CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jill
Sunday
From the ambulance, bouncing upon the bench-style seat next to the stretcher and an unconscious Ruby, Jill tried Jocelyn’s cell phone again. There was still no answer. This time she opted to leave a message.
“Answer the damn phone, Jocelyn. Where the fuck are you, anyway?”
She noticed the paramedics exchange looks. In their job, they had to see all kinds. Neither her volume nor language could surprise two burly guys who dealt daily with trauma and triage. She supposed, however, she didn’t look the type in her little pink golf outfit.
Jill pitched her phone into her purse, thinking that she could surprise them all right. No shit, could she shock them. Her own heart stalled with the recall of events.
Holding a paint roller in one hand and a screwdriver in the other, Jill lifted them both toward Jocelyn. “Choose your weapon.”
Jocelyn stood with hands on her hips. “Neither.”
Jill shook her head. “Not an option. You either assemble the crib or paint the room. Take your pick.”
“I’m exhausted,” Jocelyn said. “You’ve had me slaving all summer. And I’m a prisoner here. There are laws in this country. I have my rights.”
“You agreed to the plan.”
“Not to working day in and day out.”
“The minute the baby’s born, you’re free to leave. California, Katmandu, wherever. But until then, just stick to the plan.” Jill waved the tools in front of Jocelyn. “Hurry up and pick.”
Jocelyn snatched the screwdriver from Jill’s left hand. “I’ll do the crib.” She gestured toward the paint can that lay atop an outstretched tarp. “Because I hate that color you picked for my room.”
“It won’t be your room anymore. It will be the baby’s.”
“Poor thing. Who would want to wake up every morning to rubber-chicken yellow slapping them in the face?”
“It’s lemon chiffon.”
“It’s awful,” Jocelyn said. “Poor kid’s gonna be messed up for life.” Holding up a set of assembly directions to the crib, she turned them one way and then another. “Are you kidding me?” she said. “There’s like a thousand steps to this thing.”
“And what do you have against yellow, anyway? Margaret likes it.”
Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “You’re paying her to sit around all day doing nothing. It’s no wonder she’s agreeable.”
“Well, we can’t go to the local hospital. You know that.” Jill bent to pick up a paint stirrer. “And especially these last few weeks, we want to take every precaution. It’s best to have the midwife here on call.” She pried the lid off the can with a screwdriver. “Anyway, having her here has given me an idea.”
“Please. No more of your ideas.”
“Oh, stop it.” Jill pointed at Jocelyn with the stirrer. “Why do you have to be so difficult?” She dipped the stick into the paint can and mixed in a counterclockwise rotation. “Anyway, Margaret can’t stop gushing about the house. How beautiful the downstairs rooms are. How breathtaking the view is. It’s really given me a fresh perspective.” She lifted the paint can and poured it into the metal rolling tray. “And phase two of the plan.”
A growl churned from Jocelyn. “What the hell now?”
“I’m going to turn this place into a bed-and-breakfast. Convert all the upstairs rooms into guest rooms. I’m thinking of calling it the McCloud Inn.”
“Are you crazy? You’re going to take care of a newborn, and Mom, and run a hotel.” Jocelyn shook her head. “Why not cure cancer while you’re at it.”
“If I could do that, we’d still have Dad here, now, wouldn’t we?”
“I wouldn’t want him to live through this mess.” Jocelyn dropped the directions.
“I think he had his suspicions,” Jill said, remembering their last conversation. He had been so serious and had reminded her with such desperation of the hold-fast family motto.
Jocelyn sank to her knees. “You never told me he suspected.”
“He never said in so many words, but still . . .”
“I hope you’re wrong,” Jocelyn said. “To have to worry about such things on your deathbed. It’s just not right.”
The sisters set to their assigned tasks in silence. Jill’s mood was black-hole dark. As much as she was resigned to her chosen course, she was not without reservations. Keith chief among them. He had called again that morning, and his voice had been so confused and plaintive that she’d nearly broken down and confessed everything. Somehow, she’d managed her summer-long refrain of “We’re not taking any visitors” and “I can’t see you anymore.” She could tell he had more to say. She’d cut him off midsentence, knowing it would all come to a head in a week or two. Better to deal with it then.
Ruby shuffled into the room. She wore a tight-fitting nightgown and fuzzy pink slippers. “Thought I’d check on your progress.” She stepped toward Jill and peered down at the paint. “What a lovely color.”
The groan of a window being opened, and then a boom, sounded in the room next door, Jill’s room. The three of them froze and tilted their heads toward the sound. Before they had a chance to react, a voice called out.
“Jill. Where are you, Jill?”
“Oh my God. It’s Keith.” Jill scanned the room with crazed eyes. “Mom, can you hide?”
“Where?” Ruby looked about with confusion. The doors to the closet had been removed for painting, and Jocelyn’s old double bed had already been relocated upstairs.
