Stitch in Snow

'For the abortion!' Beth's eyes were as wet as Linda's.

'Oh, that!'

I shuddered at Foss' ill-timed diffidence.

'That? Can't you get out of your stuffy history books and into the present needs of your family? These poor children are suffering -'

Foss looked as if he thought he'd done enough suffering and was going to explode. So I did.

'If they're suffering, they brought it on themselves. Furthermore they don't really want to abort the child: it's theirs! If they honestly hadn't wanted it, Linda would have gone quietly to the clinic and had it done and over with in twenty-four hours instead of greeting and grembling around here for a week. Have the child! Grow up with it!'

'But… but… they're in college…' Beth began.

'What's that to the point? I was still in college when I had Tim…' I saw Beth opening her mouth for another specious argument and jumped on her, aware out of the corner of my eye that Linda had stopped weeping and Sam looked considerably happier. 'And don't you dare say things are different. They aren't. And if they have to dump the baby on you while they go to classes, so what? What else are you doing with your time? Think how much fun it'll be to spoil a grandchild. You won't be near as nervous with this one as you were with Sam, or Perry. And he can baby-sit for his nephew. And if it's a girl… if you told me once you wanted a girl you told me nineteen times only you couldn't afford a third baby on Foss' salary; if it's a girl, you'd be very pleased. Well, there's nothing wrong with Foss' salary now, although I don't suggest that you two support their baby… but it's obvious to me, though I don't know the situation as you keep telling me, that no one in this room wants Linda to abort the child. Now if you'll excuse me, I have two lectures tomorrow in the boondocks and I have to make an early start!'

I made an exit in complete silence but when I had reached my room, the renewal of the conversation in the living room had a completely different tone. I was exhausted with that outburst, and trembling. Furthermore, I wondered what on earth had possessed me to interfere.

I took out my knitting, to calm my nerves, but it only reminded me of Dan. Well, at least I hadn't got pregnant. Then I started to giggle. It was improbable, but not entirely impossible and wouldn't I look funny producing at my late age? Would I have the courage to go through with it? It would be Tim's turn to be sympathetic and understanding… having an illegitimate half-brother or sister. I tried to imagine his face and would he come up with Bawdy Bedside Ballads for Baby Bastards. My editor would go berk. I laughed till the tears came to my eyes and I couldn't see to knit. I was caught completely unawares by the knock on the door.

'Yes?'

A radiant Linda and a jubilant Sam stood in my door. 'We want to thank you, Aunt Dana,' Linda said in a tremulous voice. 'We do want the baby. And furthermore,' she glanced shyly at Sam, who seemed to have grown a few inches in the last hour, 'we're even going to get married. For real!'

How I kept a straight face for that supreme modern sacrifice I don't know. I had to swallow before I could get any reply past my grin-fixed teeth. I must have come out with an acceptable response for Linda kissed me, Sam shook my hand in a very manly fashion. I must say it was an improvement on the limp grasp he'd given me when I'd arrived.

I had no more recovered my composure from their visitation when Beth arrived, weeping with joy.

'I didn't dare say what you said, Dana. I wanted to, goodness knows, because I simply couldn't stand the idea of Linda… aborting…' The very notion was repulsive to Beth. '…my first grandchild.'

'Even Spock was strong on the fact that kids need limits, Beth.' I said. 'I was only suggesting one…'

'But they listened to you…'

I forbore to mention that I'd said about the same thing… more politely… when I first arrived.

'Oh, Dana, what would I have done if you hadn't come…'

As I didn't know, I said that she would eventually have put her foot down, too. I was sure of it.

'You will stay for the wedding, won't you?' When I started to evade that, she said in a rush, 'if you can fit it in with your schedule…'

That made it seem ungracious for me to refuse and then she said they'd fit it in with my lecture schedule. I had four more days in the Bay area, didn't I?

I did. And I went to the wedding though to this day I can't remember anything more than Beth, Linda and Linda's mother in floods of tears, mostly happy, I think. I know that the only reason I made the plane to Los Angeles on time was because Foss and Perry deposited me at the proper gate. It wasn't champagne; it was fatigue because I will never again do two lectures a day at community colleges set fifty and two hundred miles apart in sunny California.

When I was unpacking in LA, I found the swimsuit. And thought, again, of Dan. And of the swimming pool reputed to be in the hotel. I made an appointment for my hair, managed ten laps in the pool and then bathed under a sunlamp until it was time to get my hair done. I nearly tell asleep under the hair dryer but contrived to stay awake long enough to get back to my room, into my bed where I conked out and stayed that way until nearly the next morning. My hair-do was no longer perfect but I was a lot better.

Over breakfast the next morning, I brought my 'brains' up to date, and thankfully reviewed a schedule which listed only three more cities after LA. Four more lectures and I could wing my way back to New York, see Tim at college and return, rejoicing, to the unhurried pace of my dear green Ireland.

I wrote Tim a longish letter before inspiration and energy deserted me. The p.r. man in charge of me in LA rang, and checked the afternoon engagement. As he didn't mention lunch, I ordered a heavenly fruit salad in the hotel.

It's fun being a visiting celebrity up to a point and I reached that point in Los Angeles. By the time I enplaned for Dallas I would have devoutly joined a snow-seeding expedition for another three days of enforced inactivity… and no people. The Dallasians (?) showered me with such lavish Texas hospitality… at least the beef was barbecued and for real… that I crept into Tulsa utterly, completely and thoroughly drained.

I do not remember speaking to the 78 librarians ol'Whosit County: I do not recall being interviewed on campus TV, though I later received the photos and I looked wide awake. I don't remember much of anything in Tulsa except that I must have done it well in my comatose state to judge by the letter of thanks I later received.

I surfaced to the insistent buzzing of the phone, a strident summons that must have been going on for some time to rouse me.

'Mom? Mom, what have you been getting into out West?'

'Tim? Tim?'

'Yeah, Tim, your ever loving son. Christ, what have you been doing?'

'Sleeping.'

'I don't mean now. I thought you knew better.'

'Knew what better?'

Tim sounded indignant, angry, upset and very much like his father, trying to be reasonable in a frustrating situation.

'How to keep out of trouble.'

'What trouble am I in? And where are you calling?' I had that sudden horrible chill of apprehension. And I couldn't remember where I was.

'I'm calling from Lehigh.'

'No, honey. I know where you are. What city are you calling me in?'

'Huh? Hey, Mom,' and Tim's voice turned anxious. Reflex snapped me out of my daze.

'I'm sorry, honey. I'm sleepy.'

'You're in Tulsa, Mom, and you're in trouble.'

'What kind? Did I miss a lecture date?'

'No, not that.' Tim was disgusted at my obtuseness. 'I mean that guy. Lowell.'

'Lowell?'

'Yeah, Lowell.' Tim was getting angry again, partly relief and partly an inability to get me to function intelligently. 'Daniel Jerome Lowell. He's charged with murder and you're his alibi. He says. Did you ever meet a Jerry Lowell?'