Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
SAMANTHA
W hy did she feel both happy and sad that night? Crossing both arms behind her head, Sam stared up at the dark ceiling. Tucked close to her feet, Bogart was sound asleep, giving his little cat wheezing snore. How she loved being in Charlevoix with her family. Even though Aunt Cate had manipulated her into coming, Sam was glad to be here. She’d forgotten how well they all worked together, and that comfortable feeling had become more meaningful with age.
But she was almost insulted that both her aunt and Izzy had felt she would cast judgment on that darling little baby. Being the oldest of the three girls had left her with a lot of responsibilities, without a lot of fun. And it had taken Sam a long time to admit that. After her parents’ accident, she’d taken on the family with determination. Although Aunt Cate had been very generous with her time, even living with them in Naperville for a while, the daily responsibilities had fallen to Sam. That’s how she’d felt and probably how she’d acted.
And the open house tomorrow? Maybe she'd rather celebrate Christmas with her family. The idea of an open house had sent Aunt Cate and her sisters into such a tizzy. Tomorrow on Christmas Day, they'd probably spend the whole morning cooking. That’s what her mother had done. Sam could recall her mom, dressed in her Christmas apron, her hair in ringlets around her flushed face as she worked over the hot stove. Right now Sam felt like such a mess.
Snapping on her bedside light, she slid out of bed, limped over the cold floor and turned on the tiny boudoir lamp on her dressing table. Studying at her face, she pulled back her hair. Those dark circles under her eyes? There wasn't much she could do about them. And her hair? Grabbing strands of her shoulder-length hair, she wondered why she hadn't been more adventurous. Not just with her hair but with her life. Izzy’s green strip added so much zip. It was an expression of her zany personality. And Marlowe? That deep russet color didn’t reveal any gray strands. That couldn’t be natural, but it looked fabulous.
Wanting to fit the role of professional executive, Sam had toned down her makeup long ago. Kurt had thoroughly approved of her nude lipstick and the barest trace of mascara on her lashes. When she’d asked him about it after paging through another magazine article about makeup for the after-thirty woman, he’d assured that “whatever you’re using” looked fine.
Fine? When she’d looked up Chelsea Drake’s picture online, the younger woman sure knew how to apply makeup. And her gleaming blonde hair? Definitely done in an upscale salon. Now Sam scoffed at her ex and at herself. What was natural about his girlfriend? She’d obviously had a lot of skilled help, while Sam faded into the background.
It had taken Sam a long time to realize how much of herself she’d given up during her marriage. Anytime they pitched a new account, Kurt had taken the lead. And she’d let him.
So here she was. Looking at herself in the old-fashioned mirror, Sam slumped. She’d passed her sell-by date, the forty-year mark. But thinking of Cate and that red slash of lipstick and Marlowe, who knew how to work the smoky eye look, she wondered. Izzy would always be the blonde of the family. Sam wasn’t interested in anything that drastic. Was she?
The knock at the door startled her. Who in heaven's name could that be? She glanced over at the clock. Almost midnight. Bogart lifted his head and gave her a quizzical glance. “It's nothing,” she whispered. But the knock came again. Not bothering with the scooter, she limped to the door.
When she opened the door, the tangy scent of the pine tree greeted her. “Marlowe? What are you doing? Is everything okay?”
In her sweatpants and t-shirt, her sister looked wide awake. “I don't think that was decaf tonight. I can't get to sleep.” She raked her hair back from eyes that were wide awake.
Sam stepped aside, bringing a finger to her lips. “Come on in. We don't want to wake the baby.”
Closing the door carefully behind her, Marlowe grabbed Sam’s arms. “That baby. Can you believe it?” Her sister's straightforward enthusiasm made Sam feel even more guilty about her initial doubts.
“Yes. No. I can’t.” What was she saying? Those short steps to the door hadn't been good for her ankle. Sam slumped onto the edge of her bed.
“What's up with you?” Marlowe zeroed in on her. “Is it your ankle? Maybe you should have an X-ray.”
“No, it's not that.” Her ankle was throbbing. But that wasn't the point. How did Marlowe seem so full of life all the time?
“Hey, what's going on?” Marlowe's voice dropped as she sat down next to Sam. They’d shared a lot of secrets in this room.
“It's me,” Sam said. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, she pulled it out and let it fall, limp and lifeless. “What's happened to me? Nothing. That's the whole point.”
