Bebe carried the laundry basket of folded towels and linens to Dylan’s car and wedged it between his stereo and his suitcase in the backseat. She mused that at least if he had an accident, flying glass would be minimal since most of his windows were blocked.

“Is this legal? You can’t even see out of the back window.”

“I have the side mirrors,” he said, mashing down the blankets in the passenger seat to give him a clearer view.

“Are you sure you don’t need some help moving in?” she asked. “We could drive over with you. How in the world are you going to move all of this up to your room?”

“Mom, I’ll be fine. There’s an elevator in the parking garage. These go up front,” he said, tossing his CD case onto the dash. “Traveling music.”

“There’s something I forgot,” Bebe said, going back inside the house to retrieve an index card from the kitchen table. She hurried back to his car and showed it to Dylan. “This has emergency contact information in case you . . . well, just in case. In case someone needs to reach us.”

“Don’t open the passenger door,” he said. “You’ll cause an avalanche.”

Bebe went around and slid into the driver’s seat. She reached over and slipped the index card into the strap of the sun visor of the passenger side.

“Mom, I’m a good driver—”

“Other drivers aren’t.”

“I’m not going to have an accident.”

“I know. It’s just in case.”

Neil came out, surveyed the vehicle, and handed Dylan a credit card. “Here’s a gas card. Don’t let your friends use it.”

“Thanks. I won’t,” he said, pulling out his wallet and sliding the card in front of his driver’s license.

“You shouldn’t have to use it much since you’re living on campus. It’s for when you get a job and for coming home. When do you think you’ll be back?”

“I’ll try to come back for Labor Day. There aren’t any classes on Monday. Unless I get a job and I can’t get off.”

“That’s only a few weeks. Why don’t you just plan to look for a job after Labor Day?” Bebe said.

“I’ll run out of money before then.” He gave her his sweet, manipulative smile. “Unless you and Dad want to give me some cash.”

Neil laughed and said, “Just try to get time off, okay?”

“We’ll send your brother’s address when we hear from him. Make sure you write to him. You’d better take one last look around,” Bebe said. Then she followed him inside. She found his toothbrush in the stand and handed it to him as he scanned his room.

Finally, the time came to say good-bye. Bebe hugged him and made him promise to find good friends and remember who he was, just as she’d said to Scott. She encouraged him to check into the different ministries on campus and get plugged in somewhere. He promised to take it slow and to let them know when he got there safely. Although they would see him soon, it was still hard to say good-bye. It was more than going to college—it was the close of a chapter in his life, and of an era for them all.

Dylan waved as he pulled away, and they stood arm-in-arm in the empty driveway watching his car disappear in the distance, brushing away tears. They made their way back inside the quiet house, reassuring each other that they could call him and also keep in touch by email. He would be home in four weeks, full of excitement about college life.

“The game’s on,” Neil said, taking a soda from the refrigerator and heading for the couch. He looked up expectantly while he changed channels with the remote, but she said she needed to clean up Dylan’s room. Baseball had never been her thing.

Bebe stood in the doorway to his room and surveyed the damage. True to his nature, he’d waited to pack until the last minute and didn’t have time to clean up before he left. She stuffed dirty laundry into his hamper and scooped up clean clothes that he’d decided not to take or had forgotten to take, and placed them neatly in his dresser. She made his bed and sat on the edge of it. Long ago, he had put away his baseball trophies and replaced his major league posters with legends of rock. Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, and The Who gazed down on her from the walls. She prayed that they wouldn’t mean for Dylan what they had meant for her.

She suddenly felt overwhelmed by her now-empty nest. The distant ballgame roared from the family room, and she thought of Neil sitting out there watching it alone, without Dylan or Scott to enjoy it with him. He was a good husband and father, and she didn’t deserve him.

She knew that this was a time when many couples split up, as though their children’s leaving pulled the single thread that held them together, and their marriages unraveled at the seams. As her eyes filled again she tried to tell herself that she was being foolish. It wouldn’t happen to them.

