BY THE MIDDLE OF FEBRUARY, ELENA’S BRAIN WAS spinning like a top on steroids as she made the final plans for their trip to Spain.
She had packing lists, contact lists, a detailed itinerary. She had a timetable for Izzy’s school and dancing lessons, Sarah’s work schedule, Rafael’s academy routine. She even had a list of emergency contacts: Izzy’s pediatrician, school principal, and neighbors who could step in to help if Sarah got in a bind.
The night before their departure, Cesar strolled into the living room where Elena sat on the couch jotting down more ideas as they came to her. Izzy had already gone to bed, Rafael was in his room, and the house was quiet.
“What are you up to now?” he asked.
“I’m just checking my lists again.”
“Sweetheart, you check your lists more than Santa Claus checks his. You’ve gone over them a thousand times. If you’ve forgotten anything, it can’t be important. And if it is, Rafael or Sarah will be able to handle whatever comes up.”
“I suppose.” She puffed out her cheeks and sighed. “I’m just so afraid something will go wrong like it did the last time.”
He sat down beside her and patted her knee. “I’ve checked the weather. There’s not a single blizzard expected anywhere in the Lower Forty-Eight or in Spain. If we were going to Alaska, that would be a different story.”
She jerked her head up. “Are we flying over the North Pole? We could get into—”
“Querida, I am sure the pilots will pick the safest route possible. We’re going to have a wonderful trip. If you get yourself all worked up now, you’ll never sleep tonight. We have a long flight tomorrow. You need to get your rest.”
She leaned on his shoulder. “You’re so good to put up with me.”
“I’m the lucky one to have you as my wife.” He brushed a kiss to the top of her head.
She cuddled a little closer. “You’re going to look very handsome dancing the flamenco in your costume.”
“My what?” He pulled back to look at her.
“I’ve ordered flamenco costumes for both of us and scheduled our lessons.”
“No—no dancing for me.” He shook his head as if he was watching a fast game of Ping-Pong. “You’re the one who wanted the dance lessons, not me. I’ll just watch. Or maybe go for a walk around town.”
“But you have to take the classes with me. I’ll need a partner.”
“I don’t want to wear those skinny pants and stomp around like I’m putting out a brush fire. I’d look silly.” His voice rose in volume.
“You’ll look very handsome, not silly. You’re a good dancer, light on your feet.”
“Absolutely not!” Scowling, he stood. “I’m not going to make a fool of myself, and that’s final.”
Elena ground her teeth.
Rafael strolled into the room, his expression curious. “What aren’t you going to do that would make you look like a fool, Daddy?”
“I’m not going to dance the flamenco in some ridiculous costume.”
Glancing first at Elena and then back to his father, he said, “That’s what Mama wants.”
“She can take the lessons. That’s fine with me.”
“Daddy, man to man here.” Rafael rested his hand on his father’s shoulder. “I’d give it up. Mama always gets her way, so why fight it?”
Cesar sputtered and mumbled something under his breath.
“I’ll see you two in the morning,” Rafael said with a teasing smile at his father. “I’m going to hit the sack now.”
“Good night, Son,” Elena said.
His expression mutinous, Cesar continued to stand looking down at Elena, his legs wide apart, his hands jammed in his pants pockets.
“Is it that important to you? That I learn to dance the flamenco?”
She held his gaze. “Perhaps the teacher can find me another partner for the classes.”
A muscle jumped in Cesar’s jaw. “All right, I’ll take the dancing lessons with you, but you better not complain when I stomp on your toes.”
“Thank you, honey.” He tried to play bad cop, but he was such a teddy bear, Elena had known she could wear him down, given enough time. “You’re a very good husband.”
He grunted and held out his hand. “Come on, querida. Let’s go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow. If I’m going to dance the flamenco I’ll need my strength.”
A secret smile curved Elena’s lips as she and Cesar walked together down the hallway to their bedroom.
The next morning, Elena, Cesar, Sarah, and Izzy piled into Rafael’s van for the trip to Chicago.
With her beloved Dorie in hand, Izzy claimed a window seat. “I want to see all the airplanes flying to the airport.”
“We’ll have to get close to the airport before you can see them.” Sitting next to her daughter, Sarah explained how it would take almost three hours to get there. “Then the planes will be flying low and you’ll get a good look at them.”
Izzy craned her neck to look up at the sky. “Maybe I’ll see one sooner.”
Unlike the day they’d had to cancel their trip, the sun was out and warm enough to hint at the coming of spring. In a few gardens, crocus would begin to peek their heads out of the dirt and hay fields that had been plowed under after the fall harvest would be tinged green with new grass.
