In the days that followed, disagreements shelved, an unspoken truce called. Austin hadn’t relented, nor had she.

One day at a time, she thought, watching nightfall descend around the place she’d come to love. A place where she felt both safe and free, if not completely at home. Home, an elusive refuge for modern man and woman locked into nomadic livelihoods. Even the once nomadic Iroquois had settled the same spring-fed regions for centuries. The Seneca lands were home.

Headlights beaming up the driveway brought her back into the here and now. The lights stood still, backed up, stopped again. “Daniel,” she called out. “Did you leave your bike in the driveway?”

Coming from the parlor, he appeared in the kitchen doorway. “No, Mom. My bike’s in the shed.”

“Good.” The headlights continued advancing up the driveway and into the garage. A pleased look came across her face, and a sense of relief. “Your dad is home.”

Daniel stepped up beside her. His dark curls had come almost even with her shoulder in the past few months, as he added another year. With the agility and timing of the athletic young man he was becoming, he flung open the back door just as Austin reached it. “Hi, Dad! Did you see our tree?” He took Austin’s garment bag from his arm, hung it on a hook beside the door.

“Heyyy, son.” His eyes brightened, he chuckled. Daniel’s youthful exuberance amused him. “Stopped out there for a better look. Couldn’t believe what I saw … thought I was at the wrong house.” He took of his coat, hung it on an empty hook, before he turned travel-weary eyes to her. “Cold, supposed to snow.” He blew warm breath into his hands rubbing them together. “It’s good to be off the road.”

A warm rush beginning at her forehead radiated downward into her toes. She smiled at him. “And, we’re glad you’re off the road.”

Daniel took hold of his dad’s sleeve, leading him through the doorway to the dining room. “Come see, Dad. Me and Mom did it all by ourselves.” Together, they walked into the parlor where the Christmas tree stood.

She ladled sauce over Chicken Tunisian and set the rolls in the oven before she followed.

Austin whistled softly through his teeth. “Wheeee. All by yourselves, you say. That tree has to be over seven feet.”

“Mom says, it’s a crime to cut a beautiful blue spruce,” Daniel said, repeating her exact words. “We got a fresh one. Feel the needles.”

“A live tree? Where did the two of you find a live tree? And how did you get it in here?”

“Mr. Stan brought it in his pickup from the church lot down on West Liberty.”

“Stan,” Austin said, in a tone that troubled her as she headed for the parlor. “Soooooo,” he went on, “you and your mom did all this. ... The two of you don’t need me.”

“Ohhhh, yes we do.” She slipped her arm inside his jacket, her hand stroking his shoulder blade. “Don’t we, Daniel?”

“Sure, Dad.” Uncomfortable, Daniel looked away.

Austin stretched his arm around her waist. Cold from-the-elements lips touched hers, a brief, but tender moment. Parental displays of affection easily embarrassed boys of Daniel’s age. “Do I have time for a drink before dinner?”

“Twenty minutes, or so.” She patted his back, let her arm drop to her side. He moved off towards the kitchen.

Questioning in an undertone, Daniel watched him go. “Is Dad mad at us?” Clearly, he was disappointed with Austin’s mixed reaction.

From his tone, she thought Austin was offended. How could she know his mind these days? In the past, he’d been the one to bring home the tree. Did he feel displaced? “Your dad is tried when he comes off the road,” she responded, “Tired and hungry.”

Drink in hand; Austin came back into the parlor. “Man! Dinner smells good. I’m starved.”

She and Daniel exchanged a covert glance. Over the next twenty minutes, Austin praised the way the house had been decorated, especially the tree—by far, the best he’d ever seem.

Hurt feelings averted.

At dinner, Daniel would bring up the subject of a puppy. The Tracy boys were getting one for Christmas. Again this year, Jenny would remind him that his dad suffered an adverse reaction to anything with fur—childhood allergies that hadn’t left him. One of the few physical traits he hadn’t passed on to Daniel.

There would be no puppy; there would be other gifts. Austin had purchased golf equipment for Daniel, and a new soccer ball to replace the one a neighbor had confiscated.

An avid fan, Austin followed almost every sport; Golf his avocation, and as much as his work, an integral part of who he was. His son would learn to play the game his father played, and loved, father and son spending more time together. That would please her. Daniel needed a father’s guidance more than he had need of a hovering mother.

That was her opinion; Austin didn’t agree. He worked in the city or out of town, he argued, couldn’t take Daniel with him as his dad had done when he was young. He needed her to “fill in,” be a full-time mom.”

Wrapped and under the tree were the gifts she’d bought with the money she’d earned from Creations by Jenny. For Daniel: Space Station Legos, books and skates. For Austin: a golf sweater, long plays, The Tijuana Brass, a new instrumental group he liked. For the first time since she’d left her job in Mr. Corkran’s office, she had money of her own; thanks to Peg Stankowski and Peg’s beauty shop.

In her basement, Jenny had dried cuttings from her gardens. From books and classes she’d learned to fashion wreaths, topiary, and other decorative items. She’d given Peg a wreath that hung in her shop. At Peg’s suggestion, Jenny had displayed her work in the beauty shop where Peg had added greeting cards and gift wrap.

Amazed as orders poured in, her last few months had been her most resourceful and productive at a time when she’d needed not only a diversion, but a boost to her self-respect.

Austin took a dim view of the work he called “Sticks and Twigs.” He said she was neglecting Daniel, and him. He worked hard enough for both of them. They didn’t need the money. Most of all, he didn’t want a working wife. As yet, he had no inkling how lucrative those sticks and twigs could be.

It wasn’t the money her creations earned that made her so persistent. Layer by layer, every new, creative day, she was creating a new Jenny.

