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Jean hunched over her sewing machine until the jumpsuit for Becky was complete. She ironed it. She packed her clothes, some snacks, her electronics, and any toiletries she wouldn’t need in the morning. She only got out a bag for Reuben, leaving him his own packing to do.
She texted with her mother to make sure she knew their flight numbers and that they’d be in Long Island in three days. Becky wasn’t due for another two months, and that put her due date dangerously close to Laurel’s.
Three weeks ago, Jean hadn’t had anything for a baby, but since she and Reuben had gotten the news that Becky had selected their profile, she’d been making blankets, bibs, and burp cloths. She’d sewn onesies in various shades of pink, purple, and white, and she’d stitched on rattles, ladybugs, and baby mammals.
Once she returned from the mainland, Jean had plans to start on an army of dresses and leggings, as she could whip out a set of those in a morning or an afternoon, even with her lessons and her Seafaring Girls.
She wouldn’t be able to do nearly as much once they brought their baby home, and on her way past her sewing studio, Jean paused and looked inside. The room would hold a crib and a rocking chair and not much else, and all of her sewing supplies would have to be moved up a level.
Tears came to her eyes, because she would move heaven and earth to have a baby and be a mother, and she pressed one hand over her heart and whispered, “Please let this work out.”
She’d been on the floor in the bathroom, sobbing and heartbroken before. She couldn’t go through that again, and with any luck and a lot of miracles, she wouldn’t have to.
Today was not a good day to be idle, so she cleaned up the kitchen and started on lunch. Reuben came downstairs every day, and Jean couldn’t wait to watch his face light up at the sight of their daughter.
She fed him honey chipotle fried chicken tacos, and he went back upstairs. Parker was still off-island, and AJ hadn’t asked Jean to babysit in a while. She’d been calling Jamie instead, and Jean couldn’t say she was upset about it. She missed talking to AJ and cuddling with Asher, but she had plenty of projects around the lighthouse to keep her busy.
To stay busy, she went outside and worked on the flowerbeds and rose bushes that encircled the wide base of the lighthouse. Sweat beaded and ran down her face, but Jean didn’t mind the heat and humidity.
Before she knew it, her girls came, and Jean had to run inside to get their treats for that day. “Wait here,” she told them, and she darted downstairs to get the grapefruit pistachio cheesecakes she’d made before Reuben had even gone upstairs that morning.
She’d stacked them on a tray and stowed them in the fridge, so they were easy to grab and go. Outside again, she grinned at the girls. “I want you to taste them without knowing what it is.” The cheesecakes definitely had a slight pinkish-orange hue, but Jean wasn’t sure she’d know what it was just by looking if she didn’t already know.
“That’s my dad’s favorite nut,” Cheryl said. “It’s pistachio.”
“I love those too,” Bri said, her eyes never leaving the tray. “We each get one, Miss Jean?”
“Yes, you do.” She held the tray as steady as she could as the girls each took a little jar and a spoon to go with it. “We’re going down to Sea Lion Beach today,” she added. “After we snack and chat.”
Once everyone had a cheesecake, Jean still had one on the tray. She looked around and started reciting names. She’d combined her three groups into two for the summer, as a few girls had dropped out, and she didn’t want to do lessons on the weekend in the busy summer months.
“Where’s Tara?” she asked. Neither the girl nor her mother had texted Jean to say she wouldn’t be there that day. Jean looked across the parking lot, but all she found were bikes and scooters the girls had ridden to get to the lighthouse.
“Haven’t seen her,” Karly said.
“I think she went to her dad’s,” Halle said.
“No.” Jean shook her head. “That was last week.” She watched the rise in the road, expecting to see Tara come pedaling up. She didn’t, and Jean bent to set the tray on the ground. “I’m going to call her mother.”
She did just that, pacing away from the girls as they chatted about beaches, boys, and how utterly beautiful their latest celebrity crushes were.
“Jean,” Mrs. Tailor said. “How are you?”
Worry needled Jean. “I’m great, Mrs. Tailor. Have you sent Tara? She hasn’t arrived.”
“She hasn’t?”
Jean shook her head, remembered she was on the phone and said, “No, she’s not here.”
“I’ll see where she is and call you back.” She hung up, and Jean hoped she hadn’t caused a big problem. At the same time, if her fifteen-year-old daughter hadn’t shown up where she was expected to be, Jean would want to know.
Tara never did come to Seafaring Girls, and Jean took the girls to the beach. She ate dinner with Reuben. She lay in bed and tried to fall asleep. She eventually did, as she woke to an alarm.
She and Reuben made it through security at the airport, and they flew to Boston. Jean felt like she was robotic, her lungs only breathing because that’s what lungs did. She didn’t remember or recognize any of the breaths. She had no memory of what she’d done on the plane or what she’d been thinking about two seconds ago.
Before she knew it, she and Reuben entered an unremarkable building made of dark brown stone. A small sign proclaiming that they’d arrived at Chosen Family greeted them, and Jean ran her finger across the top of the sign.
Reuben kept his hand tightly in hers, and Jean saw the stress in his jaw. He was as nervous as she was. Then, a familiar face smiled at them, and Jean felt like the block of ice her chest had been encased in had finally broken.