Elena felt a swell of gratitude for all the Lord had given her. She prayed He would watch over her and Cesar while they were away and care for their loved ones who they were leaving here at home.
As they drew closer to Chicago, Izzy shouted, “I see one! I see one!”
They all strained to look out the window. Sure enough, a glistening airliner was descending into the airport, which was several miles away.
“Is that the airplane you’re going to fly in, Buela?” Izzy asked.
“I don’t know, honey. One like that, I imagine.”
“I wish I could go with you to Spain.” With a pouty lip and whiny voice, she sounded like a lost little waif.
“Maybe when you’re older,” Sarah said, “your daddy and I can take you somewhere on an airplane.”
That comment caught Elena’s attention, the way Sarah so easily spoke of taking Izzy on a trip together. As though the three of them were already a family.
She glanced at Rafael. He’d had no particular reaction to Sarah’s statement. He hadn’t corrected or disagreed with her. At ease, he continued to drive, keeping his eyes on the traffic and following the signs to the airport.
Shifting in her seat, Elena smiled. There was definitely something going on between Rafael and Sarah. A building affection for one another? Or more than that?
Only time would tell the exact nature of their growing attachment.
After three weeks, Lindsay Belle’s cold had run its course, so Anabelle invited Ainslee over to work on quilts together. Some years ago, after Ainslee and Evan had moved out, Anabelle had converted their two bedrooms into a studio for all of her quilting equipment and projects. The spacious area made it possible to spread out fabrics to pin sections together and still have the sewing machine and all of her notions right at hand.
The drawback now, Anabelle realized, was that Lindsay Belle, at twenty-two months, was already entering the terrible twos. The child was everywhere, opening drawers and cupboards, trying to climb on tables and determined to get into the middle of things.
“Watch out, Mother. Lindsay Belle has your scissors,” Ainslee warned.
“Uh-oh. That’s a no-no, sweetie. Give Nana the scissors, please.” Anabelle reached for them, but Lindsay Belle wasn’t interested in sharing.
Quickly on her feet, Ainslee scooped up her daughter, planted big, sloppy kisses on her cheek, and plucked the scissors from her daughter’s tiny hand.
“I guess this isn’t the best room for a toddler, is it?” Although Lindsay Belle was a precious child, she was almost too quick for Anabelle, getting into things the moment she took her eyes off of her.
“Only if said toddler is asleep. The only time I get anything done is when she’s napping.” Ainslee walked to the window where mother and child looked out onto the garden. “Why don’t we have lunch now, and I’ll put her down for a nap after she eats?”
“That sounds like a perfect plan to me.” Anabelle left her sewing where it was, and they all went downstairs where she had baby-proofed by putting any breakable or dangerous items up high out of reach. Cam had also put baby latches on all the lower cupboard doors to keep curious little girls out.
“While I put our salad together,” Anabelle said, “why don’t you take Lindsay Belle outside to play with Sarge? That ought to use up some of that bundle of energy in her.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Ainslee promised. “But she doesn’t wear out easily.”
As Anabelle worked at the counter preparing lunch, she listened to Lindsay Belle’s high, giggling laughter and watched the toddler and Sarge tumble around on the ground. Sarge was in heaven having someone to play with, yet Anabelle could tell he was also cautious about not getting too rough with the child.
She smiled when Lindsay Belle tried to toddle off into Cam’s small greenhouse, and Sarge carefully herded her back into the center of the yard.
“Good boy!” Anabelle whispered.
Ainslee watched the goings-on with the cautious eye of a mother but rarely interfered. It seemed to Anabelle that this second pregnancy had brought a sense of peace—almost serenity—and confidence to her daughter.
That inner calmness had affected Ainslee’s relationship with Anabelle as well. Now, more than ever before, they were equals in almost every way. Two mothers who valued the other as a friend without striving to prove who was right. Or wrong.
To Anabelle’s surprise, tears rose in her eyes and she had to wipe them away. Her daughter, with whom she had often struggled, had turned into a fine young woman and mother. Pride and love filled her heart.
Thank You, Lord.
With Lindsay Belle finally down for her nap, Anabelle and Ainslee could enjoy their chicken salad and bread sticks in peace.
“I’m really excited about the new baby,” Ainslee said, her brows pulling thoughtfully together. “But I don’t see how I can keep working even part-time at Once Upon a Time.”
“Probably not,” Anabelle agreed. “At least not until they’re both a bit older. Does it bother you to be a stay-at-home mom?”
“Not really. It’s just that I liked having a little money of my own so I can buy things I want, guilt free.”
“Hmm, I can relate to that.” Anabelle forked some bits of chicken into her mouth. “Not that your father has ever denied me anything I wanted, but it will feel strange not to have my own income. Except for social security and my pension, of course.” But that didn’t count in the same way earning money through hard work did.
