The Moment Keeper

Elizabeth walks into the room wearing her new dress that showcases her hourglass figure and endless toothpick legs.

Tom whistles.

Cindy smiles. “You look like a million bucks, Liz.”

“Thanks, Mom. Are you sure you know what to do?”

“Liz. I had five daughters. I think I know what to do. Quit worrying. Go out with your husband and have some fun. Just because you’re parents doesn’t mean you stop being a couple.”

“I know, but…”

“But nothing. Libby and I will be fine. Now go.”

Elizabeth sees the knitting bag on the table. “What are you making now?”

“Oh, just another sweater for Libby.”

“But you already made her two.”

“Well, I decided she needed another one. This one’s a pretty green. Oh, and I’m also knitting her some hats. Found a pattern with this cute flower in the front that I think she’ll look adorable in.”

Elizabeth smiles and kisses Libby then her mom. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”

She takes a couple of steps then turns around. “Mom, is there a hair coming out of this mole beside my mouth?”

Elizabeth sticks out her head and tilts her chin so her mom can examine the mole.

“I don’t see any hair. Who said you had a hair? Did you see a hair?”

Tom laughs and Cindy looks at him. “Don’t tell my daughter she has a hair coming out of her mole because we will never hear the end of it. Now go and have some fun.”

“Which one do you like better?” Grandma asked me. “The pink or the purple?”

A baby me sat in the seat of the blue plastic shopping cart, looking at the two bolts of fabric in Grandma’s hands.

“Ma. Ma. Ma.”

“That’s right. Grandma’s right here. Would you like Grandma to make you a pink dress or a purple dress?”

“May I help you?” a saleswoman asked Grandma.

“Yes, please. I’ll take this pink and purple, oh, and why not, that yellow.”

Grandma pointed to the pale yellow fabric behind her. “I can’t decide so I’ll make her all three.”

The saleswoman smiled at me. “She’s an absolute doll. Is her hair naturally curly?”

“Yes, just like her mother’s.”

“You’re a lucky little girl,” the saleswoman said to me. “I wish I had someone to make me dresses.”

The saleswoman got the fabric for Grandma and we headed for checkout.

“Next on our list, Sarah, is to get you a coat.”

“Ma. Ma. Ma.”

Grandma picked me up and put me in her dented Chevy sedan and we pulled out of the discount department store parking lot and headed for the Goodwill store.

Chapter 4

“That’s it, Libby. Pull yourself up. Good girl. Now come to Daddy.”

I watch as Tom coaxes Olivia, who’s holding onto the edge of the cherry coffee table, to let go and walk toward him. Olivia smiles and giggles and lifts her pudgy, dimpled hands. She takes one step toward Tom before falling backward on her diaper-clad bottom.

She pulls herself up again and falls backward again. After a few more tries, Olivia takes two steps toward Tom before he catches her and keeps her from falling.

Tom continues to work with Olivia, moving farther and farther from her. She takes high marching steps, lifting her knees, then jabbing the floor with her tiny feet. Eventually, she toddles to Tom and falls into his open arms. She seems surprised that she was able to walk that far without falling. She giggles some more.

“Good girl, Libby. Good girl.” He hugs her and kisses her freshly bathed head. “Wait until Mommy sees what we’ve been working on. She’s going to be so proud of you.”

Just yesterday, Olivia had pulled herself up and walked around the coffee table while holding onto it for the first time. Today, she finally gets the nerve to let go.

Tom scoops her up and sits on the couch and reads her a book before tucking her into bed.

I don’t think Matt ever did anything with me. If he had loved me an eighth of what Tom loves Olivia, maybe things would have been different. But you can’t make someone love you. Believe me, I tried. I tried to be good all of the time. Do everything I was told. But Matt was always so angry. Even when I learned to walk and Grandma was so proud of me the only thing on Matt’s mind was how my newfound freedom made me even more of a pain in the ass.

“Can’t you keep her in one room?” Matt asked Grandma one day.

“Matt, she’s not an animal that you can cage. It’s natural for her to want to explore.”

“Well, I don’t need her exploring and getting into my stuff.”

“Then close your bedroom door. Besides, maybe she just wants to be near you.”

“Well, I don’t want to be near her. Keep her out of my room, out of my stuff.”

“Why don’t you just move out if you’re that miserable?” Grandma said.

“Don’t worry, when I can afford to I will.”

Elizabeth holds up princess-themed party invitations. “How about this, Libby?”

Olivia sits in the grocery cart gnawing on a red plastic teething ring. Her yellow bib is soaked from her drool.

“Princess invitations for a princess,” Elizabeth says as she puts them in the cart. “After all, you only turn one once.”

Elizabeth finds the coordinating tableware and tosses plates, cups, napkins, tablecloths, a centerpiece, utensils, pink and white streamers and other party decorations into the cart. She then orders a balloon bouquet for the big day, selecting a huge princess balloon along with several Mylar balloons and a few latex ones.

“She’s cute,” the clerk tells Elizabeth.

“Thank you.”

“Love her curly hair. Guess she gets that from her father.”

