Tracy Quartermaine-Grabler hustled her daughter down Elm Street from Riverfront Gymnastics. "Come on Shannon, we need to get over to Community Commons. You're supposed to be on the field by ten-thirty for your eleven o'clock game," she said as she depressed the button on her key fob to unlock the door of her Volvo station wagon.
Shannon grudgingly climbed into the car but then got into the car seat and started fastening her own straps without taking another opportunity to point out that she was one of the only kids at Lilac Park Elementary who still rode in one.
Tracy checked and then tightened the harness and decided to be thankful for small mercies.
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Scott Baldwin parked his blazer at the edge of the Community Commons parking lot which was closest to field four. It was Serena's next to last game of the fall soccer season and his father had arranged for him to attend it and then take her to lunch afterward. He just had to bring her perpetually gloomy caseworker, Maggie Carpenter, along for the ride. As much as that infuriated him, he was trying to just go along and get along because the other alternative kept him from his daughter.
When he climbed out of his SUV, he saw a familiar gray Cadillac Deville a few spaces over. That was likely his father; although Edward Quartermaine theoretically owned the same vehicle, he couldn't remember a time his sister's father-in-law had shown up without his limousine or his chauffeur. There was a reason his sister's estate had a large, detached garage that was more accurately considered a carriage house.
The car door opened, and Lee Baldwin stepped out before Scott had even finished getting everything out of his own vehicle. "Don't worry, dad! I am prepared to eat whatever crow is necessary to be able to see Serena and prevent her being any more traumatized than she already has been," he said.
"I know, son, I know," his father said.
"On that note, any chance that the grand jury actually didn't hand down an indictment?" Scott asked. He was almost afraid to hope it could really be over, and it would be a rare occurrence, but he was truly innocent! Plus, at least during his time in the grand jury room, it had almost seemed like the prosecutor was gunning for no true bill.
"I haven't heard anything. I left a message for DA Mitchell but haven't gotten any response. Unfortunately, even in the best-case scenario that the grand jury doesn't indict you, the CHINS petition won't automatically go away. Judge Preston will have to formally dismiss it and sign the order that Serena be returned to your custody," Lee said.
"Which with Judge Preston may be easier said than done, right?" Scott asked.
His father just nodded his head sadly.
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Dr. Monica Quartermaine sighed deeply as she dialed her husband's cellular phone number from the phone in the physician workroom in the NICU. It had been a long morning from dropping her older children at swim practice and swimming laps at four AM to rounding in the various ICUs with the added complexity of an emergent cardioversion and now an unexpected atrial septostomy that she had just completed in the NICU.
"Hello, this is Dr. Quartermaine," Alan's voice echoed back to her after two rings.
"And this is also Dr. Quartermaine. So, umm, it's been a morning! I just finished that atrial septostomy and I think I can finally leave. How is the Saturday morning juggling act going?" Monica asked.
Alan laughed. "Very funny! I dropped Kirk and Dylan off at Ross Barrington's house so Sylvie could take them all to their tournament in Albany. I picked up Emily from her practice and she is hanging out at Katelyn's swim team practice. I'm at Field Four at Community Commons now waiting to watch two of my favorite nieces play some soccer," he said.
It took Monica a moment to remember that Alan's sister's daughter, played on the same soccer team that Serena did. Outside of one weekly practice and two soccer games a month, Shannon seemed to basically live gymnastics. "Ok, I will admit that you seem to have everything under control. I almost hesitate to ask if there is anything I can do to help," she said.
"Did you know that Emily invited Elizabeth Webber to spend the afternoon?" Alan asked.
"Yes, although I thought she was also going to spend the night after her party?" Monica said. At least she thought that had been the plan.
"Oh, she probably is. Emily mentioned she was going to bring all her stuff to Kelly's when she worked the breakfast shift," Alan said.
"So do you want me to pick up Elizabeth from Kelly's Diner?" Monica asked.
"I'm guessing that she may not be done with her shift until noon. Or at least Emily seemed to think it was ok if we picked her up after Katelyn's practice was over. So maybe you could pick Emily and Katelyn up from the pool and then the three of you could collect Elizabeth," Alan suggested.
