Chapter 28

These were very domestic years. Our baby boy arrived in the early spring. Toby was the name that we finally settled on. He was a plump, mellow, wonderful baby. So obviously Evan's with his copper tinged hair. We all enjoyed him so much and Sulamith was so happy to have a sibling. She asked every day, “Mummy, when will he be old enough to play with me?” and it seemed like no time until he was crawling and then walking after her. In the moments between chasing kids and doing laundry I learned how to knit and make soap. I made ointments and balms and maintained a little table at the farmer's market that was held every weekend by the lake. I encouraged Evan to edit the love letters that he had written me and submit them to a publisher. In this day and age no one gets famous off of poetry, but for a literature teacher it was a very big deal, and it meant a lot to both of us. He was eventually promoted to the head of his department at the college and then a year later he secured a very good position at one of the universities. For our first anniversary Evan bought me a writing desk and reams of good quality writing paper and a box of good pens.

They were sweet years filled with love and purpose. Neither Evan nor I could take that time for granted. The only major trauma of those years took place the day Sulamith discovered that Evan wasn't her biological father, but even that was a cloud with a silver lining.

Now, I've never really had friends in the world where I live now. There was Evan, but that's more than friendship now. I think of Sheila as a mother, and Audrey was almost like a grandmother so really, when it boils right down to it I have more family than friends. I haven't had many close relationships with the people of this world, except for Tammy.

Left to my own devices I'm not sure that I would have ever become friends with Tammy, we're very different, but when I came back to this world and moved in with Sheila, Tammy and her husband Brent had just bought the house across the street, and moved in with their six month old baby girl. Tammy saw this as a sign that she and I were meant to be friends, and god was she persistent—I think that Sheila encouraged her. I was still an emotional train wreck back then, but she would show up on Sheila's doorstep and say brightly, “Coffee's on.” Standing there looking at me with her big brown eyes and Sophie on her hip. I was usually so dazed that I would just follow her back to her place and politely sip coffee while she prattled away to me about the renovations they were planning for the house. I understood how she felt though. There is something quite wonderful about spending your days with a tiny baby. They are magical creatures, but it can be very wearing too and I think that for her it was nice to have someone who understood that close by to say, “That's a nice shade of green,” or, “Skylights would be great there.”

I think that Sheila must have told Tammy just enough about me that Tammy didn't seem to expect too much, but the real saving grace in the relationship is that Tammy and I are very similar mothers. We were then and we still are. For different reasons of course. Tammy, raised by an alcoholic father and a depressed chain smoking mother, wanted for Sophie everything that she herself had been denied. Security, warm arms around her, a healthy home, to wake up in the night safe and snug not cold and lonely. She had studied to become a chartered accountant—she's very good—then married the most emotionally stable, good natured, guy she could find. I on the other hand wanted for Sulamith what my parents had given me. I had slept in my parent's bed until I was four and even after that if I woke, cold or scared in the night, I would pad into their room, snuggle down between them, and let their warmth lull me back to sleep. Of course I wanted that feeling of love and safety for Sulamith and Toby.

So Tammy and I would sit around at her place breastfeeding and talking about the best way to wash cloth diapers. It was good for me. It got me out of my own head and Tammy, nine years older than me, never saw my age as a drawback, unlike some of the mothers at the playground who always seemed to give me wide berth. As the girls got older the relationship evolved. Tammy started working again and she could, for the most part, work from home with Sophie there, but she needed a day a week free to see clients so I arranged my schedule so that one day a week Sophie could come spend the day with Sulamith and I, and Sulamith in return would spend a day with Tammy and Sophie. I was fine with this. Sophie was sweet and easy to have around, and Sulamith spent her day in Tammy's warm, comfortable, safe, house eating organic applesauce and homemade cookies. It gave Tammy a day to see to business and it gave me a blessed peaceful day alone. Sulamith was right across the street and Tammy knew how paranoid I could be. She would leave her living room curtains open so that I could see them if I looked across, and I had a baby monitor with a good range that I could turn on any time I felt worried. In some ways my friendship with Tammy was very close, but it really did centre around our daughters. It was interesting to see how exposure to a different family was affecting Sulamith. The influences were all good. They gave her a different perspective. She would come home to me saying things like, “Dere was a sale on bananas at Super Store so Tammy made lots of banana bread,” and I would send Sophie home telling Tammy things like, “Shhh, if you listen, you can hear the roses growing.”

Tammy always says that if Sophie grows up to have an imagination, that she'll give me all the credit. Sophie and Sulamith were then, and still are best friends. They rarely fight, but one day early spring, a four and-a-bit years after we'd first met, Tammy brought Sulamith home to me in tears. Destitute, inconsolable, tears.

