Baby, Baby

CHAPTER THREE

ATTENDING LACY’S FUNERAL was even harder than Faith had imagined. She was touched by the number of people from the hospital who came out of respect for her. Likewise, by the number of Lacy’s old friends from high school and college who’d shown up. Faith made a mental note to catch Abigail Moore after the service so that she could tell her about her namesake.

A few acquaintances had sent flowers and cards. Including Kipp Fielding III. His was an ostentatious arrangement of red and white roses. They dwarfed Michael’s small white basket of violets. The violets brought tears to Faith’s eyes; they were Lacy’s favorite flower and Michael must have gone to a great deal of trouble to find a florist to provide them at this time of year.

More surprising than his thoughtful gesture, however, was seeing the man himself walk into the chapel. He paused at a back row and greeted two couples who’d arrived earlier. People Faith had never met. Now it was obvious they’d known Lacy through Michael.

He didn’t tarry long with his friends. Head bent, he walked slowly down the center aisle and knelt in front of the closed casket. Faith had thought her tears were all cried out until she watched his jaw ripple with emotion several times before he leaned forward to kiss the oak-grained lid. There was a decided sheen to his eyes when he rose. Or maybe she was watching him through her own tears.

She couldn’t think of a thing to say when he sank onto the bench beside her. Even if she’d thought of something, she didn’t trust her voice not to break.

“I swung past the apartment to pick you up,” he murmured. “You’d already gone. You must not have listened to the messages on your answering machine. The last one I left said I’d booked a car service for us. I know you don’t own a vehicle.”

Faith clasped and unclasped her hands. The truth was, she had listened to the message. But Lacy’s lawyer ordered her to have as little contact as possible with either of the two men. The attorney, David Reed, had been quite adamant, in fact.

Fortunately, Faith was saved from answering Michael when the minister stepped up to the pulpit. She’d asked Reverend Wilson to keep the service short in deference to the people who had taken time off work. However, his opening prayer droned on and on.

Ending at last, the minister segued into a poem by Helen Steiner Rice. The words celebrated life, and Lacy had been particularly fond of them. Anyone who’d ever received a note from her would recognize the piece, as she’d had it reprinted on the front of her monogrammed note cards.

Next, a singer—a woman Faith had selected from a generic pool on file at the funeral home—had half the people in the chapel sniffing and wiping their eyes with her rendition of “The Rose.” Faith chose the song because Lacy had worn out two CD copies of it. Too bad if anyone thought the lyrics inappropriate for a funeral. Faith wanted the service to epitomize Lacy’s life.

Her own cheeks remained wet as the minister delivered a tribute she’d written yesterday. The words hadn’t come easily, but Faith wanted people to know that her sister wasn’t shallow and vain, as some might remember her from high school and college. For one thing, Lacy had artistic talents. Before her debilitating illness, she’d dreamed of becoming an interior designer. If the media chose to cover the funeral, Faith also wanted them to report how selfless Lacy had been, giving her life in exchange for healthy babies. But it was all she could do to listen to the eulogy. The tears coursed down her cheeks and plopped on the lapels of her new navy suit.

Before Reverend Wilson brought the service to a close, Michael turned to Faith and whispered, “May I say a few words?”

“Of c-course,” she stammered. When he stood, she was shocked to discover her right hand had been tightly entwined in his. Faith immediately pulled away, but she missed the warmth of his hand as Michael stepped to the pulpit and faced the small gathering.

“Lacy Ellen Hyatt Cameron passed through our lives at warp speed,” he began in an unsteady voice. “Her sojourn with us was much too brief.” He paused to clear his throat, and Faith saw his fingers tremble. She lowered her gaze to the floor and sucked her upper lip between her teeth, biting down hard to hold off a new bout of tears.

However, Michael didn’t dwell on Lacy’s death. He invited everyone to remember the woman who’d lived life full-tilt. “The Lacy we all knew brightened a room just by being in it. She hated sitting still. She loved to go and do. She loved to argue and debate.” His voice cracked a little, but a semblance of a smile curved his lips as he suggested she was probably even now testing St. Peter’s mettle. “It’s that Lacy who’ll live on in my heart and I hope in yours as well.”

