Page 19 of Summer Longing
Chapter Nine
Ruth napped for about as long as the baby did—close to two hours. They both woke up hungry and cranky. There was food in the house for only one of them.
After Ruth fed and changed the baby, she dialed Elise, hoping she’d say she was on her way back. No such luck; her call went straight to voice mail. If Ruth wanted to get out of the house, she’d have to take this baby situation on the road.
She strapped the infant into her car seat and carried her to the back porch where Elise kept the stroller frame. She latched the car seat onto it and headed off.
It had been a long time since she’d pushed a baby stroller, and she’d imagined the next time she was at the helm of one, it would contain her grandchild, not a mystery baby. And this was certainly not how she had envisioned the start to her carefree summer. And yet, the farther she walked, the more she thought about how things might have been different if she had allowed herself to enjoy her own early motherhood a little more. How many leisurely strolls had she taken with baby Olivia without worrying about the business?
The narrow sidewalk was crowded but she was reluctant to move the stroller into the street. Cars crept by carefully, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Her progress toward the Canteen was painfully slow. She needed a cold drink and, after last night’s gluttony, something healthy to eat, maybe a quinoa salad.
She checked her phone again—still no word from Elise.
Ruth passed the library, one of her favorite buildings in town. The landmark structure, built in 1860, had originally been a Methodist church and was topped by a dramatic spire that rose one hundred feet from the ground. She saw a familiar figure leaving the building; Amelia Cabral spotted her at the same time and gave her a wave and then raised a finger, signaling for her to wait. She held a thick coffee-table book in her arms, the glossy cover featuring New Orleans’s Bourbon Street.
“Hi there,” Amelia said cheerily when she reached Ruth. She slipped the book into her tote bag. “I’m getting a head start on my planning for Carnival. The theme this year is Mardi Gras by the Sea.”
Carnival was P’town’s largest summer celebration. For Ruth, the wordCarnival—pronounced in P’town as “Carni-vall”—conjured an instant memory of late summer 1978. Commercial Street had been packed end to end with revelers from morning until—well, the following morning. She remembered standing outside of Spiritus Pizza in a crowd so thick she couldn’t see the entrance and could not make her way back to the sidewalk behind her. It was a situation that would make her anxious today, but it had been exhilarating in the moment.
“I see you have company,” Amelia said, peering into the car seat with a smile.
Ruth didn’t know what to say. Was she supposed to make up some sort of story? Oh, how had she let Elise Douglas put her in this situation? “I really have to get going,” Ruth said.
Amelia waved her hand in front of the baby. “They change so fast at this stage. Pretty soon she’ll figure out how to get her fingers into her mouth. My son was like that—constantly sucking his thumb. In some ways, it was better than a pacifier because it couldn’t fall out or get lost. But the bad part is you can’t just take it away when you decide it’s time to stop. He was sucking that thumb until third grade.” She looked up at Ruth. “I’ve already met the little one. This morning. Elise brought her by the inn.”
“Oh. Well, I’m actually on my way to find Elise at the shop. I have things to do, and, frankly, babysitting is not my forte.”
“Why don’t you let me take the baby off your hands,” Amelia said. “I’ll bring her back to the inn. Rachel and I can manage until Elise is free.”
“Oh…are you sure?”
“Of course,” Amelia said. “But it was very generous of you to step in. The world works in mysterious ways, right? Some babies need a mother. Some mothers need a baby. You’re a mother—you understand.”
Amelia shuffled through a stack of colorful flyers in her tote bag, then offered one to Ruth. “I was just putting these up on the bulletin board. I’m teaching a mosaic class starting tomorrow morning. Please join us. It’s a great way to meet people.”
Ruth glanced at the sheet and nodded. “Oh, well—thanks. But I’m not very artistic.”
“Everyone says that at first,” Amelia said. “You’d be surprised.”
“I’ll think about it,” Ruth said, just relieved to be unburdened of the baby. She couldn’t think about tomorrow. She needed peace and quiet.
Amelia winked, then reached for the stroller and turned it in the direction of the inn. She looked back once with a wave, calling out, “See you at the class!”
Ruth stood alone on the sidewalk. She felt strangely lost—almost empty. It took a moment for her to remember where she had been going, what she wanted to do. If it weren’t for the sudden hunger pangs, she might have turned around and gone home. Instead, she sought out a place to sit, regroup, and have lunch.
The Canteen was busy; Ruth had to wait in line. At the counter, she ordered a warm lobster roll and, in a nod to trying to be healthy after the previous night’s indulgence, a side of brussels sprouts. She took the placard with her number and walked out back to sit at one of the communal tables overlooking the bay.
She poured herself a cup of water from a cooler set up at the condiments table. An iPod on a dock played a rotation of classic pop songs. Blondie sang, “The tide is high and I’m moving on…” and Ruth felt nostalgia rolling in again.
Determined to shake it away, she looked out at the water and focused on rooting herself in the moment. Everything was fine. How fortunate to run into Amelia and be relieved of the babysitting obligation.
You’re a mother—you understand.
Did she? Thirty years of motherhood, and frankly, Ruth didn’t understand a thing. Thirty years of motherhood, and she was sitting alone in a town with no family.
Maybe it was time to do something about that.
She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone.