“Nothing? I'd say a lot has happened to you.” Marlowe gave her shoulder a hitch. “The problem is you haven't shared some pretty major life issues with anyone, least of all your family.”
She had a point. “I didn't want to burden anybody.”
After all these years her sister still knew how to blow out a strawberry and she did it with hilarious passion. “I don't think that's what it's called, Sam. I think in our case, sharing life events is called strengthening family ties.”
The knock at the door froze them both. Sam and Marlowe looked at each other as if they'd been caught smoking in bed. That was one thing they'd never tried. Their mother would have killed them. Without waiting for anyone to open the door, Izzy stuck her head in.
“Are we being too loud?” Marlowe slid off the bed. “We didn't mean to wake you.”
Closing the door gently, Izzy threw them a sassy smile. “You didn't. I’m awake. Maybe it’s the full moon. Thank goodness Holly and Piper are sound asleep.” Her eyes circled the room. “So what's going on?”
“Nothing,” both women said at the same time.
Marlowe gave a gutsy guffaw. “Sam's been trying to think of a good excuse for why she didn't tell us about her divorce.”
“Oh that.” Izzy plopped herself onto the bed, drawing her legs up under her. Apparently that did it for Bogart. The poor cat carefully picked his way down the pet staircase and disappeared under the bed.
“Guess I'm the wrong one to cast stones about keeping secrets,” Izzy said. “I've been sitting on a whopper for the past year.”
“And I'm not going to ask you why you didn't tell me.” Sam was ready to move beyond that. “But I am crazy happy for you, Izzy. That little girl is so special and you're going to give her a wonderful life.”
“I know. That’s what I tell myself. I'm sorry that I didn't share those beginning months when I didn't know what I was doing.” For a moment Izzy looked so lost. “My canasta ladies and Debbie tried to help, but there are limits.”
Marlowe reached over and hugged her. “That must have been so hard.”
“I could talk to Aunt Cate, but you know she hasn’t ever had babies.”
“We would have been there for you,” Sam said. But a tiny doubt whispered through her mind. Would she? Back then she was trying to figure out where Kurt was. Some of his excuses didn’t add up. And who was he with? His phone began going off at strange times. Clients rarely phoned at eleven at night. But she had to put all that behind her.
When the door cracked open with a squeak, all three of them jumped. This time it was Aunt Cate, peeking in. Their aunt always slept with toilet paper wrapped around her head under a ruffled cap. Marlowe broke into raucous laughter, with Sam and Izzy following.
Tilting her chin up, Aunt Cate sniffed. “Are you girls laughing at your poor old aunt?”
“Not at all.” Sam shook her head.
“That’ll be the day when you act old,” Izzy scoffed.
“Oh, my. From your lips to God’s ears.” Instead of trying to fit onto the bed, their aunt took a seat on the dressing table bench. She swirled a ruffled peach robe around herself. The fabric didn’t look heavy enough for the Charlevoix winter weather. “It's so good to be here with you girls. You make me feel young again.”
“Aunt Cate, we are not girls,” Sam said in protest. “Me especially.”
“What’s that about?” Marlowe wheeled around to face her.
Sam immediately regretted her words. But weren’t they trying to be truthful with each other? “Look, I'm the oldest of three and I feel every year in my bones. Look at me. I couldn't even cross country ski without injuring myself.”
“Right, but I think that injury opened another door for you.” Izzy wiggled her eyebrows.
Sam wasn't having it. To read more into her chance meeting with Josh was ridiculous. “Just because I ran into my high school boyfriend and he happens to be single, don't get crazy. That's old history. We've both changed.”
“From the look on Josh McCall's face as he sang about silent night, I would not kick him to the curb. Not yet,” Marlowe said, nudging Sam’s shoulder with hers. “And if you're going to take a pass on Josh, then let me know.”
“Wow. You two. Don't be silly.” Glancing from one older sister to another, Izzy looked stunned.
“I'm not as brave as you, Marlowe,” Sam said.
“You most certainly are.” Her ruffled cap trembled and Aunt Cate looked outraged.
She hated to whine, but they might as well know how she felt. She’d kept so much from them. “I may have gotten a divorce but I'm stuck. Stuck in a house that I may or may not want.”
“That's all up to you,” her aunt said crisply. “Your divorce is very recent, sweetheart. It takes time to, well, rearrange your life when you find yourself single again.” Aunt Cate looked across the room and out into the dark night beyond as if she were already busy doing that for Sam.
