Monday, October 27, 1980

"That's the last of it, I think," said Al.

He went out to the moving truck to double check and to sign the papers as the movers set the boxes labeled "KITCHEN" on the kitchen floor. They tipped their ballcaps at me as they walked outside. I surveyed the array of boxes, furniture, and crates and shook my head.

"Grace, how are we going to make sense of all this?" I asked, turning to our eight-month-old. We'd set up her swing in the relative out-of-the-way opening to the pantry and as long as we kept it wound and moving she was content. She bubbled and cooed, clapping her hands at the attention.

I looked in the backyard to check on the other three girls. They were sitting in the grass playing a game of catch. Two-year-old Theresa's tosses occasionally made it to one of her older sisters, and they considerately rolled the ball to her instead of throwing it whenever it was her turn to receive. Occasionally Star would run into the game and knock the ball out of play, barking mischievously as he dashed off.

"DaDa!" Grace giggled, smacking the tray of her swing. "DaDa!"

"Hey there, munchkin," smiled Al, squatting down in front of her. "How's Daddy's girl? How's my Gracie? Does she like the new house?"

"Ah ba ba ma ba," babbled Grace.

"There you go, Beth," said Al as he turned to me. "She said 'Ma' that time. She'll get it soon."

I joined him in front of Grace's swing and prompted her, "C'mon, Grace. You can say it. I know you can. MaMa. MaMa."

"Ahhhhhhhh ma, ma ba ba," she said, looking intently at me. Then she giggled and looked at Al. "DaDa!"

He beamed and chuckled heartily.

"One of them had to say 'Daddy' first, I guess." I chuckled and patted him on the shoulder as I stood. "Of course, you don't have to enjoy it quite so much."

"Am I enjoying it too much?" said Al, standing and taking me around the waist. "I seem to remember someone enjoying the twins only saying 'MaMa' for a month straight." He grinned and mimicked me, "'Listen, Al…it's in stereo!'"

"Aw, poor baby, did I mock you much?" I ruffled his hair and kissed him. "I'm sorry, you're right. I'll let you have your moment."

"I don't know," he said, nudging me closer to him, "I'm kind of enjoying this moment right here." He captured my mouth and kissed me for a long time.

We broke apart and I leaned my head against his shoulder as I looked at the sea of boxes which started in the kitchen and continued in clumps throughout the rest of the house. It was overwhelming, particularly as the movers had only grouped them according to which room in the house matched the label. We still had to decipher what was in which box, as well as where the furniture should be laid out.

"I don't even know where to start," I said.

Grace's swing had stopped and she started fussing. Al grinned and stepped over to wind the crank again, setting it into another 10 minute cycle.

"DaDa!" she cooed and applauded.

"Let's get the girls' bedrooms set up first," he decided after thinking about it. "We can order food for tonight or go out to eat."

"If their bedrooms look anything like this kitchen…"

"We'll get it done, honey. Are the girls still okay out there?" He looked out the window.

"I think we can still see them from upstairs," I commented. "Although I'd feel better if they were inside, they'll just be underfoot."

Al moved to the side door and stepped onto the patio. He called out to the girls, "Bree, Sheli! Keep an eye on Theresa. Mommy and I are going to be right upstairs. You stay in the backyard, okay?"

The twins nodded. "Okay, Daddy!" they confirmed.

"In the backyard or in the house," he emphasized. "Nowhere else."

"Okay, Daddy!" they said again.

He came inside and turned to me as I suggested, "Let's do the twins' room first. Then they can have that area to play in when we're done."

"Sounds good to me."

I lifted Grace into my arms and nodded at Al. Understanding, he began disassembling the baby swing so we could bring it upstairs.

"Ahma da bababa."

Quietly I tried prompting her again as we walked upstairs, "MaMa, Grace. MaMa. I know you can say it."

"DaDa!"

"Beth," Al called from the bottom of the stairs, "can you turn the lights on, please? I can hardly see the steps."