Elizabeth, whose hair is straight as straw, smiles. “Actually, we’re not sure where she gets it from.”

“That’s like me,” the clerk says. “I was born without two adult teeth. My dentist said it’s a congenital thing, usually hereditary. But Mom doesn’t know anyone in the family who’s missing two teeth.”

“So what did you do?” Elizabeth asks.

“About what?”

“The teeth.”

“Oh. Got implants, and they were way expensive. Mom said she’s spent a mint on my mouth.”

“Well, they look nice,” Elizabeth says. “You have a great smile. I would never have known your teeth weren’t real.”

“Thanks.”

Olivia’s teething ring falls on the floor. Elizabeth picks it up and puts it in her purse and pulls out another one from the diaper bag to give her.

“I hope she’s not missing any teeth,” the clerk says.

Elizabeth smiles. “Me, too. I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see. There’s some things I guess you just don’t know.”

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Sarah. Happy birthday to you.”

Grandma placed the cake she had baked in front of me. It had vanilla icing and she decorated it with sprinkles and a big candle in the shape of the numeral one. It was just me and Grandma. There were no aunts or uncles or cousins. Grandma had no family. And there was no Matt.

Grandma snapped photos as I dug my baby fingers into the cake.

“Taste the icing, Sarah,” she said. “Mmm, good.”

I started to tear up. Icing dripped from my hands. I didn’t like being messy. Grandma took a swipe of the icing with her index finger and put it up to my mouth. I tasted the sweet icing and realized the stuff on my fingers was good. Real good. I licked the icing off my fingers and dug them back into the cake and licked them clean again and again.

Grandma laughed. “That’s my girl. Get messy. Enjoy it. You’re one.”

I had cake and icing in my hair and all over my face. Grandma waited until I was good and messy and the cake was wrecked before removing it from the tray on my high chair.

“Do you ever think about her mother?” Elizabeth asks Tom.

“I try not to,” Tom says. “I mean, I’m grateful we have Libby, but I don’t understand how her mother could do what she did.”

“Do you worry that we don’t know anything about her mother?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Like if she was born without two adult teeth.”

Tom tilts his head and scrunches his eyes so his eyebrows almost meet in the middle. “What are you talking about?”

Elizabeth shifts in her seat. “The clerk at the party store told me she was born without two adult teeth. Said it was congenital.”

“So?”

“Well, it just got me thinking. We don’t know the birth mother’s health history. What if Libby’s missing two of her adult teeth or…?”

“Look, Liz. We can’t worry about what we don’t know. If Libby is missing two adult teeth, then we’ll get her two. Simple as that. Whatever Libby faces, we’ll be there to help her. No matter what that might be.”

“I love you,” Elizabeth tells Tom. “Thanks for putting up with my worrying self.”

Tom kisses her. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t worry. But worry about the things you can control, not the things you can’t. Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

“You missed your daughter’s first birthday,” Grandma told Matt as he stumbled into the kitchen. He popped a handful of aspirin into his mouth and chased them with a swig of black coffee.

“Sorry. I forgot.”

“That collection department called again,” Grandma said. “You better call them back.”

Matt didn’t answer.

“Have any interviews lined up?”

Matt shook his head.

“You need to find something, Matt. You’ve got bills to pay.”

“Christ, Mom. Can’t I just eat breakfast in peace for once?”

He looked at me in my high chair eating Cheerios.

“Da. Da.” I pinched a Cheerio and offered it to him.

Matt’s eyes became glassy. He held out his palm and I placed the Cheerio in it. His lips mashed into a limp smile, and he slid the Cheerio into his jeans pocket.

He didn’t realize that Grandma was watching. She placed her hand over her heart and a tear slipped from the corner of her wrinkled eye.

Matt grunted goodbye and left, slamming the door behind him. He was gone. Again.

Grandma walked over to me and patted the top of my head. “There’s a man who’s 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.”

Chapter 5

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 more than a couple, Matt. Have you gone to any of those meetings yet?”

Matt pushed out his chair and threw down his paper napkin. “No, and I don’t plan to either.”

He left the house and it was just Grandma and me – again.

Chapter 6

Olivia points to the three stick figures on her drawing. “That’s Daddy and Mommy and me.”

Elizabeth picks up Olivia and hugs her. “I love your drawing. And I love that we’re all smiling.”

Olivia nods.

Elizabeth puts Olivia down. “Where should we put it?”

They search the stainless-steel refrigerator for some open space, but Olivia’s artwork covers every inch of the appliance.

“How about in the office?” Elizabeth says.

Olivia follows Elizabeth into the office crowded with heavy oak furniture. The bulletin board behind the desk is covered with Olivia’s artwork but Elizabeth makes room by overlapping some pieces and puts the new picture right in the middle.

“The perfect place for the perfect picture of the perfect family,” Elizabeth says.

“Per-vect,” Olivia says.

“I’d like you to draw a picture of your family,” Miss Becky told the kindergarten class. “Afterward, you can share what you drew.”

Miss Becky gave each of us a big sheet of white paper and a pack of new crayons. I ran my finger over the pointy crayon tips. My crayons at home had been worn down to stubs. I sat beside Reid and Rachel.