But why should their marriage be immune? She’d even seen it happen to couples in church—people who’d seemed happy enough. She felt vulnerable, and dropped her head back, studying the curls in the plaster, boring a hole through the ceiling to heaven. She sensed Jimi Hendrix gazing down on her, accusing. She had some bad stuff in her past that wouldn’t let her go, even though she’d asked for forgiveness. Asked many times. She didn’t rate any special favors from God.

“Hey,” Neil said, suddenly there in the doorway.

She quickly looked away and wiped her eyes. He sat down beside her on the bed and pulled her to his side. The warm scent of buttered popcorn clung to him.

“Dylan will be fine, honey. He’ll be home before we know it.”

She nodded. When she trusted herself to speak, she ventured, “Maybe we should have gone away somewhere after all. Just the two of us.”

“We can still do that. Pick a weekend and we’ll blow this Popsicle stand.”

She smiled and laced her fingers through his. “I’ll check it out tomorrow.”

A distant roar from the television piqued Neil’s interest and she said, “I’m okay. Go on back to the game.”

“Come out and watch it with me,” he said. Then he tempted her, saying, “I have contraband. Extra butter.”

Bebe followed Neil out to the living room and plopped down on the couch in front of the TV. He filled a glass with ice and presented it to her, along with a can of Diet Pepsi. A bowl of buttered popcorn sat on the coffee table.

“Such service,” she said in appreciation.

“We aim to please.”

He sat down beside her and she took in his rapt expression when the camera cut away to show Giants pitchers warming up in the bullpen.

It looked like a beautiful day in San Francisco, with the breathtaking views of the city against a hologram of blue sky, and the little boats poised to chase home runs that sailed into McCovey Cove.

“We could spend the weekend in San Francisco,” she ventured. “Maybe catch a Giants game.”

He glanced at her in mild surprise. “It won’t be hard to get tickets. They’re having a lousy season.” He patted her knee. “I like the way you think.”

Later in the evening, Dylan called to say that he’d arrived safely and had moved his stuff in. It was all in a big pile in his room and he was going out with his new roommates for pizza. He thanked Bebe for the stash of snacks that she’d hidden in his laundry basket when he wasn’t looking, and for the forty dollars that Neil had slipped into his pocket when he hugged him good-bye.

After the game, she wrote to both boys, telling them both how proud she was and how much she believed in them and prayed for them. Each had his own challenges to face, and she had no choice but to leave them in God’s hands.

May 14, 1972

 

“Can you watch her for me?” Jude asked. Without waiting for an answer, she hefted the eighteen-month-old Rain into Bebe’s arms. “I’m going to a rally downtown and then I have to close the Women’s Center tonight.”

Rain patted Bebe’s cheeks and blew raspberries, expecting them in return. Bebe puckered and imitated Rain, and was rewarded with a shower of bubbles and baby spit.

“The rally’s today? It’s Mother’s Day,” Bebe stated.

“Yeah, so?” Jude pulled her hair back two-handed and twisted it into a knot before pinning it onto the back of her head.

“An abortion rally on Mother’s Day?” Bebe was incredulous.

Jude slipped the long strap of her bag over her head. “You know a better day?” she answered as she breezed out the door.

Rain didn’t even notice that her mother had gone. Bebe had a project due, but she was the only one there to take care of her. Mare had gone home to visit her mother for the weekend and Toni was on a date. As usual. Bebe decided to take Rain to the park and play mommy for a while, happy to have her all to herself for the day.

Bebe could have gone home to visit her own mother, but ever since her family had seen the newspaper photo, she’d kept her visits few and brief. The clipping was pretty self-explanatory, if not misleading, and her first phone conversation with her mom after they saw it let her know they weren’t interested in her reasoning. She missed them, but she wasn’t up to the firestorm she could trigger just by showing up.

Even before her photo appeared in the papers, Bebe had no longer fit in at home. All through high school she’d been the good daughter, but as she became more aware of some of the issues swirling around her, she found herself resenting her father’s traditional attitude toward women. Eventually, she equated his outlook with what she assumed was also God’s, and by her senior year, felt as bleak and as pruned to the quick as their vineyard in January.

