September Love

“I’m Kayla, Doug’s daughter,” she said flatly, and Beth saw the little boy’s hands creep toward the flowing skirt and grasp it again, as if it were some sort of lifeline. Now she noticed that both his knees were skinned. Sometime some place today he had fallen and scraped his knees, but no one had cleaned them and put on protective bandages.

Beth swallowed her disappointment. Well, they didn’t call her “perfect hostess” for nothing. She must do her best for Doug’s daughter.

“Kayla, how lovely to see you. Doug and I were so sorry you didn’t get to our wedding.” It sounded hollow, but Kayla didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah,” she said. “Dad and I have our ups and downs. We’re not what you might call close.” She shivered, seeming to huddle inside the large jacket.

“Well, come in,” Beth said quickly. “I’m just getting back from some errands. Your little boy must be freezing. This is such a cold spring. Usually by April it begins to warm up a bit.” She fumbled for her key as they went up the steps to the big porch. She longed for the sense of security she always felt when entering the big front door with its heavy oak panels and oval of etched glass. This was the house she had fallen in love with thirty years ago.

Talk, Beth! Put Kayla at ease.

“One of the things that first brought your father and me together was the fact that we both had grown daughters, and both had been widowed.” September love, her daughter Kate had called her midlife marriage to Doug Colby.

Inside the hallway, she remembered Doug’s words after he had met both her daughters, Jill and Kate. “You and your husband did a wonderful job raising your girls. I’m afraid I failed there.” And Doug’s eyes, reflecting some inner sorrow, had seemed to be looking at something in another place and time. “I was away so much. On my job, you know. Whenever Kayla needed me…I wasn’t there for her.” Then quickly, defensively, he had added, “Kayla’s a lovely person, but she’s had…some problems. I blame myself, of course. I… Right now, I don’t even know where she is.” The admission had cost him a lot. They had just come from the big Thanksgiving dinner at Kate’s. He had seen her daughters at their best. Kate, so steady, so competent, so stable. And Jill, so bright and resourceful. And both married to good husbands and raising their own families.

“Well, now that you’re here, Kayla, you and your dad can catch up.” She knew her voice was too bright, but Kayla didn’t seem to notice. She was looking around the large entry hall.

“You’ve certainly got a big house,” she said. The child was looking around, too, still frowning slightly, pressing himself against Kayla’s leg.

“The house is old,” Beth explained. “Built back when architects didn’t mind wasting space. But I never think of it as wasted. I like some space.” She looked around the familiar hall. She had worked for years at the decorating, budgeting carefully to get the very best in antique-designed wallpaper for the large dining room, or the brass andirons for the several fireplaces, or the special paneling for her late-husband Ralph’s study. He had so liked to read in there. In the house’s heyday, before its bed-and-breakfast incarnation, it had been featured in several Gracious Homes of the Northwest tours for charity.

The grand old house had settled gracefully into its new life as a B and B when she had learned that the pension of a city librarian’s widow wasn’t going to be enough. And she had been determined not to be a burden on her daughters. For the first time in her life she had needed to earn money.

Not too many changes had been required, just a little remodeling to meet city codes. A small registration desk had been added to the front hallway, plus an attractive rack to hold Seattle postcards, printed recipes of house specialties, along with some tourist leaflets for the guests to take.

Beth led Kayla and her child into the large living room. “What’s his name, your little boy?” Beth asked.

“Oh, him? His name’s Adam.”

At the sound of his name, he looked up expectantly at Kayla and said the first word he had spoken so far. “Hungry.” His voice was somewhat husky, and his frown deepened.

“What a lovely room. Lovely chairs,” Kayla said, ignoring Adam, a sigh in her voice. “Mind if I just collapse awhile?” She sat down in one of the deep chairs.

“Hungry,” Adam persisted, standing close to her.

“Kids are always hungry.” Kayla opened her large satchel-like tote of limp gray vinyl. “You can have the rest of the fries.” She rummaged in the big bag and pulled out a greasy paper bag. “I’ll level with you, Beth. I’ve just about hit bottom again. I guess Bottom is my hometown. But I had enough after bus fare to get us something to eat in a burger place. I tried to make it last awhile, but Adam whined all the way from Phoenix. Kids are bottomless pits. Here.” She handed the greasy bag to Adam.

To Beth’s dismay, the little boy took it eagerly and sat down on the floor beside Kayla’s feet. Carefully, with deep concentration, he opened the bag, took out a limp string of potato and ate it hungrily. Then he poked his dirty little fingers into the bag again.

Beth bit back a dozen questions. What could she say to Kayla? This was Doug’s daughter. A daughter who had some problems. She felt a kind of inward weeping. I will help you. I have food. I will feed your child. I will give you a place. I will fix your lovely hair. I will find you something to wear. I will… I will… I will… Unable to speak for a moment, she looked at Kayla.

“Yeah. I know I’m a mess,” Kayla said dully. Then, as if she had read Beth’s mind, she added, “I don’t suppose you have a place I could wash up. And I’d like to clean Adam up. You know my dad…doesn’t even know he has a grandson—” Her voice broke.

Beth, unable not to, went to her side and put her arms around the thin shoulders.

“Of course you can wash up. Adam, too. And why don’t I fix you a snack? It’s a long time until dinner.” She was thinking swiftly. Only three of the bedrooms were taken for tonight. There was that big room at the back, with an adjoining bath. She could put Kayla and Adam in there for the night. It was reserved for tomorrow. Then she would move them to what she called the “bed-sitter.” It was the small, ground-floor room that had served as her sewing room when she had had time to sew. She had made it into a small, extra place for the peak season when everything in Seattle was full and someone called desperately from the airport. There was a sofa bed and no bath. But behind an ornamental screen there was a basin with hot and cold water.

