The Four Seasons (29 page)

Jilly's eyes lit up. “I hope so.”

Birdie moved the untouched tray off of her lap. “I'm not very hungry,” she said, smoothing out the blanket. “I hope you don't mind. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“No matter,” she said, standing up and picking up the tray. “I'll take the tray back to the restaurant.”

“Wait,” Birdie said, holding out her hand. “Don't go just yet. It's nice to chat.”

Jilly smiled and put the tray down on the bureau, then, stretching out on the mattress, she said, “It is, isn't it? Like old times.”

“We used to talk a lot.”

“Incessantly. You knew my every secret.”

“Well, almost every secret. You left out one particularly big one.”

Jilly shrugged and plucked at the lint on the paisley comforter. “Quite.”

“I'll let you in on a little secret of mine,” Birdie said. She looked up almost coyly. “Did you know I was insanely jealous of you dating Dennis?”

Jilly's head jerked up, shock in her eyes. “Oh?” she said hesitantly.

“I was. I had a crush on him even back then. I used to brush my hair and put on lipstick whenever he came by on his motorcycle to pick you up. Remember how you used to make me run out and meet him at the corner because Dad wouldn't let you go on a motorcycle? God, Jilly, didn't you ever wonder why I was so eager? I thought he was such a dream in his leather jacket, with his long blond hair. We used to talk at the curb while we waited for you to come out. Once he even took me for a ride. Oh my, I was in heaven. My arms around him and his leather jacket. I still get goose bumps every time I smell motor oil and leather.”

“You never told me,” she said breathlessly, staring at the swirling paisley pattern.

“I was embarrassed because I would've stolen him from you in a heartbeat without a moment's remorse. I was awful. The way I batted my eyes.” She laughed. “He probably thought I had something in my eye. He was a junior and I was just going into freshman year. That was a world of difference back then. Besides,” she said, feeling a twinge of the age-old jealousy she used to feel for Jilly. “He only had eyes for you.”

“That was such a long time ago.” Jilly's voice was soft. Birdie did not notice that her hands were trembling. “We were just kids.”

“Oh, I know. Don't think I've got hang-ups about that,” she said blithely, but inside her heart she knew she was lying. “When I saw him years later at Northwestern, it hit me all over again, only harder. I couldn't believe it when he pursued me that time.
Me
. Beatrice Season.” Birdie looked long and hard at Jilly. Even though the bloom of youth had faded, she was still a natural beauty and would be at eighty. Birdie knew she never had and never would have that kind of beauty. “I guess I've loved Dennis Connor since the first moment I laid eyes on him.”

“You know there was nothing between us. Not really,” Jilly said emphatically.

Birdie looked up and saw that Jilly's face was pale and drawn. Instinct reared as she read doubt and something else—fear?—in her bright green eyes. She felt a dredging up of powerful feelings that she'd thought she'd outgrown long ago.

“No, I don't know that,” Birdie replied slowly, voicing a long-held fear at last. She tore her gaze from Jilly's and looked at her hands, at the gold-and-diamond wedding ring on her finger. “I've always wondered, far in the back of my mind, just how involved you two were. I remember how he used to idolize you. But then, so did all the boys. I guess I always was a little jealous that he dated you first. I thought I was past it, but over the years I started putting the dates together and I couldn't help but wonder—” she paused to gather her courage “—if the baby was Dennis's.”

She twisted the wedding band back and forth on her finger in the strained silence that fell between them. “Is he?” She looked up, her pale eyes searching. “Is Dennis the father?”

Jilly's face was as white as the sheets. She sat paralyzed. Her
pale, full lips had opened to a gasp and her green eyes stared back at Birdie with a hunted expression. The seconds ticked by, each one adding to the suspense, each making her more fearful of the reply.

“No!” Jilly replied on a breath. She shook her head, then rose quickly and raked her hands through her hair, holding it in a ponytail at her nape. “God, Birdie, no.”

Birdie wanted to believe her, so badly. Her fear seemed to suck the breath right out of her lungs. She searched Jilly's face, then slumped back on the pillows with relief.

“I don't know why but I always had this feeling,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Crazy, I know. I just had to ask.”

“I wish you hadn't.”

“Hey, you're the one who keeps saying no more secrets.”

