The Moment Keeper. Buffy Andrews
spent so much time being angry that he doesn’t know how to be anything but. Don’t let anger consume you, Sarah. Anger destroys everything that’s good.”
Elizabeth gathers silky strands of hair into a cluster on top of Olivia’s head and clips it with a pink lacey bow. “Such a pretty girl.”
“Da. Da. Da.”
“Yes, Daddy is getting his picture taken, too.”
Tom walks into the nursery, with a beautiful hand-painted mural depicting various nursery rhymes, and Olivia claps her pudgy hands. “Da. Da. Da.”
He picks up Olivia and kisses her and then Elizabeth. “My girls look beautiful.”
“Do you like our matching dresses?” Elizabeth asks.
Tom smiles. “Gorgeous, as always.”
The dresses are a pink floral print. Elizabeth’s is sleeveless and Olivia’s has capped sleeves and a big bow around the waist that ties in the back.
“Found them online at a really neat boutique. Bought two others.”
“Don’t tell me anymore,” Tom says. “I don’t want to know how much this new online boutique is costing me.”
Elizabeth tilts her head and fakes a pout. “You always say your girls deserve the best.”
“Yep,” Tom said. “Nothing but the best.”
I remember the day I was cleaning out Grandma’s closet. It was right after she died and I was making good on my promise to donate all of her clothes to Goodwill. I found a big box of pictures stuffed in a dark corner underneath a stack of old wool blankets. I spent the entire afternoon looking through them. There were photos of Matt when he was little. It was hard to believe that the freckled-faced boy with the toothless grin in the red and blue Spider-Man pajamas had become one of the biggest drunks on this side of the Mason-Dixon Line.
I found pictures of Matt’s dad, my grandfather, who died from a heart attack when Matt was in ninth grade. That’s when Matt met my mom. They sat beside one another in science class. Grandma told me the story. She said my mom grew up in foster homes and that my parents got married right out of high school. “Way too young,” she said. “But you couldn’t tell them any different.”
I opened a small manila folder and found my parents’ wedding pictures. It didn’t look as if there were a lot of people at the wedding. Just Grandma and a couple of my parents’ friends. Maybe a half-dozen people. It looked as if it was held in the white gazebo at the park by the high school. I recognized the gazebo’s copper cupola with a finial on top and the brick walkway that circled the structure.
My parents looked so young in the pictures, Mom in her white cotton dress and Matt in a pair of black dress pants, white shirt and tie. The flowers Mom held looked like one of those cheap bouquets you can buy at the grocery store.
There were lots of pictures of me, a few of me and Grandma and none, not one, of me and Matt.
“I love this one,” Elizabeth says when the photographer displays the photos she has just taken on the computer screen.
“Me, too,” Tom says.
Olivia is sitting on a white rocker, holding a doll that’s wearing a pink floral dress just like hers.
“You didn’t tell me you got the doll a matching dress,” Tom says.
Elizabeth smiles. “I couldn’t resist. It was just too adorable.”
They look at all of the pictures and purchase several poses of Olivia and several poses of all three of them.
“Remember our wedding pictures?” Elizabeth says.
“How could I forget? We had a best man, a maid of honor, six bridesmaids, six ushers, a flower girl and ring bearer and the photo session took forever.”
“But we got great photos,” Elizabeth said.
“Yeah, but I’m not sure our five hundred guests were happy that they had to wait so long.”
“It wasn’t five hundred, it was four hundred. And besides, the strolling musician and hors d’oeuvres held them over.”
I had a doll with a matching dress once. I named her Sue, after my mom. It was Twins’ Day in preschool and no one wanted to dress like me. Grandma made all of my clothes and, even though I thought they were beautiful, they didn’t quite compare with the store-bought ones. Grandma thought the newer styles were too grown-up for a little girl just learning to print her name. So she used older patterns that she felt were more appropriate.
The teacher didn’t know I didn’t have a partner. She thought Marybeth was my partner. But Marybeth decided that she wanted to dress like Melissa and Kristin, who always wore the latest fashions. So instead of twins they were triplets. When I told Grandma that I didn’t have a partner and that I didn’t want to go to school that day, she said she would make a dress for my doll and that I could take her. So, that’s what I did.
I loved that red dress with the white trim and big red bow and I loved that doll. Most of all, I loved Grandma.
“What’s it now?” Tom asks.
“103. The pediatrician said there’s a bug going around and that high fevers are a part of it.”
“So she doesn’t want to see her?”
“If Libby’s not feeling better by tomorrow and she still has a high fever, the doctor said to bring her in.”
“Do you want me to sleep in her room tonight?” Tom asks.
“No,” Elizabeth says. “You have to get up for work tomorrow. Can you pump up the air mattress, though?”
Tom gets the air mattress from the basement and pumps it up while Elizabeth rocks Olivia and sings her a lullaby.
When I was sick, Grandma took care of me. She’d rock me and hold me and soothe me.
“It’s OK, Sarah. It’s OK,” Grandma said as she tucked two-year-old me in her bed. “The medicine should work soon. Shh, baby girl. Shh.”
Grandma crawled in bed beside me and wrapped her arm around me and pulled me closer. “These darn ear infections. Hopefully the surgery will help.”
Tom peeks in the nursery. Olivia is asleep beside Elizabeth on the air mattress. “Liz,” he whispers, trying not to wake up Olivia.
Elizabeth stirs.
“How’s the fever? Do you need me to take off work?”
“No,” Elizabeth says. “Fever finally broke.”
“Well, if you need me, call me.”
Elizabeth nods.
“I love you. Tell Libby I love her, too.’
“What do you mean she has to have surgery?” Matt asked Grandma.
“Just what I said. The poor child has had one ear infection after another. The doctor says she needs to have tubes put in her ears.”
“And how am I supposed to pay for it?” Matt asks. “That lousy insurance I have won’t begin to cover this.”
“I worked out a payment plan with the doctor. I’ll pick up a couple more houses to clean and any extra alteration work at the bridal shop. Can you get any more hours at the factory?”
“They’re cutting back, not adding hours.”
“Well, if you give me the money you spend on beer each week that would help.”
“Don’t start, Mom. It’s only a couple of beers a week.”
“It’s