Her mother became critical of her appearance and her father barely spoke to her, probably because, for the first time in her life, she argued with him. She no longer wore makeup, and let her hair follow its natural frizz. She didn’t bother to shave. Her younger brothers, Paul and Rudy, were outwardly disapproving like her parents, but privately they wanted to listen to her music and asked her what marijuana was like, assuming she would know. She’d never realized what a buffer and confidant she’d had in Bobby as her older brother until he was no longer speaking to her.

Bebe packed a little bag so that she and Rain could enjoy a snack in the park, and tossed in extra diapers and Rain’s blanket in case she got tired and fussy. It would be a nice little diversion from studying.

School would be out in two and a half weeks, but Bebe was staying on campus to work and take summer classes instead. Mare would go home for a long visit, but probably end up coming back early because of her art teacher. Toni would go home for the summer and Jude would have to deprogram her all over again when she came back looking too girlie and glamorous. Toni enjoyed sharpening her feminine wiles on the boys back home.

Bebe and Jude would have to arrange their summer classes and work schedules around taking care of Rain without the help of Mare and Toni. Bebe considered offering to come home for a week later in the summer to help her mother with the canning. If Mare came back in time to relieve her, she would go, if her mother wanted her.

Rain fussed a bit when Bebe strapped her into her green umbrella stroller, which enveloped her like a canvas pea pod. “Sorry, babe,” Bebe said. “When I get old, you can strap me in and push me around.”

Bebe took the route to the park that passed by a thrift store where she’d had luck before. She was surprised to find it open even though it was Sunday and a holiday, and she steered Rain inside. The place smelled musty and she felt the breeze of a fan whirring in the back, blowing around the dust.

Rain was growing out of her clothes at an alarming rate, and it fell to Bebe to find clothes cheaply or to somehow improvise. Jude didn’t even notice that her little shirts had grown tight beneath the arms and that her elastic waistbands were leaving zigzag marks on her tummy. Bebe could take apart some of her own T-shirts and cut them down to fit Rain as a last resort, and Rain’s cords could be cut off at the knees for shorts if she snipped the elastic.

“Let me know if I can help you,” a voice called from the back.

“Okay,” she answered, without looking up. She pushed Rain over to the baby clothes and found three little shirts that weren’t too stained or frayed. She could only afford two, so she chose the lavender one over the yellow one, in addition to the T-shirt with small purple flowers. Then she pushed Rain up to the cash register and dug out her money.

A nice, athletic-looking guy with a crooked smile rang up her purchase. “That’ll be one dollar.”

She looked at the money in her hand. Athletic-looking, maybe, but not a math genius. “Don’t you mean a dollar fifty?”

“There’s a special sale going on today,” he said, pointing to a sign on the counter. It said, “Sale on Red Dot Items.”

She smiled uncertainly. “Those aren’t Red Dot Items.”

He leaned over the counter and made a silly face at Rain. “Red dots or babies. It’s Mother’s Day.”

Rain blew raspberries and stuck out her bottom teeth at him, bouncing her feet in the air. Bebe placed her dollar on the counter and pocketed the other fifty cents. “Thanks.”

“No problem-o.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Neil.”

She shook his hand, noticing deep scratches on his wrist and forearm. She looked up at him, suddenly wary.

He waved it off, seeming embarrassed. “They’re cat scratches. I earned them volunteering down at the SPCA on Fargo.” He gestured grandly at the surroundings. “When I’m not selling upscale merchandise to discerning clientele.”

“Or going to class,” Bebe added.

He cocked his head, puzzled. “Right.”

“You’re wearing an SASU shirt.” She pointed to his T-shirt with the San Angelo State University logo. “Unless you shop here, too.”

He chuckled and opened the cash register, depositing her dollar in the drawer. “Well, we do have a vast assortment of SASU T’s. But I bought this one at the bookstore.” He gestured to a stain on his front. “Looks like I’ll have to buy a new wardrobe. This one will never last for four more years of veterinary school.”

Bebe looked him over with renewed interest. “I’m applying for the veterinary program, too.”