I looked down from the landing. Laden down with the legs and seat of the swing, he didn't have a hand free to flip the switch near him. I found the switchplate at the top of the stairs and flicked it on.

Nothing happened.

"Beth!"

"I'm trying, honey." I flicked it in the opposite direction. Still nothing. I tried it again—up, down, up, down, up. "Al, I think the bulb must be burned out, baby."

"Great. Just what we need, another project," he muttered as he started up the dark stairway. The legs of the swing banged against the wall as he felt his way to the top.

He headed to the end of the hall and set Grace's swing up in front of the linen closet. Within minutes he had it ready to go, and I settled her in the swing as he wound the crank. Grace kicked her legs excitedly as she began moving back and forth in the regular rhythm.

"DaDa!" she enthused.

"Daddy's got to go in your sisters' room," he told her. "You just enjoy your swing and we'll be back to give you a wind when it runs out okay?"

"Ba ba ma ah, ahma."

"Right." He smiled and followed me into Bridget and Michele's room. "Oh boy."

The frames of their twin beds were stacked against the wall and the movers had piled the boxes in the center of the room. The mattresses were leaning against the permanent low bookshelves that had been a high selling point to us. I walked to the window and yanked the blinds up so we could see the girls easily. Daylight streamed into the room, and I looked down to make sure they were still playing in the backyard.

"Baby, let's get these boxes out of the way," grunted Al, as he hefted the first box from the stack and carried it to the open closet.

I couldn't lift any of them, but I pushed and shoved the next box beside it. By the time I finished, Al was already carrying a third box over. I helped him move the last one. With the floor cleared, we now stood in the middle of the room.

"Let's orient their beds this way," I said, gesturing to indicate that I wanted the beds to face the wide window.

We collected the necessary parts for the first bed and began assembling it. We'd barely begun when Grace's swing ran down and she started crying. Since I was closer to the door, I jumped up and hurried to start the cycle over again. After she started into motion again, Grace laughed.

"Badaba Ahma."

"You're getting closer, sweetie-pie," I laughed as I headed back into the twins' room.

Al was trying to hold the frame pieces in place and screw it together at the same time. He swore as the opposite side slat fell to the floor.

"Al, love, you should've waited for me!" I exclaimed, dropping to my knees to help him. I held the pieces for him while he tightened the nuts and bolts. After testing its sturdiness we dropped the boxspring and mattress into place. I immediately went to the window again and looked down at our three daughters. They were playing Leapfrog now.

"One down, one to go," Al said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He tested the latch on the window and opened it. "We can enjoy the breeze and hear the girls better."

"Thanks, love." I kissed his cheek.

He smiled and kissed me back, then nodded at the remaining bed. "We're not done in here yet."

As we carried the frame to the proper spot, I said, "The quicker we get this room done the quicker they can come back inside."

"You'll feel better once they're in the house won't you?"

"Won't you?"

Al looked up from the bolt he was tightening and grinned. "Yeah."

"DaDa!" wailed Grace.

"Someone should invent a swing with a longer cycle," muttered Al as he got to his feet. "Can you hold it by yourself for a sec, hon?"

"I've got it," I assured him. I smiled as I heard his tone instantly change as soon as he got near to Grace.

"Did Daddy's little angel stop swinging? Should Daddy wind it up again?"

"DaDa," she answered.

I heard the ratcheting cranking noise as he wound the swing. "Maybe you're getting sleepy, honey?" Al asked hopefully.

A stream of babbling answered him. He started laughing and was still chuckling when he came back into the room and started screwing the second bed together. Intent on the task, we finished in short order and soon had the mattresses in place.

I moved toward the closet to begin unpacking boxes, but Al shook his head.

"Beds first," he said. "Let's do Theresa's next."

I would rather have gotten the twins' room completely set up, but I acknowledged the sense of getting all four of their beds ready first. If nothing else, we could get the girls comfortably to sleep tonight. I agreed, but insisted that as soon as we had Grace's crib set up, I was getting the twins' room livable so the girls could come back inside.

