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Authors: Diane Chamberlain
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couldn’t believe my luck at being able to spend so much time in the beautiful, simple building. I was drawn to the panoramic windows, and I watched the sea for dolphins and the sky for pelicans. In a way, I finally had beachfront property.
When the weather was mild enough, I took Maggie for walks in the stroller. I’d push the little girl right past the Sea Tender, learning quickly there was no point in stopping in for a visit. Neither Maggie nor I would be welcome.
On Sundays, I sat next to Jamie in the chapel with Maggie on my lap. The first time, Jamie briefly explained to the thirty or so people there that I was helping him and Laurel out with Maggie. When new people came during the summer, though, I wondered if some of them thought I was Jamie’s wife.
It fascinated me to feel Maggie melt into my arms when she heard her father speak. He had a hypnotic quality in his voice that soothed not only Maggie and myself but most of the other people in the chapel as well. With the influx of tourists, the fifty seats were nearly full each week. People stood one after another to say where they recently experienced God, but I rarely stood myself. I felt too raw with emotion in the chapel during the service. In just a couple of months’ time, I’d filled up with such a painful sort of joy that I knew if I tried to speak during the service, I would lose all control. God—Jamie’s God—was with me nearly every minute of every day by then. I had a purpose: I was able to hold a tiny life in my arms. I was able to help Jamie when he so clearly needed my help. Even at home, I caught myself smiling as I made dinner or pressed Steve’s uniform or cleaned the small house we rented. I had enoughjoy inside myself that the sorrow over Sam, over my loveless marriage, didn’t have a chance to come through.
A few months later, Jamie told me he thought Laurel needed a friend.
“She doesn’t have any friends with babies,” he said. “Not that you have a baby. But you’re so warm and nice and kind.” He looked away from me, as though he’d said more than he meant to. “She’s depressed. She’s not taking care of herself. You know. Grooming. Hygiene.”
“Maybe she needs more help than a friend can give her,” I suggested gently. The truth was, Laurel was unpleasant to be around, and I avoided her as much as possible. There was nothing of the starry-eyed young woman left in her.
Jamie sighed. “You’re probably right.” He sounded tired. “Her doctor thinks she needs that new Prozac medication, but neither of us likes the idea of her taking drugs. I think she just needs a girlfriend.”
He looked so lost. I would have done anything to bring a smile back to his face.
“I’ll visit her one day while you have Maggie,” I said. “Then maybe she and I can have a good talk.”
It had sounded possible when I said it, but I’d had no idea how bad things had gotten with Laurel. She was incapable of having a “good talk” with anyone.
I visited her under the guise of taking over a chicken-and-rice casserole. I found her lying under a thin blanket on the sofa watching a rerun of I Dream of Jeannie. The air in the cottage smelled stale in spite of all the windows being open.
“I brought you a casserole for dinner.” I headed for the kitchenafter letting myself in through the unlocked door. “I’ll just put it in the fridge, okay? It should last you at least a couple of nights.”
“Where’s the baby?” Laurel asked.
I looked at her across the breakfast bar. “With Jamie. He’s doing some paperwork in the chapel office. I thought I’d just bring this over and say hi.”
Laurel actually wrinkled her nose as though visiting with me was the last thing she felt like doing.
Tough, I thought. Someone needed to get through to her. She was hurting her husband, not to mention her baby.
I sat down in the rocker near the sofa. “How are you?” I asked.
“Okay.” Laurel kept her gaze glued to the TV.
I
When the weather was mild enough, I took Maggie for walks in the stroller. I’d push the little girl right past the Sea Tender, learning quickly there was no point in stopping in for a visit. Neither Maggie nor I would be welcome.
On Sundays, I sat next to Jamie in the chapel with Maggie on my lap. The first time, Jamie briefly explained to the thirty or so people there that I was helping him and Laurel out with Maggie. When new people came during the summer, though, I wondered if some of them thought I was Jamie’s wife.
It fascinated me to feel Maggie melt into my arms when she heard her father speak. He had a hypnotic quality in his voice that soothed not only Maggie and myself but most of the other people in the chapel as well. With the influx of tourists, the fifty seats were nearly full each week. People stood one after another to say where they recently experienced God, but I rarely stood myself. I felt too raw with emotion in the chapel during the service. In just a couple of months’ time, I’d filled up with such a painful sort of joy that I knew if I tried to speak during the service, I would lose all control. God—Jamie’s God—was with me nearly every minute of every day by then. I had a purpose: I was able to hold a tiny life in my arms. I was able to help Jamie when he so clearly needed my help. Even at home, I caught myself smiling as I made dinner or pressed Steve’s uniform or cleaned the small house we rented. I had enoughjoy inside myself that the sorrow over Sam, over my loveless marriage, didn’t have a chance to come through.
A few months later, Jamie told me he thought Laurel needed a friend.
“She doesn’t have any friends with babies,” he said. “Not that you have a baby. But you’re so warm and nice and kind.” He looked away from me, as though he’d said more than he meant to. “She’s depressed. She’s not taking care of herself. You know. Grooming. Hygiene.”
“Maybe she needs more help than a friend can give her,” I suggested gently. The truth was, Laurel was unpleasant to be around, and I avoided her as much as possible. There was nothing of the starry-eyed young woman left in her.
Jamie sighed. “You’re probably right.” He sounded tired. “Her doctor thinks she needs that new Prozac medication, but neither of us likes the idea of her taking drugs. I think she just needs a girlfriend.”
He looked so lost. I would have done anything to bring a smile back to his face.
“I’ll visit her one day while you have Maggie,” I said. “Then maybe she and I can have a good talk.”
It had sounded possible when I said it, but I’d had no idea how bad things had gotten with Laurel. She was incapable of having a “good talk” with anyone.
I visited her under the guise of taking over a chicken-and-rice casserole. I found her lying under a thin blanket on the sofa watching a rerun of I Dream of Jeannie. The air in the cottage smelled stale in spite of all the windows being open.
“I brought you a casserole for dinner.” I headed for the kitchenafter letting myself in through the unlocked door. “I’ll just put it in the fridge, okay? It should last you at least a couple of nights.”
“Where’s the baby?” Laurel asked.
I looked at her across the breakfast bar. “With Jamie. He’s doing some paperwork in the chapel office. I thought I’d just bring this over and say hi.”
Laurel actually wrinkled her nose as though visiting with me was the last thing she felt like doing.
Tough, I thought. Someone needed to get through to her. She was hurting her husband, not to mention her baby.
I sat down in the rocker near the sofa. “How are you?” I asked.
“Okay.” Laurel kept her gaze glued to the TV.
I
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