“Where is your luggage, Kayla?” she asked. Kayla would certainly need a change of clothing, and the child… She glanced again at the little boy. He was digging fruitlessly into the now empty bag. All the limp fries were gone. Determinedly, he began to lick the remaining salt from his grubby fingers.

“I did have luggage when I started out,” Kayla was saying. “Believe it or not, I did come prepared. But I fell asleep in one of the stopovers and somebody ripped it off. So we came in what we had on. This is it. What you see is what you get.” There was an attempt at bravado that didn’t quite come off. Kayla was embarrassed.

“I can help out there, I think,” Beth said briskly. “My daughter, Kate, lives only a few blocks from here. She’s collecting for the annual spring rummage sale at church. I happen to know that some very nice things have been donated. I’ll give her a call while you’re cleaning up. You look like you’re Jill’s size. Jill is my younger daughter. I think that she gave her blue challis. It’s lovely.” She noticed how blue Kayla’s eyes were and was filled with sadness. Kayla’s such a lovely person, Doug had said. Doug mustn’t find her like this. And certainly his first sight of his grandson mustn’t break his heart.

“Come upstairs. My big back bedroom isn’t taken for tonight. You and Adam can have that. It had a large dressing room from when people used dressing rooms. I had it remodeled into the most gorgeous big bathroom you’ve ever seen. And while you’re doing that, I’ll make Adam a snack.”

“Oh, Beth, that sounds wonderful.” Kayla followed her to the stairs. Adam scrambled up.

“Mommy!” In a panic he rushed to grab her skirt.

Kayla turned. “It’s okay. I’m just going to take a bath. Beth will give you something else to eat. It’s okay to go with Beth.” She turned. “Kids this age are a pain. He won’t let me out of his sight.”

One of the dozens of questions in Beth’s mind popped out. “I thought Doug told me you had a little girl….”

Kayla’s blue eyes suddenly clouded. “I have. I mean, I had. My Becky. She’s with her father. I…I lost custody when my marriage went haywire.” She sagged against the banister. “I don’t know what Dad has told you about me, but…” She paused a moment and then, as if she were speaking to a group, she said, “My name is Kayla. I’m an alcoholic.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry but that’s the way it is. But I’m going to try again. I’ve got responsibilities. I’ve got Adam to look after. And now you know the worst. Where is that lovely bathroom?”

“It’s right down this hall,” Beth said in sympathy. “You have a view of the back garden—for today, anyway. Your father painted a picture of the back garden. My daughter, Kate, has it. It’s hanging in her living room.”

Beth opened the door of the big room, furnished with the antique brass bed with the hand-pieced quilt covering. The marble-topped dresser was catching a thin sunbeam from the nearby window. The vase of old-fashioned roses looked lovely. She heard Kayla sigh softly.

“And the bath is in there. This is a double, so there are plenty of towels for both you and Adam. I noticed that Adam has skinned knees. I always keep those little colored bandages on hand for when my own grandchildren visit. I’ll get you some of those.”

“Lovely,” Kayla said, her eyes sweeping the huge bathroom with its deep tub and separate shower. She reached out to touch, almost lovingly, one of the downy aqua-colored towels. Then she turned her attention back to Adam, who was again clinging to her skirt. “Adam’s poor knees are my fault. I was out of money by then and couldn’t even afford bus fare. A nice old guy who was leaving Seattle gave me this street map. I thought we’d never make it. Adam is so slow. I guess sometimes I walked too fast and he couldn’t keep up and he fell a couple of times. Really did mess up his knees.”

Beth’s throat ached at the thought of the frantic little boy trying to keep up. His lifeline, the green-and-white skirt, getting farther and farther away down the strange street.

Kayla bent over, talking directly into the small frowning face. “Look, I’m going to take a bath, see? I’m not going anywhere. You go with Beth. She’s got— What have you got to feed him, Beth?”

“Cookies,” Beth said. “I’ve got cookies, Adam. And milk.” This child needed milk, and lots of it.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. “Okay. Cookies.” And he held out one dirty little hand.

Beth took it in hers, clasping it warmly. This is Doug’s grandson. And again she felt a sense of inward weeping. It shouldn’t be like this. Her beloved’s grandson should be happy and healthy and secure. Living in a stable home, with loving parents. She went slowly down the stairs, matching her pace to his short little legs that couldn’t keep up.

“Adam, do you like peanut butter?” she asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I can make you a peanut butter sandwich, if you like.”

He stopped, and she glanced down. He was looking up at her, angry and disappointed. “You said cookies!” he accused.

“Yes. Cookies, too.” How many times had this small child been disappointed? It didn’t bear thinking about.

In the kitchen she quickly found one of the wood booster seats her son-in-law, Greg, had made for short grandchildren. She put it on a kitchen chair. She lifted Adam up and sat him on the seat, wishing fervently that she could wait just long enough to wash him, but she knew with certainty that her promise of food must come first. And from somewhere in her mind rose the conviction: I will never break a promise to this child.

She didn’t call Kate until Adam was devouring his small feast with total concentration—the peanut butter sandwich on her delicious home-baked bread, a house specialty, with a stack of three sugar cookies waiting. She even found in the back of the cupboard the two-handled mug she had used when her youngest grandchild, Meggie, had needed two hands to drink her milk. Then she rang Kate from the kitchen phone.

“Kate, darling, this is Mom. I need a favor.” Some inner caution stemming from a need to save Doug’s pride about his problem daughter made her less than candid. “You remember Doug talking about his daughter? Kayla?”

“Yes. She didn’t come to your wedding. I remember.”

“Well, she’s here now, late but welcome. But she had some bad luck. Her luggage is missing. She’s kind of travel-stained, and I was wondering…didn’t Jill donate her blue challis dress for the rummage sale?”