People were dabbing at their eyes as he sat down again. Faith felt as if a weight had been lifted. She’d blotted away her tears while the minister offered a final prayer. “Thank you, Michael,” she managed to say once everyone began to mill about. “Lacy kept things to herself this last year. I…we…stopped communicating.” Faith licked a salty tear off her upper lip while twisting a tissue into bits. “If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in work, I keep thinking she might have confided in me more. I’m afraid I gave up too easily, trying to reach her at the beach house. When she didn’t return my calls, I…” Faith didn’t finish the statement.

“I’m more at fault than you are, Faith,” Michael said, his hazel eyes dark and troubled. “I let our lawyers act as go-betweens after she filed for divorce. I should have sat down with her when I returned from Norway. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that she ended up hating me.”

“I’m sure she didn’t feel that strongly, Michael.”

“Then how come Fielding believes I’m a first-class SOB?”

“On the phone, Lacy seemed happy enough at Christmas. She didn’t give the slightest indication you two would be splitting up in January.”

“When you called, she put on a convincing act. She was pretty upset with me for missing most of the major holiday parties we’d received invitations to. Every passing day, she seemed to feel more resentful of the time I devoted to my patients. I didn’t know how to bridge the chasm between us.”

“I’m sorry, Michael.” Faith stood and bent down to pick up her purse. She started to walk away, then turned back. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Lacy’s craving for attention goes back to her childhood. To when our entire household centered on our mother’s poor health. At the same time, it terrified Lacy to think her illness might somehow force her to become dependent on others—like our mom had been. Looking back, I believe Lacy assumed the transplant would make her one-hundred percent good-as-new.”

Michael tugged at his lower lip. “Which explains why she became so terribly hostile toward follow-up care. I wish you’d said something sooner, Faith. You’ve answered my biggest question. I never understood how Lacy could act so cavalier about the second chance she’d been given. I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. You’d think I’d have picked up on her feelings.”

Faith touched his arm. “You were too close to the problem. It dawned on me gradually, after you two had left Boston.”

“We were married for five years. How could I completely miss what bothered her so much?” he asked with a snag in his voice. “Kipp got the picture, didn’t he?”

“It’s a little late for recriminations. Kipp treated her so shabbily he’s hardly in a position to judge you.” Removing her hand from Michael’s arm, Faith backed away. “Uh, Michael, I have to go. The funeral director just signaled that it’s time for me to get in the family car to make the trip to the cemetery.”

“You’re doing that alone? I’d planned to ride with friends.” He waved toward the back of the chapel. “I’ll keep you company if you’d prefer.”

“No. Please don’t change your arrangements. Someone from the funeral home will accompany me. Right now, I need a minute to decide which flowers go to the cemetery and which I want sent to the hospital to brighten our waiting rooms.”

“All right,” he said, frowning. He let her go, yet didn’t join his friends until the director approached Faith and the two left the room.

THE ASSEMBLY AT THE GRAVESIDE was smaller than the gathering at the chapel. As there wasn’t to be a formal reception, friends took the time to speak with Faith before claiming seats beneath a shade tent. She was so caught up in talking to Abigail Moore, relating Lacy’s desire to name her daughter Abby, Faith didn’t realize Michael had arrived and had slipped into the seat beside her. Or not until he exhaled sharply.

Abigail sobbed. “I’m so surprised and…and humbled. Lacy phoned me once after she’d moved back to Boston. Just to talk, she said. I suggested meeting for lunch, but she put me off. I never knew she was pregnant, Faith. I feel as if I let her down. Call me when you take the babies home. I’d love to visit.”

Faith nodded and pressed Abby’s hand. She winced when Michael leaned over and hissed in her ear. “I was under the impression Dr. Finegold lost Lacy during the delivery. When did she name the twins?”

“Before she went up for her C-section. Lacy gave me custody, remember. And she wasn’t aware that she carried twins. It’s common for women to name their babies, Michael. Abby was what Lacy had called her child. I chose Nicholas,” Faith said, injecting a challenge in her voice.

Michael’s brows puckered. He probably would have said more if the minister hadn’t asked them to stand for a prayer. Relieved, Faith tore her gaze from Michael’s flinty eyes. Bending her head, she willed her bucking heart to slow. David Reed had specifically warned her not to provoke either Michael or Kipp Fielding III. He said to refer them to him for answers to any and all questions concerning the babies.

She shouldn’t have let Michael’s earlier vulnerability reach her. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. He and Kipp were her enemies. She’d do well to remember that.