Of course we were on our feet in an instant as Sulamith stood there sobbing, tears running down her cheeks. It wasn't as if she didn't cry sometimes. She was a child. Children cry. They skin their knees, they make confusing upsetting mistakes, they have all kinds of reasons to cry and Sulamith was no different. Usually a hug and a kiss and a little talk was all that she needed to set things right, but this time I could tell that it was worse. I'd never seen her so upset and my heart lurched. Tammy and Sophie were in the doorway behind her and Tammy looked nearly as upset as Sulamith as she said to us, her voice laden with remorse, “I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. Sophie told Sulamith that Evan's not her dad. It really is my fault. Brent and I were just talking, we thought Sophie was sleeping. I didn't know she'd overheard.”

My instinct was to rush to Sulamith and put my arms around her, hold her to me, and try to make everything okay, but Evan got there first. He scooped her up so that her head was resting on his shoulder, turned to me and said in a calm voice and with an expression of absolute conviction and reassurance on his face, “It's okay. I've got this,” and he turned and headed up the stairs with Sulamith in his arms still crying like her little heart was broken.

I turned to Tammy who again began to stammer apologies. I motioned her to come in and said to Sophie, who had big confused tears dripping down her face as well, “It's okay Soph, you didn't do anything wrong. Why don't you go play with Sulamith's toys for a few minutes while I talk to your mum?” She nodded and headed over to the toy box in the corner. I looked at Tammy and sat down on the chesterfield beside her, deftly sliding Toby from my hip to my lap. I could tell that Tammy wanted to explain so I let her.

“I really wouldn't ever have said anything about this in front of Sophie.” Tammy started, “Brent and I were just talking while we were getting ready for bed last night. Sophie had been in bed for about an hour, I thought she was sleeping and Brent can be a bit clueless sometimes. He said, 'It's nice that Krista and Evan got back together. They seem happy.' then I told him, 'They've been friends for a long time but it's only been romantic for the last couple years.' and Brent's response was, 'Oh, I thought that Sulamith was his and that they'd broken up?' and then I told him, 'No, Krista was with someone else back then. Evan isn't Sulamith's father.' and Brent said, 'Oh. Shows what I know.' and that was it. We weren't trying to be mean or gossipy. I would never have said that in front of Sophie, and then today out of the blue Sophie blurted it out while they were playing.”

“It's okay,” I told her. “It really is. I should have talked to Sulamith about this sooner. The truth is that I haven't been sure how to tell her about her biological father. Losing him was hard and Evan has been a part of her life since she was so little that she doesn't really remember a time without him. Talking about it isn't easy even now, and I don't want to upset her or confuse her even more by crying in front of her.” But I was strangely very calm at that moment.

Tammy nodded then told me, “You know, when I first met you, you seemed like the slightest bump would shatter you. I can't believe how much you've changed.”

“You and Sophie have always made me feel very safe and welcome. It's gone a long way to helping me feel like I'm not going to shatter.”

*

Sheila came home just as I was saying goodbye to Tammy and I asked her if she could keep tabs on Toby for a bit as I left them together then crept quietly up the stairs. I could hear Evan's voice. For the record, Evan has a great voice. It's expressive and flexible, a perfect teacher's voice. A perfect bedtime story voice. A perfect voice to hear when you feel down, and I could hear him sitting with Sulamith, talking to her and setting everything right. I sat there on the stairs and let his voice work its magic on me too.

“Shh, shh, shh. I'm not going anywhere.”

Then tiny little hiccupy sobs.

“Sophie was confused. I'm your dad, and I'd never leave. I love you far too much to ever want to be away from you.” Then, “Shh, shh, shh,” again and, “I love you, I would never leave.”

I could hear her little sobs gradually slowing down, then Evan asked her, “Do you know what makes me your dad?”

I could make out her squeaky hiccupy little,“Uh-uh,” and picture her shaking her head and looking at Evan with wide curious eyes.

“It's because I love you, and I love your mum, and everything about both of you. And I want to be here for you and do all of those things that dads do, like taking you to the aquarium, tucking you in at night, reading to you, and kissing your owies better. But do you know something? Something that makes you kind of special?”

“No, what?” went Sulamith's tiny five-year-old voice.

“You have two dads.”

“I do?”

“Mm hm. Remember when your mum explained to you how she and I love each other so much that a baby started growing inside her?”

“Mm hm,” went the little voice.

