January 8th

Sarah heard the back door bang shut and couldn't help but smile. It had been a quiet day with no one home; Jason was back at school of course, while Gene was off on a two-week consult in Omaha.

"It's a long time to be away, but it'll bring us a nice chunk of money," he'd said the night before he'd left. Doubtless he'd have to take more work like it to loosen up their budgetary purse-strings, at least for the next while. Sarah thought of the little room at the church, bright with fresh paint, a new carpet, a desk and comfortable chairs. She had the paperwork to begin her re-certification process . . . I'll work on it tonight, she thought, and looked up as Jason came in.

"Hey handsome," she said. "How was school?"

"Okay." He put his sax case and backpack near a chair and took off his hat and gloves. "What's for dinner?"

"Roast chicken and veggies. Do you want mashed potatoes or baked?"

"Baked." He stuffed hat and gloves in his pocket. "Are we gonna work on the garden?" The excited impatience in his voice amused her.

"Yes, if you have all your homework and practicing done."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's all done. Did we get any new stuff today?" For answer she held up the Landreth's catalog, arrived just that morning. Jason's face brightened. "Sick," he said, and unzipped his parka while he headed for the closet. Five minutes later he sat next to her, as he devoured a banana and perused the pages.

"I thought this year we could start our own plants," she said. Jason looked up from his study of a list of herbs.

"You mean like in a greenhouse?"

"Sort of. We can get some grow lights and make our own stand, and that way we can grow just about anything we want to, we won't have to depend on buying plants from the feed store." Sarah looked at Jason. "What do you think? Would you like to help me build the stand?"

"Yeah, sounds interesting." Jason finished off the banana, took the peel into the kitchen and returned with a piece of paper, a pencil and a couple of cookies. "How big should we make it? How many levels should we have? What should the measurements be?"

"I don't know," Sarah said, secretly delighted by his enthusiasm. "Why don't we get the tape measure and take a look at the place where we'll put the stand?"

"Okay." Jason picked up a cookie and stuffed it in. Sarah was forcibly reminded of her older boy; she knew that just as with Greg, it was partly a gesture meant to provoke a response. She gave him the one he expected—the mild disapproval of a motherly eye.

"You're gonna choke one of these days," she said with a sigh. "Come on, let's get busy."

It took very little time to measure the area in the mudroom where the stand would go. "Looks like we can put in four levels," Sarah said while Jason used the measuring tape. "We'll need enough room to move the lights up as the plants grow." She glanced outside at the wintry landscape. "Cold frames . . . we'll need those too."

"What's a cold frame?" Jason wrote down numbers.

"It's a sort of glass-topped box where you put the plants to get them used to being outside. If you just stick them in the ground right from being indoors, they'll die. It can also extend your growing season by a couple of weeks for some vegetables." She looked at the garden. It needed expansion, and that meant more fencing to keep out deer, not to mention the need to dig up the new section, check the soil pH and add in compost and other amendments. It would pay off in the end, but they had a lot of work to do first. "We can go to the auction and buy old windows, they work really well."

"So where do we get the stuff we need for this?" Jason peered out the window. "We'll have to expand the garden. Can we grow watermelons this year? You know, the super-big ones they have at the grocery store?"

"It would take a lot of work," Sarah said. "Those melons need a very long growing season, about two months longer than we get this far north with frost dates where they are for our zone. And they don't transplant very well after a certain stage, they like to do most of their growing where they're gonna live." She gave him a slight smile. "Why don't we go through the catalogs and see what we can find that will mature in our climate?" She had a good idea of the variety she wanted, but this was a cooperative venture; Jason would decide too.

On the way back in she checked the pot roast and put several potatoes in the oven to bake. The phone rang as she headed for the table. Jason was absorbed in the watermelon listings, so she answered it. It was Rob.

"Hey babe, what's shakin'?" she said.

"Have a favor to ask," he said, and sounded a bit hesitant. "I know this is really late notice, but . . . I, ah, asked Clare out and she's . . . she's a bit reluctant to go on a date—you know, a her-and-me date."

Sarah knew where this was headed, and she didn't mind at all. "If you'd like to have Clare and the babies come over here for dinner, that would be just fine. We're having roast chicken so there's plenty to share, I'll just put in a few more potatoes to bake."

"That's great! I'll bring dessert. Um—should I get baby food?" He was a little panicked now. "I don't know what her kids can eat."

"I think we can improvise without too much difficulty," Sarah said. "We can always blend up veggies and fruit, and I've got some cream of rice cereal in the pantry."

"Excellent. If we show up around six . . .?"

"That's perfect. See you then." She paused, then couldn't resist. "Tell Lou I said hello. And remember I love his chocolate cannolis, if he has any left."

