Notes: And still this isn't finished! I think there really is just one more chapter left. But who knows? It could be two. . . .
A small point, but it might confuse someone if I don't clarify: the name Tyler uses for Mariana, "Mah-mah," is meant to sound like the first syllable of her name-not like "Mama" as it's usually pronounced.
Hope you enjoy this. Please let me know!
Chapter 30
"Oh!" For a split second, Sabrina stood motionless in the living room doorway, frozen with shock. Then she rushed towards her son.
"Oh, is he yours?" Ainsley asked, cooly. She ran her eyes over the newcomer without surrendering the baby. They had all heard Noah's story by now-and Cat's, and Mariana's. For just a moment Ainsley was tempted to say something very sharp, to let this woman know just what she thought of her.
Beside her on the sofa, where they'd been cooing at the baby, C.J. and Andie were feeling the same urge. But as they took in Sabrina's condition and her obvious distress, each of them found herself swallowing back what she wanted to say.
"You poor dear," Ainsley said, in warmer tones. "Here he is. Come and sit down."
C.J. and Andie got to their feet to make room. Sabrina slipped in beside Ainsley and took her baby, whispering, "Oh, Ty. Oh, Ty, Ty, Ty," over and over again.
For once-perhaps because she wasn't holding him as tentatively as usual-he didn't begin to cry when she touched him. Instead, he took his fist out of his mouth and stared up at her for several seconds. Then, miraculously, he said, "Ma-ma?"
Sabrina sobbed and clutched him to her so tightly he coughed. She heard the sound and loosened her grip a little. He gazed up at her and ran all his words together, including the new one: "MahMahCattyEffieBinkitMama!" She found herself smiling down at him, a little bewildered, but ready to find anything he did amazing since he was alive to do it.
"All those words! Aren't you a clever boy?" Andie said, leaning over to give him a pat.
"He's a beautiful baby," Ainsley said, giving him another. "You must be so proud."
"You're very lucky," C.J. said, bluntly. "Your nanny went into the house when it was on fire, and wouldn't leave until she found him."
"And her little girl!" Ainsley exclaimed. "She was a complete hero. She was worried about you, so she climbed up a trellis at the back of your house to try to warn you, when her mother and Betty couldn't get up the stairs. They thought you must be up there, you see, sleeping, and that's why you hadn't heard the alarm."
"She fell and hurt herself," C.J. went on, relentlessly. "But apparently she still went downstairs through all that smoke to get your son's favorite toys."
"That was very foolish of her," Andie said. "But very caring and brave, too. You're very lucky to have people like that in your home. I've never met anyone quite like them, and I've had wonderful nannies and housekeepers over the years."
Ainsley nodded. "We have, too. But Mariana and Cat are really special."
"You'll want to do something very nice for them, of course," C.J. said. "A substantial bonus, naturally-quite a lot more than the usual Christmas bonus, don't you think, Ainsley?"- Ainsley and Andie both nodded-"but something more, too. Maybe a nice vacation somewhere warm and lovely-they both look exhausted."
"And the child needs new clothes," Andie said. "A coat, and boots, and-well, everything, really. Every stitch she had must have gone up in smoke."
"You'll enjoy that!" Ainsley added, brightly. "It's always so much fun to dress a little girl, isn't it? And she's such a pretty one."
"And books," C.J. put in. "Lots of books, good ones. She sounds like an amazing reader. You're so fortunate to have a role model like that for your little boy."
They all looked at Sabrina expectantly. She nodded, her eyes wide. She had never heard anyone talk like this before. Her friends never did anything except complain about their help. They complained constantly about their children as well; her lunches with them were always punctuated by litanies of childhood ailments and annoying behaviors, as if to mark the mothers' fortitude in putting up with their offspring as the children made their way through one terrible stage after another.
"Oh, hello!" Donna said, coming into the room. Ainsley slid over to make room for her, and she dropped onto the couch beside Sabrina. "Are you Mrs. Maxwell? I'm so glad you're here at last. Such a lovely baby; you must have been frantic about him! But whatever were you thinking, going out and leaving him like that?"
Sabrina buried her face in Tyler's hair.
"I-don't-know." Her tones were muffled. "I'd had such an awful day-I was so tired and hungry-and Max wanted to go out-and the house was such a wreck-and Mariana had left-and I can't cook anything but omelettes-and Tyler was sleeping-Max said it would be all right, he'd be fine like that until Mariana got back-" She broke off and couldn't go on. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed.
Donna's heart smote her.
"There, there," she said, slipping an arm around the younger woman and pulling her close. "Don't cry. We've all done something silly at some time or other. We can just be thankful that Mariana got there in time to keep things from turning out worse than they did."
Sabrina looked up, and wiped her face on her sleeve.
"Where is she?" she asked. "I need to thank her. And Cathy."
"They'll be here in a minute. Mariana's just helping Cat get dressed. We put her in the bath because she was chilled right through, and pretty bruised and sore from falling off the trellis under your window-have you heard about that?"
