I left Stoneybrook one month before my fifteenth birthday, and hadn't returned for 23 long years. Someone--and surprisingly, it hadn't been me--had decided to plan a 25th year anniversary party for the club, held the day before the club's high school reunion. Well, actually, only four of us had graduated from Stoneybrook high school 20 years ago, but that was a trivial matter. How Stacey had managed to track down nine friends, most of whom she hadn't seen in years, I have yet to comprehend. Somehow she managed, and here we were, all in the same place for the first time in a long time.
There was the event's hostess by the punchbowl. Dr. Anastasia Adams might have been a Stoneybrook pediatrician and an expert at childhood diabetes, but to us, she was just Stacey grown up. Her hair was short now, but she looked as stylish as ever in an elegant little black dress. She seemed very happy, but one had to know her better to see the pain in her eyes. She was watching her lawyer husband, Jack, playing with Annie, Kaeley and Mickey on the porch. Stacey had been pregnant once, but she'd had a difficult time and had lost the baby at 30 weeks. Dispite all the titles the only thing she wanted was the one thing she couldn't have. There was noone to call her Mommy.
Another figure watched Jack and the kids out on the porch. Even though Mallory Evans had had several people trying to talk to her that day, she really hadn't paid attention to any of them. She just tucked a rogue gray hair behind one ear and kept nodding. A struggling writer, Mal thought that every possible horrible thing had happened to her. She'd lost the oportunity for a dream job when her husband's job had uprooted her and left her stranded in New Orleans. Then the jerk had left her for a younger woman. She had no income and three children under the age of seven who had so many needs. Michael had a solution to this, too: he gained custody of the kids. Mallory had only seen her children for three weeks in the years since then. Mickey was now ten years old, and the girls were eight and five. Mal would have done anything to get her children back--if only she had the resources.
Now attempting a futile conversation with Mal was my former neighbor, Shannon Blaine. She had just returned from five years in France, where she taught English. She'd been married once, briefly, but had decided that married life just wasn't her style. Now she was teaching French at a school for children of diplomats, but she was unhappy and planned to return to her previous job in France as soon as possible.
In the spacious living room, several friends had sat down for a game of rummy. Jessica Ramsey, as beautiful and as graceful as ever, tried to keep the others from seeing her cards as she turned around to check on her two beautiful daughters seated in front of the television. She had gone professional for a while, then settled down with her husband Gary and step-son Dameon. Now she taught ballet to beginning students, including many who could not afford to pay. She, Gary and the girls lived in her old neighborhood in Oakley, New Jersey. Twelve-year-old Emma had followed in her mother's footsteps and was wonderful ballerina. Seven-year-old Mary Grace, on the other hand, preferred to play the piano as the dancers practiced.
Sitting to Jessica's left was Dawn Jorgenson. Dawn had brought her youngest son as her date to the party. She had been the first of us to have a child and the first to marry, in that order. Benjamin had arrived when she was just seventeen, and Matthew and Timothy followed at eightteen and nineteen. Christopher, who was playing cards beside his mother, had come along two years after that, as the marriage was starting to fall apart. With the help of her father and stepmother, Dawn had managed to finish school and find a job to support her boys. They had never been rich and never would be, but they had been able to get by without ever using public welfare. Benjamin, Matthew and Timothy were all in college now, as hard as that was for Dawn to believe. In a year's time, she would have a daughter-in-law.
The final player at the table was Abby Hunter. She, oddly, was the one friend who had kept in contact with me after I'd moved to Boston. She'd married in college and dropped out, but the marriage only survived for a couple months. She'd gone back home to live with her mother and work as a secretary. After a string of jobs, she finally found one that made her happy. She was so thrilled with her boss, in fact, that she married him. That marriage was the longest of the three, and it lasteded for just under two years. That's when I lost contact with her. Apparently, she was living in the Adirondacks for a while, and that's where she met her third husband. Now she was dating again, and her mother and sister were making bets about how long it would be until the wedding. Abby had decided, however, that she would best leave things be, and she and her boyfriend, Paul, planned to never wed.
