Heartwood (7 page)

But Robby was shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, honey, we can feed her and give her water while we’re here, but what would we do with her in California? We’re going to have a tiny one-bedroom apartment—there’s not enough room in it for us. That dog would go crazy and so would we. Besides, we’re not going to have time for a pet. Why don’t you let her wander around the site for a while and see if someone else will take her?”

The word “selfish” was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. Besides, she told herself that he was right, with all the people connected with the dig, surely someone would offer to give the shambling stray a home. But no one did. People fed the puppy scraps from their lunches and several of them left out plates of food for her at night. But no one was going to adopt her.

“How can people be so uncaring?” Laura wailed.

“I guess they’re all like us. They don’t have the time or space.” Robby shrugged.

“But everyone is feeding her.”

“She’s hungry.”

“And she’s getting used to depending on us. What will she do after we leave?”

“I don’t know.”

“Doesn’t that bother anyone?” Laura was yelling now. “What is going to happen to her? She’s just a baby … she’s helpless. Someone has to take care of her. Is anyone even thinking about that?”

“Laura—”

“How can people be so irresponsible! How can they be so damn selfish?”

And what she was really saying was, “
We
are going to have a helpless baby. How can
we
be so selfish and irresponsible?”

Robby knew that was what she meant. Of course he did. He sat at the table in their little galley kitchen and he buried his head in his hands. This time it wasn’t his father who had torn at his self-esteem, and the guilt Laura felt was overwhelming.

She worked even harder at being a good sport. She tried not to think about the soon-to-be-abandoned puppy. She fought back the nausea and she forced herself to work at the dig. And she fought back a homesickness that got so intense that sometimes it was like a physical pain. She was stunned by this in herself. Unlike so many freshmen she hadn’t missed her home when she went away to college, she’d been eager for whatever new experiences would come her way. But in New Mexico, it seemed she was a different person. She knew intellectually that there was great beauty around her, but she couldn’t make herself see it. When everyone gathered at the end of the day to watch the famous desert sunset, Robby and the others would be awestruck by the glory of the colors that spread across the sky. Laura would look at that same sky and long for rain and the
green lawns of the Northeast. She would miss New York City. That was the biggest surprise of all. Robby was an outdoors person and she had convinced herself that she was one too. But now she was beginning to realize that she really wanted to live near a big city. She wanted to be able to walk down city streets and have access to theaters and museums and shops full of beautiful, exotic things from faraway places. She didn’t need to buy these things—at least, she never had—but she liked to believe that someday, if she wanted to, she might.

One hot evening, she’d left the site’s communal campfire early so she could take her shower while there was still some hot water, and she found herself daydreaming about a little Mediterranean shop on Lexington Avenue that sold candles and soap that smelled of lemon and lavender. The water that came out of their showerhead in the trailer always had a brackish smell, and as it trickled down her face she thought of the sweet-smelling candles and soap, and she began to sob. She got out of the shower, and dried off the nasty water with a towel and put on a clean robe, but she couldn’t stop crying. She cried because the cramped little trailer in which she lived smelled of it’s former tenants instead of herbs and citrus oils. She cried because she was afraid she was too young and poor to be having a baby. She cried because she wanted to run home and beg her parents to take care of her again, but a grown-up didn’t do that. And most of all, she cried because she was Laura Stern McAllister, the girl with the charmed life who wasn’t supposed to cry.

There was a sound behind her and she turned to see that Robby had come back. He had opened the screen door, which squeaked but she’d been crying too loudly to hear it, and he had walked up behind her. He had heard her cry and now he was saying, “Laura?” in a scared voice.

She swallowed the sobs. “I’m sorry,” she started to say, “I don’t know why I’m doing this …” But the sobs erupted again and she couldn’t go on.

Robby sat down on the little cot that served as their bed. He looked defeated, which made her feel even worse. “You hate it here,” he said sadly.

She managed to get control. “No, no. I just need to get used to it …”

He shook his head. “You think I’m blind? You’re sick and the heat gets to you.” He looked around the little trailer. “And you’re not used to living conditions like this. I should have thought it through. I should have known.”

She rushed to him. “How could you have? I won’t have you blaming yourself because I’m being a spoiled brat!”

He’d smiled at that. “I would have said a child of privilege.”

“Call it whatever you want, it’s not your fault and I am going to get over this. In a few weeks I’ll start feeling better. Consuelo says the morning sickness will be gone.” Actually the cook had warned Laura that certain women never got over it for their entire pregnancy.

“Consuelo isn’t a doctor and your father is. He thinks living here on the dig is too much for you.”

“You’ve talked to Daddy?”

“And your mother.”

She should be angry at Robby for going to her parents behind her back. She should feel ashamed of herself for letting Robby see how miserable she was. But she was glad he’d seen it. She was happy that Iris and Theo knew what she’d been suffering and now they could fix it for her.

“Your parents want you to come home,” Robby said.

The grass would be lush, there would be summer rainstorms, and New York City would be a train ride away. For a second she let herself imagine it all. Then she looked at Robby. He was sitting on the bed, and he was all hunched over, like he’d just lost a fight. If she went back to her mother’s house it would be such a defeat for him.

Nana would never have done that to her husband, she wouldn’t have run away just because she was uncomfortable and scared and not sure she was ready to be an adult. Not Nana, who had crossed an ocean while she was still in her teens and made her way in a new country where she couldn’t even speak the language.

“I won’t go,” she said. “You’re my husband, I’ll stay here with you.”

The smile that broke over Robby’s face was dazzling. He threw his arms around her. “I’ll make this up to you,” he said. “I promise!”

She told herself whatever she had to endure, the heat, the bugs or the nausea, it was worth it if she’d made him this happy.

