My heart feels so full I think it might burst. This is really happening. Thanks to Brooke, Lily’s half sibling is growing inside me. “Sarah, would you please grab my phone out of my purse? I want to record this.”
“I’ll make a DVD you can take with you,” the doctor says.
“Oh, that’s great! But I still want it on my phone so I can listen to it anytime I want.”
Sarah pulls out my phone and hands it to me. I put it on Voice Memos, aim it at the screen, and hit record.
“I’m going to measure the baby.” The doctor puts some dots onthe screen, and during the silence I record the lovelyswooshof my baby’s heartbeat.
“It’s perfect,” Dr. Mercer says. “Just where it should be.”
She turns off the machine. “The next time we do an ultrasound, you’ll be able to see a lot more. The face, the arms, the feet—even whether it’s a boy or girl.”
For now, I think, it’s enough to know that he or she has a beating heart, a heart that is rhythmically beating right beneath my own.
Chamber music, I think.Chamber music of the heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Margaret
Friday, May 17
I AWAKEN FROMan afternoon nap, and it takes me a moment to reorient myself. I’m in the hospital, but I’m in a different room. Oh, right—they moved me yesterday after lunch. How long have I been in this place? Before I can figure it out, the door to my room starts to open.
“Jessica!” I hear a man’s voice from the hallway say. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see Miss Margaret,” replies a woman. I don’t recognize the voice, but “Miss Margaret” is what my granddaughter’s friends call me. A female hand curls around the door, holding it ajar. It’s a lovely hand, with silver bangles on the wrist, shiny nails, and youthful skin.
I don’t remember any of Brooke’s friends named Jessica. The male voice sounds like the man who was here this morning—what’s his name? Oh, shoot! He has some connection to Brooke. My memory these days is as full of holes as a fishing net.
“You don’t even know her,” I hear the man say.
“I want to meet her. She’s become a big part of your life, so I naturally want to include her in mine. Besides, you said that today is her birthday, so I wanted to bring her a little gift.”
The doctor and nurses wished me happy birthday this morning, and an aide told me that some friends are bringing me a party. Apparently I’m eighty years old today. Eighty! How on earth can thatbe? “I can hear you talking about me out there,” I call. “You might as well come on in.”
A beautiful young woman pushes open the door. She has long dark hair, brown eyes, and a big smile, and she’s carrying a large bouquet. It looks like sunflowers, oleander, roses, and tulips. “Hello, Mrs. Moore,” she says.
“Hello,” I say.
“I’m Jessica Bradley—Zack’s wife.”
Zack—that’s his name! He follows her through the doorway, looking a tad apologetic. “Hello, Miss Margaret.”
“Oh! I didn’t know you were married, dear,” I say. From the expression on the young woman’s face, this appears to be exactly the wrong thing to say.
“We’ve been married nearly three years,” she says.
“I’m sure he told me, and I just forgot,” I say, although I’m sure of no such thing. “My memory is like a colander lately.” Zack’s relationship to Brooke suddenly pops into my head: he’s Lily’s father. And he’s married? Oh, dear. I’m sure I was never told that!
“I’m so sorry about your heart attack and fall,” Jessica says.
“Thank you. I don’t remember anything about it, but apparently Zack saved my life.”
“He’s handy to have around,” she says.
“Handy as a paddle in a pirogue,” I agree.