Speaking of Paul, he was having a conversation in the corner with Logan's wife Cathy. Logan had left to get Stacey more ice just a couple minutes ago. The pair had started dating in high school and had been married for 18 years now. Their two sons had stayed at home in Tennessee because they had summer football practice. Logan and Cathy ran a general store out back of the high school, with a clientele and a work force of mostly teenagers. Their older boy, Caleb, often worked the registers while his brother Nathan could be seen sweeping floors.
From the kitchen came the sounds of laughter. There, Claudia Kishi-Shineha and Mary Anne Spier were enjoying the antics of Claudia's three-year-old son, Jaylen. Mary Anne and Claudia had remained friends through the years, despite the very different paths their lives had taken. Claudia and her husband Kenji owned a very successful gallery in Soho. Kenji was an accountant and a shrewd businessman, but he also had a soft side. The two of them worked side by side in the gallery. Claudia could often be seen painting pictures of Jaylen and Kenji in the streets of New York. She had so many, in fact, that she had given each of us one as a present for coming to the reunion.
Mary Anne had graduated college and gotten a masters degree in child development. She worked with juvenile offenders in the prison systems in Wisconsin. She'd never married, and in fact had never had a serious romance. She spent a lot of time volunteering with young, single mothers, but swore she'd never have children of her own, saying, "I don't think I'd be a good mother."
Yes, it had been almost 23 years since my mother and Watson had moved our family from Stoneybrook to Boston, but even though we'd all grown and changed, we were still alike in many ways. I still liked to boss people around, for instance--a skill that comes in handy in my job as a special education teacher in Seattle. And I still loved children, I thought to myself as I patted my massive abdomen. Just as I was thinking this, my husband came up to me. "Isn't it time, Kristin?" he asked.
I stood up from the rocking chair and cleared my throat. "This meeting of the Babysitters Club will now come to order." I announced.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
First of all, let me say that I stopped reading the BSC in 1993 when I was 12, but since then, I always wondered who they would grow up to be. My apologies to Shannon, Logan and Abby fans, but I never read any of the books that focus on them, so I don't know the characters very well. They might have seemed a bit out of character.
Just so you know, my favorite character was Mary Anne back when I read the books, but it's now Kristy. I don't know why.
If anyone wants to know what Kristy named her baby, email me at teekijane@excite.com. It was originally part of the story but got cut.
There was the event's hostess by the punchbowl. Dr. Anastasia Adams might have been a Stoneybrook pediatrician and an expert at childhood diabetes, but to us, she was just Stacey grown up. Her hair was short now, but she looked as stylish as ever in an elegant little black dress. She seemed very happy, but one had to know her better to see the pain in her eyes. She was watching her lawyer husband, Jack, playing with Annie, Kaeley and Mickey on the porch. Stacey had been pregnant once, but she'd had a difficult time and had lost the baby at 30 weeks. Dispite all the titles the only thing she wanted was the one thing she couldn't have. There was noone to call her Mommy.
Another figure watched Jack and the kids out on the porch. Even though Mallory Evans had had several people trying to talk to her that day, she really hadn't paid attention to any of them. She just tucked a rogue gray hair behind one ear and kept nodding. A struggling writer, Mal thought that every possible horrible thing had happened to her. She'd lost the oportunity for a dream job when her husband's job had uprooted her and left her stranded in New Orleans. Then the jerk had left her for a younger woman. She had no income and three children under the age of seven who had so many needs. Michael had a solution to this, too: he gained custody of the kids. Mallory had only seen her children for three weeks in the years since then. Mickey was now ten years old, and the girls were eight and five. Mal would have done anything to get her children back--if only she had the resources.
Now attempting a futile conversation with Mal was my former neighbor, Shannon Blaine. She had just returned from five years in France, where she taught English. She'd been married once, briefly, but had decided that married life just wasn't her style. Now she was teaching French at a school for children of diplomats, but she was unhappy and planned to return to her previous job in France as soon as possible.
