Saturday, January 10, 1981
Al and I didn't speak much on the drive home. We didn't play the radio either. It didn't feel right.
Lost in our own thoughts and silent, we sat beside each other in Al's Corvette. Its black color matched both our mood and our attire. After a while, Al squinted as if the sun was blinding him and rubbed at his eye with his index finger. He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, appearing to care only about the cars on the road with us.
When we stopped at a traffic light, though, he took my hand and looked into my eyes. "He was so young," he said at last.
I nodded and, instead of speaking, stroked the back of his hand. Another friend lost. Another funeral.
Al's lips twisted and his chin started trembling. "Damn," he whispered as he blinked furiously. He tugged his hand free and pressed the bottoms of both palms into his eye sockets, breathing in through his nose as his shoulders quivered. I touched his knee, gently pressed it in hopes of giving comfort.
Someone behind us honked their horn, annoyed that we hadn't pulled off upon the light change. Al took a final breath and grasped the steering wheel.
"All right, dammit," he swore as he lifted his foot off the brake and applied the gas. The engine seemed to snarl as he drove through the intersection. "God forbid I don't move the instant it turns green," he muttered, casting a mutinous glare into the rearview mirror. We were silent again for a while.
"It's going to be strange to see that house and know he's never going to come back," I finally said in a soft voice.
Al nodded.
What I didn't say aloud was that I knew it was going to break Eileen's heart every time she came home— after Al had been declared Missing In Action it had broken my heart to enter the bungalow we'd chosen and furnished together. The difference was there was absolutely no chance that Todd would be coming home. I was just grateful that she had family staying with her. I'd spent as much time with her as I could when we found out about Todd's death. What comfort I had to give was hers; but no matter how close Eileen and I had gotten—or how close Todd and Al had gotten—in the few months since Al and I had moved into the neighborhood, I wasn't family.
I'd been sitting with her the morning her mother and sister arrived. Eileen had been staring numbly into the cup of coffee I'd fixed ever since it had been placed in front of her. She didn't speak and neither did I. The only sounds had come from the television in the other room where the twins and Theresa were watching PBS. Even Grace had seemed to sense the sobriety of the moment as she refrained from babbling and sucked contentedly on her pacifier. She sat quietly in my lap, watching Eileen with a look in her eyes that seemed to me more understanding than should have been possible for a ten-month-old.
When Eileen didn't move for several minutes, I touched her hand. Looking up at me, she'd burst into tears and I hurried to embrace her, whispering a reassurance that it was okay to cry, okay to hurt. She'd nodded but immediately tried to regain her composure. However, when her family arrived about ten minutes later Eileen had crumpled into her mother's arms and finally fallen apart, sobbing so loud and hard it startled her younger sister, who stood beside them and hesitantly rubbed Eileen's back while she keened for Todd. I hadn't wanted to interrupt the moment Eileen needed so badly just to introduce myself, so I'd quietly gathered my girls and returned home.
"I still can't believe it," Al said as we drove past the pharmacy. "He was just picking up some cold medicine."
On January 6th, Todd Phelps had been driving home after making a late night run to get medicine for Eileen and himself, both suffering from congestion and coughing. He'd never made it. A drunk driver had swerved crazily from a side street, striking Todd's car and sending it careening directly into a telephone pole. Todd had died at the scene.
Two blocks later we passed the floral wreath set up on the right side of the expressway to mark the accident site. I made the sign of the cross and then reached to squeeze Al's shoulder.
"She didn't even get to say goodbye to him," I whispered.
Al briefly took one hand off the wheel and pressed my fingers still gripping his shoulder.
"She did today," he said.
I nodded. "It was a beautiful service, wasn't it?"
One side of his mouth lifted in a partial smile. "I don't think you could ask for a better one."
I leaned my head against the back of the seat and closed my eyes. It wasn't fair. Eileen and Todd had just started trying for a baby. We'd joked about how nice it would be for Grace to have a playmate her age. How if they had a boy, maybe he and Grace would be childhood sweethearts, if she didn't mind robbing the cradle a little.