"Fair enough," conceded Al as he started the process of moving the boxes from the center of the room to the closet again. Having found our rhythm, sort of, after setting up the twins' beds, it didn't take us long to get Theresa's bed assembled and the mattresses installed. I was able to wind Grace's swing for the next cycle before the first one came to an end.

The crib took quite a bit longer to assemble and we more than once questioned ourselves as to why we'd taken it apart in the first place. A couple of times Al pinched his finger and it was only the knowledge that Grace was right outside the door that kept him from swearing loudly, instead he muttered under his breath. Grace's swing ran down again but the crib wasn't in any condition so that either of us could abandon its assembly long enough to start her up again. Her wails became more demanding and Al pinched his finger again as we tried to hurry.

By the time we finished, Grace was inconsolable. Even the resumption of the swing's motion couldn't calm her down. She screamed, her face turning beet red, and Al and I both worried she'd pass out from lack of oxygen. I bent to lift her from the swing and we tried soothing her, but no matter what we did, she just kept crying. Finally, we decided that Al would take her outside for some fresh air while I started unpacking in the twins' room. I passed her off to him and listened to the volume of her cries diminish as Al walked downstairs with her. I began unpacking boxes and couldn't help but laugh when I heard her through the window, crying as loud as ever as Al joined the girls outside.

As the afternoon wore on, the sunlight streaming into the girls' windows lessened and it became harder to see. The three older girls were in the twins' room playing Candyland. We'd found Grace's play pen and set it up in there as well. Although the bookshelves hadn't been filled yet, the majority of the boxes had been unpacked and Bridget and Michele's room was close enough to being finished that we'd moved on to getting Theresa's room set up. While I began filling her toy chest, Al dragged her dresser into place.

"I think we could use some light in here," he said when he finished moving the furniture. He went to the lightswitch and flicked it. Nothing.

"Another burned out bulb?" I sighed, looking up at the light fixture.

"Could be," said Al, "but I'm not so sure now." He crossed the hall to the bathroom and I heard him flipping the switch on and off several times. "Damn!"

"What is it, baby?"

He looked disgusted when he came back into Theresa's room. "The power's not on."

"What? But we called them! We told them we were moving in today!"

"I'll just call them again and remind them." He went downstairs, and I heard him ripping into boxes. After a moment he yelled, "Beth? Which box did we pack the phone in again?"

I pressed a hand to my eyes as I thought. "Try one of the ones in the den," I shouted back.

He crowed triumphantly when he found the phone. I finished emptying the box of toys into Theresa's toy chest and turned to unpack her clothes. We'd packed their clothes without taking them off the hangers so all I had to do was reach into the box and hang them up. I'd gotten two handfuls of clothes in her closet when I heard Al slam the phone down.

"I don't believe this!" A banging noise sounded and was followed by several loud thuds.

"Al?" I scrambled to my feet and dashed downstairs. "Al? What's wrong?"

I ran into the kitchen, half-expecting to see him unconscious on the floor under a pile of boxes. Instead, he was standing with his back to me, gripping the counter. He was breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth, plainly trying to calm himself down. I walked up to him and hesitantly touched his shoulder.

"No phone," he ground out. "The phone company hasn't turned the phone on either!"

"This is a nightmare," I muttered, steepling my fingers over my face.

"No," Al said, turning to face me, "the nightmare's going to be trying to get Michele to go to bed without a nightlight."

"Well what are we going to do?"

He took a deep breath. "I guess I'm going to go introduce myself to our neighbors and see if I can use their phone."

"I don't like that house," said Bridget as we pulled back into the driveway.

We'd gone out to dinner before the sun went down. Though we'd had hopes of getting back before it was dark, things took longer than expected at the restaurant. Now it was drawing close to the girls' bedtime, and neither of us was looking forward to bringing them back into the dark house. Though the power company had apologized profusely, they swore they couldn't activate our electricity until the following morning. Fortunately, Al had had better luck with the phone company, but we both would've preferred to have electricity and no phone. Honestly, the only good thing to come out of it was that Al had befriended Eileen and Todd Phelps, who lived in the house to the left of ours, when he'd made use of their phone.