Jilly turned her head away sharply. “Yeah, well, maybe it's not such a good idea to keep digging around. The spade can hit some tender spots.”

“You're right. I'm sorry.”

“Forget it.” She began to busy herself, turning toward the untouched tray. The bacon sat in congealed fat beside the cold toast. “I've got to go. Are you sure you won't try to eat something? Maybe a little fruit?”

“Hey, it's not often I'm not hungry,” Birdie said, striving to get the happier mood back. She watched Jilly toss her hair, a sure sign of agitation, then pick up the tray. Her face was smiling, but her mascara betrayed her with smudges under her eyes.

“I'll take a piece of that bacon for a friend of mine. I'm going off to find the little beggar.” She seemed eager to leave.

“Okay. Thanks. I am really tired. I think I'll just go back to sleep for a little while.”

“Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite.”

Birdie slunk down and settled on her side, tucking her hands
together under her cheek. She could feel her mouth move into a smile. “If you do, hit 'em with a shoe.”

“Love you, Birdie.” Her voice was a soft whisper at the door.

She yawned noisily and burrowed under the covers. “Love you, too.”

Birdie heard the door swish closed then the click of the lock. Quiet settled heavily in the empty room. She thought again of her long, strange conversation with Jilly. They'd covered a lot of ground. She brought the green thermal blanket up around her ears and yawned once more. As painful as it was, she was glad she'd asked her about Dennis.

She closed her eyes and chuckled to herself, thinking of all that water under the ocean floor. She supposed she and Jilly just shot out a little bit of steam.

H
ER FEET POUNDED THE EARTH
with thundering anger as Jilly put more and more space between herself and her sisters. Her speed accelerated, fueled by the whirlwind of accusations in her mind. She'd broken the one sacred promise she had made to herself: she wouldn't lie for anyone's sake ever again.

But Birdie had been sick and weak, already devastated by one loss, her heart argued back. How could she hurt her sister with a truth that could be equally devastating? She'd come to Birdie's room with breakfast and flowers and good cheer, trying to follow Rose's good example. She hadn't expected
that
question, damn her luck.

Because she loved Birdie, she had lied, and given her the best gift she could—a piece of her soul. A noble-enough motive for dishonesty.

Then why did it feel so wrong?

The rainy, gray cold only deepened her depression. She felt her old restlessness rise up within her and jogged for miles, pushing herself beyond the comfort level. At a high rocky
ridge, Jilly stopped, panting while sweat pooled, and looked out over the valley. Its vastness seemed to go on forever. Like a lie, she thought to herself, then slumped her shoulders and wept.

On her return path, tired and resigned, she passed Rajiv at the bridge. He was back at his project of clearing the river for the spring thaw.

“Jillian, wait!” he called.

She ignored him, picking up her pace.

This time he ran after her, catching her arm and pulling her to a stop. Her breath was heaving and her eyes shot daggers at him as she yanked free.

“Jillian, let me explain.”

She pushed a lock of red hair from her face. “Explain? There's nothing to explain. I understood everything.” She started to walk again but he kept pace by her side.

“You think I rejected you.”

“You don't know what I think.” She kept her eyes on the road lest her flush reveal the truth.

“I didn't mean to offend you. I was trying to do just the opposite. Jillian, stop, please. Listen to me for a moment.” He stopped in the path, slamming his hands on his hips.

She walked a few steps farther, then stopped, hands on her hips and head bent, catching her breath. She swung her head to look over her shoulder. Rajiv stood straight in his oilskin jacket, jeans and high boots. Mud streaked dashingly down his left cheek like a scar. Their eyes met and the seriousness she found there drew her back to him.

“Is Birdie all right?”

“Much better. Thanks.”

“I'm glad.”

Jilly tucked her hands under her arms and looked off.

Rajiv stooped to pick up a fallen branch and toss it off the
path. “It's been a long time since I've kissed anyone,” he said, surprising her with his sudden honesty.

“Actually, me too,” she replied, glancing sideways at him.

“I was thinking of you when I pulled away. But I was also thinking of myself. I'm not sure I want to get involved with anyone. I like my privacy. I like living alone. I don't want attachments.”

“Rajiv, I wanted to make love with you, not marry you.”

He seemed flustered and looked off, squinting his eyes as though trying to make sense of what he'd heard.

