A Family To Cherish. Carole Gift Page
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there was no sign of the animal. Just when Barbara was ready to admit defeat, Janee came bouncing to the table with Tabby in her arms.
“I found the kitty,” she trilled, all smiles.
But Tabby wasn’t happy to be found. The hefty feline wriggled out of Janee’s arms and sprang onto the tablecloth, knocking over a crystal goblet before jumping into the arms of a startled, swooning Harriet Van Peebles.
The evening ended shortly after that—a near calamity, but not a total disaster. At the door, as Doug helped Harriet on with her fur coat, Clive told Barbara confidentially, “Don’t worry. The hospital will get the money to finish the children’s wing. Harriet already made up our minds before we came. She has a warm spot for kids. And as ill-fated as this evening was, one of these days Harriet and I will have a good laugh over it. And a good laugh is worth a lot when you get to be our age.”
Barbara gave Clive a quick hug. “Thank you. This means the world to Doug and me…personally.”
Clive met her gaze with tender, glistening eyes. “To tell you the truth, Barbara, that’s why we’re doing it. And if I have anything to say about it, you know the name they’ll give the new children’s wing. It’ll be named after your little Caitlin.”
Tears blinded Barbara. The only words that would come were a whispered “Thank you.”
After the Van Peebles had gone, Barbara dried her eyes, put a smile in place, and went to find Nancy who was in the kitchen rinsing the dirty dishes. “You don’t have to do that, Nan,” Barbara admonished. “Go to bed. You’ve had a long day.”
“No, it’s the least I can do, Barb. We never meant to spoil your party.”
“It’s okay. It was a bit rocky there for a while, but no serious harm done. In fact, I think the Van Peebles might actually have enjoyed themselves. At least the night was unforgettable.”
“Still, I’m sorry for the way Janee behaved.” Nancy looked at Barbara, her eyes shaded with contrition. “She’s not a naughty child, Barb. You know that. Just curious and spunky. You must remember how impulsive and rambunctious a five-year-old can be.”
The words impaled Barbara. She reeled, wounded, unsteady; she couldn’t reply.
Paul entered the kitchen just then with a stack of plates. “Nan, be quiet,” he scolded. “You know they don’t talk about that.”
Nancy covered her mouth, stricken. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Barb. Forgive me. I didn’t mean anything. I just thought you’d remember how it was—you know.”
Somehow Barbara found her voice. “Yes. I remember.”
“Which room do you want us in, Barb?” asked Paul, setting the plates on the counter.
“The large guest room upstairs at the end of the hall. It has a bathroom connected to a small bedroom for Janee. The beds are made, and clean towels are on the racks.”
Paul brushed a kiss on Barbara’s forehead. “Thanks. You and Doug are the best. What time do you want us up for church?”
Barbara opened the dishwasher and began loading cups and saucers. “We haven’t been going lately,” she said in a small, detached voice.
“You aren’t going to church?” echoed Paul in disbelief.
Barbara turned to face her brother-in-law, but couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his gaze. “You know how it is, Paul. We’re so busy these days. Doug and I hardly have time for each other.”
“But church? You used to go every time they opened the doors. You got Nancy and me going.”
“And we’ll get back one of these days, too,” she assured him. She turned back to her dishes, but she could still feel Paul’s and Nancy’s questioning eyes on her.
Barbara felt a flood of relief when Janee came bounding into the kitchen and diverted their attention. “Look, Mommy, look!” the child cried, bursting with excitement. “See the pretty bear!”
Barbara whirled around and stared at the familiar brown bear with the scarlet Victorian dress and floppy wide-brimmed hat. How had the child got hold of the irreplaceable Mrs. Miniver? Barbara snatched the bear from Janee’s arms. “Give me that!”
Startled, Janee grabbed for the bear, but Barbara clutched the stuffed animal possessively to her breast. Janee stared up at Barbara, her large green eyes defiant. “I want it,” she said, jutting out her lower lip.
Barbara stooped down and looked Janee directly in the eye, her temper rising. She tried to keep the anger out of her voice as she demanded, “Tell me, Janee. How did you get this bear?”
Janee’s tiny chin puckered. “I got it in the pretty room with dolls and teddy bears.” She turned to her mother and pleaded, “Can I sleep in the pretty room, Mommy? Can I please? Please?”
“No!” Barbara replied more shrilly than she had intended. She was trembling, her hands cold as death. “You can’t sleep in that room, Janee. It’s not your room. Don’t you ever go in there again!”
Janee stood her ground, a feisty little moppet, precocious, imperturbable. “Why can’t I? Does another little girl sleep in the pretty room?”
Barbara didn’t answer.
All she could think of was Caitlin.
Chapter Two
Caitlin’s room.
At midnight, as if drawn by a force beyond herself, Barbara opened the door, flicked the light switch and stepped inside, cradling the Victorian teddy bear in her arms. The room looked exactly as it had four years ago. Other than this stuffed bear, not one item had been moved, except during dusting and cleaning. Ruffled Priscilla curtains with tiny sweetheart roses framed the windows. The canopy bed was neatly made with its downy white comforter trimmed with eyelet. A family of teddy bears was nestled together in the royal blue Queen Anne chair by the bed, awaiting the return of Mrs. Miniver, Caitlin’s favorite. Barbara replaced it now, tenderly adjusting the red taffeta skirt and floppy hat.
Barbara scanned the room again with a sense of relief. Yes, everything was back in place, the way it was meant to be. The white French provincial dressing table and bureau boasted a whimsical hodgepodge of dolls and books and games. The walls were bright with a mélange of crayon drawings, the paper yellowed now. And on the bed lay Caitlin’s pink ruffled nightgown exactly as she had left it so long ago.
“Caitlin, my precious baby,” Barbara said with a muffled sob. “Dear God, why do I do this to myself? Why can’t I forget?” She stepped back out of the room and shut the door, her hand trembling slightly as she turned the key in the lock. At least now no one could trespass and violate her daughter’s memory.
The next morning, shortly after Doug left for the hospital, Barbara reluctantly joined Nancy, Paul, and Janee for their grand tour of Southern California, starting with Universal Studios.
“It’s too bad Doug couldn’t join us,” Nancy told Barbara as they stood in the long ticket line under a scorching August sun. Paul and Janee had moved to another line to see who got to the window first, and now Nancy seemed all too eager for chitchat. “You know, Barb, I told my brother he’s become a stuffy workaholic. I said, ‘Doug, life is too short to spend every waking moment in some dreary office.’ And don’t tell me he’s not, Barb. I can read between the lines. I say to him, ‘Doug, you and Barbara should be out having some fun and enjoying each other.’ Tell me the truth, Barbara. He doesn’t have fun anymore, does he?”
“Work is his fun these days,” Barbara admitted. She looked away, her gaze moving absently over the restless crowds waiting at the ticket windows. She didn’t want to get into this conversation with Nancy. How could she explain to Doug’s sister what she couldn’t articulate? What could she say? When Caitlin was alive, we were a happy family brimming over with love and smiles and good times. Without Caitlin, our lives, our home,