Ainslee sipped her iced tea. “You know what, Mother? We ought to start a business of our own. Something we could both do from home.”
A spark of interest widened Anabelle’s eyes. “What kind of business? Outside of nursing, the only thing I know how to do is quilt and knit.”
“I’m not sure. I’ve always thought it would be fun to help people decorate their homes. But hauling two toddlers around to a client’s house doesn’t seem like a good plan.”
“No, it doesn’t. Families might object to sticky fingerprints as a decorative focus.”
Chuckling, Ainslee shook her head.
The idea of having her own business did appeal to Anabelle. Something small that wouldn’t take up too much of her time but would still give her a sense of accomplishment.
“Maybe we could sell the quilts we make,” she suggested.
“That might be possible. But how would we attract customers?” Ainslee’s creative and artistic talents didn’t prevent her from zeroing in on practicalities.
“We could have a Web site, sell them online.” Feeling a bubble of excitement, Anabelle put her fork down and leaned forward. “I’ll bet you there are lots of stay-at-home moms and grandmothers who’d love to sell their crafts but there isn’t an outlet for them. If we let others advertise on our Web site, we’d draw more traffic and could charge the advertisers a percentage of what they sold.”
Ainslee snared a piece of chicken with her fork. “We’d have to be very selective about whom we allowed to advertise. Their merchandise would have to be high quality.”
“Absolutely.” They’d limit the merchandise to handcrafted items. Beyond quilts and knitted goods, they could include jewelry and small sculptures. One-of-a-kind items.
“I’m comfortable using a computer,” Ainslee said, frowning. “But I don’t know enough to set up a complicated Web site.”
“Neither do I,” Anabelle admitted. She leaned back in her chair. “Would Doug know someone?”
“Someone who’d work cheap, you mean.”
Anabelle laughed. “That would be nice.”
They decided they’d explore the idea of becoming an online source for handmade products. Ainslee would ask other young mothers she knew, Anabelle would research other online sellers, and they’d both check for Web site designers.
By the time Lindsay Belle woke from her nap, Anabelle’s enthusiasm for the project had her writing down ideas and lists of contacts. What fun it would be to start a business with her daughter.
If it did take off as well as they both hoped, there would be no need for Anabelle to worry how she would spend her spare time in retirement. She’d be plenty busy.
“I think I’ve come up with the answer.” Tired at the end of the day, as usual, Candace leaned her head against the window of the car as they left the hospital to pick up Brooke and Howie from their respective schools.
Heath tossed her a curious look. “What was the question?”
“About me going back to work after the twins are born.”
“You know that you don’t have to unless you want to.” The day had been sunny, warming the car enough that Heath had tossed his jacket into the backseat.
“I know, but I want to feel like I’m contributing to the family income. Plus, it would be a shame to waste all of my years of training and experience.” Candace straightened in her seat and adjusted her seat belt.
“True. There’s always a shortage of trained nurses. Are you thinking about working part-time?”
“That’s a possibility, I suppose. But the part-timers always get stuck with the worst shifts. I wouldn’t have much flexibility, which could mean I might miss out on the children’s school activities, karate lessons, Little League games.”
“So what’s the answer?”
“We delivered a beautiful baby boy in the unit two weeks ago. The parents had been working with Bea Crofton, a doula who helps expectant parents prepare for their baby’s birth. The whole process went without a hitch, in part because the young couple was totally aware of what to expect.”
“Okay, sweetheart. That sounds great. But what’s a doo-la?”
Chuckling, Candace described the role of a doula. “I’m thinking, by the time the twins are in preschool, I could take on a few clients. It’s a part-time sort of job and flexible, except when the baby decides to arrive. And Bea said she’s planning to retire in the next few years. So there’d be an opportunity for someone else to step into the role.”
Heath pulled over to the curb in front of Howie’s school. “That sounds like it could work. You’d be great too.”
“I think so. I’ve worked with all of the OB/GYNs in the area, so I could get referrals from them.” She spotted Howie running toward them, legs flying, a big smile on his face. “Looks like our son had a good day at school.”
Howie yanked open the car door and shot into the backseat. “Guess what? I got a good grade on my math test!”
“Woohoo!” Candace said. “Awesome!”
Heath gave him a high five.
This was one of those moments that Candace cherished. A time when Howie had been successful, despite his problems with ADD. Pride welled in her chest for how hard he strived to succeed.
Candace wanted to be there for all of those moments—the successes and failures—of the twins as they grew from babies into adults.
Yes. Being a doula would give her a chance to both use her skills and be the mother she wanted to be. Plus, the extra cash would be there to help with bigger expenses—like college tuition for four!