Al and I exchanged a look at Bridget's words. We were ready for Michele, even Theresa, to demonstrate fear upon seeing the dark windows. Not Bridget.

"What's the matter, Bree, don't you like our new house?" Al asked easily.

"I don't like that house," she repeated, now pointing at the house next door on the right.

"It's a scary house," piped up Michele.

We looked. The Halloween decorations that had appeared whimsical to us during the day were spooky enough to set even our nerves on edge now that they were illuminated by the special lights the neighbors had rigged. We could only imagine how they appeared to our young daughters.

"I don't wanna get out the car," Michele now whined.

"They're just decorations, Sheli, they can't hurt you," I said.

"No, I'm scared!"

Bridget added, "I don't like it, either."

Theresa began looking apprehensively around, as if wondering if she should be scared as well.

"Look, Daddy and I are going to get out of the car, and you'll see it's all okay."

"Nooo!" Michele screamed as we stepped outside and she looked frantically to the right, convinced that the skeletons, vampires, mummies, and Frankensteins were all simultaneously going to come to life and grab us.

Al opened the back door of the station wagon. "See? It's okay, honey."

Bridget and Theresa reluctantly got out, heading straight for the porch, where they stood holding each other's hand. Michele shook her head stubbornly and refused to budge from the backseat.

I opened the door on my side and got Grace out of her carseat. As soon as Michele saw that the door near the "scary house" was open she started shrieking again and burst into tears. Bouncing Grace in my arms, I looked helplessly to Al as I closed the car door again. Michele stared forlornly at us, looking away from the neighbor's house and back again—afraid to look at it and yet afraid to look away for fear that the ghoulies would get her.

Al bent in the still open door on his side. "Sheli? Honey? What about if I hold you, baby? Would that be okay?"

She considered for a moment, then slowly nodded and scooted across the seat until she was near him. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Al took her into his arms and lifted her out of the car.

"That's my girl. Daddy's got you, sweetheart, everything's okay."

Michele buried her face in his neck and didn't look up until we were inside. Of course, as soon as she lifted her head to see the darkness she screamed again.

"Shhh, I've got you, Michele. Everything's fine."

"Dark!"

"Beth, get the flashlights, honey. I put them on that box over there."

I found them and switched them all on. I handed one to Bridget and Theresa to share, kept one for myself, and handed the last one to Al. He passed it to Michele.

"There you go, baby. Does that help?"

Sniffling, she nodded.

"Let's go upstairs then and get in our jammies, okay?"

"No!" Michele shook her head emphatically.

I aimed my flashlight at the staircase to illuminate it and tried to help. "Look, honey, it's just the stairs."

"No, no, no!"

"What about if Grace and I go up first? If you see it's safe will you come up with Daddy?"

Michele looked at Al and he smiled encouragingly at her. "O-o-okay," she said.

"Bridget, you and Theresa follow me, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy. Come on, Resa." Bridget took hold of her younger sister's hand and took a deep breath as they followed me up the dark stairs.

When we reached the top I shone my flashlight down the steps and called out, "It's okay, Sheli."

Though she whimpered, she allowed Al to bring her upstairs.

"That's Daddy's brave girl," he praised her, kissing her on the cheek.

"I want the lights," Michele insisted.

"They'll be on tomorrow," I promised her. "Now it's bedtime, so let Daddy help you go potty and get ready for bed while I put Grace down."

Grace was already asleep in my arms, but I didn't want her sleeping in the turtleneck and corduroy jumper she had on. I took the chance of waking her as I balanced the flashlight on the edge of the changing table and then set her down as well to swap her playclothes for the onesie sleeper. Fate was smiling on me as she stayed asleep even while I changed her diaper. Lifting her into my arms, I brushed kisses across her cheeks before settling her into the crib. We hadn't finished her room, but had made sure to get the changing table set up and the crib set with bumpers arranged before leaving for dinner. I draped the sheet over her and watched her sleep for a few minutes before taking the flashlight and returning to the twins' room.