Sabrina flushed, but nodded.
"She's an amazing little girl," Donna went on. "I'm so glad Noah's friends with her. And her mother is a wonderful woman. I feel like we're good friends already."
The pieces of Sabrina's world were shifting and changing like bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. She wasn't quite sure who the other women were-something important, she guessed, since they were here at all-but she knew Donna was the First Lady. And apparently the First Lady was friends with her live-in maid and nanny. Donna's son was friends with the maid-and-nanny's daughter: the same daughter who got on Sabrina's nerves because she was always there, and always reading, and Sabrina never knew what to say to her-but who had apparently risked her life trying to save Sabrina and Max from a horrible death. And then had risked it again to save Tyler's favorite toys. There were many things Sabrina didn't know about her son, but she did know that he would have cried and cried if anything had happened to Ellie and Binkit. Apparently Cathy-or Cat, the First Lady had called her-had known that too, and cared enough to save them for him.
A picture of herself earlier that day, screaming at Cat and snatching her book out of her hand, flashed across Sabrina's mind, and she squirmed. She wasn't much given to self-reflection, but even she couldn't feel that she had behaved well then. She couldn't imagine why the child would have done such kind things for her and her baby in return.
"You're shivering," Donna said, suddenly. "And you've got a nasty bruise on your face, and your ankle looks swollen. Why don't you come with me, and I'll get the doctors for you?"
Sabrina tried to stand up. Tyler didn't like the change: he started to cry-and did something else as well.
"Whew!" Donna said, laughing. "I guess we'd better change him first."
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Back on the bed in Mrs. Lyman's room, armed with the stack of diapers Betty had given Tyler, Sabrina tried to change her son. Donna, watching, soon realized she had no idea what she was doing.
"Here," Donna said gently. "You've had a bad shock. Let me do it."
Sabrina ceded her place with surprise. The world did another kaleidoscopic spin for her as she watched the President's wife wipe her son's bottom and wrap him up in a clean diaper, all the while talking cheerfully and making silly faces at him until he laughed.
"And now," Donna said, bundling the dirty wipes and diaper up without the slightest indication of distaste, "I'm going to have the doctors look at you. And then I'm going to get you something hot to eat. Gagnon is cooking for us tonight, you know; there's nothing nicer. I'll get you some dry clothes, too. We're about the same height, I think-though I'm sure I'm fatter."
She was smiling as she said it. She had put on a little weight with the children, but it was very little. She was comfortable with it, and knew she was widely regarded as a beautiful woman with a lovely figure. Sabrina, on the other hand, looked emaciated to her. An eating disorder, she thought, and wondered how she could encourage her to get help for it.
The two doctors looked Sabrina over. Dr. Allen thought she should have her ankle x-rayed; Dr. Pierce disagreed. They seemed to enjoy arguing with each other about it. In the end Dr. Pierce taped it up and told her to have it x-rayed after Christmas if the swelling hadn't gone down by then, and Dr. Allen nodded and agreed that that would do, as long as she didn't put too much weight on it in between.
Donna reappeared with a pair of knit pants and a sweater, which Sabrina changed into gratefully. A minute later Gagnon's older daughter knocked on the bedroom door and set down a tray beside the armchair where Donna had established Sabrina and her son. The tray held a bowl of hot soup, a glass of wine, and a buttered roll filled with ham and cheese, as well as a mug, a pot of coffee, and cream and sugar.
Sabrina picked up the wine and took a sip. The smell of the food made her almost dizzy-her dinner had been a very light one-but she didn't touch it.
"Do have something to eat," Donna urged her. "You'll feel better for it."
"Do you eat things like this?" Sabrina asked, surprised.
"Yes, of course," Donna said, equally surprised. "In moderation."
"Don't you ever put on weight?"
"I did when the children were born, of course, but I got it off afterwards-or enough of it, anyway. I've got a different shape now than I did before, but I don't care, and Josh doesn't, either."
"I'm always hungry," Sabrina admitted. She was warmer now, and starting to feel very tired and fuzzy-minded. She would never have allowed herself to be so open otherwise.
"That's not good," Donna said. "You need to eat properly, for Tyler's sake as well as your own."
Sabrina looked so puzzled that Donna found herself launching, quite uncharacteristically, into lecture mode.
"We women have to watch ourselves that way, you know. I find if I try too hard to diet, it's hard to keep on an even keel. I get whiney and crabby, and then the children feel it, and they get whiney and crabby too-even whinier and crabbier than they would have been, I mean, if I'd been able to stay calm and cheerful and laugh them out of whatever they were upset about. And then we're all miserable, and it's no fun."
It was all a revelation to Sabrina. She was so sleepy she hardly knew how to respond, but she could feel herself relaxing, breathing more slowly and deeply than she usually did. It wasn't the wine; she had barely touched it. She wondered, sleepily, when the last time was that she'd felt so comfortable and so relaxed. Before Tyler was born-no, longer ago than that. Much, much longer. . . .