"I've been rumbled," Rob said on a chuckle. "Thanks, Mum. I owe you one."

Sarah ended the call, went to the kitchen to scrub more potatoes and pop them in the oven. When she returned to the dining room table, Jason glowered at her. "What's going on?" he wanted to know. Sarah sat down next to him and noted his tense posture, hunched shoulders and white knuckles on the hand nearest her. She deliberately yawned and stretched a little, and took her time about it. It was a good way to signal 'everything's fine' via body language; she'd used it often in sessions and it almost always worked, though it sometimes took a while.

"Rob's coming over with Clare and the babies," she said. "They're having dinner with us. He's bringing dessert." She kept her tone casual and light. She was rewarded with a slight but noticeable reduction in defensive attitude.

"Why's he bringing her here?" Jason wanted to know. Clearly curiosity had won out over resentment.

"Mmm . . . I think he wants her to feel comfortable." Sarah made it speculation, not fact. "This is a neutral meeting area, one Clare is a bit familiar with now. And she can bring her children along without causing difficulties." She paused. "You and Mandy had a good time playing with Jake and Amy when they were here for Thanksgiving."

Jason relaxed further. "Yeah. They're cute." He hesitated. "This is you helping them out, isn't it?"

She had to be honest. "Indirectly, yes. But it's also me being a friend to Rob."

Jason didn't say anything in reply. He turned back to the catalog. After a brief silence he said "I found some varieties we could try."

"What did you find?" Sarah asked, and let him change the subject back to seeds. She knew her boy would think about what she'd said, and more than likely he'd come to her later to talk about it.

"You already have one picked out." It was both statement and accusation.

"I have one in mind, but that's all," Sarah said. "We'll make the decision together. Now, what did you find?"

They worked on the list for another half hour or so; then they put everything away, with Jason headed off to his room and Sarah in the kitchen, to get things ready for supper. She added some leftover baked chicken thighs to the roasting pan so they'd heat through, made up a batch of cornbread, spooned it into a pan and put it in the oven alongside the chicken. She'd just taken a jar of strawberry jam out of the pantry when she heard Jason came into the kitchen, undoubtedly to steal another cookie or two. "Would you get out the blender for me please?" she called.

"What for?"

She counted to three. "We might need it for the babies."

"You're gonna blend them up?" Jason snickered. Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Ha ha, you're the original laugh riot. Get the blender out for me please."

When she came into the cooking area the blender sat on the counter, but there was no sign of Jason. Progress had been made, at least; he'd done as she asked and also cracked a joke. She took the blender pitcher to the sink to wash up.

"Want me to set the table?" Jason hovered in the doorway. Sarah glanced at him, then turned back to her task.

"That would be great, thanks," she said, careful to keep her tone casual. "If you could set places at the end closest to the—"

"Mom. I know what to do." Jason came in, went past her to the cupboard where the plates were kept. "Just—just big plates?" he said.

"Yes, we won't need the salad plates tonight."

"Should I have Rob and Clare sit next to each other?"

Sarah started to reply, then paused. "What do you think would work best?"

There was a brief silence. "This is like a first date or something, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much." She put some soap in the pitcher and began to clean the interior with a scrubby sponge.

"Maybe they should sit next to each other then. That way they can talk." Jason spoke with less hesitancy this time.

"Good idea. The babies can be between you and me, and Clare and Rob can sit on the other side. Can you handle having a toddler beside you at supper?" She rinsed the pitcher with warm water and picked up a tea towel.

"Yeah, it'll be okay." The sound of plates being set out followed his reply. "Don't we need high chairs?"

Sarah wiped her hands. "Good thought. Let me give Rob a call."

"We've got it covered," Rob said when he answered. Sarah had to smile at that unconscious 'we'. "See you in about fifteen minutes or so."

"So what do we do?" Jason wanted to know when she returned.

"Just leave some empty space between you and me," Sarah said. "We'll put the babies there and help them eat."

"They're gonna make a big mess," Jason said. He sounded tentative, a little worried.

"Well yeah," Sarah said. "But so did you and I when we were little. We'll manage."

The cornbread was out of the oven when she heard the car pull into the driveway. She set the pan on the counter as Jason came in. "They're here."

"Do me a favor if you would please—could you make sure all the small bits and pieces are picked up and put out of the way in the living room? We don't want little ones getting hurt." Jason nodded.

"Okay."

"Thanks." Sarah moved to the front door as Jason began to put candleholders on the mantelpiece. She undid the lock and opened the door, to find both Rob and Clare with red-faced, tear-stained toddlers in arms.