“No kidding?” He leaned against the counter and considered her. “That’s great. There aren’t many women in the field.” He pointed down at Rain. “Won’t it be hard juggling . . . everything?”

She looked down at Rain, who had pulled off her shoe and tossed it, watching it bounce across the worn carpet. “Oh, she’s not mine. I’m just watching her. For her mom. My roommate.” For some reason, she felt she was betraying Rain.

“Well, that should make it easier.”

He gave her his crooked smile and she found herself wondering if he was seeing anyone. Rain let out a howl and arched against her seat strap in frustration.

“Well, we’re off to the park. Thanks for the discount.” She grabbed Rain’s shoe and screwed it back onto her foot.

“See you around campus,” he said, looking pleased.

Bebe left thinking that even if he didn’t, she knew where to find him.

Rain updated Bebe on her mother’s condition when they met for coffee on Friday morning. Bebe seemed to be a little down, and Rain remembered that Dylan and Scott had both left.

“So, are you and Neil getting away to someplace special, now that the boys are gone?” Rain asked.

Bebe removed the lid from her coffee to let it cool and shrugged. “We’re trying. But it’s the end of the summer and we have staff vacations already scheduled. We’ll see.”

After an awkward silence, Bebe asked, “Have you heard from Hayden?”

“He sent me an e-mail saying that he wanted to come by on Sunday to get the rest of his stuff.”

“Are you going to be okay with that?”

“What choice do I have? I just hope he doesn’t bring somebody with him.”

Bebe frowned. “He doesn’t seem that insensitive. But maybe you should have a friend with you, just in case.”

Rain sighed. “Well, that’s another problem.” She glanced over at the table to their right where a young couple sat close together. Rain lowered her voice. “How often do you see Toni and Mare?”

“Not very often, why?”

“Well, do you have any friends that you get together with—without Neil?”

Bebe thought for a moment. “Not on a regular basis.” Then she added, smiling, “Just you.”

“Ever since Hayden left, I’ve tried to connect with my old friends, but they’re all preoccupied. Lisa from my office is married and their families monopolize her time, and Sarah is very pregnant and only cares about baby stuff, which would be great if I were pregnant, too. Kim works seventy hours a week at her travel agency when she’s not leading a tour with her boyfriend, Mark. It seems like we all cut our ties when we found guys. We all isolated ourselves—except that they haven’t realized it yet because I’m the only one who is unattached at the moment.”

“I see what you mean.”

“It’s so June Cleaver.”

“Have you mentioned it to any of them?”

“They don’t want to hear it.” Rain’s attention caught on an attractive young barista behind the counter, but he was too young. She needed someone with a steady job and a future, not a college boy. “Sometimes I feel like they see me as a threat.”

“A threat?”

“That it could happen to them.” Rain had never put the feeling into words before, and now that it was out, she felt betrayed. “Do you ever worry about that?”

Bebe smiled into her cup and swirled her coffee. “Well, no. Neil and I have been together for over thirty years.” She chuckled. “That really makes us sound ancient. I suppose it could happen to anyone at any stage of life.”

Rain didn’t want to cause Bebe concern, but she needed to ask. “Isn’t this the time when a lot of married couples split up, after the kids go away for college? Aren’t you worried about that?”

Bebe paused for a moment. “When the boys first left it felt a little odd, but we’re finding it’s kind of fun being alone again. We work with each other every day and we go to church together, so we haven’t really grown apart much. I pray for our marriage, you know, and not just when we have challenges to face. It’s important to find common interests and to do things together—even small things. But even that’s no guarantee of security.”

Rain ran her hand through her hair. “Relationships are so complicated. I mean, look at William and Mom. She treats him like dirt and he doesn’t say a thing. I feel so sorry for him.”

Bebe dipped her head. “You never know what goes on between two people. He must have a reason, or he wouldn’t stay.”

“Maybe change is just hard.”

“And maybe he loves her. When you love someone enough, you can let them be who they are and not demand that they change for you.”

Rain remembered the last conversation she and Hayden had before he left. She had given him an ultimatum. Maybe she loved the idea of having a baby more than she loved him.

