Through the dining-room window, Julia watches for Betty Lawson. After the last feeding before bedtime, Betty will tuck the baby in her carriage and stroll her down Alder. Betty says it’s the only way to get the little one to sleep. Every night since the baby came to live with Betty and Jerry, Julia has watched Betty make this trip. Only once has Julia joined her. “The baby so favors you,” Julia had said to Betty as they walked that night. She meant her comment to be kind, as if to say, without really saying it, that Betty and Jerry Lawson adopted the perfect child, one who would be mistaken for their own. “She really takes after Jerry’s mother,” Betty had said.
Each night since, Julia has watched Betty and the baby from her window, a wilted article about the Willows tucked in her front pocket. Julia cut the story from the newspaper almost a year ago, and she keeps it in the top drawer of the entry table. The Willows is a home for unwed mothers. Only good girls from nice homes. Every train in the country leads eventually to Kansas City and the Willows. This is most assuredly where Betty and Jerry went to adopt their perfectly matched child. Julia hadn’t wanted to consider it. Why would a couple once successful consider adoption? But maybe it’s a better way. Betty Lawson is definitely happy. Even though she won’t admit she and her husband adopted their new baby, she is still happy. Her hair is flat these days and she regularly forgets to comb out her pin curls since the baby came to live with them, but her eyes are softer. It’s the look of relief.
As Julia has watched Betty and her baby night after night, she has tried to force herself out the door again to ask Betty about the Willows. For three years, Bill has barely touched Julia, hardly seems sorry for it anymore. There may not be another baby if not for another way. I won’t tell a soul, Julia would say to Betty Lawson. But as each night came and went, Julia stood at her window, unable to force herself out the door, and suffered an ache in her chest that wouldn’t dissolve until morning when she woke to find Bill, and now the twins, sitting at the kitchen table, wondering what was for breakfast. Maybe, if Julia and Bill were to adopt they wouldn’t be afraid a baby born to other parents would die. A boy this time. Dark like Bill because a son should favor his father. His skin would have an olive tint, ever so slight, and he would have Julia’s blue eyes. This one would live.
“You’re not going, are you?”
Julia lets the drape fall closed. “What are you doing awake?” she whispers so as to not wake the others.
Late at night or early in the morning, it’s difficult to tell Izzy and Arie apart. Both will have brushed out their hair and scrubbed their faces. In these silent hours, both will be quiet, tender. This is always the way for Arie. Not for Izzy.
The girl standing the top of the stairs clutches the banister with both hands. “You promised Uncle Bill.”
Arie.
“You’re right,” Julia says. “And never let it be said I broke a promise.”
Hiking her slender skirt over her knees, Julia runs up the stairs two at a time, meaning to chase Arie back to bed, but she doesn’t turn and run in her usual way. She doesn’t dip her head and cup a hand over her mouth to muffle the laugh that might wake the others. Instead, she lets go of the banister and wraps her arms around Julia’s waist.
Definitely Arie.
“What’s this sour face all about?” Julia unwraps Arie’s arms to get a good look at her. “What’s wrong, sugar?”
The house is dark except for a light that shines from inside the girls’ room. Arie’s fair eyelashes glitter in the soft glow, and she blinks slowly as if forcing herself to stay awake.
“Let’s get you tucked in,” Julia says.
Inside the girls’ room, Izzy sits up in bed, her eyes wide. One lamp flickers at her bedside.
“Told her to stay put,” Izzy says, swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress so her feet dangle to the floor.
Julia walks Arie to her bed and pulls back the covers, but rather than crawling in, Arie steps up to the window and looks down on the street below.
“I just don’t know, Aunt Julia,” Izzy says. “She’s been acting this way all night.”
“Is something troubling her?” Julia says, speaking to Izzy but watching Arie stand at the window, her face and hands pressed to the mesh screen. A breeze kicks up and tousles her hair, but she doesn’t move away or wrap her arms around herself even though the air is cool.
Izzy pops out of bed. “How would I know? I didn’t do anything. I think she’s afraid of getting snatched like Elizabeth.”
Julia rolls her head around until her eyes meet Izzy’s. “No one snatched Elizabeth. That’s a terrible thing to say.”
Izzy crosses her arms and stares at Julia for a moment before letting her gaze float off to the side.
“Aunt Julia,” Arie says, her face still pressed to the window screen. “I don’t see Mr. Lawson.” She waves a hand to get Julia’s attention. “Go get Uncle Bill. Go get him and tell him to stop Mrs. Lawson.”
Julia walks up behind Arie. On the street below, Betty Lawson, pushing her carriage, has neared Julia’s house.
“What do you mean, sugar?” Julia says. “Stop her from doing what?”
“Mr. Lawson, he’s not there. He’s not watching from the driveway.”
Julia leans around Arie to get a better view out the window, but Arie pushes her away.
“Get Uncle Bill,” she says. “Get him now. Tell him to stop Mrs. Lawson.”
“You need to calm down. Get yourself in bed, and I’ll go see to her.”
Arie dashes past Julia.
“Arie,” Julia says. “Don’t wake Uncle Bill. I’ll go. I’ll see to it she gets home.”
Arie stops at the door, one hand on the knob. “No,” she says. “I don’t want you to. Uncle Bill has to go. Uncle Bill.”
“What’s wrong with you, Arie?” Izzy says, dropping on her bed, bouncing once and coming to rest against her headboard.
Arie leans into the hallway. “Uncle Bill,” she shouts. “Uncle Bill. Uncle Bill.”
Julia rushes across the room. “Arie, hush. What on earth has ruffled your feathers?”
Pulling away from Julia, Arie jumps into the hallway. “Uncle Bill, hurry. Uncle Bill.”
Bill appears in the threshold leading to his and Julia’s bedroom. He stretches his eyes open and struggles to thread a second arm through his shirt.
“Go, Uncle Bill. Hurry.” Arie lunges for Bill and pushes him toward the stairs. “Go get Mrs. Lawson. Go stop her.”
Bill looks at Julia over Arie’s head and Julia lifts both hands in the air, palms up, to signal she doesn’t know what to tell him.
When Bill reaches the bottom of the stairway, Arie runs back into the bedroom. Julia follows and together they watch out the window. One story down, Bill appears on the sidewalk. As he walks toward the street, he buttons his shirt and looks up and down Alder. At the end of the sidewalk, he lifts a hand and says something, though from the second-story window, they can’t hear.
“There,” Julia says, pointing toward the street. “See there. Do you see? That’s Mr. Lawson. He’s right where he always is, keeping an eye. See that? He’s in his undershirt and shorts.” Julia starts to laugh but Arie’s eyes shine like she’s about ready to cry. “Mrs. Lawson is safe, Arie. Safe and sound. She’s on her way home already.”
Arie dips her head until she can see Mr. Lawson and doesn’t move until Betty and the baby have returned to their own driveway.
“Is everything all right now?” Julia says. “Ready for bed?”
Instead of bouncing onto her mattress like her sister, Arie slides under the sheets and lies stiffly while Julia pulls up the covers and tucks them in around her.