“Look, this doesn't need to be so hard,” she said. “I accept your apology, okay? Let's leave it at that.”

“That's the problem. I don't want to leave it. I've made a mess of things between us, I know. I don't want to get involved but the truth is, I already am. I think about you all the time. You invade my thoughts. It's most annoying, really.”

She looked up to see the humor in his eyes and couldn't resist smiling back.

They were standing very near each other, deliberately not touching but feeling the attraction crackle between them.

“I'd like to start over again, if it's all right with you,” he said. “I'd like to spend some time with you. To be your friend. And then, perhaps…”

“Perhaps,” she replied, her eyes crinkling. She saw the tension flow from his face and his eyes spark. Then she lifted one shoulder and said, “And perhaps not,” before trotting off.

 

She ran back to her room just long enough to change into jeans and an old sweater, then ran back to the river with Pirate Pete at her side. Rajiv's head darted up when he spotted her. Beaming, he waved her close.

“I've come to be your friend and help,” she announced.

His eyes kindled at her words, then his gaze dropped to the little dog standing loyally by her side. “Friend, are you?” he teased. “It looks as though my friend has stolen my dog. Seems rather cheeky.”

“Ah, now, he's your dog, is he? What happened to no attachments?”

He bent to pat Pirate Pete. “A man can change.”

She felt her heart flutter and tucked her hands deep into her jeans pockets. “I cheated,” she said, feeling rather like a flirting schoolgirl. “I gave him a slice of bacon today and won him completely over.”

Rajiv straightened to look at her. His gaze flickered across her face and softened as he reached out to pull a fallen lock behind her ear. Jilly knew at that moment that she was completely won over, too.

They began working together, tossing fallen branches, old soda cans and trash from the river and gathering it in bundles to cart away. The sun came out late morning to shine warmly on their cheeks as they raked out leaves that were thick and heavy, freeing the river water to race over the bed of rocks and pebbles. As she worked she wondered at the unpredictability of fate. She wasn't looking for someone right now, didn't really want anyone complicating her life. And neither, apparently, did he. But they'd met and she couldn't deny that he was different from any man she'd ever known. She saw him only briefly every day, but she felt a kinship with him unlike any other. As they mucked out the river side by side, she felt as comfortable as though they were a couple of old married folks.

 

Who would have thought serious, silent Rajiv Patel could be such a court jester?

Over the next few days, Rajiv came several times a day to
Birdie's room carrying a pot of steaming, fragrant cardamom tea and special Indian treats—wonderful squares that they couldn't name that tasted of pistachios and cashews and perfume. When she wasn't at the library with Rose, or making calls, Jilly enjoyed the visits as much as Birdie.

He always stood near the door, his tall and lean frame relaxed, his long arms crossed, and paid court as though Birdie were a queen on a throne. His eyes sparkled devilishly as he told marvelous stories about his homeland. But with his dark good looks, Jilly thought he could just as well have stood mute. He was pure pleasure to look at. She couldn't look at his lips without remembering his kiss. Couldn't see his hands move as he told his stories without remembering the feel of them on her face. Seeing him so close, and yet so distant, was an exquisite kind of torture. She felt it viscerally. She had never wanted a man as much as she wanted Rajiv.

 

It was late when Jilly came back from the Laundromat and saw a FedEx truck parked in front of the motel's office. With her heart thumping wildly in her chest she hurried to park the Land Rover, then leaped out and rushed to the office. Rajiv was just directing the deliveryman to her room when she entered. Rajiv's eyes were flashing with excitement and anticipation crackled in the air.

“I'll take that,” she said, stepping in. She signed quickly and the driver left, chirping out a “Thank you!” She stared at the envelope, weighing its heaviness. It was from Mr. Collins—at last—and it was thick with information.

“I hope it's good news,” Rajiv said.

She kissed his lips for an answer, then bolted to find her sisters.

“It's here!” she shouted as she entered Birdie's motel room. Bags of snacks littered the bed, the paisley curtains were drawn
and the three women were lounging, watching still another movie. Jilly felt the news from Mr. Collins had come just in time to save them all from apathy.

She flicked off the television as she passed and plopped down on the bed with an energetic bounce. “We're back on the road, my friends,” she said, rubbing her palms together.