"Sure, I can do that. Wish Shannon and Serena good luck for me, and umm, I don't know send some calm vibes in my brother's direction. I love you!" Monica said.
"Will do, but I love you more!" Alan returned.
Monica smiled because she could almost envision the goofy grin Alan likely had on his face as he said those words. A grin his big sister was almost certainly mocking him for on Field 4. With those thoughts she took another look at the procedure note she had completed and then typed in her password to sign the entry.
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Tracy Quartermaine-Grabler didn't have to even hear Alan's side of the conversation to know he was talking to his wife. The look on his face gave it all away. As much as she had always loved her younger brother, and by association his wife, there had been years when it had been almost painful to coexist against the backdrop of their love. Those feelings had become a distant memory after she had married Ryan and they had built a family.
Except, sometimes she felt that same almost palpable pain when she tried to navigate being Ned's mother especially if she tried to reconcile it against the parent child harmony that seemed to envelop Monica and Alan's coparenting efforts with all of their children. It was in those moments that it seemed absolutely hypocritical that she could be a family court judge. But she was, because so much of her motherhood journey with her first born had been highly hypocritical.
January 22, 1982
Tracy Quartermaine's heart was heavy as she watched her son stomp up the stairs to his room. She winced and then turned to her father as she heard Ned's bedroom door slam. "He's just angry, Daddy. His best friend just died this isn't easy for him."
"So, let him be angry. He still has to know the importance of respect; he's known that since he was a baby! I will not allow any grandson of mine to speak to his mother that way! I wouldn't have let your brothers have spoken to Lila that way and I don't see that this is any different," her father ranted.
It was different though, and Tracy knew that. It was different because she and her brothers had grown up with the best mother in the whole world, a mother who was married to their father. Ned's father had divorced her to marry his secretary when Ned had only been a few months old and, even on her best days, Tracy knew she wasn't anywhere close to the best mother in the whole world. "It is different though, Daddy, and that's the problem," she said.
Edward Quartermaine shook his head. "Well, I don't see why," he said.
"Ned hasn't had the childhood that Alan and John had, Daddy," Tracy said.
"That still doesn't give him the right to rewrite the code of behavior for the family. Coddling him is not going to help, Tracy! He needs to be reined in and accept responsibility for his choices. Your mother says it isn't my place to discipline him, but I'll send him to boarding school before I let a child dictate the code of behavior for this family!"
Tracy didn't point out that her mother would probably consider decreeing that boarding school was Ned's future an even more egregious overstepping of grandparent authority than sending him to his room. She didn't have the heart to admit that she had looked at several boarding schools herself. She hated to think it had come to that but perhaps it had. Her thirteen-year-old son had just spent a cold winter night sleeping in an abandoned warehouse. Whether he had been too intoxicated to make it home or whether he just had decided he'd prefer hypothermia to facing her she didn't know. Maybe that didn't even matter. Maybe the only thing that really mattered was making sure Ned survived adolescence. Maybe boarding school was the only way she could ensure that.
After her father had left, Tracy had made a final futile effort to connect with her son. She had failed. That left with no choice but to do exactly what her father had threatened, albeit for somewhat different reasons. They had left for Ethan Allen Academy the day after Austin Taylor's funeral.
January 26, 1982
As she crossed the border into Vermont, Tracy Quartermaine released another troubled sigh. Beyond assuring her that he would be packed by the morning, Ned hadn't spoken to her since they had come home from Austin Taylor's funeral the afternoon before. True to his word he had assembled a trunk, three suitcases, his lacrosse stick, and guitar in a bit of an eclectic pile in her foyer by morning. Then he had announced that he had breakfast plans with his grandparents before they left and been out the door before, she could even say goodbye. Ned had returned from breakfast with his grandparents, and they had been on their way. For two hours she had driven North while Ned had sat silently in the backseat.
"There is a diner about ten minutes up the road, did you want to stop for lunch?" Tracy offered.
