The Beach House (29 page)

“Moody is one thing but crying is something else entirely.” With a determined tred, Lovie led the way to Toy’s bedroom. The door was ajar and, peeking in, they found her sitting hunched over a great knot of fabric that was obviously stuck in the angrily buzzing sewing machine. Toy was wearing a short, fuzzy blue robe that revealed thin, tanned legs and bare toes painted a bright violet. She looked up as they entered, her face distraught.

“It’s ruined,” Toy wailed, giving a frustrated yank at the fabric. “I tried and I tried and I just can’t get this damn thing to work out right. I
hate
sewing.”

“Honey,” Lovie said, placing a calming hand on Toy’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you ask me to help?”

“I didn’t want to trouble you and I thought I could do it on my own. It didn’t look so hard when I picked out the pattern. It’s this fabric. It’s so slippery!” She angrily tossed the trailing piece of fabric off her lap.

“Bless your heart. You probably didn’t know that’s a very difficult fabric to sew,” Lovie said.

“Especially for me. I’m so stupid.”

“No, you are not,” Cara said, jumping into the fray.

“Then how come I can’t do it? Lots of people can sew.”

“It’s not your fault that you’re having a hard time with this project,” Lovie said looking at the pattern. “Anyone would. It’s also a difficult pattern. If you don’t mind my asking, have you ever had sewing lessons?”

“Just the basics in seventh grade. We made a pillow or something like that. I thought I could figure it out. But all these steps…It’s so hard.”

“Sewing is one of my most favorite things in the world to do. It’s not the least bit hard. But you can’t build a house until you learn how to hammer a nail.” Her gaze glided over to Cara, a sparkle in her eyes. “Isn’t that right, Cara?”

Cara let it slide. “Mama’s right,” she said to Toy. “If anyone can teach you, she can.”

Toy remained sullen and silent.

“Nothing worth doing is ever easy,” Lovie continued. “I’d be pleased to teach you. And I don’t think we could do any more harm to that fabric. Don’t look so glum. What do you say to the idea of going to town to pick out an easier pattern? We’ll find a nice, crisp cotton fabric. Something that won’t be slippery and get caught in the machine.”

“I’ll take her for you,” Cara said. “The trip to town might be a bit much for you.”

“I don’t need to be mollycoddled. I
want
to go to town.”

Cara could see in her mother’s eyes her dismay at facing the reality that she wasn’t up to shopping excursions any longer.

“Oh, very well. But in the meantime,” Lovie said, turning to Toy, “a little bird told me that you have a birthday coming up. Shame on you for not telling me.”

“It’s no big deal. I don’t expect you to do nothing.”

“But of course we should do something. Your eighteenth birthday! That’s a milestone.”

Toy’s face reddened and she squirmed in her seat. “If, you know, you’re thinking to get me anything at all, well, I’d be grateful if you’d get something for the baby instead. I can get by, but I don’t have a thing for the baby and I need just about everything. That’s what I’m saving all my money for.”

Cara was moved, remembering the days when she was Toy’s age and starting out in Chicago without two dimes to rub together. She would never forget that particular kind of fear.

“You’ll be getting lots of things for the baby when we give you a baby shower,” Cara said, privately determined to make certain Toy had whatever she needed. “But for your eighteenth birthday, you must get something just for
you.
”

“Let us buy you a dress or two,” Lovie cajoled. “To make you feel pretty.”

“No, ma’am, it wouldn’t be right. I can make my own clothes. I’m just getting the hang of it.”

Lovie looked pointedly at the pitiful mess all caught in the needle. Toy, looking at it again, burst into tears.

Cara and Lovie exchanged a long look, both sure it had to be the hormones.

“There’s no use arguing,” Cara said with a gentle laugh. “She’ll wear you down eventually. Then, of course, after she was done you’d have to go round two with me. Just say yes and let us have the pleasure of buying you a little something for your birthday.”

Toy’s face twisted in confusion and Cara felt a pang of sympathy for her. Her pride was kicking in and she was trying to save face. “Please, Toy,” she said, coaxing. “We really won’t give up until you say yes. And it will make Mama happy to do this for you.”

Toy wiped her eyes and Cara saw that the tears had been replaced with relief.