Bebe carried in the mail and dumped it on the kitchen table along with the grocery bag containing fixings for a quick dinner. Peeking out from the stack of bills was the corner of a white envelope with an eagle, globe, and anchor and Scott’s crooked handwriting. She didn’t even bother to find a letter opener, but peeled open the top of the envelope and pulled out a sheet of lined notepaper dated August 3rd addressed to “Mom and Dad.” She groped behind her for a kitchen stool, not taking her eyes from the letter, but hungrily devouring this evidence of her son’s well-being—this look into his present life of which she had no part. The letter was brief, and he sounded exhilarated and tired at the same time. The days were going fast and the training was challenging. He wished he had pushed himself harder to prepare, but he was doing better than some. He missed them and he included his mailing address. He couldn’t wait to get a letter from home. He had gone to religious services with the other recruits, and he knew he couldn’t do this on his own. “Funny how God works,” he’d written. Her son was maturing before her eyes and she felt her heart swell within her just knowing that God was answering prayer in his life.

She called Neil, who was on his way home, and read him the letter. When he walked in the door, he read it for himself. Bebe posted it on the refrigerator with a magnet and they paused to read it several times during the evening. They each wrote letters to Scotty while they relaxed watching the Giants game and folded laundry on the couch. Bebe called Dylan to see how he was doing and found that he had also received a letter from Scott. He said it was basically the same, but she wondered what details Scott may have included in his brother’s letter that he didn’t share with them.

Dylan’s classes were going well and he had an interview for a job at an off-campus bookstore, but he would insist on having Labor Day weekend off if they offered him the job. He sounded like the same old Dylan, but with an added dimension that they weren’t part of. In the background, they heard guys calling for him to hurry up because they were leaving for McDonalds.

She handed the phone to Neil who spoke briefly to Dylan and hung up.

“Fries are calling,” he said, then went back to watching the game.

On the Sunday that Hayden had arranged to stop by, Rain found herself cleaning up the house and applying makeup. She wasn’t sure when or if Hayden would actually come by, but she didn’t want to look pathetic if he did—especially if he brought along a “friend.”

They had bought the house together without even the suggestion of marriage. Hayden knew how Rain felt about it, and the subject was never raised. He’d moved in with his clothes and books, which was basically what he left with. The only mutual purchase that he took was the flatscreen TV, which she wasn’t upset about. He didn’t take furniture or kitchen appliances, and it seemed so easy that she wondered whether he had another place waiting for him. Another home she didn’t know about.

While she waited, she called her mother to see how she was feeling. William answered, saying that Jude had had another treatment that week and asked if she wanted to speak to her. Rain heard another female voice in the room, and she would have thought it was the television, if she hadn’t heard William answer before handing the phone to Jude. Her mother was coherent, but groggy, and determined to return to work the next day.

During the whole phone conversation, Rain kept a lookout for Hayden’s car. She decided to wait to go to Whole Foods until after he came by because she was impatient to get his things out of the house. The afternoon wore on and she began to regret giving up a whole Sunday to wait around for him, but by then, it was really too late to leave. If she missed him now, he would just have to reschedule. She grew tired of Noah begging for food, so she opened the back door and shooed him outside. Then she heard Hayden’s car pull into the driveway.

She peeked out the window and stepped back to watch him without being seen through the miniblinds. The driver’s door of the Expedition opened and Hayden stepped out. She felt relieved that he was alone. He shut the door and shook the wrinkles from his khakis. The first thing she noticed was his tan and his hair curling long in the front where he needed a haircut. He wore a collared polo shirt in that soft shade of green that looked great with his eyes. She wondered where he was going, all dressed up.

When he came up to the door, she jumped back to the hallway to give the illusion that she was coming from a distant room instead of watching for his car. She let him knock twice before she called “Coming,” counted to five, and opened the door.

They both said hello and she stepped aside to let him in. Strange, that he needed permission to enter the place he’d called home for seven years. He still had a key, and she wondered whether he ever secretly stopped by when she was at work. She never saw signs of intrusion.

She offered him a seat on the sofa that they had bought together the weekend after they’d moved in. He sat on the edge of the leather cushion and looked around.

