I doubted my mother would feel this way, but I said, “I hope so, Sash. You know only too well that she and I have our differences. But my mother does love me, and I love her, even though she can be exasperating. And today I felt something else for her, something different—a rush of genuine sympathy, and a certain kind of . . . aching sorrow. I realized that she probably hadn’t had it easy with Daddy. It was at that moment it occurred to me that I was being unfair, unjust. I think I’ve always been somewhat blinded to reality because of my adoration of my father.”
“You might have been unjust, yes, but you can’t change that now, honey. What’s done is done. I’m glad you had this . . . this revelation, as you call it.” Sarah cleared her throat, and looking me straight in the eye, she said, “Your father was never there for you, Mal. Your mother always was.”
I gaped at her, about to protest, but clamped my mouth firmly shut. I realized that Sarah had spoken only the truth. Whenever there had been a crisis during the years I was growing up, my father had inevitably been abroad. It was my mother who had coped with my problems during my adolescence and teenage years and even when I was older.
I nodded. “You’re right,” I said at last, acknowledging the veracity of her words. Then with a twinge of dismay I realized this was the first time I had ever been disloyal to my father in my thoughts, let alone in my words. But he had most likely been as much at fault as my mother, when it came to the disintegration of their marriage.
She got up and walked around the table to my side, hugged me against her body. “I love you,” she whispered.
“And I love you, Best Friend,” I said, squeezing her hand, which rested on my shoulder.
Straightening, she said with a light laugh, “I’d better go inside and get dressed. I don’t want to be caught in my robe when your guests arrive.”
I also stood. “And I must finish setting these tables.” As I spoke I picked up a handful of red-and-white checked napkins and began to fold them in half.
Sarah was a few yards away from me when she swung around and said, “It’s going to be a good day, Mal. This Fourth of July is going to be the best you’ve ever had. I promise.”
I believed her.
CHAPTER NINE
I could see them through the French doors of the sun-room, playing together on the terrace. My beautiful children.
And how glorious they looked this morning. They were like little Botticelli angels, with their sun-streaked blonde hair, the most vivid of blue eyes which echoed their father’s, and rounded baby cheeks as smooth and pink as ripe peaches.
I drew closer to the glass, listening to them chattering away together. They were close to each other, quite inseparable, in fact. They were so alike, yet in many ways they were very different.
Lissa was saying, “Yes, Jamie, that’s good. Give them a flag each. We’ve got a big flag on our house, so they should, too.”
“I don’t know when they’ll see their flags,” Jamie muttered, casting his sister a quick glance before turning back to the work at hand.
My six-year-old son was sticking a small Stars and Stripes into the top of the wall, trying to secure it between the cracks. “This one’s for Tabitha and Henry. But they won’t come out to look at it when there are lots of people here, and Mom’s having a big lot of people for lunch. Vanessa and Luke are coming, too.”
“Ugh!” Lissa made an ugly face. “How do you know?”
“Grandma Jess told me.”
“Ugh,” Lissa said again. Stepping over to her twin, she put her arm around his shoulders in a companionable way and gazed at the flag stuck on top of the wall. “Don’t worry, Jamie, the little chipmunks’ll see their flag tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes. They come out to play at night. They all do, the black snake and the bunny, as well,” Lissa reassured her twin, sounding as self-confident as she usually did. My daughter was one of the most positive people I’ve ever met. “Now,” she continued, “let’s put the flag in the side of the wall over there, for Algernon. And another one for Angelica.”
Jamie nodded and ran to do what she suggested. But almost at once the flag fell down onto the terrace. “It won’t stay,” he cried, turning to Lissa, as always seeking her guidance. She had been born first and was the more aggressive of the two; Jamie was often diffident, more sensitive about certain things, and he had inherited my artistic nature.
“Does Dad have any of that funny glue he sometimes uses?” Lissa asked. “Mom says it’ll stick anything.”
