in the O’Sheas’ house; I could search it as I had the Kingery house and the Osborn house. I was staring at myself in the mirror in the bathroom, refluffing my hair and powdering my face, when I finally registered how miserable I looked.
Couldn’t be helped.
In my room, I pulled on my Christmas sweatsuit, the one I’d worn in the parade. I guess I thought the bright color might make me seem more kid-friendly. I ate a bowl of leftover fruit salad, all that I could find in the refrigerator since everyone else in the house was going to the supper.
Dill’s friend Berry Duff rang the doorbell while I was washing up, and I let him in. He smiled down at me.
“You look cheerful,” he remarked.
“I’m going to baby-sit.”
His face fell. “Oh, I was looking forward to talking to you at the dinner.”
“Last-minute emergency. The baby-sitter came down with the flu and they couldn’t find another one.”
“I hope it goes smoothly,” Berry said, rather doubtfully, I thought. “I have kids of my own, and a handful at a time is kind of a rough evening.”
“How old are yours?” I asked politely.
“I got one who’s nine, one who’s in the tenth grade… let’s see… Daniel’s fifteen now. They’re both good kids. I don’t get to see them often enough.”
I remembered that his wife had custody of the children. “Do they live close enough for you to see them regularly?” I asked.
“Every other weekend,” he answered. He looked sad and angry. “That’s just not as good, nowhere near as good, as watching them grow up every day.” He folded himself into one of the kitchen chairs, and I returned to the sink to finish drying the dishes.
“But you know where they are,” I said, surprising even myself. “You know that they’re safe. You can pick up the phone and call them.”
Berry stared at me in understandable surprise. “That’s true,” he said slowly, feeling his way. “I’m sure the situation could be worse. You’re saying, if my wife ran off with them, went underground, like some spouses do to keep the other parent away from the kids? That would be horrible. I guess I’d just go crazy.” Berry mulled it over for a minute. “I’d do anything to get them back, if that happened,” he concluded. He looked up at me. “My God, girl, how did we get on this depressing topic? This is supposed to be a happy household! Wedding tomorrow!”
“Yes,” I said. “Wedding tomorrow.” I had to be resolute. This was not a problem I could solve by hitting or kicking. I puzzled Berry further by patting his shoulder, before I pulled on my coat and called good-bye to my parents.
I thought there was something I’d forgotten to tell Jack today, something small but important. But I couldn’t make it float to the surface of my mind.
The O’Sheas had plenty of room in the Presbyterian manse, since the preacher for whom the home had been built had been the father of five. Of course, that had been in 1938. Now the manse was an underinsulated money pit in need of complete rewiring, Lou told me within the first five minutes after my arrival. I could see that she had some legitimate gripes, because the long, narrow shape of the living area made it hard to group furniture, just for starters. And though there was a fireplace, and it was decorated for the season, the chimney needed so much repair that it wasn’t functional.
The preacher’s wife was encased in a sage green suit and black suede pumps. Her dark hair was carefully turned under all the way around in a smooth pageboy, and her ski-jump nose had been minimized by some subtle makeup. Lou was clearly looking forward to getting out of her house without the kids in tow, but just as clearly she was little anxious about my keeping them. She was doing her best not to show her worry, but the third time she pointed out the list of emergency phone numbers right by the telephone, I had a very sharp answer practically tottering on the edge of my tongue.
Instead, of course, I took a cleansing breath and nodded. But there may have been something grim in the set of my mouth, because Lou did a double take and apologized profusely for being overprotective. To cut short her apologies, she bent to plug in the Christmas tree, which almost filled a quarter of the room.
The lights began to blink.
I clenched my teeth to keep from saying something Lou was sure to find unacceptable.
The manse seemed as commercial as any other house tricked out for the season, with long plastic candy canes propped on either side of the nonfunctional hearth, where fireplace tools would ordinarily stand. A silver garland was draped between the corners of the mantelpiece, and Lou had hung long plastic icicles from the garland.
Opposite the hearth was a central window before which the tree was positioned. However, under the tree, instead of presents there stood a nativity scene, with a wooden stable and a full complement of shepherds, Joseph and Mary, camels and cows, and the baby Jesus in a manger.
Handsome Jess strode into the room, wearing a dark suit enlivened by a fancy Christmas vest. He was carrying Meredith Osborn’s baby, Jane, and Jane was not happy.
It was time for me to prove my worth. I steeled myself to hold out my arms, and he placed the shrieking Jane in them.
“Is she due for a bottle?” I yelled.
“No,” bellowed Jess, “I just fed her.”
Then she needed burping. After eating came burping, then excreting, then sleeping. This was what I had learned about babies. I turned Jane so she was upright and pointed over my shoulder and began patting her gently with my right hand. Little red-faced thing… she was so tiny. Jane had wisps of curling blond hair here and there on her smooth head. Her eyes were squeezed shut with rage, but as soon as I turned her upright she seemed to be crying with less volume. Her little eyes opened and looked hazily at me.
“Hi,” I said, feeling I should talk to her.
The other children came piling into the room. Krista’s little brother Luke was a cement block of a toddler, so square and heavy that he stomped rather than walked. He was dark-haired like Lou, but he would have the heavy- jawed good looks of his father.
The most amazing belch erupted from the baby. Her body relaxed against my shoulder, which suddenly felt wet.
“Oh, dear,” Lou said. “Oh, Lily…”
“Should have slung a diaper over your shoulder.” Jess’s advice was just a little too late.
I looked directly into the baby’s eyes, and she made one of those little baby noises. Her tiny hands flailed the air.
“I’ll hold her while you clean up,” Eve volunteered, while Krista said, “Ewww! Look at the white stuff on Miss Lily’s shoulder!”
“Sit in the chair,” I told Eve.
Eve settled herself in the nearest armchair, her legs crossed on the seat. I settled Eve’s sister into her lap and checked to make sure that Eve was holding the baby correctly. She was.
Followed by the herd of kids, I went to the bathroom, got a washcloth out of the linen closet, and dampened it to rub the worst of the belched liquid off my shoulder. I didn’t want to smell it all night. Krista kept up a running commentary the whole time, Anna seemed conflicted between being sympathetic toward her future aunt and rolling in the grossness of baby throw up like Krista, and Luke just stared while holding his left ear with his left hand and gripping the hair on the top of his head with his right, a posture that made him look like he was receiving signals from another planet.
I realized that Luke was probably still wearing diapers, too.
The O’Sheas called good-bye as they escaped from the houseful of children, and I tossed the washrag into the dirty clothes hamper and glanced at my watch. It was time to change Jane.
I settled Luke in the far end of the living room in front of the television, watching a Christmas cartoon and communicating with Mars. He chose to sit almost inside the branches of the Christmas tree. The blinking didn’t seem to bother him.
The girls all followed me to the baby’s room. Eve was proprietary because the baby was her sister, Krista was hoping to see poop so she could provide running commentary on its grossness, and Anna was still waiting to see which way the wind blew.
Grabbing a fresh disposable diaper, I placed the baby on the changing table and went through the laborious and