“Anything is possible,” Izzy said with a smile. “Look at me. I’m finally a mother.” She tossed a smile to her sisters. “When are you ladies going to have some cousins for Holly?”
“What?” Marlowe swung around. “I’m not ready.”
“And I'm getting too old.” Sam hated the words but they were the truth.
“Don't look at me,” Aunt Cate chimed in. “That's not in my future. But I would like some more nieces or nephews. More reasons for me to shop.”
Wasn’t Sam’s sister missing the obvious? “Izzy, you could probably have a brother or a sister for Holly.” Sam stopped right there. The look on her sister's face made her want to bring those words back. Of course she couldn’t. Izzy wasn’t seeing anybody and no one wanted her to jump into another marriage.
“I can’t,” Izzy said, her voice barely a whisper. “The adoption was my last chance. I had to have a hysterectomy a couple of years ago. All that baby-making equipment? Gone.”
The words sucked the air right out of the room.
Sam sagged against the bed, wishing she could disappear. “I'm so sorry, Izzy. What? Why…” But there had been enough painful questions that night.
“We have to do better than this,” Marlowe said with a shake of her head. “With each other. We have to do better.”
Crumpled into a ball, Izzy said, “I should have told you and Marlowe but I got tired of thinking about it. I only told Aunt Cate when I was in the adoption process and really needed her. The fact that I couldn’t physically have a baby probably helped my case.”
Without saying a word, Marlowe disappeared and slipped out of the room. Sam thought this conversation had come to an end. Fine with her. She was feeling a little sleepy. But she was also darn mad at herself. Why hadn’t she called Izzy more? Why hadn’t she asked about every pause, every hesitation? Her poor sister had undergone major, life-changing surgery, and Sam hadn’t been there to help.
While Sam beat herself up, Marlowe reappeared with cellophane packages in her hand.
“What's that?” Izzy asked, perking up. “A Christmas present?”
“Sort of. I was going to slip these into your Christmas stockings but things got too busy. Now seems to be the time.” Marlowe tossed one of the packages to each of them. The cellophane crinkled in Sam's hand as she opened it.
“Oh I know what these are.” Izzy ripped hers open with a grin. “Hair tinsel. Perfect for the holiday. Let’s see. I'm going to fasten silver and green into mine. You clamp them over your hair near the roots or wherever you want some color.”
Although Sam may have noticed these glistening stripes on some women, she’d never seen them for sale. Before too long they had clamped at least one set of sparkly tinsel into each other's hair.
Not wanting to be left behind, Aunt Cate had swept off her protective cap and ditched the toilet paper to snip off one set to match her short hair. The bright streak of red would go with her lipstick, or so she said. As they collapsed into girlish giggles. Sam didn't know when she'd ever felt closer to these women. The girls who had shared her past and the women she definitely wanted to share her future. But they had some work to do.
“One more thing,” she said quietly. Her face must have looked as solemn as she felt because the giggles sure stopped. “Before I left to come up here, Kurt told me that he's going to be a father.”
The gasp from everyone filled the room and then shrank it.
“What a creep,” Marlowe said, her face thunderous.
“Absolutely.” When Aunt Cate shook her head with indignation, her sparkly streak vibrated in the dim light. “I'm so sorry, Sam. Wouldn’t have believed that of Kurt.”
“He’s changed.” But when had that happened? Sam sure couldn’t pinpoint the turning point and why even try?
“I’m glad you got rid of that guy,” Izzy said.
“Yes, well, not my choice but you have a point.”
Sitting back with her red tinsel glittering in her hair, Aunt Cate said nothing more. But Sam knew she was thinking. Giving her one of her penetrating looks, Aunt Cate was thinking big picture. Sam knew that her aunt saw more than Sam had admitted.
“The only rub is that we'd made a decision not to have any children,” Sam admitted, knowing that was not news to them.
“Some couples do choose that at the beginning. Lots of reasons…careers and so on. But some change their mind with time. Did you ever have regrets?” Aunt Cate asked.
“Yes, yes I have.”
Her sisters and aunt looked stunned. But Sam had nothing more to say. Her sisters and aunt now knew everything, every sad detail. Now they could all put it behind them. Their goodnight hugs made it clear that they would be there for her. But Sam was thinking about all the miles between her family and Chicago.