Jill’s gaze came to rest on the open bedroom door. She jogged three steps and was just about to force it shut, when a foot inserted itself between the door and the jamb. Keith’s arm, and then head, pushed themselves into the room. “Jill, it’s me, for God’s sake.”
She had no choice but to let him in. He stood in front of her, riveting her with a torrid glare. “Keith, I—”
He cut her off. “Don’t worry. I just came to say good-bye.” His hands flexed from flat palm to fist to flat palm at his sides. “But I wanted to do it in person.”
“Keith . . .” Jill could think of nothing to say. Her hesitation gave him a moment to look past her to the other two in the room. His eyes came to rest on Ruby, and his mouth opened and his head bobbed forward in confusion. Ruby pulled a hand to her distended belly in reaction to his stare.
“What the hell is going on here?” he asked.
“So much for the plan,” Jocelyn said. She stood from her crouched position next to the scattered pieces of crib. “Come on, Mom.” She took Ruby by the elbow, steering her toward the door. “Maybe we should let these two talk in private.” They left the room, closing the door behind them with a jarring thud.
Keith’s voice was parched. “Your mom’s pregnant?”
Crossing her arms, Jill turned to the window. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“Holy shit! But your dad . . .”
“Was sick. Too sick,” Jill finished for him.
It took Keith a long moment to process this information. “Then who?”
“I don’t know. She won’t say. I don’t think I want to know, anyway,” Jill said. “It’s all been too much for her. She’s still in some kind of mourning or depression over my dad. Some days she mopes around worried she will forever have ruined his name. Other days she denies she’s even pregnant. And then there are times she thinks she’s fifteen again.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” Keith had barely moved since Ruby and Jocelyn left the room. Finally, his whole body slumped forward. “Jesus. What a mess. I don’t even know what to say. I thought you met someone else. I thought you were dumping me. No fuckin’ way did I think for a moment that—”
“There’s something you may as well know right now.”
“What?”
“I’m raising the baby.”
“What?”
“No one has seen me for months. No one has seen Jocelyn for months. Once word gets out about the baby, people will naturally assume it’s mine—or Jocelyn’s.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not your baby.”
“I just told you. My mom’s not well. She’s not competent.”
Keith paced in front of Jill. “But why do you have to play this whole charade? Why can’t people know it’s hers?”
“Her husband just died of prostate cancer. He was impotent and terminal when she conceived.” Jill’s voice was flat. “You know her history. This town would shun her. Our whole family. The child included. But I’m twenty, and crazy as it sounds, a pregnant single young woman just doesn’t have the stigma of a knocked-up, adulterous, past-her-prime woman.” She laughed small and hard. “We’ve come a long way.”
“A long way to get where?” He lifted his arms.
Jill pushed her hands deep into the pockets of her denim overalls. “I think my dad knew. He asked me, on his deathbed, to take care of her, to take care of everything. I think this is what he meant.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“I don’t, but I made a promise.”
“Couldn’t she . . . you know . . . have taken care of it.”
“How could you even suggest such a thing. Knowing my dad, his life’s work.”
“Sorry. It’s just . . . Why you? Why not Jocelyn?”
“He knew she wasn’t the one for the job.”
He snapped his head in anger. “You know what people are going to say, don’t you? They’re going to say it’s mine.”
“I know. That’s why Jocelyn has kept herself hidden as well. There will be some ambiguity.”
He exhaled in exasperation. “They’ll still say it’s mine.”
“Jocelyn had a couple of boyfriends this winter, as you well know. You can say, unequivocally, that you’re not the father. I’ll invent another guy, someone intentionally vague. And if anyone asks me point-blank if it’s you, I’ll say no.”
Keith took her by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Jill. You’re too young for this kind of responsibility. You’re ruining your life.”
She pulled herself free. “I’m saving a life.”
Keith’s face twisted in anger. “If you do this, I’m leaving. I can’t be a part of it . . . I’m not ready for this.” His arms waved as if he were trying to indicate the enormity of the situation.
“I know. I don’t blame you.”
“You don’t care if I go?”
“I do care. More than you know.” Jill’s bottom lip trembled; there was a fist-size rock in her throat; and her vision was blurry. “But I’m still doing this.”
“Why? Jill? Why?” Everything about him was wounded—his voice, his eyes, his stance.
“Answer me this,” she said. “Will you manage without me?”
“I don’t want to,” he said.
“But will you? Will you manage without me?”
“Yes. If I have to.”
“That’s why,” Jill said, stepping back.
A sudden shriek of the sirens as the ambulance sped through an intersection pulled Jill back to the situation at hand. Her ringing phone was another prod.
“Hello.”
“What the hell kind of message was that?” Jocelyn asked.
Jill leaned forward to look out the front window. They were pulling into the emergency bay, the paramedics already busy preparing the stretcher for transfer into the hospital.
“It’s Mom,” Jill said. “Meet me at the hospital.”