“Yes, it will,” I said, pushing open the door and stepping out onto the terrace. “But I don’t want you messing around with Krazy Glue this morning. It’s tricky to use and dries very quickly, and it can stick to your skin.”
“But Mommy—” Lissa began.
I cut her off. “Not today, honey. Anyway, I think I have a much better solution to your problem, Jamie. Why not use some of your Silly Putty? You can press a small mound of it onto the wall where you want to place the flag, and then stick the flag into the Silly Putty. I bet the flag’ll hold very securely.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea, Mom!” Jamie exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll go and get it.”
“Slow down, you’ll fall!” I shouted after him, watching him race away as fast as his little legs would carry him. Trixy was hard on his heels, bouncing along by his side.
I looked down at Lissa and smiled, thinking how adorable she was in her pink T-shirt and matching shorts. “So, you decided to give flags to all of our little friends who live in the wall,” I said. “That’s nice.”
She nodded, gazing up at me solemn-faced and serious. “Yes, Mommy. We can’t leave them out on the Fourth of July. Every American house should have a flag, you said so.”
“That I did, and where did you get your flags?”
“Daddy bought them in that shop near the vegetable stand. And he bought you some flowers.” She stopped abruptly, her eyes opened wider, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Mom, I shouldn’t have told you that. It’s a surprise. Pretend you don’t know when Dad gives you flowers.”
I nodded. “I’ve just forgotten what you said.”
Jamie came back with Trixy in tow, and he began to work with the Silly Putty, breaking off small pieces and making mounds.
Lissa stood watching him for a moment, then she swung her head to me and said, “It’s hot, Mommy. Can I take my T-shirt off?”
“I don’t think you should, darling. I don’t want you to expose yourself to the sun. You know how easily you get a sunburn.”
“But it’s soooo hot,” she complained.
“How about a dip in the pool?” I suggested.
“Oh, yes! Goody! Goody!” She clapped her hands together and beamed at me, then cried to Jamie, “Let’s go and get our swimsuits, Fishy.”
“Fishy?” I repeated. “Why do you call your brother that?”
“Daddy says he’s like a fish in the water, the best swimmer, too.”
“That’s true, but you’re not so bad yourself, Pumpkin.”
“Mom, can we take Swellen into the pool for a swim with us?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lissa, of course you can’t. Sue Ellen’s only a goldfish. She’d drown in the pool. And she’d be scared to death.”
“She wouldn’t, Mom, honest. And she’s a brave little fish.” Lissa threw Jamie a pointed look, and added, “A very, very, very brave little fish.”
“I didn’t hurt your fish,” Jamie mumbled without looking at his sister.
“Of course you didn’t, honey,” I exclaimed. Turning to Lissa, I went on, “You really can’t take her into the pool with you, even though she is an extremely brave little fish. You see, the chlorine might poison her, and you wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”
My daughter shook her head; her blue eyes had grown larger and rounder.
I explained carefully, “Sue Ellen’s better off in the goldfish bowl in your bedroom. Truly she is.”
/> “How do you like the flags, Mom?” Jamie stepped back, his head to one side, looking proudly at his handiwork.
“They’re great! You’ve done a terrific job,” I enthused.
“Hi, Mrs. Keswick,” Jenny said, coming around the corner of the house.
“There you are, Jen dear,” I replied, returning her smile. I was going to miss our pretty, young au pair when she went back to England in November. I must talk to Diana about finding a replacement; it wouldn’t be easy. Jennifer Grange was unusual, special, and we had all become very attached to her.
“Can I do anything to help with lunch?” Jenny asked, joining Jamie near the wall. An approving expression settled on her face as she glanced at the flags, and she squeezed his shoulder affectionately.
“You can’t do a thing, Jen,” I said. “Just keep an eye on your charges, make sure they don’t get into any mischief. And you—”
“Mommy says we can go swimming,” Lissa interrupted.
“But I want you in that pool with them, Jenny,” I said.
“Of course, Mrs. Keswick. I’d never let them go into the water alone, you know that. I’ll just go inside and get their swimsuits.”