Ned shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not all that hungry but if you want to stop, we can," he said.
What Tracy wanted was to have enough of a connection with her son that she wouldn't have to send him away to boarding school.
Outwardly, Ned had thrived at Ethan Allen Academy. He excelled in the classroom and led his lacrosse team to three consecutive NEPSAC titles his sophomore, junior, and senior years. But when she listened to his Valedictory address in May 1986, she had reflected more on her own failings than his success. Since she had been pregnant with his younger brother at the time, she felt like an even bigger hypocrite than usual. How dare she bring another child into the world when she couldn't even successfully raise her first born?
The truth was that just like marriage to Dr. Ryan Grabler was much different than marriage to Lord Lawrence Ashton, parenting with someone who wanted to parent was much different than it had been with Larry who had missed his son's birth for another desktop dalliance with his secretary. Of course, that brought on it's own layer of guilt and sometimes that guilt was hard to dig out of.
Tracy glanced over at her brother and saw his lovestruck façade had been replaced with a look of concern. She suspected that he was wondering exactly what Ned had shared with her and was agonizing over what was safe to say. He was a stickler for patient confidentiality after all. "For the record, Ned did tell me that the baby was born, but I thought I should give him and Carly a little space to enjoy their son. I have every intention of meeting my first grandson this afternoon," she said.
Unfortunately, it appeared that her words just deepened Alan's concern. She wondered if Ned had said something, or perhaps Carly. Then with an uneasy gulp she had an even worse thought. "Is everything alright with the baby?" she croaked.
Alan's eyes softened even more. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Michael is in the NICU but that is pretty much expected at thirty-one weeks," he said.
"Right, of course, but that is only a little earlier than Dylan came. He was born at thirty-three weeks, and he was still home more than a month before my original due date. I remember Mother said it was a testament to how Quartermaines were strong stock," Tracy said proudly.
Alan smiled. "I am sure that the Quartermaine strength will also serve Michael well," he said.
Tracy nodded but she sensed there was more Alan was not saying. She decided not to push. Ned would tell her later, right?
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Dr. Monica Quartermaine adjusted her bag over her shoulder as she made her way out of the PCGH NICU and quickly spotted her nephew pacing uncomfortably in the waiting room outside the NICU. She stopped in the entry way and waited a moment for him to notice her.
Ned paused mid stride and gave her sheepish glance. "Oh, hi, Monica. One of the other babies needed some surgery or something so they kicked all the parents out. I was just waiting to go back in and see, Michael," he said.
Monica nodded. "I figured. I'm coming from the NICU so they will probably be letting all the other parents back in soon. Don't worry, I'm not going to ask if you're ok, because I know you're worried about your son and your wife. I just hope you know that we're all praying for Carly and Michael, and we really do want to help you in any way we can," she said.
"I know," Ned said quietly. He looked down at the floor.
"So, whatever you need, just ask. And if that is helping your grandfather understand that he needs to give you all a little space, I think Lila has already got that covered," Monica said.
Ned lifted his eyes from the floor and chuckled slightly. "I appreciate that, and I really do appreciate everything you and Alan both tried to do for Carly. I know she is still very sick, but I can't believe that she has fought this hard to let go now when Michael is finally here. I'm also sorry if this all puts you in a bit of an awkward spot. I know that you both considered Dr. Jones a friend as much as a colleague," he said.
"Alan and I still consider Tony a friend but sometimes part of being a friend is helping someone gain perspective. I'm not excusing Tony's behavior in any way, but he has been through a lot in the last few years. Again, that doesn't give him the right to treat Carly unkindly or to have made this difficult pregnancy worse for her, Alan and I are in complete agreement on that. We have and will hold him accountable there. It's just that later when the dust settles and he leaves you and Carly alone we may be able to focus on supporting him working on his own demons because I think that is more of an issue than any of us realized," Monica said.
Ned looked down at the floor again. "It's never easy to bury a child," he whispered.
Monica nodded solemnly. "No, it isn't," she said as she wrapped her arms around her nephew. "I think we all understand that too well," she finished.