I drew a big circle for Grandma’s head and a smaller one for mine. I glanced over at Reid’s paper. He was drawing a lot of circles. Each one was connected to a stick body. The figures were different heights. I looked at Rachel’s paper. She had drawn three stick figures and a flat circle with four stick legs coming out of the bottom.

I pointed to the flat circle. “What’s that?”

Rachel looked up at me, her black licorice eyes swallowing her cornrow-framed face. “My dog.”

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Peanut Butter.”

Reid laughed.

Rachel covered her drawing with her arms.

“I like that name,” I said.

Rachel pulled her paper toward me and shifted in her seat so her back was blocking Reid from seeing her picture.

“OK, children,” Miss Becky said. “Time to share. Anyone want to volunteer to go first?”

Reid’s hand shot up. He was always first to volunteer for anything.

“OK, Reid. Come to the front of the classroom so everyone can see your picture.”

Reid pushed out his chair and walked to the front and stood next to Miss Becky.

“This is my dad and this is my mom,” he said, pointing to the different stick figures on the big sheet of white paper. “And these are my sisters. Rebecca. Rachelle. Renee. And Randi. And that’s me.”

“So you have four sisters?” Miss Becky asked.

Reid shook his head so fast I thought his thick black glasses would fly off.

“And a cat but I forgot to drawn him. His name is Rudy.”

“Very good,” Miss Becky said.

“And guess what?” Reid asked. He didn’t wait for Miss Becky to reply. “Our names all start with R.”

“That’s right,” Miss Becky said. “They do.”

Reid walked back to his seat, strutting like one of those Mummers Grandma always likes to watch on TV on Thanksgiving Day.

“Who would like to go next?”

I sat and listened as student after student talked about their families. I didn’t want to share my drawing. But eventually I was the only one left who hadn’t gone.

“Sarah,” Miss Becky said. “Your turn.”

I picked up my drawing and went to the front of the class. “This is me and my grandma.”

Reid raised his hand.

“Yes, Reid,” Miss Becky said.

“Where’s your mom and dad?”

My body stiffened, like the time Grandma caught me sneaking chocolate-chip cookies after she said I couldn’t have any more because we were soon going to eat dinner.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t have any.”

Reid tilted his head and even with his thick glasses on I could tell he was scrunching his beady little eyes. “Why not?”

“You know, Reid,” Miss Becky interrupted. “Just like there are different kinds of ice cream, there are many different kinds of families. Some families have moms and dads and sisters and brothers. Others have just a mom or just a dad or a grandma or a grandpa. What’s important to remember is that they are all families no matter how they are made up.”

Reid scratched his head.

Rachel raised her hand.

“Yes, Rachel,” Miss Becky said.

Rachel smiled. “I like Sarah’s picture.”

From that day on, Rach and I were inseparable.

“And God bless Mommy and Daddy,” says Olivia, her fingers, stained with magic marker, interlocked and her eyes pinched shut. “And Emma and Jack. And the nice lady at the deli who gave me a slice of cheese. And the man who came to the house and gave Mommy flowers from Daddy. And my teacher, Mrs. Plato. And those people Mommy and I saw waiting for food outside that building on the way to school today. Oh, and God bless Pepper. That’s our neighbor’s cat. He has three legs. Amen.”

“That was a very nice prayer,” Elizabeth says, brushing Olivia’s ringlets off her face.

Tom agrees. “I know who Emma is. Who’s Jack?”

“He’s new at school. I played with him today. He said he doesn’t have a mommy or a daddy. He has a grandma.”

Tom looked at Elizabeth. “Well, princess. I’m glad you played with Jack. I’m sure that made him feel good.”

“Yeah. He cried. A lot. And then when we started to play, he stopped. For a little. But then when his grandma came to pick him up, he cried again.”

“I see,” Tom says.

“Emma asked him why he cries so much and that made him cry more. Why does he?”

“Cry so much?” Elizabeth asks.

Olivia nods.

“Sometimes people are sad,” Elizabeth says. “And they just need time to be happy again.”

“Will he be happy again?” Olivia asks.

“I’m sure he will,” Tom says. “But you can keep praying for that to happen.”

Tom pulls the pink blanket up to Olivia’s chin and kisses her on the forehead. Elizabeth tucks Olivia’s teddy beside her and kisses her on each cheek.

“Sweet dreams, Princess,” Elizabeth says. “Love you bunches and bunches.”

Every night, Grandma and I had the same routine. Even when I got older, parts of it remained. Like the part where she hugged me and kissed me on the cheek and told me how much she loved me and how proud she was of me before she went to bed. No one has ever loved me as much as Grandma. I thought that Bryan did. I thought he was my Prince Charming, coming to take me away. But I was wrong. So wrong. But that’s a moment for another day.

The best part of our nightly routine was Grandma reading me a book. Of course, we said prayers, too. But the book always came first

“Got the book you want to read?” Grandma asked me, then five.

I grabbed a book from the bookshelf Grandma had found at a yard sale. She sanded and painted it and made it look like new. I loved my pink bookshelf.