When I opened my door the following Saturday morning, the last person I expected to see was Joan Norten, casseroles in hand.
"I brought you a shepherd's pie," she said, carrying them into my kitchen. "And a blueberry pie for dessert. I figured with Martin away you could use a bit of extra help."
"Thank you. They look wonderful." I appreciated the gifts of food today more than usual. I'd picked up a cold right after Martin left and, even with a heavy dose of over-the-counter medications, was still suffering.
"So, how are you managing without Martin this week?" she asked. "Or is it the same as every other week?"
"It's a bit rough without him around. He's helped out more than I expected. But I know he still thinks I'm trying to do too much. It's bad enough that some of the parents think I can't do it—"
"Which parents?" She slid the casserole into the fridge and set the pie on the counter. "From what I hear, everyone's happy to have you back."
"Mrs. Tydings, for one. She thinks her son's being bullied. He got hurt last week and she blamed the school." I sighed. "She's threatened to make a formal complaint."
"What happened?"
"Eddie – that's her son – and another boy ran into each other playing football; just an accident. When Martin examined him, there were a few older bruises. But none of the teachers has seen or heard anything."
"Well, I learned the hard way when Marty stayed with us years ago that young boys often come home with a mess of cuts and scrapes and then can't tell you how they got them. Martha Tydings needs to find something else to worry about."
"And then there's Mr. Rhodes who thinks his daughter is smarter than she is. And—"
"Louisa, surely parents with issues about their children are nothing new. You'd be having these same discussions with difficult parents whether or not you had a child."
"I know. But when Martin says I can't do it, it hurts even more. I thought that when he decided to come back here, he'd support me. But he still thinks I can't work and be a mum at the same time."
"Can you?"
I caught myself before I gave her my automatic answer that I could do it all. Joan might be Martin's aunt, but she was brutally honest with me as well as him and, at times, was the only confidante I had.
I coughed away a tickle at the back of my throat. "I don't know. When I'm at school, I feel like I'm shortchanging Tommy and when I rush out of school to get home, I feel like I'm shortchanging my students. And I'm tired all the time and then I let little things get to me, like difficult parents and spilling groceries."
"Louisa, I think most mothers feel that way at times."
"I just wish Martin could be a bit more understanding."
"Have you considered that he might be afraid you can do it all?"
My eyes widened. "What?"
"If you do it all yourself, then you won't need him. And neither will Tommy."
"But that's what he's said he wanted all along – not to be involved."
Joan gave a snort that so reminded me of Martin. "That's rubbish and you know it. I heard what he said at the pub when you were giving birth. It was probably the first time I've ever heard Martin admit he was wrong about anything. He wants to be part of your life, Louisa. And part of Tommy's life. He's just not sure how to go about it."
I pulled out a tissue and coughed into it. "Well, he certainly doesn't act like it."
"Give him a chance. It's a lot for him to deal with. And remember, his own childhood memories aren't the best. It's not as if he has a good example of how to raise a child."
"He has memories of you."
"Yes," she said slowly. "Although sometimes I think he makes them out to be better than they were. No one's a perfect parent."
"I just hope he didn't make a mistake coming back here. That he didn't get all emotional when Tommy was born—"
"Of course he got emotional! It was his son, for goodness sakes. He's supposed to get emotional." She put her hand on her hip. "Now, enough of this serious talk. What are your plans for this afternoon?"
I told her that I needed to work on my lesson plans, prepare for the next governor's meeting, and make sure the fall festival event was on track. The thought of simply lying in bed and getting over my cold was also strangely inviting.
"All that can wait. You need to do something fun for a change."
"Such as?"
"Go shopping in Truro."
"But I don't need anything."
"Not for you. For Tommy. We can get him some new clothes. And maybe get you some as well."
I looked over to the cot where Tommy was fast asleep and realized he really didn't have all that much to wear. I'd received a few items at my baby shower but had planned to do most of my shopping in the weeks before the baby was born. His premature arrival left me no time to shop. As a result, he'd worn the same outfits far too many times in the past weeks.
"It's nice of you to offer, Joan, but I really need to—"
"You need to get out. Out of your house. Out of Portwenn. Do something for yourself for a change."
She was right. I did need to do something other than go to school and stay home with Tommy. While this wouldn't make up for my lack of a romantic evening with Martin, at least it was something of a change of pace and scenery from the past few weeks.
It took nearly an hour to get Tommy packed up and another to get to Truro. Once there, however, I had to admit that Joan was right. It did feel good to do something other than work and take care of the baby.
"What about this one?" Joan asked in the shop, holding up a blue and white striped onesie covered with tiny blue bumblebees.
"Oh, it's wonderful," I replied, then looked at the price tag. "Good God. It's nearly twenty pounds!" I exclaimed. "That's ridiculous. He'll have grown out of it in a few months at most."
"Surely Martin gives you enough money?"
"Of course, he does." In fact, the cheques he'd given me were more than generous, and I could easily afford the little outfit and many more. "It's a matter of principle," I explained.
"Oh, Louisa. It's all right to splurge on your own child."
I took another look at the outfit. It was cute. "All right. But only this one. After that, we go to the sale rack."
But we didn't. Joan and I picked out one outfit after another, each of which would look splendid on Tommy and each of which represented a level of expense that was new to me.
I'd always been economical in selecting my own clothing – as a teacher, practicality seemed more important than forward fashion. Now, purchasing clothing for my son, I wanted him to be the best dressed child in all of Portwenn. It was irrational, I knew. Tommy spit up on everything and he'd grow out of these clothes in only a few months. And he certainly didn't know or care what he wore. But I did.
Joan and I added a mobile for his cot, several baby books, a half-dozen receiving blankets, three sets of booties, and an assortment of other items that promised to make baby more fashionable and motherhood easier. I also picked up a few skirts and tops for me to wear at school. At the end of two hours, fatigue was starting to set in and I knew Tommy was due to wake soon.
It had been good to spend a few hours thinking about something other than Portwenn Primary. And I always enjoyed my time with Joan. In many ways over the years, she'd been the mother I never had. A mother to me, and often a mother to Martin as well. Strange for a woman who didn't have children of her own.
I felt another tickle in the back of my throat and coughed into my hand.
"Louisa, are you all right? You've been sneezing and coughing all day."
"Just a cold. One of the hazards of being around children all day."
We drove in silence for several miles. From the back seat, I heard Tommy start to whimper. "Uh-oh, I bet he's getting hungry."
"Should I pull over now?"
"No, I think he can last until we get home."
When we pulled up to the cottage a short time later, I realized that I'd needed today. I was dragging a bit but an afternoon of doing nothing but spending time and money on Tommy and me was exactly what I'd needed. Now, the chores of grading papers, developing lesson plans, dealing with recalcitrant parents and caring for Tommy on my own suddenly seemed much more manageable.