Austin wanted her to remain the girl he’d married. That girl was but a part of who she had become. She couldn’t turn back. She could only build on each new layer. And so they argued; or there were days they hardly spoke at all. And there were nights they had to be together, as only lovers come together.

New Year’s day the Burdette household, all of Pittsburgh and the nation mourned the untimely death of Roberto Clemente, Pittsburgh Pirate superstar.

The weekend of St. Valentine’s Day, Austin insisted on a getaway, and he made the reservations. Dinner and dancing, an overnight at the Marriott. That night he told her, the time was right. He wanted them to have another child.

Robin raised an eyebrow in response to Jenny’s disclosure. “Well, that’s a one-eighty, isn’t it?” She set two steaming cups of fresh-brewed coffee on her kitchen table, took a chair across from Jenny. “All along, I thought he’d been lukewarm about a baby.”

After supper, on this warm, windy night mid-March, Jenny had called Robin suggesting they get together. Austin was away; Rich was at a meeting. Robin invited she and Daniel to come on down. Now their boys were in the living room with popcorn and orange soda, The Munsters playing on the TV.

Jenny turned a small, white card over in her hand. Austin had been lukewarm for all the years they’d tried to have a second child. “He says, we’re settled here, and he’s working things out so he can spend more time at home.” He’d been training a young engineer to take over some of the accounts. “The time is right, he says.” She laid the small, white business card upright on the table. “A man he’s met through business has recommended this place. We have an appointment scheduled.”

Robin took up the card, read the bold-faced printing. LAYTON FERTILITY CLINIC—Director: Robert C. Layton MD, PA, FACOG, FICS. “Hummmm, credentials, he has them all.”

“Do you know him, or of him?”

“No.” Robin responded. With a look of concern, she handed the card back to Jenny. “I can ask around. See what I can learn about Doctor Layton’s clinic.”

Relief crossed Jenny’s face. “I hoped you would.” She focused on the card a moment, before tucking it in her pocket. “We’ve been through this before, you know. I’m hesitant about it.” Fertility treatments had turned her life into a living nightmare. Robin knew some, not all, of the history.

“And you should be cautious,” Robin agreed. “So much of the treatment is experimental. Clinical, I should say.”

Ghoulish, Jenny thought. “And I’m their test tube,” she reflected, her tone betraying apprehension.

Robin half-stifled a laugh. “I’ll check out this Dr. Jekyll, I mean, Layton. Let you know what I find out.”

Thanking Robin for her concern, Jenny picked up her cup, sipping the creamy, warm liquid thoughtfully. A change of subject seemed in order, and a welcome relief. The Tracy’s had looked after Daniel while she and Austin had their getaway. Later in the month, they’d be returning the favor when Rich and Robin went on a Marriage Encounter weekend. “Daniel hasn’t stopped talking about the trip to the Science Museum. He had a great time with all of you, and learned so much.”

Robin nodded. “Our boys too. The exhibits are geared for kids their age. Even so, Rich and I learned a lot we didn’t know. We said, we’d have to go again.”

“It was good of you to take Daniel along.”

Robin waved a hand. “He’s like one of our own.”

Jenny leaned across the table so as not to be heard outside the kitchen. “We have a surprise for the boys, when they stay with us. A Penguins’ game. Austin got tickets.”

Robin’s eyes went wide. “Cool!” she exclaimed.

They laughed. “Cool” would be the boys response when they learned of the surprise. They fell into a silence sipping coffee.

Robin set her cup down, turned it carefully all the way around, before she ventured, “You and Austin are getting along?”

How could Jenny answer discretely? “We have our moments,” she said, a wistful look in her eyes. “And we fight a lot more than we used to.” She needn’t hold back with Robin, though her own mixed emotions were difficult to put into words. “He says, I’ve changed. He doesn’t know me anymore.” Did others see the changes Austin saw? “Have I changed that much, Robin?”

Robin didn’t hesitate. “Rich and I have talked about it. He says, you’ve come out of your shell. You’ve blossomed since you came here.”

Jenny wondered if Rich had said the same to Austin, and what he would have said, or thought. Her own thoughts translated into words. “Austin wants the girl he married.” She sighed, a deep despondent sigh. “That girl is ... I don’t know where she is. She’s… “

“Grown up,” Robin put in, finishing her thought.

Jenny’s mouth trembled; a wave of pain swept through her. “She’s … not as trusting as she once was,” she murmured, her eyes unfocused. A warm tear slipped down her cheek, and then another dropped into the palm of her hand before she realized she was weeping. She reached into her pocket for a tissue. “I don’t know where this sadness comes from,” she whispered, hardly able to speak, and embarrassed to have lost control.

“It’s okay,” Robin assured her cousin, reaching out to touch her forearm. “I get the weeps sometimes. We all do.”

Big Foot, the Tracy’s overgrown puppy, roused from his blanket in the corner, romped up to where Jenny sat, nestled his head in her lap, as if to console her. Through her tears, she laughed, petting the young dog’s wet nose and soft, floppy ears. He responded, licking salty tears. She couldn’t say why these flashes of sadness came upon her, passing quickly. Could be the ticking clock, her reproductive years passing much too swiftly? Or was it the prospect that another child could come into her life.

Robin scolded Big Foot for being so forward and sent him back to his corner. Then she turned to Jenny. “If you want to talk this through, I’ll listen.”

Jenny shook her head from side to side. At that moment she had no words. In any event, the opportunity was lost when Chris, Robin’s youngest, galloped into the room asking for more popcorn and soda. Robin exchanged a knowing glance with Jenny. They knew their boys had sent the youngest on this mission. The three had become as close and mischievous as brothers. And to Jenny, Chris and Robby had become two of her own. The heart makes room.