“Where’s Noah?”

“I just let him out. I can call him.” She started to get up but Hayden quickly answered, “No, that’s not necessary. Thanks.”

He sniffed. “Is that mango?”

She remembered her plug-in air freshener. “Yes.”

A long period of silence ensued while they both cast around for something to latch on to, some common, neutral ground without buried landmines just waiting for them to detonate.

Finally, Hayden asked, “How is your mother?”

Rain wondered how he knew, but she couldn’t read his face. “She has good days and bad days. They’re trying out an experimental drug, but if it doesn’t work, there’s not much else they can do for her.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Sorry to hear that.”

“She wants to have a Celebration of Life before she dies. One last chance to make her mark. She wants me and the old roommates involved in the planning of it.”

“Knowing your mother, it sounds complicated.”

“That’s exactly what I said. But Bebe’s unofficially in charge. Maybe she can satisfy Mom.”

“How are Bebe and Neil?”

“They’re fine.” She gestured to his face. “I see you got some sun.”

He raised his hand to the bridge of his nose. “I overdid it a bit. I was sick for two days.”

She noticed that his hand was healing from a bad scrape. “What happened?” she asked, motioning to his hand.

He turned it over to look at the back, and then curled it into a fist and covered it with his other hand. “It’s nothing. I was . . . just helping out a friend.”

An awkward silence descended. He didn’t elaborate on his vacation. Finally, he said, “Well, I don’t want to keep you. I’d better get my things.”

He stood up and went back toward the bedrooms. Rain remained on the couch with her hands in her lap, listening to the sounds of another human being in her home. For a moment, the sounds were so normal and natural and she sighed deeply. She wavered. Was their life so empty, their home so lacking in love that a child was needed to fill it? Was that part of her that yearned for motherhood not to be denied without eternal consequences?

Eventually, Hayden came out of the extra bedroom—the future nursery—with a box of winter clothing and his ski pants. He stacked them by the door and went to the stereo. He shuffled through the rack of CDs, pulling out some of her favorites, because they were also his.

He stood up and asked, “Do you mind?”

She shook her head. “No, go ahead. They’re on my iPod.”

He smiled nervously and something stirred within her. She pushed it down, turned to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.

She heard him go out the front door, and for a moment she thought he’d left without saying good-bye, but the stack was still sitting by the door. She heard the garage door open and he brought out his skis and placed them in the back of the Expedition, and then he loaded the box and CDs.

She was standing in the kitchen drinking her water with the island counter between them when he came in to say he was leaving. He hesitated at the door and looked back, and then said good-bye and closed the door behind him.

Rain heard his car drive away, and she went to the back door to call Noah. He was waiting on the step. Perhaps he’d heard Hayden’s car and had wanted to come inside.

She opened a can of tuna and poured half of it into Noah’s bowl as a peace offering. Then she wandered from room to room, seeing what was missing, and finally went out to the garage. She flipped on the dim light switch, and saw her skis hanging on the wall with a bare spot beside them. She turned the light off and went back inside.

Rain took off her makeup and changed into her comfy clothes. She took the whole container of Dreyer’s Girl Scouts Thin Mint ice cream to the couch with a big spoon and sat with her feet crisscrossed in front of her. She clicked on the small television she had brought in from the bedroom to replace the monstrosity that Hayden had taken away, and watched reruns of Project Runway.

It was perfectly natural to feel lousy after all that had happened, she reasoned. But she had to move ahead. A baby was something she wanted so badly, and she had to stay focused or her window of opportunity would close forever.

Noah jumped up on the couch, licking his lips and breathing his tuna breath in her face. He curled up by her side and gave his paws a thorough cleaning.

She wondered whether Hayden was happy to have that bit of business over and done with. Their meeting had reminded her of the striking figure he made, tall and self-possessed as though he’d stepped from a Jane Austen novel. Did he regret moving out? Did he ever have second thoughts about having a baby? Was he simply glad to get away?

Something her mother had said in her drug-induced haze came back to Rain, and Rain wondered at the answer.

She realized she still wanted Hayden. But did she need him?