“Okay,” she said with an embarrassed shrug of her shoulders. “If it’ll make Miss Lovie happy, maybe just one dress.”

Later that afternoon, Cara and Toy sat at an outside umbrella table at Port City Java for lunch. At their feet were large bags burgeoning with several maternity dresses, shorts and tops made of light, beautiful fabrics of a quality and style unlike any Toy had owned before. She didn’t even know that there was such a thing as a maternity swimsuit! There was also a brand-new layette for the baby—little tops and bottoms too cute for words.

In the back of her mind, Cara knew she should be careful with her money now that she had no income. But she didn’t care. She was having a ball. In Chicago she’d been too busy to do much shopping and she’d never enjoyed it anyway. At her favorite clothing stores she had saleswomen set things aside for her to try on. For gifts, she’d found it more efficient to pick up the phone, order online or send a gift certificate.

But today had been a whole new experience for her. Toy’s excited expression as she tried on dress after dress and the sound of her “oohs” over a pair of shoes were pure pleasure. Cara remembered standing in the layette section of Belk’s department store. She and Toy had giggled like schoolgirls at seeing the layout of pastel infant clothing, especially the teensy knitted sweaters with adorable bears and kittens embroidered on them. Toy had wanted just to touch them. Cara had watched her stroll through the department skimming the fabrics with her fingertips, an expression of awe on her face.

“They’re so little,” she’d said, voicing Cara’s own thought.

“Why not try one on for size?”

Toy laughed. “Pink or blue?”

“Hmm…Yellow I think. We wouldn’t want to insult Baby.” It was more fun than serious, rather like trying on makeup or jewelry.

“What do you think?” Toy had asked as she gingerly held up a newborn “onesie” to her belly. Delicate lace and tiny embroidered ducklings bordered the soft yellow fabric. As the outfit lay against Toy’s body, the reality that in the not-too-distant future a new baby would indeed be wearing the tiny garment changed the mood. Tears moistened their eyes.

Cara had bought the yellow outfit on the spot, and several more like it. The more Toy said she didn’t want anything, the more determined Cara was to buy her something extra.

Cara found herself smiling at the memory and she cast an affectionate glance across the table at Toy, who was hungrily devouring her sandwich. It occurred to Cara that if she’d had a child at Toy’s age, that child would be older than Toy now.

What was having a baby like, she wondered? What was it like to bring another human being into the world? She sneaked a quick glance at Toy’s belly, trying to imagine the feel of life inside her. She couldn’t.

Being a mother meant she’d be responsible for that child for life. She’d have to have a job, a place to live and the means to provide. She supposed that wasn’t so very different than what she was doing right now. What
would
be different was the loss of her independence because there’d be this little creature tugging at her skirts needing to be taken care of. Mama used to tell her that, from the moment she saw her firstborn’s face, she never had another good night’s sleep.

She tried to imagine herself a mother, holding her baby to her breast, seeing her face for the first time. Seeing a part of herself in the eyes of another being. She warmed to the vision.

Then she felt a sudden sense of loss. She’d likely never have a child.

Cara sat blinking in the afternoon sun dazed with the full impact of the realization. It wasn’t that she’d actually decided
not
to have children, more that she’d been busy building her career and never got around to thinking about it. Now here she was, forty, sitting at a little outdoor bistro with an iced cappuccino, suddenly realizing that she’d
forgotten
to have children.

“I sure wish Miss Lovie could’ve come with us,” Toy was saying to her. “She’d love this sandwich.”

Cara turned her head, realizing that Toy was speaking to her. “What? I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Maybe we should bring one of these sandwiches home for Miss Lovie?”

Cara brought her wandering mind quickly back into focus. Dragging her emotions along was a bit harder. She took a deep breath. “It’s a nice idea, but I don’t think Mama’d eat it. It’s pretty spicy and her appetite is dwindling to nothing.”

Toy put down her sandwich with a dramatic show of concern. “Don’t I know it! I’m trying to cook all manner of things that she might like, but I swear, no matter what I make she picks at it like a bird.”