"Did you know she asked me to bring her a pregnancy test the day after Todd died?"
Any confusion Al may have felt at my abrupt topic change he kept to himself. "No, you didn't tell me that."
"Eileen was late and she was hoping..." I shook my head, and choked back a sob. "But it was negative. My God, Al, you should've seen her face. She was so heartbroken."
Silently, he reached for my hand. "Any chance it was a false negative?"
I blew out a sad breath. "No. She started that night." That had been a huge contributor to her paralyzed state the morning her family arrived, the absolute dashing of her hopes. "She wanted to be carrying his child so badly…"
Al repeated something I'd often told him, "To have a piece of him with her."
"Yeah." I pressed his hand. "I want to hold our girls."
"We're almost home, honey."
We were silent again as he drove into our neighborhood. When he got to the four-way stop at our street, I turned in my seat and grabbed his arm. Startled, he jerked and looked at me.
"What?"
I dragged my teeth across my bottom lip then leaned to kiss him. "I love you so much, Al."
His eyes softened and he touched my cheekbone with a gentle hand. "I know. I love you, too, Beth." He kissed me and then turned onto our street, driving the few blocks to our house. He pulled into our driveway and killed the engine, but neither of us moved to get out of the car.
As one, our heads turned to the left, to the Phelps' home. True to her Mississippi roots, Eileen had hung a black wreath on the door and all the shades were drawn. The cars in the driveway belied the empty house. Eileen, her sister, her mother, and Todd's parents had remained by the graveside as the rest of the mourners dispersed.
I reached to touch Al's cheek and gently turned his face toward me.
"Thank you for coming back to me," I said. "Thank you for surviving Vietnam."
He rubbed a thumb along my collarbone. "Thanks for being my reason to."
A tentative knock on Al's window drew our attention away from the kiss we shared. Turning to look, we saw Bridget peeking in, clinging to the lip of the door as she balanced on her tiptoes.
"Back up, Bridget, so I can open the door, sweetie," said Al. We got out at the same time and hurried to our four-year old, looking worriedly at the house.
"Honey, what are you doing in the front yard? Is Mrs. Hutchins okay?" I asked, gripping her shoulders, frantic at the thought that the babysitter had suffered a heart attack or stroke.
At that moment, Mrs. Hutchins came bursting out of the house, holding Grace in her arms and shouting for Bridget. She halted, panting when she drew up beside us. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Calavicci, Mrs. Calavicci! I was changing Grace's diaper when Bridget called out that you were home. I heard her open the front door, but by the time I got downstairs she was already outside."
Al started chuckling and the elderly woman flushed.
"I see you didn't waste any time trying to get to Bridget," he laughed.
It was then that I noticed Grace's bare bottom between her Winnie-the-Pooh sweater and her shoes and socks. My lips twitched as I tried to contain the laughter.
"I'll take her, Mrs. Hutchins." She passed my baby to me and began apologizing profusely, but I shook my head as I tugged the shawl from my shoulders and wrapped it around Grace's naked legs. "No need to apologize; you did the right thing chasing after Bridget. However, you, Miss Bridget…you know better!"
"Yes, well, it's too chilly to be discussing this outside," put in Al, and he swept an arm toward the house, where Michele and Theresa were staring from the doorway.
"Mommy," Michele said in a prim, disapproving voice as we came inside, "Grace is nakie."
"Nakie," repeated Grace, giggling. "Nakie."
Mrs. Hutchins turned red again.
"Not for long," I smiled at the babysitter, taking Grace upstairs. Behind me, I could hear Mrs. Hutchins repeating, "Mr. Calavicci, I just want to tell you again how sorry I am."
I carried Grace to the changing table in her room, where the matching corduroy pants (bearing the likeness of Pooh bear on the knees) and fresh diaper lay abandoned. As soon as I set her down, Grace smiled up at me.
"MaMa." She drummed her feet against the changing table and giggled while she shouted, "Nakie!"