"Sorry about this," Clare said as she stepped inside. She looked much better than she had the day she'd met Sarah; she'd gained a little weight and her thick blonde hair was soft and shining. "They woke up late from their naps and didn't want to get ready to go."

Sarah chuckled. "That's all right, I wake up cranky from naps too. Here, let me take him for you." She accepted Jake and settled him against her, delighted by the warm weight of his small body. "Hey, little man," she said softly, and rubbed his back with a slow, gentle touch as he sobbed and wriggled. "Hey now, it's okay . . . Shhhh . . . it's all right, sweetheart."

Clare watched in obvious astonishment as her son quieted and lay his head on Sarah's shoulder; he still fussed, but already started to calm down. Sarah grinned at her. "Years of babysitting do pay off," she said softly, and glanced at Rob, who struggled to calm Amy. "Talk to her. I bet anything she'll like your accent."

Rob did his best to comply and was rewarded a short time later with Amy curled up against him, grizzling. "She has a wet bottom," he said quietly.

"Use the downstairs bathroom," Sarah said. "Can you change a nappy?"

"Actually yes, I can." Rob took the diaper bag from Clare, gave her and Sarah a smile, and headed off.

A short time later they all sat down to dinner. Both babies were awake now and very lively. Sarah foresaw that she wouldn't eat much, but she didn't care. It was a pleasure to have Jake on her lap. He gnawed a fistful of cornbread and made a huge mess while the adults laughed and talked. She saw the glimmer of a spark between Rob and Clare, something she knew neither of them realized consciously—not yet, anyway. That was a good thing, though; it would give them time to get to know each other, discover likes and dislikes, mutual opinions, life histories and experiences . . . She glanced at Jason and found he held his own pretty well with Amy—in fact he seemed to enjoy her antics. He offered spoonsful of pureed peas and carrots while she bounced and crowed in her seat, and reached out to grab anything she could. Now and then he pulled a silly face at her and smiled when she laughed and tried to put her grubby hands on his cheeks.

"I talked with Colleen yesterday," Clare said. "She wants me to start next week." She sounded surprised, a little uncertain.

"That's great!" Sarah said. "Do you need help with the babies?" She heard the hopeful note in her voice and cringed. Way to sound pathetic, Corbett.

"Well, I've got daycare set up, but . . ." Clare hesitated. "There—there might be some evenings when I'd need a babysitter." She didn't look at Rob. "Would you be interested?"

"Of course. I could take on one or two evenings, but you might consider talking to Anne Faust. Her daughter Mandy would make a great babysitter for the nights I can't help out. She's watched Chelsea Butterman, so you can ask Marti for references."

"Thanks." Clare smiled at her, her fair face bright with happiness.

"You're more than welcome." Jake took that opportunity to grab at Sarah's plate. "Oh no you don't, you stinker!" She laughed, set it outside his reach and gave him the coated spoon to play with. He smacked it on the table and left a little dent. Clare winced.

"Sorry," she said. "He's a handful."

"Don't worry about it," Sarah said, and meant it. "He's exactly what he should be, a happy and healthy boy. Aren't you, little man?" She kissed the top of his head and smiled when he bounced and gurgled.

She was pleased to see Rob accept Jake on his lap after dinner, as they sat in the living room around the fire. Amy staggered from Clare to Sarah and back again, and occasionally fell into Jason, who sat on the floor by the couch, near Sarah. He watched the little girl and set her back on her feet, careful to steer her in the right direction. Sarah was delighted to see Clare was relaxed, and so was Rob. He held Jake with no sign of impatience or discomfort; he looked thoroughly at home with a baby on his knee. They'll have one or two of their own, Sarah thought, and smiled at the intuition.

The house was quiet after they left. Sarah went into the kitchen to rinse dishes and load the dishwasher. Jason came in a few moments later. He said nothing, just took some paper towels and the lavender cleaner. A short time later she heard the vacuum. He didn't just do the table area, he went into the living room too. When he returned to the kitchen Sarah said "Thanks."

"'sokay." Jason sat at the counter while she rinsed the sink. "You like babies."

"Yeah, I do." Sarah wiped her hands and turned to him. "Would you like me to read to you tonight? I know Dad—"

"Being read to is for little kids." He didn't look at her when he spoke. Sarah paused. Where had that comment come from? Gene and Jason still read a book together, Gene had mentioned it just the other day.

"Your dad and I read to each other all the time," she said—not in challenge but as a simple reply. She had a good idea why he'd made his pronouncement. "It's nice. I like listening to him read, he's got a good voice."