“Don’t take it personally, Toy. It’s the illness. I had a long talk with her doctor the other day and he thinks she’s doing pretty well, considering. Her energy level is good and her mood is up. But he warned me that it won’t be long before she’ll start to…” She hesitated. She didn’t want to voice his word:
deteriorate.
That sounded so inhuman. Like a specimen breaking down in a lab or a piece of fruit withering in the refrigerator. “Soon it will be a struggle to get her to eat at all.”

Toy’s face reflected the dismay they both felt. “I can’t believe it’s really happening.”

Cara set down her fork. “I know. It will be hard. We’ll need each other then, Toy, for help and support.”

Toy nodded solemnly.

“I keep thinking of her the way she was when I was growing up. She had so much energy. And my, did she love to shop. This trip would have been right up her alley. She was on a first-name basis with the sales clerks in every boutique on King Street.” Cara smiled remembering. “You should have seen her back then. She was such a belle. She had this tiny waist and beautiful blond hair. She always looked just so.” Cara laughed in a self-deprecating manner. “What a pair we made. I always felt like the gangly sidekick. Going shopping for dresses with her was torture. When I tried things on I felt so big and gawky next to her. The nicer she was the crankier I became. She never understood that I wished I looked like her. But I couldn’t tell her that, of course. I probably didn’t even realize it at the time. Our shopping trips always ended with a quarrel and days of self-loathing. I think that’s why I hate shopping or wearing dresses to this day.”

She saw Toy’s expression change to a guilt-ridden worry. “Oh, but I loved shopping with you today,” Cara hurried to assure her. “After all, you and Baby were trying on all the clothes. I got to sit back and enjoy.”

Toy seemed to believe her. “Well,” she said in an airy tone, “you turned out just fine. I wish I were as tall as you. You look like a model.”

“Hardly, but speaking of which, Mama will ask you to model everything when we get back. Just you wait.”

Toy picked up her sandwich with both hands and took an enormous bite. She started to say something else, but stopped and waited to finish chewing. Cara held back her smile.

Toy pointed to Cara’s plate. “Is that all you’re eating? I feel like a cow next to you.”

“I’m going out with Brett for dinner, so I’m leaving lots of room.”

“Again?”

For a second, Cara was caught up in her memories of the night before. She’d spent half the night trying to work out why she was so pleased with the evening when she still hadn’t gone much beyond kissing. Though it was a great kiss.

“We’re going to go over the plans for the porch tonight,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone to quash the “Do tell!” in Toy’s eyes. “He thinks he can start work by the end of the week. Can you believe it?”

“I think he’d move mountains for you.”

“What do you mean?”

Toy wiped her mouth with an exaggerated demure pat of the napkin. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Cara tried not to grin as she looked down and stirred her ice with the straw. “No, that’s not the reason he’s doing the job. I told him about Mama’s condition and it was like lighting a match under that man. He can’t get the job done fast enough. It’s very sweet, actually.”

“That’s because he’s a sweet man. Quiet but strong, you know? There aren’t many of them out there, as far as I can tell.”

“Take my word on it. There aren’t.”

“I don’t think Darryl ever looked at me the way Brett looks at you.”

“What do you care about the way
he
looked at you?”

Toy set her half-eaten sandwich back down on the plate. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I didn’t want to worry Miss Lovie, so it’s good we can talk about it while we’re alone.”

“I’m all ears.”

“It’s Darryl. I called him. Just to see how he was,” she hurried to add when she saw the spark ignite in Cara’s eyes. “We were together for a long time, you know?”

Cara stirred her ice and tried to keep her voice even when inside she was roiling. “And what did he have to say for himself?”

“Not much. He’s such a creep. There was another girl with him and he didn’t care if I knew it. I think he even wanted me to hear her. To punish me, you know?” She snorted. “As if.”

“Still, the betrayal hurt, I’m sure,” Cara responded, thinking of Richard.

Toy nodded grimly.

“Well, good riddance to rubbish, right?”

Toy shifted in her seat and kept her eyes down.

“Is there something else?”

“He must have caller ID or Star 69’d me or something ‘cause he knows my number now. I mean, your number. He called me the other day—but I hung up on him.”

“I see.” Cara sat back in her chair while a thousand possibilities whirred in her mind, none of them good. “What do you think he might do?”

“Darryl? With him anything’s possible. He thinks I, like, belong to him, you know?”