"We've learned a new word, eh, Gracie?" I asked her as I put the new diaper on her.
"Gracie," she burbled. "Gracie nakie."
"Not anymore." I tugged the elastic-waist pants on and snapped the legs, realizing immediately that I'd missed a snap on the right leg and so had to redo them. By the time I got back downstairs, Mrs. Hutchins had left.
"She's not still upset, is she?"
Al cocked an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
I put Grace down on the living room floor so she could crawl around and noticed that Bridget was suspiciously absent. "Where's Bree?"
Al rolled his eyes as he took off his dark suit jacket and draped it on an arm of the couch. "Hiding in the den," he raised his voice, "as if she thinks I don't know that." He loosened the black tie with thin burgundy stripes, removing it to place it on top of his jacket, then unbuttoned the collar of his white dress shirt.
We walked to the den and stood in the doorway. Bridget was apparently hiding behind furniture. Al tapped his foot against the hardwood floor and when she didn't emerge at that, he cleared his throat. "I know you're in here, Bridget Louise Calavicci. If I have to look for you, I'm going to be very upset."
Slowly, she stood from behind the desk. "I'm sorry," she said automatically.
"For what?" Al asked for clarification.
Bridget shrugged in response as she replied, "I dunno."
He rolled his eyes skyward and shook his head. "Come sit on the couch with me and let's talk about it."
Hesitantly, she obeyed. I sat in the nearby reading chair.
"You know you're not allowed in the front yard by yourself."
"You and Mommy were out there," she reasoned.
"I see," Al said, nodding his head, "and, of course, you asked us if you could come join us."
Her little eyebrows crinkled as the gentle sarcasm was lost on her. "No, I didn't."
Al feigned surprise. "You didn't? Well, then, you must've asked Mrs. Hutchins for permission."
"I told her you were home."
"And so Mrs. Hutchins said you could go outside."
"Not 'zactly…"
"What 'zactly did Mrs. Hutchins say?" pressed Al.
"Ummmm…" Bridget twisted her ankles back and forth and looked at the ceiling.
"She said, 'No, Bridget, WAIT!'" called Theresa from the doorway.
"Shut up, Resa!" Bridget shot back.
"Bridget Louise," I scolded, "don't tell your sister to shut up. And this doesn't concern you, Theresa; go play in the living room."
Theresa reluctantly withdrew.
Al regarded Bridget with raised eyebrows. "Is what Theresa said true?"
Bridget stared at her toes. "Yes, sir."
Al and I exchanged a bemused look. 'Sir?' he mouthed. Of all the times for a manners lesson to take hold. "Well, Mommy, what do you think we should do?" he asked me.
"I think five minutes in the corner should be sufficient."
"I agree. Does that sound fair, Bridget?"
She let out a relieved sigh and nodded.
"I'll get the egg timer. You and Daddy decide on the corner."
I went to the kitchen to retrieve the timer and when I returned, Al and Bridget were walking towards the corner directly opposite the entrance to the den. While Al got Bridget settled in the corner, I wound the egg timer and set it on the desk.
"When that goes off, you can come out. And we can see you from the living room, so don't even think about turning around or you'll get two minutes added."
"Okay. Yes, ma'am." Her reply was muffled.
As we walked into the living room, Michele cried, "Look! Look what she can do!" and pointed to Grace, who stood teetering beside the coffee table. Grace looked immensely pleased with herself, her light brown eyes nearly reduced to slits from the smiling rise of her chubby cheeks.
"Gracie!" she proclaimed, clapping her hands in the instant before she fell backwards onto her bottom. She looked stunned for a second and then began giggling.
"Here, honey," said Al, moving behind her and offering his index fingers to her. She gripped one in each hand and pulled herself up, using him for leverage and balance. Grace bounced in place a few times and then extended her right foot. Al grinned and said, "Okay. Let's practice, shall we?" He supported her as she made her slow, wobbly way to me, releasing his hands at the last to grab me around the knees.
