Roz Fox - Baby, Baby

Next, a singer—a woman Faith had selected from a generic pool on file at the funeral home—had half the people in the chapel sniffing and wiping their eyes with her rendition of “The Rose.” Faith chose the song because Lacy had worn out two CD copies of it. Too bad if anyone thought the lyrics inappropriate for a funeral. Faith wanted the service to epitomize Lacy’s life.

Her own cheeks remained wet as the minister delivered a tribute she’d written yesterday. The words hadn’t come easily, but Faith wanted people to know that her sister wasn’t shallow and vain, as some might remember her from high school and college. For one thing, Lacy had artistic talents. Before her debilitating illness, she’d dreamed of becoming an interior designer. If the media chose to cover the funeral, Faith also wanted them to report how selfless Lacy had been, giving her life in exchange for healthy babies. But it was all she could do to listen to the eulogy. The tears coursed down her cheeks and plopped on the lapels of her new navy suit.

Before Reverend Wilson brought the service to a close, Michael turned to Faith and whispered, “May I say a few words?”

“Of c-course,” she stammered. When he stood, she was shocked to discover her right hand had been tightly entwined in his. Faith immediately pulled away, but she missed the warmth of his hand as Michael stepped to the pulpit and faced the small gathering.

“Lacy Ellen Hyatt Cameron passed through our lives at warp speed,” he began in an unsteady voice. “Her sojourn with us was much too brief.” He paused to clear his throat, and Faith saw his fingers tremble. She lowered her gaze to the floor and sucked her upper lip between her teeth, biting down hard to hold off a new bout of tears.

However, Michael didn’t dwell on Lacy’s death. He invited everyone to remember the woman who’d lived life full-tilt. “The Lacy we all knew brightened a room just by being in it. She hated sitting still. She loved to go and do. She loved to argue and debate.” His voice cracked a little, but a semblance of a smile curved his lips as he suggested she was probably even now testing St. Peter’s mettle. “It’s that Lacy who’ll live on in my heart and I hope in yours as well.”

People were dabbing at their eyes as he sat down again. Faith felt as if a weight had been lifted. She’d blotted away her tears while the minister offered a final prayer. “Thank you, Michael,” she managed to say once everyone began to mill about. “Lacy kept things to herself this last year. I…we…stopped communicating.” Faith licked a salty tear off her upper lip while twisting a tissue into bits. “If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in work, I keep thinking she might have confided in me more. I’m afraid I gave up too easily, trying to reach her at the beach house. When she didn’t return my calls, I…” Faith didn’t finish the statement.

“I’m more at fault than you are, Faith,” Michael said, his hazel eyes dark and troubled. “I let our lawyers act as go-betweens after she filed for divorce. I should have sat down with her when I returned from Norway. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that she ended up hating me.”

“I’m sure she didn’t feel that strongly, Michael.”

“Then how come Fielding believes I’m a first-class SOB?”

“On the phone, Lacy seemed happy enough at Christmas. She didn’t give the slightest indication you two would be splitting up in January.”

“When you called, she put on a convincing act. She was pretty upset with me for missing most of the major holiday parties we’d received invitations to. Every passing day, she seemed to feel more resentful of the time I devoted to my patients. I didn’t know how to bridge the chasm between us.”

“I’m sorry, Michael.” Faith stood and bent down to pick up her purse. She started to walk away, then turned back. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Lacy’s craving for attention goes back to her childhood. To when our entire household centered on our mother’s poor health. At the same time, it terrified Lacy to think her illness might somehow force her to become dependent on others—like our mom had been. Looking back, I believe Lacy assumed the transplant would make her one-hundred percent good-as-new.”

Michael tugged at his lower lip. “Which explains why she became so terribly hostile toward follow-up care. I wish you’d said something sooner, Faith. You’ve answered my biggest question. I never understood how Lacy could act so cavalier about the second chance she’d been given. I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. You’d think I’d have picked up on her feelings.”

Faith touched his arm. “You were too close to the problem. It dawned on me gradually, after you two had left Boston.”

“We were married for five years. How could I completely miss what bothered her so much?” he asked with a snag in his voice. “Kipp got the picture, didn’t he?”

“It’s a little late for recriminations. Kipp treated her so shabbily he’s hardly in a position to judge you.” Removing her hand from Michael’s arm, Faith backed away. “Uh, Michael, I have to go. The funeral director just signaled that it’s time for me to get in the family car to make the trip to the cemetery.”

“You’re doing that alone? I’d planned to ride with friends.” He waved toward the back of the chapel. “I’ll keep you company if you’d prefer.”

“No. Please don’t change your arrangements. Someone from the funeral home will accompany me. Right now, I need a minute to decide which flowers go to the cemetery and which I want sent to the hospital to brighten our waiting rooms.”

“All right,” he said, frowning. He let her go, yet didn’t join his friends until the director approached Faith and the two left the room.

THE ASSEMBLY AT THE GRAVESIDE was smaller than the gathering at the chapel. As there wasn’t to be a formal reception, friends took the time to speak with Faith before claiming seats beneath a shade tent. She was so caught up in talking to Abigail Moore, relating Lacy’s desire to name her daughter Abby, Faith didn’t realize Michael had arrived and had slipped into the seat beside her. Or not until he exhaled sharply.

Abigail sobbed. “I’m so surprised and…and humbled. Lacy phoned me once after she’d moved back to Boston. Just to talk, she said. I suggested meeting for lunch, but she put me off. I never knew she was pregnant, Faith. I feel as if I let her down. Call me when you take the babies home. I’d love to visit.”

Faith nodded and pressed Abby’s hand. She winced when Michael leaned over and hissed in her ear. “I was under the impression Dr. Finegold lost Lacy during the delivery. When did she name the twins?”

“Before she went up for her C-section. Lacy gave me custody, remember. And she wasn’t aware that she carried twins. It’s common for women to name their babies, Michael. Abby was what Lacy had called her child. I chose Nicholas,” Faith said, injecting a challenge in her voice.

Michael’s brows puckered. He probably would have said more if the minister hadn’t asked them to stand for a prayer. Relieved, Faith tore her gaze from Michael’s flinty eyes. Bending her head, she willed her bucking heart to slow. David Reed had specifically warned her not to provoke either Michael or Kipp Fielding III. He said to refer them to him for answers to any and all questions concerning the babies.

She shouldn’t have let Michael’s earlier vulnerability reach her. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. He and Kipp were her enemies. She’d do well to remember that.

Faith was first in the circle of mourners to lay a carnation atop Lacy’s casket. An attendant had provided each person with a flower. The director sidled up to Faith as she stepped out from under the awning, asking if she preferred to mingle a bit or return to town. “Town, please,” she said with a tremor. “I’ll come back tomorrow for some private time with my sister.”