“It's about time. I thought we were going to stay in this place forever,” Hannah said with a groan of relief.

“I'm getting quite fond of this crazy place,” Birdie surprised everyone by saying.

“Or maybe it's just the company.”

Rose reached out to her.

“Mr. Collins is as good as his word,” Jilly said, focusing only on the envelope in her hand. “He must have sent this on the day it arrived.” She exhaled a long breath, then met Birdie's gaze. “Okay, here goes.” She pulled the string, opened it and retrieved a file full of papers. She hadn't expected more than the birth certificate and leafed through the thick pile of papers in a daze.

“What is all that?” Rose asked, moving in.

Jilly flipped through the papers, then, taking a deep breath, decided to just start from the top and work her way down. “This looks like the original birth certificate,” she said, lifting it closer. “Let's see,” she said as she scanned. “Yep. Look here, it refers to my daughter as Baby Girl Season. Mother, Jillian Season, and—” She stopped herself. She read where the birth father was listed as unknown. “The hospital is St. Francis.” She winked at Birdie. “Score one for our side. The date of birth, May 17, 1973.” Scanned the form. “This one doesn't say much else,” she said, moving on. “Here's another birth certificate.” Her eyes feasted on the information. “They call it the Amended Birth Certificate,” she said, mimicking an official tone. As she read further, however, her face grew still. She looked up at
Birdie, Rose and Hannah with an ear-to-ear grin stretching across her glowing face.

“Her name is Anne Marie.”

They squealed in delight, like little girls at a party, rushing forward for a group hug and kisses. It felt to all of them as though Anne Marie had just been born and they were celebrating her birth for the very first time. Anne Marie's name had been on the list! Bit by bit, their search was making progress and they all felt the momentum in their veins.

“Read the rest,” Rose said, clapping her hands. “We want to know everything about her!”

“Yes, hurry up,” added Birdie, color blooming in her cheeks. “We've waited long enough.”

Jilly looked up at their eager faces and captured them in her heart as a photographer might, imprinting this moment forever. Then, wiping her eyes, she focused on the papers.

“Okay. Well,” she said with a mighty exhale. What she read next deflated her enthusiasm a bit. “My name isn't on this birth certificate at all.” She shouldn't have been surprised, but it still hurt. “It's weird seeing all the same information as the original birth certificate, but under
mother
the name is Susan Parker.”

“Go on,” Birdie urged. “This is important. Now you've got the adoptive mother's name.”

“Under
father
is Robert Parker. My God, it gives their address in Sturgeon Bay. That's so close. He's a shipbuilder.”

“That's cool,” Hannah said.

Jilly thought so, too. “And the mom…It lists her as a homemaker.” She paused and felt a bittersweet twinge. “I guess Anne Marie got a full-time mom after all.”

“That's great. What else? This is so exciting.” Rose moved closer till she was pressing against Jilly's shoulder.

“Father was thirty at the time of adoption. Mother was
twenty-nine.” She leafed through the other papers; there were so many just about the adoptive parents alone. The Petition to Adopt, the parents' home study, reports from the agency about them and their medical history. “Just picking up a few tidbits I see that Robert is a college graduate. His hobbies include woodwork and sailing.”

“Well, yeah,” Hannah interjected with a roll of the eyes. “He's a shipbuilder.”

“What about the mother?”

“She graduated from high school. Some college. Loves to sew and garden. Very active in her church.”

“She sounds wonderful,” Birdie said.

Jilly frowned, feeling unexpected jealousy. “Yeah, she does, doesn't she? Everything I need to know about them is right here.” She could feel the excitement bubbling in her veins as she looked up from the papers at her sisters. “All the information we need to find Spring.”

“Anne Marie,” Birdie corrected her.

“Yes,” she said wistfully. “My baby has a name, a lovely name.”

“Can we see some of those papers you're hoarding?” Birdie asked, putting out her palm.

Jilly handed her the papers, save the last one she hadn't yet read. Folding her long legs beneath her, she read this last sheet. It was a copy of the Adoption Decree, the final order of adoption. As she read through this form, the giddy joy turned icy cold in her veins. The legal language of the decree was brutal. Words that stabbed quick yet deep like daggers, shredding her fragile self-esteem. She sat motionless with the paper limp in her fingers, stunned and so ashamed.