"MaMee," she cheered in a throaty voice, looking directly up at my face. She pawed at my thighs, beaming when I lowered my index fingers for her to grasp.
"Wait a second, baby, you're facing the wrong way," I told her, crossing my arms as I guided her to turn around. She immediately started bouncing and grunting, eager to move forward. "Wait, Mommy can't help you walk with my arms pretzled." I tugged my fingers free and untwisted my arms, reaching down for her again, but she had already taken an independent step forward.
Al clapped his hands encouragingly. "That's right, Grace. You can do it. Walk to Daddy."
The smile on her face twisted slightly as she concentrated, her left foot now moving forward. She wobbled, then took another step with her right foot.
"Mommy! Do you see that?" cheered Michele.
The egg timer went off and I called out, "Bridget! Come here quick, sweetheart, Grace is taking her first steps!" She came running in and stood beside me as we watched her baby sister.
"Gracie walking!" Theresa exclaimed and applauded.
Grace took two more steps before toppling to her knees and crawling the rest of the way to her father, looking up at him and saying, "DaDee."
Al scooped her up immediately and kissed her, a gigantic smile on his face. "You walked, Gracie! You did it!"
"Gracie nakie," she said proudly, beaming as we all burst into laughter. She wiggled in Al's hold, eager to get to the floor and try again.
Al and I had put the girls to bed and, after an hour of watching the Saturday Night Movie on NBC, had decided to make it an early night ourselves. We'd just gotten settled in bed when there was a knock on our door.
"Come in," I called.
The door opened and Bridget walked inside, rubbing at her eyes.
"What's wrong, Bree?" Al asked, lifting her into the bed to sit between us. "Did you have a bad dream?"
"No, I can't sleep, Daddy."
"Aw, sweetie, why not?"
She shrugged and then asked, "Daddy, are we gonna adopt Eileen? Because if we do, she can have my bed."
Al looked at me and my expression told him I wasn't sure where this was coming from any more than he did. Giving Bridget his full attention, he gently asked, "Honey, why would we adopt Eileen?"
Bridget looked from him to me, confused. "Because Todd had to go to Heaven. And Eileen needs someone to take care of her."
Her wording was strikingly similar to the way we had explained our decision to adopt Grace. Of course it made perfect sense to her to adopt Eileen now. Our daughter's compassion brought tears to my eyes and I hugged her. As soon as I released her, Al hugged her, too.
"Well, are we?"
"Eileen's a grown-up, Bree. She can take care of herself," I explained.
"Nuh-uh." Bridget shook her head. "Her mommy and sister can't stay and Eileen needs us to take care of her."
After a moment, Al said, "You know what, you're absolutely right, Bridget. Eileen does need us to take care of her. So we'll adopt her. But we won't do it the same way as with Grace. Eileen won't be living with us."
"She won't? How will we adopt her?"
"It'll be honorary. We won't really adopt her, but we'll adopt her in our hearts," he declared. "Do you think you can give Eileen hugs and kisses when you see her? And maybe draw her some pictures that might make her smile?"
"I can do that."
I thought for a second and added, "I can help you make cookies for her. And we'll help her plant flowers in the Spring."
Bridget looked intently at me. "And she can borrow my Buster Bear."
I choked back tears and forced a smile. Buster Bear was Bridget's favorite stuffed animal. "That's very generous of you, precious." I kissed her forehead and looked at Al over her head; he was coughing lightly and rubbing at his eyes.
"Can I bring him to her tomorrow?"
"I think that would be terrific," Al said, brushing a kiss against her cheek. "Now I also think you need to go back to bed and try to get some sleep. Gimme some sugar before you go."
"Okay." She kissed him and then me before crawling to the foot of the bed and getting down. "Goodnight, Mommy and Daddy. I love you!"
We chorused, "We love you, too," back to her. When she closed our door behind her I reached for Al and started crying.
"Where did we get such a thoughtful child?" I wept.
Al just rubbed reassuring circles on my shoulder and didn't speak. I soon realized it was because he couldn't.