Donna noticed Sabrina's head nodding, and lifted Tyler out of her arms. He was already asleep himself. She stood by the window for a minute, looking out. In the warm light that spilled out from the house, she could see snow blowing wildly in off the sea.
She put Tyler down on her mother-in-law's bed, packed the pillows around him so he wouldn't roll off it in his sleep, and went to find her husband.
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"Josh."
"Yes, beautiful woman?"
"You aren't going to like this, darling-"
"What? Today of all days, you're going to tell me something I won't like?"
She tried to frown at him, but was pretty sure she wasn't bringing it off.
"Sweetheart, I think we should let the Maxwells stay here tonight."
"What?" His eyebrows shot up comically. "Not that! Not them! No, no, no!"
"They don't have anywhere else to go, Josh. And the woman's exhausted-she's just fallen asleep in your mother's room, sitting up in her chair."
"There are plenty of hotels around here."
"Who knows if they have rooms? So many visitors come at Christmas now, because we do. And it's snowing again; it looks like a real blizzard out there. Do you really want to put that baby into a car in a snowstorm, with that man at the wheel, and send them out into the night?"
Josh lowered his eyebrows slowly.
"We have enough cabins," Donna pointed out.
"We'll never get rid of them again. He's an operator, a sleezebag. A total hanger-on."
"You don't have to see him again. But I think I should spend some more time with the woman. She's pathetic, Josh-she's so thin she looks as if she's going to snap in two, but she won't eat anything because she's afraid of gaining weight, and she doesn't have a clue what to do with her baby. She really needs a friend. I could help her, show her that it isn't so hard to be a mother, that it can be fun doing things for your children. And show her how to look after herself better."
"You are the loveliest of women," Josh said, softly. "And not just because you're so beautiful to look at."
"You're the loveliest and kindest of men. And not just because you say such silly things to me."
"They're not silly."
"I'll go make one of the cabins up, then."
"The agents won't like it. But since that's what you want, I'll insist."
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Ainsley, Andie, and C.J. rode out to the cabin with Donna, and helped her put sheets on the bed and towels out.
"We should be getting the children to bed soon, too," Ainsley said, as Donna gave the room a last look-around to make sure everything was in place.
"Noah and Sally are begging to have them to sleep over in their rooms. We've got sleeping bags and air mattresses. Would you mind?"
"Love it! Nothing like a night to ourselves. But what about you and Josh? Surely you don't want them all giggling and running back and forth to the bathroom, keeping you up half the night?"
"They're tired; they'll fall asleep soon. And if they don't, there's always the threat of Santa not coming. Sally will believe it, even if the others don't. She'll make sure they all behave themselves."
"Santa really won't come if I hear mine have acted up," Andie said. Ainsley laughed and agreed.
When they got back to the house, Josh's mother was just wrapping up her conversation with Max.
"And so, young man," Donna heard her saying, "I don't want to hear another thing about you neglecting your son, or mistreating that lovely young woman who works for you, or her child. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am," Max mumbled. He was sixty-two, but Josh's mother made him feel like he wasn't even in kindergarten yet.
She had also done something no one else had for decades: she'd brought tears to his eyes when she told him about another family and another fire, many years ago. Not many tears, and he'd been able to wipe them away surreptitiously with the cuff of his jacket before-he hoped-anyone else had seen them, but he'd felt them stinging in his eyes, and the emotion that had brought them there tightening his chest, and he'd been thoroughly shaken by it all.
He was even more shaken when Donna bent over him and suggested that he and his wife and son might like to spend the night in one of their cabins.
"That's-that's very kind of you," he stammered.
"Your wife will need some help with the baby tonight," Donna said, smoothly. "Mariana will be in a cabin nearby, but I don't think she should be disturbed, do you? She's had an exhausting day."
Max's eyes widened, but he managed to nod.
"Uh-of course."
"We men have to look after our women and children, don't we?" Josh said, slipping an arm around Donna and giving her a squeeze to tell her that yes, he knew how obnoxious that sounded. She squeezed back, to tell him she understood why he was talking like a Republican. "How many nights did I do baby duty?"
"Lots," she said, resting her head on his shoulder and smiling up at him approvingly. "And then got up for a full day of meetings and votes in the Senate."
"It's a wonder the country survived." Josh was grinning.
"You did it all beautifully," Donna assured him. "We could have had a live-in nanny," she explained to Max, who was listening in evident confusion. "But we didn't want one. We wanted our children to love us, and trust us. And they do. But come and get your wife and baby, and I'll take you down to your cabin. It's all made up; I did it myself just now. We do have household help most days, of course"-Max's eyes had gotten even wider-"but it's important to let the staff have time with their families, especially on holidays-don't you think?"
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To be cont'd. . . .
It would mean a lot to me, as I work on the last chapter, if you'd post or send feedback on this one. I'm hoping you're still enjoying the story, but it's hard to assume that if I don't hear from you.