Faith was first in the circle of mourners to lay a carnation atop Lacy’s casket. An attendant had provided each person with a flower. The director sidled up to Faith as she stepped out from under the awning, asking if she preferred to mingle a bit or return to town. “Town, please,” she said with a tremor. “I’ll come back tomorrow for some private time with my sister.”

The short walk to the waiting car proved to be the hardest part of the entire ordeal for Faith. Her knees wobbled like the front wheel of a novice bike rider. She would have stumbled and maybe even fallen if the director hadn’t had a firm grip on her elbow. The shaky feeling kept her from turning back for a last look. Not that she would have had a clear picture anyway. Once she was sitting in the car, her nose pressed to the side window, the lovely hillside with its spreading elms and soft carpet of green all ran together. There was such finality attached to the ritual of leaving the cemetery. Up to now it had been easy to pretend that Lacy was only a phone call away. Watching the blur of row after row of headstones stripped away the fantasy, underlined the truth. Her only sister was gone, and there were too many things left unsaid between them.

On the ride back to town, Faith went through half a box of tissues the director had thoughtfully provided.

It was barely noon when the black car pulled up outside her apartment. So little time, Faith thought frantically—it took so little time to cut you forever from the sphere of a loved one.

The long afternoon that lay ahead seemed interminable as she stepped out of the car into the sunlight. And once she’d changed clothes, she found she didn’t want to be confined with her thoughts. She could go mad worrying about what Michael and Kipp might be plotting with regard to Lacy’s babies. Yet, if she stayed here, Michael could call or show up unexpectedly and further debate her right to name the babies. He hadn’t seemed happy with the names she’d chosen.

She considered going to the hospital nursery. There she could hold part of Lacy close, thus assuring herself and the babies that she’d protect them from the men who’d taken such a recent interest in fatherhood. Though in a worst-case scenario, Faith knew one of the two men was the children’s biological parent. She might be more willing to face up to that fact if the loss of the twins’ mother wasn’t so terribly real just now.

On the spur of the moment, Faith grabbed her purse and left the building, deciding to wander aimlessly downtown; she’d visit the twins later. She had no particular destination in mind—until she found herself in front of a major department store. Then she remembered the list of items needed to set up a nursery for the babies. Why not shop now? After all, David Reed, Lacy’s lawyer, had told her to outfit a room. He said a judge would certainly take her readiness to provide the babies with a home as a positive sign if it came to a court battle. In her heart, Faith feared it would come to that. What she didn’t want to think about was which of the three combatants would win such a fight. Kipp Fielding III, Michael Cameron…or her.

“Be optimistic,” she muttered under her breath as she hurried into the store.

Upstairs, the baby department, with its array of pastels and primary colors, infused warmth back into Faith’s cold limbs. Buying for Lacy’s babies was going to be fun. Faith so rarely shopped for fun. In her mother’s stead, she had learned at an early age to weigh price against serviceable value. To be frugal. It was a practice she adhered to when buying for herself. She was determined to give Lacy’s babies all the things she’d never been able to give Lacy. That included lavishing them with her undivided attention. She’d been so young, so totally inadequate as a surrogate parent to her sister. Things were different now. Her life was different.

As she wandered through the baby furniture, Faith chose cribs and dressers with clean, classic lines. Beautiful wood that would endure. Crib bedding was another matter. Faith tried to imagine what Lacy would have wanted for her children. Lacy’s taste in clothing and furnishings, had tended toward flashy colors while Faith gravitated toward softer shades. She thought about her apartment done in ivory, gray and mauve, and deliberately purchased two wild circus quilts richly patterned in blocks of green, yellow, orange and blue.

The saleslady steered her toward matching crib sheets, bumper pads and a diaper stacker. Next, she added large clown decals for the wall. She’d already decided to paint the nursery walls four different primary colors. She might even pick up paint on the way home and begin the project this evening.

Toys. Faith spotted them across the aisle. She headed straight for a large plush monkey with a funny face. How foolish, she thought, squeezing its soft body. The stuffed animal was bigger than either of the twins. It’d be far more practical to buy a nice mobile or a couple of small rattles. But she couldn’t make herself let go of the monkey. It remained hooked on her arm as she reached for an equally impractical giraffe. Faith had to stand on tiptoe to grab the giraffe from the top shelf. In so doing, she dislodged a pile of bears.

“Goodness!” Bears of all sizes tumbled onto the other side of the display.

“Hey!” Faith heard a faint, gruff protest. She dashed around the corner and almost bowled over a man covering his head with both arms to ward off raining bears.