Lissa said, “We don’t have to sit at the kids’ table, do we?”
“Well, yes, of course you do.” I looked down at her, frowning slightly, wondering what this was all about.
“We don’t want to, Mom,” Jamie informed me.
“Why ever not?”
“We want to sit with you and Dad,” he explained.
“Oh, Jamie, there just isn’t room, honey. Anyway, you should be with your little guests. You have to look after them.”
“Vanessa and Luke. Ugh! Ugh!” He grimaced, squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and grimaced again.
“Don’t you like them?” I was baffled by this sudden antipathy toward our neighbors’ children, with whom they had frequently played, and quite happily so, in the past.
Opening his eyes, Jamie muttered, “Vanessa smells funny, Mom, like Great-grandma’s fur coat.”
“Mothballs,” I said. “Like mothballs?” I stared at him, raising a brow. “How peculiar. Are you sure, Jamie?”
He nodded vigorously. “Yep.” He grinned at me. “Maybe they keep her in mothballs, Mom, like Great-grandma Adelia keeps her fur coat in mothballs. In that funny wood closet of hers. Ha ha ha ha.” He laughed hilariously in the way that only a little boy can.
I had to laugh myself.
Lissa giggled and began to sing, “Smelly old mothballs, smelly old mothballs, Vanessa stinks of smelly old mothballs.”
“Ssssh! Don’t be naughty,” I reprimanded. But I found myself still laughing indulgently. Glancing at Jamie, I now asked, “And why don’t you like Luke all of a sudden?”
“He wants to be the boss, and we’re the boss.”
I threw my son a questioning look.
Jamie said, “Me and Lissa, we’re the boss.”
“I see. However, I think you will have to sit with them for lunch today. There’s not much alternative, kids. Come on, do it as a favor to me, please.”
“Can the grandmas sit with us?” Lissa asked. “Please, Mommy.”
“I don’t know . . . Well, maybe. Oh, why not. Okay, yes.”
“Oh, goody, we like them,” Jamie said.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I murmured, wondering how I would have coped if they had hated their grandmothers.
“We love them,” Jamie corrected himself.
“They give us lots of presents,” Lissa confided.
“And money,” Jamie added. “Lots of it.”
“They’re not supposed to do that!” I exclaimed, shaking my head and averting my face to conceal a smile. There was nothing quite so startling as the honesty of children; it could be brutal, and invariably it took my breath away.
Jamie tugged at my hand.
“Yes, darling, what is it?”
“Who did you belong to before Dad got you?”
“Your grandmother, I guess. Grandma Jess. Why?”
“So we belong to you and Dad, don’t we?” Lissa asserted.
“You bet!” I exclaimed.
Hunkering down on my haunches, I swept them both into my arms and hugged them to me. They smelled so sweet and young and fresh. I loved that small child’s smell . . . of shampoo, soap, and talcum powder, and milk, cookies, and sweet breath. And I loved them so much, my little Botticelli angels.
It was Jamie who pulled slightly away, looked into my face intently, and touched my cheek with his grubby, warm little hand. “Mom, will the new baby belong to all of us, or just you and Dad?”
“Baby! What baby?”
“The one you and Dad are trying to make.” His fine blond brows drew together in a frown. “And what do you make it out of, Mom?”
I was so taken aback I was speechless for a moment. Then before I could think of an answer, Lissa announced with some assurance, “They make it out of love.” She smiled up at me, obviously extremely pleased with herself, and nodded her head, looking like a little old woman imbued with wisdom.
“What do you mean, Lissa?” her brother asked before I had a chance to say anything.
I jumped in swiftly. “Well, we are trying to make a baby, that’s true. When did your father tell you this?”
“When he was giving us breakfast this morning,” Jamie said. “He was cross with us, we were making too much noise. He said we’d soon have to fend for ourselves, that we’d better start growing up real quick. He said we’d have to look after the new baby when it came, be responsible children and take care of it. Who will it belong to, Mom?”
“All of us. If we succeed, of course.”