In the spacious living room, several friends had sat down for a game of rummy. Jessica Ramsey, as beautiful and as graceful as ever, tried to keep the others from seeing her cards as she turned around to check on her two beautiful daughters seated in front of the television. She had gone professional for a while, then settled down with her husband Gary and step-son Dameon. Now she taught ballet to beginning students, including many who could not afford to pay. She, Gary and the girls lived in her old neighborhood in Oakley, New Jersey. Twelve-year-old Emma had followed in her mother's footsteps and was wonderful ballerina. Seven-year-old Mary Grace, on the other hand, preferred to play the piano as the dancers practiced.
Sitting to Jessica's left was Dawn Jorgenson. Dawn had brought her youngest son as her date to the party. She had been the first of us to have a child and the first to marry, in that order. Benjamin had arrived when she was just seventeen, and Matthew and Timothy followed at eightteen and nineteen. Christopher, who was playing cards beside his mother, had come along two years after that, as the marriage was starting to fall apart. With the help of her father and stepmother, Dawn had managed to finish school and find a job to support her boys. They had never been rich and never would be, but they had been able to get by without ever using public welfare. Benjamin, Matthew and Timothy were all in college now, as hard as that was for Dawn to believe. In a year's time, she would have a daughter-in-law.
The final player at the table was Abby Hunter. She, oddly, was the one friend who had kept in contact with me after I'd moved to Boston. She'd married in college and dropped out, but the marriage only survived for a couple months. She'd gone back home to live with her mother and work as a secretary. After a string of jobs, she finally found one that made her happy. She was so thrilled with her boss, in fact, that she married him. That marriage was the longest of the three, and it lasteded for just under two years. That's when I lost contact with her. Apparently, she was living in the Adirondacks for a while, and that's where she met her third husband. Now she was dating again, and her mother and sister were making bets about how long it would be until the wedding. Abby had decided, however, that she would best leave things be, and she and her boyfriend, Paul, planned to never wed.
Speaking of Paul, he was having a conversation in the corner with Logan's wife Cathy. Logan had left to get Stacey more ice just a couple minutes ago. The pair had started dating in high school and had been married for 18 years now. Their two sons had stayed at home in Tennessee because they had summer football practice. Logan and Cathy ran a general store out back of the high school, with a clientele and a work force of mostly teenagers. Their older boy, Caleb, often worked the registers while his brother Nathan could be seen sweeping floors.
From the kitchen came the sounds of laughter. There, Claudia Kishi-Shineha and Mary Anne Spier were enjoying the antics of Claudia's three-year-old son, Jaylen. Mary Anne and Claudia had remained friends through the years, despite the very different paths their lives had taken. Claudia and her husband Kenji owned a very successful gallery in Soho. Kenji was an accountant and a shrewd businessman, but he also had a soft side. The two of them worked side by side in the gallery. Claudia could often be seen painting pictures of Jaylen and Kenji in the streets of New York. She had so many, in fact, that she had given each of us one as a present for coming to the reunion.
Mary Anne had graduated college and gotten a masters degree in child development. She worked with juvenile offenders in the prison systems in Wisconsin. She'd never married, and in fact had never had a serious romance. She spent a lot of time volunteering with young, single mothers, but swore she'd never have children of her own, saying, "I don't think I'd be a good mother."
Yes, it had been almost 23 years since my mother and Watson had moved our family from Stoneybrook to Boston, but even though we'd all grown and changed, we were still alike in many ways. I still liked to boss people around, for instance--a skill that comes in handy in my job as a special education teacher in Seattle. And I still loved children, I thought to myself as I patted my massive abdomen. Just as I was thinking this, my husband came up to me. "Isn't it time, Kristin?" he asked.
I stood up from the rocking chair and cleared my throat. "This meeting of the Babysitters Club will now come to order." I announced.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
First of all, let me say that I stopped reading the BSC in 1993 when I was 12, but since then, I always wondered who they would grow up to be. My apologies to Shannon, Logan and Abby fans, but I never read any of the books that focus on them, so I don't know the characters very well. They might have seemed a bit out of character.
Just so you know, my favorite character was Mary Anne back when I read the books, but it's now Kristy. I don't know why.
If anyone wants to know what Kristy named her baby, email me at teekijane@excite.com. It was originally part of the story but got cut.