in ways Dana didn’t know how to prevent. Some of her pain must have shown, because he added, “It’s only a technicality, Dee. You know I know I’m Lizzie’s father.”

  They stared at each other for a minute before Hugh turned to Lizzie. He knelt, touched her tummy, which was all but lost in the fabric of the striped onesie. Her head tilted to the side, eyes closed, dark lashes splayed over the deep gold of her cheeks. “I just came from the hospital. I was visiting Jay Kostas. He’s a cute little boy who faces a lot of serious operatons. It really does make you grateful for what you have. Lizzie is very healthy.”

  Dana took a slow breath. “Yes. She is healthy. I’m grateful for that.”

  “Should I carry her inside?”

  “No. The fresh air is good. I think the ocean sounds soothe her.”

  “Soothe her or you?”

  “Both,” Dana admitted. “I hear my mother in the waves. Maybe Lizzie does, too.”

  Hugh looked up. “What does your mother say?”

  Dana studied the water. “She says that what’s happening between us isn’t good. That we have so much going for us, that we’re crazy to be letting something like this come between us. That we’re being childish.”

  “Do you agree?”

  “Yes.”

  He stood. “So…?”

  She met his gaze. “It isn’t as simple as agreeing or not. Everything is relative. We had something that was perfect.” Her voice caught on the pain of memory. “Maybe it was an illusion. But I want it back, and that’s impossible.”

  “Nothing’s impossible.”

  “Spoken by one who’s led a charmed life.”

  “Come on, Dee,” he chided. “Listen to your mother.”