Theresa sat on the floor watching as Al helped Michele into her pajamas. Bridget stood nearby in her panties, waiting for help with hers.

"Come here, Bree, I'll help you with your jammies."

She started to, but looked again at Michele. Bridget shook her head and pouted. "No, I want Daddy to."

Al finished with Michele and playfully swatted her tushie. "All right, baby, climb into your bed." He handed her the flashlight and then beckoned for Bridget. "Bring me your jammies, sweetie."

"Resa, let's go get ready for bed," I told her, extending my hand towards her. She got to her feet and took hold, walking with me into her room.

"It dark, Mommy."

"Yes, it is. That means it's sleepytime." I found her pajamas and brought them back with me. I knelt and helped her get undressed then put her pajamas on her. "Are you ready for sleepytime, baby?"

"Read me, Mommy?"

"We haven't unpacked the books yet, baby, but I tell you what. How about if I tell you a story?"

"Okay," she smiled.

I shined the flashlight's beam at her bed. "Climb in so I can tuck you in."

Theresa scrambled to comply, sitting up against her pillow and smiling as she waited for me to join her. I pulled her sheets up around her and sat next to her, reaching my arm for her to snuggle against me. After a moment's thought, I told her the story of Cinderella. She yawned when I finished and didn't fight as I eased her down to the bed and tucked her in. I kissed her and whispered a good night.

Taking the flashlight with me, I headed downstairs and began a search for the candles. I found them in the fourth box I checked and I took all of them, using the bottom of my shirt as a makeshift pouch. I saw the brightness of Al's light sweeping the hallway as I came back upstairs.

"They're asleep?" I whispered.

"Bridget is. Sheli's fighting it, but I left the flashlight with her," he whispered back. He looked at the bulge in my shirt. "What've you got there?"

"Candles. I want to clean the bathrooms and I can't do that with the flashlight in my hands."

"Give me some and I'll help you."

"I'll get them set up. If you could find the cleaning stuff that would be a big help, honey."

Al nodded and went downstairs with the flashlight to search it out. I divvied up the candles and left two-thirds of them in our room while I took the rest of them, one pillar and a few votives, into the upstairs bathroom with me. I'd just finished lighting them and had extinguished the flashlight when Al knocked softly on the open bathroom door.

"Here you go, angel," he said as he handed me a small basket of cleaning products. He held on to a bucket filled with comparable things. "I'll clean the master bathroom."

"Are you sure, Al? That's a bigger job than this one."

"I'm sure." He grinned impishly. "Besides, you can help me finish once you're done in here."

I snorted lightly and turned to begin cleaning the toilet, figuring to do the most distasteful task first. The previous owners had kept a good house, so it didn't require much cleaning, but I just felt better handling it myself. As soon as I finished with the toilet, I tackled the bathtub, and then the sink and mirror. The floor could keep, I decided, and I blew out the candles before walking out. I left them there to cool, worried that I'd spill hot wax on the floor or myself if I tried taking them with me. Instead, I used the flashlight to navigate.

On my way to the master bedroom, I stopped to check on the girls. Grace hadn't budged and she still slept sweetly and soundly. Theresa slept easily as well. Before going into the twins' room I took a deep breath, which I let out upon seeing Michele as sound asleep as her sister. She still clutched the flashlight; I didn't remove it from her grasp but I did switch it off. Without making a sound, I returned to the hallway and retraced my steps to the master suite.

I heard water running and I wondered if Al had decided to mop the floor. Surprised that he hadn't left any lit candles in the bedroom, I followed the soft glow to the bathroom. Al turned to me from his perch on the side of the sunken tub where he was adjusting the flow of water as it filled the tub and created…a sea of foam bubbles?