Jason didn't answer right away. "Yeah," he said finally, and walked away. A bit later though, as she banked the fire in the living room, he stopped by his bedroom door. "If you want to read to me, it's okay," he said to the floor, and went into his room. Sarah stirred down the embers, replaced the screen, and turned off all the lamps but one. She went to Jason's door and gave a soft knock, then slipped inside. Jason was curled up under his usual layers of blankets and comforter. The book lay on the night stand—The Dark Is Rising, an old favorite of hers. Sarah sat in the easy chair next to the bed and picked up the volume. She opened to the place where the bookmark lay and began to read.

She had paused to turn the page when Jason said, "What if Clare was a bad person? Would you still help her?"

Sarah considered the question. "I guess it depends on your definition of 'bad'," she said finally.

Jason sat up a little. "People are either bad or good."

"I disagree," Sarah said mildly. "Most people are a mixture of both. I am, so's your Dad. You are too."

"You think I'm bad?" He sounded very young.

"I think you're a good person who sometimes gets mean or impatient or does dumb things—just like me and Dad. Clare is probably the same way."

"But what if she isn't that way? What if she's—" He fell silent.

"What if she's like your mom, or mine?" Sarah said quietly. Jason looked at her, his gaze troubled.

"She could be hurting her kids. Maybe when you went to her house, she wanted you to think she was worried, but she really wasn't."

Sarah set aside the book. "Okay, let's look at her behavior," she said, and saw him relax a little at the familiar process. She knew he needed the security and structure of rational discussion, much as her older boy did. "She cared for her children at her own expense. She did her best to keep them warm, clean and fed in any way she could while she went without. When she was offered help she accepted it and used it to make things better for her little ones. If she was like my parents, she wouldn't have done any of those things. She'd have used all that help for herself and expected even more." As she spoke she felt the ghost of the old pain those words evoked, the sense of despair and helpless anger.

"Yeah," Jason said slowly. "Like my parents too." He sighed. "Why did they have to be like that?"

Sarah leaned back and rubbed her arm slowly. She no longer had the physical scars, but sometimes she could still feel them ache at times like this. "I could give you a lot of technical explanations, but to be honest I really don't know why. What I do know is that Clare isn't like that. She's trying to be a good mom to Jake and Amy." She reached out, stroked a lock of his hair from his forehead. "I also know you didn't deserve to be treated the way you were."

Jason turned to face her. "Neither did you," he said. Sarah smiled a little.

"You're right."

They finished the chapter and said goodnight. When Sarah kissed Jason's temple, just for a moment he leaned into her touch. Then he burrowed beneath his layers.

"If Dad calls will you wake me up?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"You bet. Love you, sweetheart. Sleep well." She turned out the light and left quietly.

Eventually Sarah went to the office and got out the certification paperwork, started to work on it, and then sat back a little. A glance at the clock told her it was after nine, but not late. She hesitated, then picked up the phone and dialed a number. It was answered after two rings.

"What?" Greg said. Sarah closed her eyes at the sound of his voice. "Goldman? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said finally. "Nothing's wrong. Just—I just wanted to call and find out how you're doing."

"I'm fine, no thanks to my wife." Sarah heard Roz say something in the background, some snarky riposte, and Greg chuckled. The sound eased her heart like balm. She listened to it and knew her own boys were close and safe.

"I'm thinkin' you'll survive," she said.

"You sound weird. This is that menopause thing—"

"Oh, shut up," she laughed. "I started the paperwork for the practice and needed some distraction."

"So, gonna take the plunge at last." Greg sounded pleased under the sarcasm. "The southern Adirondacks will never be the same. There'll be so many well-adjusted people walking around, it'll be the true zombie apocalypse."

"You know, I don't know why I call when all I get is abuse," she said, delighted by his teasing. "Are you still coming by tomorrow?"

"Of course. Where else can I get a free lunch?"

"Gee, it's great to be loved," Sarah said dryly.

"Stop bitching. You know exactly what you're worth," Greg said. She heard the smile in his words. "Get back to work. Papers don't make up bullshit information by themselves, you know."

"You've been listening to McMurphy after all, I'm shocked. All right, I'm going, slavedriver. Love you, goodnight."

"Sarah." His use of her first name stopped her. "If you need help, if you—" He fell silent.

"I'd like you to come with me when I go in for my interview," she said. "Thank you, son."

"Yeah. 'night." And he was gone. Sarah hung up the phone and sat there for a moment. Greg House was her greatest success, though he'd done most of the work himself—just as it should be. He was a work in progress, but then so was everyone else. Including me, she thought. She'd continue to help him in any way she could, but it was time to offer her abilities to others in need. She was ready now.

She worked in the quiet, shadowed office until the small hours, as she took the next step forward.

'Keep Me In Your Heart For A While,' Warron Zevon