–—

The next morning she slept late, and Robby was gone when she finally awakened. At the dig they told her he had driven into town on an errand—no one seemed to know what it was—and he wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours. She decided to take the day off herself and waited at the trailer for him to come back. It was noon by the time he finally showed up.

“Where have you been?” she demanded. “I was starting to get worried …” Then she stopped. Because in one hand Robby was carrying a white dog’s bowl on which he had painted the
name M
OLLY
in big red letters. And in the other hand he was holding a leash, which was attached to the collar that had been buckled around the puppy’s shaggy brown neck.

“Here,” he said, as he grabbed the dog by her new collar to prevent her from launching herself at Laura and smothering her with kisses. “I thought maybe she’d keep you from feeling so blue.”

–—

In her kitchen, Laura finished packing up her cooking utensils. Behind her a snuffling sound announced the presence of a shaggy brown dog whose muzzle was starting to gray.

“Hey, Molly,” she said softly. She leaned down to stroke the dog’s rough fur.
There was a time when Robby and I tried so hard to be good to each other. We wanted to make each other happy. Now there are days when I don’t think we even notice if we’re happy or not. I keep on trying to figure out why it’s happened, but maybe there isn’t any reason
.

“Maybe Robby and I aren’t doing that badly,” she said to the dog. “Maybe this is normal for people who have been married for a long time. I always think I can make things better, but maybe this is as good as it gets.”

Oh, how she didn’t want to believe that.

W
hen the summer had finally ended and Laura and Robby left the dig—and the hated trailer—for the apartment they had rented near the university campus, Laura was sure that at last their troubles were over. And at first things did seem to be better. The apartment was across the street from a row of adorable little shops and restaurants. It had air-conditioning that worked. There were sweet-smelling gardenias planted outside the front door of the apartment building.

But they had chosen to live in an area that was popular with undergraduates. They had known that and they’d thought it might be kind of fun—they weren’t so far away from their own college days after all. But they hadn’t thought about how noisy it would be to live on the same block with two fraternity houses. They hadn’t thought about how distracting it would be for Robby to hear parties going full tilt every night with music blaring and people shouting from building to building while he
tried to study for his doctorate and do research for his very demanding mentor. It had never occurred to them that it would drive them crazy to listen to all the cheerful mayhem outside their windows while they were lying awake at night worrying about paying the bills.

Robby and Laura were broke. Continually. Scarily. When they were newly married and planning their future, they hadn’t had any idea of the expenses involved with having a baby, or that those expenses would start before the baby was even born. They hadn’t added the cost of doctor’s visits and prenatal vitamins and the seemingly endless amount of baby paraphernalia—all to be purchased in advance—to the budget they were writing up. Furthermore, they had counted on Laura bringing in a salary to augment the small paycheck Robby would earn from Professor Hawkins. There were so many little shops and restaurants on and around the university campus, they were sure she’d get a job in one of them. It hadn’t occurred to them that the little restaurants and shops would not want to hire and train a girl who was pregnant and would be leaving her job when she gave birth in just a few months. Laura kept on with her job hunt until she was a month away from her due date, then she finally admitted defeat and gave up.

–—

The baby was born. She was a little girl, and they named her Katie after Robby’s grandmother. According to the baby’s two grandmothers, both of her parents had been rosy, round infants. Katie was angular, and her complexion was a warm olive. She stared at the world with big dark eyes. It was Robby who finally realized who she looked like. “Remember your mother’s baby
pictures, Laura?” he said one morning as Laura was bathing Katie, “Katie could be her double.”

Laura looked down at her child’s face gazing up at her out of the soapsuds. “You’re right. She does look like Mom.”

The baby not only looked like Iris, but from the very beginning she seemed to have Iris’s temperament too.

“She takes things in the way your mother does,” said Theo when he and Iris flew out to California to see Katie. “I know she’s only a baby, but it’s as if she’s watching everything that’s happening and she’s going to understand all of it or know the reason why.”

Once again Laura had agreed that the similarities between her mother and her daughter were amazing. But later on, when she and the baby were alone she had whispered in Katie’s ear, “But you’ll never be afraid or insecure like my mother has been all of her life. You’ll be strong, Katie. I’ll see to it.”

Laura had fallen in love with her child. The guilt and doubts that had haunted her during her pregnancy seemed to have belonged to a different person. She could hardly remember them. Not that life with Katie was always easy. Especially when she was awakened in the middle of the night because the boys in the fraternity house at the end of the block had decided to march down the street singing the university fight song. Or when some noise her parents made in the tiny apartment woke her. She cried on these occasions; loudly, and for a very long time.

“Will she ever stop?” Robby demanded after a siege that seemed to have gone on for hours.

“She’s angry,” Laura said. “She was sleeping and minding her own business, and those idiots woke her up with their noise
and now she’s going to make sure we know how she feels about it.” And she added quietly in her daughter’s ear, “It’s okay, Katie. Don’t you pretend to be happy when you’re not. Not my little girl.”

But Laura and Robby weren’t getting much sleep, and Robby, particularly, was exhausted. To fill in their ever-widening financial gap, he’d begun tutoring a few private students in math and science. Now, in addition to the hours he spent doing research for Hawkins, he was preparing lessons and grading papers. On the weekends he’d taken a part-time job at a shoe store in the local mall. Naturally all of this cut into the time he had for his own studies, and being sleep-deprived wasn’t helping him either. In the early mornings Laura watched him stagger through their apartment, which was now crammed with the baby’s furnishings, to sit at the kitchen table, and fall asleep over his books, and she knew he was falling behind. At the same time he was becoming fixated on the idea that he needed to get his doctorate as quickly as possible.