three months on
"Don't feel bad about it," her brother always tells Allison, when she comes home for visits. "If it was only going to be one of us at college, I'm glad it was you. And one of these days- maybe when I've invented something really spectacular and we're rich, Ellen can have her art school and I can try for my chemistry degree…"
Knowing that she'd never have met Michael otherwise does help, in a half-guilty way; she can't imagine life without him, or her two darling babies.
And yet, and yet…
"I wonder if you'd be getting more out of my life than I am," Allison says (the quiet mid-afternoon lull; she's helping little Christopher knock over and rebuild endless block towers). "A degree, and no end of anti-nuke rallies, and nonviolence marches are all very well, but I still wonder."
"He's hardly likely to do any of that in Mission City, thank goodness," Ellen observes. "What's there to protest?"
"The prison, maybe?" Mac says, bouncing baby Becky on his knee. "I wonder how Mike's piece turned out. Never heard anything about that."
"Write her and ask?" Allison suggests. "What was her last forwarding address?"
"She didn't leave one this time," Mac says. "To be honest, I've been sort of worrying about her." He frowns for a moment, until Becky's happy burbling distracts him.
"Maybe she's still in prison," Ellen laughs. "For her research."
"I don't like the sound of this," Allison murmurs. "Running up against the Establishment can be a dicey proposition."
"But she's all right if she doesn't do anything wrong, right?" Mac points out.
"Which may be quite an assumption, if she's the danger-happy Mike Forrester I remember…"
"She reshingled the roof for me before she left, just to rub it in about not being afraid of heights. Or hammers."
"So, that's a yes."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Is he all right? I mean, really," Allison asks her mother later.
"I think so- he's very determined to make sure I never work too hard. Of course, sometimes I get around him anyway."
Allison smiles; the family work ethic is something between a joke and an addiction (except for Mac, funnily enough, who's always fluctuating between frenzied activity and sofa-lazing). "Not too often, I hope."
"Not too often. And Ellen helps as well- she's such a good sport, it's wonderful to see her gaining self-confidence. He couldn't have married a sweeter girl. Sometimes we gang up on him and insist that he enjoy himself in the workshop for a few hours."
"One of these days, he'll blow up the world with that chemistry set of his."
"Or save it," her mother rebukes her.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Michael? So glad to hear from you, honey."
"Uh-huh. Yes, Chris is going through a stage of being fascinated with shoes. Keeps drawing pictures…of course, they are rather easier to see, at his height. And Becky's fine, everyone's doing their best to spoil her rotten. I'll have a buckyball for a daughter by the time we get back to Seattle- oh, don't even try going serious on me, you laughed!"
"Mmm hmm. All my love back to the commune. And tell Karen that her brownies are in the freezer…"
"One more thing. Can someone get in touch with Alexander? Only Mac says that Mike Forrester's vanished into thin air, and if anyone's tapped into the media grapevine, you know it'd be Alexander."
"Thanks, love. Be home soon, I miss you."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Thinking about children yet?"
"Believe me, we've tried often enough." A wry smile: Ellen always did call a spade a spade, Allison recalls. "But it's just not happening."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"It's all right," Ellen says warmly. "At least we have each other. That's enough."
But it rather spoils the joke for her later on, when Mac's kidding her about the children.
"I mean, two of 'em already? Sure you don't want to let Ellen and I have this one for a keepsake?"
For a moment, as she watches her brother cuddling Becky to his heart, Allison's almost tempted to say yes.