"I finished cleaning and thought I'd give you a surprise," he said, gesturing around the bathroom.

Every surface sparkled. Al had clustered the candles along the vanity as well as the windowsill just above the bathtub.

"It looks great in here," I said approvingly.

He turned off the water and gestured at the tub. "First bath's all yours, honey."

I finished pinning my hair up and turned to step into the tub. The hot water felt great as I eased down into it.

"Ahh," I murmured, leaning back against my husband and grinning as the bubbles surrounded us.

Smiling, Al inclined his head to kiss my cheek. "Sharing was a better idea."

I tilted my head back so I could see him. "Yeah, I'm glad I thought of it." I smirked and winked as he laughed and then tenderly kissed my lips.

"You look great by candlelight," he said. He lifted a wet hand to finger a tendril of hair dangling by my ear.

I closed my eyes and relaxed against him, my breathing pattern soon matching his as the rise and fall of his chest lifted and lowered me. He pressed his cheek against mine and sought out my hand through the bubbles. I grasped his fingers and brought his hand around my waist, turning my head so that I could kiss him again.

"You're such a thoughtful husband," I told him, touching his cheek. A moment later I giggled at the clump of foam that remained.

Al dipped his hand into the bathwater and then wiped his face, spitting slightly as a bit of soap went into his mouth. I giggled again.

"Here, sit up for a minute," he said.

"Oh, no," I said, stifling my laughter, "I'm sorry, honey."

He kissed my cheek. "No, I mean let me wash your back." He lifted a sponge from the side of the tub.

"Aww, aren't you the sweetest?" I kissed him before sitting up.

He squeezed the warm water over my back. As soon as my skin was clear of stray bubbles he leaned forward and kissed the bony knot at the top of my spine. His hands stroked my trapezius muscles as he kissed along the base of my neck to the hollow below my hairline. After a moment, he pulled back and began washing me. I dropped my head forward and relaxed as he soaped my back and then used the sponge to waterfall the suds away.

I turned slightly to look over my shoulder at him. "That felt great. Thanks."

He smiled and bent forward to kiss me. We took turns with the soap and after a while I turned in the thick bubbles to face him. He paused in scrubbing his chest to kiss me again. I smiled and then directed him to turn around as well.

Al raised an eyebrow.

"You deserve a back washing too, honey. You've even earned a back rub today."

He grinned and kissed me before complying. As soon as he turned his back to me, I had to bite my lip and blink away tears. After five years, I thought I was used to seeing his scars, but I still felt a cold rush shudder through me every time. The ragged lines that crisscrossed his back pained me, especially now that the hot water had brought a flush to them, deepening them from the pale pinkish-white they normally were to a ruddy color that made them seem almost fresh. I ran my hands across his back and used my index finger to trace one that traversed his shoulder blades. Al stiffened ever so slightly and twisted his head to look at me.

I didn't speak, just leaned forward and kissed the length of the scar I'd just touched. When I reached the other end of it, I pressed my forehead against his back and wrapped my arms around him. Al sighed; he knew what I was thinking, but he didn't say anything, just reached up to squeeze my hands where they rested against his chest. After a moment, he lifted my left hand to his lips and kissed it just below my wedding ring.

I cleared my throat and took a deep breath, then reached for the sponge. I began washing his back, tenderly stroking it as I soaped him. Wanting to soothe his tired muscles for all the work he'd done today, wanting to make up for the very existence of the scars. Rinsing him off, I began the promised back rub.

"We'll get the rest of the house done tomorrow," he commented as I started kneading the tight muscles around his neck.

"It'll be easier once the power's on," I agreed, pressing my fingers along his spine. "We won't have to stop as soon as the sun goes down."

"And Sheli can have her nightlight again," chuckled Al.

"Although," I said as I massaged his back, "I do have to say that this has been a nice perk to the lack of power."

Al reached to still my hands and turned to face me. He gave me a broad smile and leaned to kiss me. "It has indeed," he agreed.