Somewhere Between Luck and Trust

“Little smiles really early, but at about three to four months they last longer, and she smiles when she’s responding to something she likes.”

“She’s three months?”

“Thirteen weeks.”

The baby opened her eyes and blinked a few times, as if she was trying to focus. Then she closed them again, as if all that blinking wasn’t worth the effort.

“She’ll wake up for sure in a little while,” Harmony said. “And she’ll be hungry. She’s always hungry.”

“I’ve never spent much time around babies.”

Harmony nodded. “I never had, either. I did a little babysitting and didn’t like it. It’s different when it’s your own. Marilla—she and her husband, Brad, own the farm where I live—she says she didn’t like children at all, not one bit, until she had her first. Then she fell madly in love. She has two adorable little boys, and I’m with them so much I’ve fallen in love with them, too.”

Cristy wondered if this was just the way things happened. Would she feel that way after she spent time with Michael?

“It sneaks up on you,” Harmony said, as if she were reading Cristy’s mind. “But it must have been hard for you to have your son taken away after he was born.”

Cristy wasn’t surprised Harmony knew her circumstances. “Sure,” she said, with little conviction in her voice. “Only I knew from the start I wouldn’t be able to keep him with me.”

“That seems wrong. You should have been allowed to bond with him.”

“And then have him taken away?”

Harmony met her eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re right. And maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, only I wanted you to know maybe I understand a little of what you had to go through.”

As nice as Harmony seemed, Cristy doubted that.

“I need a glass of water and a bathroom break. Would you like to hold Lottie while I’m gone?”

Cristy didn’t want to, but she knew Harmony was offering her a gift. Her own son wasn’t there to hold, but she could hold Harmony’s daughter, a substitute to practice on. And didn’t offering the baby show that Harmony trusted her, ex-con and all?

She nearly said no, but she knew staying here might be dependent on the goodwill of all the trustees, including Harmony. She held out her arms.

Harmony carefully transferred the baby. “She should sleep right through this.”

Cristy was surprised at how light the baby felt, and how sweet the little bundle smelled. She adjusted the blankets so that Lottie’s face was clear of them.

“Nothing feels quite like a sleeping baby,” Harmony said. “I’ll be right back.”

Cristy hoped so. Because sitting here, holding Harmony’s baby daughter, was the last place on earth she wanted to be. Nearly the last. Because the real last place would be at her cousin’s house holding Michael.

* * *

The day didn’t drag. Cristy had to admit that much. The others returned from their walk, and everyone worked on lunch together, which was clearly intended to be the big meal of the day. They had leftover spaghetti and salad, a vegetarian minestrone that Harmony had brought along, homemade bread and jam, courtesy of Harmony’s employer Marilla Reynolds, and brownies that Edna and Samantha had baked, claiming unconvincingly that they’d just wanted to take the chill off the kitchen.

Everybody took turns holding the baby, who was clearly a favorite. Everybody cleaned up, as if they’d done this enough to know how to work together. Harmony fed her daughter and rocked her to sleep, with the dog, who treated Cristy like a long-lost friend, asleep at her feet. Samantha set up her computer on the kitchen table to do a little work. Edna and Georgia played Monopoly, first inviting Cristy, who declined and took a nap instead.

By late afternoon everyone was ready to go, but they suggested a walk around the grounds first, just to stretch their legs before the trip back down the mountain.

Cristy didn’t want to go, but again, she felt obligated. She’d felt tense and out of place all day, but now that everyone was about to leave, she felt more so. What would it be like to be here alone? She didn’t know her neighbors and wasn’t even sure how to find them, despite a map Edna had drawn. She had her car, but there was nowhere to drive. And if she left, would she be able to find her way back? Especially in the dark?

They walked toward the barn again, Harmony carrying her daughter in a soft baby carrier strapped in front of her so Lottie was facing out and could watch the world go by. At a fork in the path they turned and started up a rise.

“It’s time to plant the spring garden,” Harmony said, “but between the baby and the garden at Marilla’s, I don’t see myself doing much here.”

“What have you planted down at Capable Canines?” Georgia asked.

“Marilla raises service dogs,” Harmony explained. “That’s the name of the kennel. In fact, Velvet produced several good litters of puppies for her, then I took her when Marilla retired her.”

“Maddie has one of Velvet’s puppies,” Edna said. “Vanilla.”

“You’ll meet Maddie and Taylor soon,” Samantha said. “They’ll be up to visit.”

Cristy was just as glad they hadn’t come today. She was already overwhelmed.

Harmony answered Georgia’s question. “Peas, lettuce and we just put in a whole plot of potatoes. Also onions, carrots. I guess that’s it so far. We’re still working on it. Marilla’s doing some of the work now. She’s improving fast. She’s just using a cane.”

“Marilla was in a car accident,” Edna explained.

They stopped at an area fenced with both rails and chicken wire, and Samantha opened the gate. The area was spacious, much larger than the word garden had conjured for Cristy.

“Wow.” She stepped in after the others. The garden wasn’t exactly abandoned. But clearly nothing had been done inside this fence for some time. “They must have grown a lot of their food here.”

“Charlotte said she and her grandmother grew and canned most of what they ate,” Harmony said. “She wasn’t much of a gardener after she left here, but Ethan—he’s Charlotte’s husband—made sure the house and land were rented and taken care of. The tenants kept up the garden.”

Cristy thought this was the most peaceful place on the property. Maybe it was the fence that separated her from all that space beyond it. But in here she felt comfortable, even safe. She could feel herself relaxing.

“What are you going to do with it?” She wasn’t sure where to aim the question. Everyone seemed to think and answer in turn.

“I think it’s a work in progress,” Georgia said. “Without much progress.”

“I could help.” Cristy heard herself volunteer without thinking about it, but as the words emerged, so did enthusiasm. “I haven’t done a lot, but when I was little I helped a neighbor with her garden. She paid me in Hershey bars and potato chips. It was our secret.” She smiled a little.

“I’d be glad to come up when I can and help you get things started,” Harmony said. “But it’s going to need to be tilled. Maybe some manure worked in. I’ll ask Marilla. She’ll know. I bet she’d come up and give us advice.”

“Don’t count on me,” Georgia said. “Plants wither when they see me coming.”

Samantha warned Edna to be careful of snakes in a tangle of blackberry brambles in the corner where she was exploring. Then she joined in the conversation. “I’ll do what I can, but it won’t be a lot of help, I’m afraid. I’m swamped at work.”

“Taylor and Maddie might help,” Harmony said. “But maybe this year we can just do a small piece of it, to get things started.”

Cristy was way ahead of that, envisioning a thriving garden, vegetables, herbs and, best of all, flowers. All kinds of flowers for bouquets. Flowers she could sell to make a little money.

“I’d like to try,” she said. “It would give me something to do while I’m here. When I’m not looking for work,” she added, afraid they would think she was planning to take advantage of them.

“Don’t worry about that right away. There aren’t a lot of job possibilities around here,” Samantha said. “Just use this time to figure things out, if you can. Get yourself settled in. If you want to do some work in the garden because it sounds like fun, please do. We’d better get back. We’ll walk you to the house and get our things.”

As the others chatted, Cristy kept to herself. All day she’d wished for silence and space, but now that they were leaving, she was gripped with fear. What would it be like to live here without company? There were locks on the doors, and a telephone. There was even a television set, although reception was nonexistent, but there was a DVD player.