“Well, a long time ago when your mum was a bit younger than she is now, I was very much in love with her, but I was confused too, like Sophie was today, and I made a big mistake. I did, and said, something that hurt her feelings very badly and then I went away, and she met someone new. Someone who was very kind to her and who loved her very very much, and they loved each other so much that they made you,” Evan paused for a moment. “But the world wasn't a very safe place for your mum back then and she was pregnant with you, so your father set out to make the world safe for you. Because that's how much he loved you, even though he'd never met you. He did it too. He made the world over so that you don't need to worry, and you and your mum are safe and sound, but something sad happened.”

“What happened?” asked Sulamith.

“He was badly hurt and he died before he could come home to you.”

“Like Audrey died?”

“Yes, like Audrey.”

“Oh,” she said, but there was a little edge of sadness in her voice.

“Do you know what his name was?” Evan asked her.

“Uh-uh, no.”

“Rowan.”

“Like my brother's middle name?”

“That's right.”

“Is that why my Mum is sad sometimes?”

“Yes it is,” Evan answered in a heavy voice. Then he said to her, “But you don't need to be sad. Your other dad, Rowan, he wouldn't want you to be. He did what he did so that you could grow up happy.” Then Evan asked her, “Do you remember how I told you that I made a mistake a long time ago?”

“Mm hm.”

“Well, do you remember what I said to you about mistakes when you put your fingers on the stove top after your mum said, 'Be careful, don't touch, it's hot it will burn you.' and it was very hot and it burned you and you cried?”

“Mm hm.”

“Well, when I made my mistake and I hurt your mum's feelings, my mum, your Sheila, told me, she said, 'Evan your making a big mistake. Tell her you’re sorry,' but I didn't listen and I went away and boy did it hurt. Even worse than your fingers. I cried for a long time. And you won't touch the hot stove again will you?”

“No.”

“Well I learned from my mistake too and I won't ever leave your mum again. I love everything about her and everything that she loves, and that means you too. I want to stay with you and make sure that the the things that your other dad did to make you safe and sound don't go to waste. I'm never going to leave. I promise.”

“Dad?” went the little voice.

“Mm hm?”

“I love you too.”

I sat on the stairs and listened to Evan talk to Sulamith until her little world made sense again and she felt safe and secure, and when they were quiet I peeked my head over the top stair to look into her room. Evan was sitting on her bed with his long legs stretched out and his back against the headboard with Sulamith perched sideways on his lap, her head against his chest. I crept back downstairs to sit in the living room with Sheila, feeling like my heart was going to burst.

“Sulamith sure was upset when I came home. What happened? Is she alright?” Sheila asked from the rocker.

“Sophie told her that Evan isn't her father,” I sighed. “Sheila, I've never seen her so upset but Evan is up there with her, putting her world back together for her even better than it was before and telling her all of the things that I've been too scared or confused to tell her . . . I don't deserve him Sheila. I don't deserve you.”

Sheila looked down at Toby, sitting in her lap playing with the seal toy that Rowan had carved for Sulamith years before, “You know, when I was younger I used to wonder why I could never attract a man who would stay, and why Evan was the only child I ever conceived. I was too busy being wild back then,” she admitted in a wry tone. “I wasn't always careful. But at some point in my mid-thirties I accepted that this was my life and that it wasn't half bad, and when you showed up on my doorstep four and a half years ago I realized that if I'd had those things, a husband, more children, that I wouldn't have been in a position to do for you what I've been able to do, and I would have been disappointed. I would have regretted it. I'm happy Krista. So happy. This is how I want my life to be.”

“It is so strange isn't it? How life plays out,” I said, then smiled. “I'm going to go start dinner.”

*

By the time Sheila joined me in the kitchen I had pizza dough kneaded and rising in the corner and a pile of chopped mushrooms growing on the cutting board.

“Somebody is feeling tired and cuddly,” she said, gently passing the heavy toddler into my arms. I settled with him on the love seat at the end of the kitchen, the one that Rowan had sat me on and comforted me on in another life. Evan walked in a few minutes later looking emotionally full. Love struck, sleepy, bewildered, all of those things and more. He sat down next to me and played with a little foot for a moment, then took my free hand and turned to me, smiling a soft smile that made me heartachy in a good way, and said. “She's sleeping.” Then, “She thought that if I wasn't her dad that it meant I would leave. I love her so much Krista, I thought my heart was going to break when she came in crying like that,” he said to me then got up, opened the fridge, took out the mozzarella and got down the cheese grater.

*

I didn't talk to Sulamith about Rowan very often, but every year on her birthday I told her that he loved her. It seemed to be enough. Sometimes I felt like I was betraying him by not sharing more with her, but I also knew that he wouldn't want sadness hanging over her head either, and since she was such a happy child I let the past be.