“You mean you might not be able to make it?” Lissa asked.
“Afraid so,” I admitted.
“Good. Don’t make it. I like it this way, just us and Trixy!” she exclaimed.
“If you do make it and we don’t like it, can we give it away?” Jamie asked.
“Certainly not,” I spluttered.
“But when Miss Petigrew had kittens, Anna gave them away,” he reminded me.
“This is not quite the same thing, Jamie darling. A baby’s a baby, a kitten’s a kitten.”
“Can we call the baby Rover, Mom?”
“I don’t think so, Jamie.”
“That’s a dog’s name, silly,” Lissa cried.
“But it’s my favorite name,” Jamie shot back.
“It’s the name for a boy dog. You can’t call a baby girl that,” Lissa told him, sounding very superior.
“If it’s a girl, we could call it Roveress or Roverette.”
“You’re stupid, Jamie Keswick!” his sister shrieked, throwing him the most scornful look. “You’re a stupid boy.”
“No, I’m not. You’re stupid!”
“Stop it, both of you,” I admonished.
“Mom.” Jamie fixed his vivid blue eyes on me. “Please tell me, how do you make a baby out of love?”
I thought for a moment, wondering how to effectively explain this to them without resorting to a pack of lies, when Lissa leaned toward Jamie and said, “Sex. That’s what makes a baby.”
Startled, I exclaimed, “Who told you that?”
“Mary Jane Atkinson, the girl who sits next to me at school. Her mother just made a baby with sex.”
“I see. And what else did Mary Jane tell you?”
“Nothing, Mom.”
“Mmmm.”
Thankfully, Jenny came back just then, and the conversation about babies was curtailed. Jenny was already wearing a bathing suit and carrying swim wear for the children.
“Come on, put these on,” she said, handing Jamie a pair of trunks and Lissa her minuscule pink-and-yellow bikini, which Diana had bought for her in Paris.
“I want them to wear their water wings, Jen, they mustn’t go in the pool without them. Or without you,” I cautioned.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Keswick, I’ll look after them properly.” So saying she turned to Lissa an
d helped her to put her bikini top on, and then she led the twins to the shallow end of the swimming pool. Picking up a set of water wings she slipped these onto Lissa’s arms before doing the same for Jamie.
Within seconds the three of them were in the pool, laughing and splashing around in the water, having the best of times.
I watched them for a few minutes, enjoying their antics, pleased they were having such fun. I was about to go into the kitchen to see what was happening when Andrew appeared at my side. After kissing me on the cheek, he handed me a huge bunch of red and white carnations.
“Sorry they didn’t have any blue ones to make exactly the right color scheme for today,” he murmured against my cheek and kissed me again.
“They only have those odd colors occasionally. Usually on Saint Patrick’s Day, when they dye them green,” I said. “And thank you, darling.” I peered at him closely. “The twins think we’re trying to make a baby, Andrew.”
“Well, we are.”
“They’re riddled with curiosity about it. Why on earth did you tell them?”
He laughed. “I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t planned. Honestly, Puss. It just popped out. They were being impossible this morning, and Lissa’s become something of a Miss Know-It-All. I wanted to bring them up short, so I gave them a lecture about being more adult in their behavior. And that’s when I mentioned a new baby. The kids were rendered speechless, so it had the desired effect. Momentarily.” He chuckled again. “I can tell you this, the grannies were delighted. Absolutely thrilled.”
“What did you just call me?” Diana exclaimed, stepping out of the sunroom onto the terrace.
“Oh, hi, Ma,” Andrew greeted her. Then another laugh broke free, and he hugged her to him. “Granny. I called you and Jessica grannies, Ma. But I have to admit, you’re the greatest-looking grannies I’ve ever seen in my entire life. The most beautiful. And you both have fabulous legs.”
“Your husband’s quite the flatterer,” his mother said to me and winked
“He’s only telling the truth, Diana,” I answered and edged toward the sunroom door. “I’ve got to go in and change for lunch now, if you don’t mind.”