Open with Care

Open

    With

          Care

a Novel by

Tina Appleton Bishop

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Bloomington

Open With Care

Copyright © 2010 by Tina Appleton Bishop

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4502-6013-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-6014-5 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 9/23/2010

To Mothers who try their best

Author’s Acknowledgements

In writing, at 92, my third novel, I have again depended on the loyal encouragement from my friends and family. Perhaps I should also thank the help from my doctors who made it possible for me to survive this long.

Against all advice, I have again been engaged in business with relatives. My younger son, Erik Hendricks, a former newspaper editor, was a firm and steadfast critic whose help with the structure of the plot and the courtroom scenes was significant. My older son, Peter Hendricks, a teacher and writer, was also a contributor to the look of the book, an important one, its cover. My grandson, David Hendricks, in an effort to promote me as the Grandma Moses of writers, helped to launch me on the Internet.

Finally, to my fellow members of the Greenwich branch of the National League of American Pen Women, who gave me the courage to enter the Computer Age at 90 and to set forth as a novelist, I am forever thankful.

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

1

Unexpected News

Normally, Edmund Lawrence Bayers was an amazingly attractive, even-tempered man – always happy, even when friends sometimes called him Teddy Bear. On one golden autumnal afternoon, however, he was furious as he quickly left the girls’ dormitory at Glenbrook Junior College and climbed into his SUV. His hands were shaking so that he could hardly start the engine. Sophie, his wife sat silently beside him.

You idiot! Bayers raged at her. Everything had gone so well, all that junk we brought had actually fitted in the dorm room, the new computer was hooked up, we’d set up an account for Jennifer in the local bank and checked out her roommate – then you had to open your big mouth and tell her.

He had never in 25 years of marriage behaved so cruelly to his beloved Sophie. She was too busy crying to answer him. Not another word was spoken during the two hours it took to drive from Glenbrook, located along the Hudson River about 45 miles north of Manhattan, to their Connecticut home. When they finally pulled into their driveway Larry’s pallor had left him and his hands had stopped shaking, but Sophie’s nose was still running and her eyes were still puffy.

Finally, she cleared the huskiness from her throat and said, I think she took it pretty well, don’t you?

*****

For several minutes after her parents left the room Jennifer Bayers lay on her bed, her long body curled in a fetal position. She reached for a blanket and pulled it up to her chin. With her eyes closed, she tried to erase the memory of her mother’s words. A surge of nausea brought her to her feet. As she lurched down the hallway in a search of a bathroom she collided with Gloria Pirro, her roommate.

My God, you look terrible. Are you all right? Here, let me help you.

Gloria was shocked at the sudden change that had come over Jennifer. Two hours ago when she had met the Bayers they had all seemed exceptionally healthy and happy. The parents, like her own, were dark-haired and stocky, not handsome, but their tall blonde daughter, with her scrubbed complexion and remarkable violet eyes, was a standout. They were an odd trio: the short and the dark, the fair and the tall. Only their speech tied them together: they all spoke softly and carefully. Sophie’s voice had the vestige of a Southern accent, and in Larry’s there was a flat, almost nasal tone that suggested New England. Jennifer’s speech habits were atypical of most young women. The overworked phrases of I was like, and Wow were absent. The word awesome was seldom used by Jennifer. For much of her life she had been home-schooled by her teacher-mother and in her isolation from her peers had not been contaminated by the current clichés. The result was a surprisingly mature, disarming way of speaking.

Jennifer had another distinction. She could be funny. Unfortunately, on that day, the time of her introduction to college life, the day that marked her first separation from her beloved parents, her sense of humor died.

Try as she might, she had no reply when her mother blurted out as she started to leave, Jennifer, we love you so much. It’s so hard to leave you.

Sophie could not control her tears as she said, We are so proud of you. We fell in love with you from the moment Dr. Hall showed us your picture. You were just three days old.

Realizing what she had said, Sophie’s emotions broke down completely. For years she had postponed telling Jennifer about her adoption. She had felt a sense of guilt and shame about being unable to bear children. As a teacher in kindergarten her work had fulfilled her maternal longing, or so she thought –until their doctor friend told them about a beautiful, healthy, 18-year-old who had for several months been a patient in an out-of-state shelter, known as a discreet haven for unwanted babies. The mother-to-be had agreed to give up her baby on condition that she remained anonymous.

Larry gasped and clenched his jaws as Sophie continued her story. He looked over at Jennifer who was gripping the edges of her chair seat as she listened to her mother’s revelations. The expression on her face revealed little. She had long been curious about her birth to a 42-year-old, grey-haired woman and had sometimes wondered why she had outgrown her two short-legged parents. By the age of 14, Jennifer had reached 5’8 and was still growing. Now, not yet 18, she had finally leveled off – at 5’10.

She remembered how at a family party, she had created an embarrassed silence when she laughingly said, I’m zooming up as fast as our Christmas trees. You must be feeding me some special vitamins. Unaware of the unease at the dinner table she continued, Sometimes I think I must be some kind of foundling, or a mysterious visitor from another planet. The company quickly moved to the living room for after-dinner coffee. Subject closed.

Making jokes about being a foundling was one thing. Actually believing it was another. Until that day at the college Jennifer managed to keep those fears at bay. Now the truth came tumbling out of the closet. Jennifer barely heard the whole of her mother’s story. She felt numb, as if her insides had been scooped out of her body. Somehow she managed a crooked smile as she said goodbye to her parents.

Don’t worry about me, Mother. What you’re telling me is no surprise. I figured it out for myself a long time ago, she lied.

When she hugged her father his body was rigid as he muttered to her, She shouldn’t have done this. I’m sick for you, darling.

Believe me, Dad, she called out to him as he walked on the brick path towards the parking lot, I’m tougher than you think.

When she returned from the bathroom, with Gloria’s help, she lay down again on her bed and immediately fell into a coma-like sleep. Not since an emergency appendicitis operation ten years before had she felt such an extraordinary sense of floating in space, of detachment from life. Dimly she heard sounds of laughter and commotion in the corridor and once in a while she was vaguely aware of a person moving about in the room. For 14 hours she lay on her narrow bed, hardly moving until Gloria’s hands gently stirred her awake.

Honey, would you believe it’s almost eight o’clock. You slept through supper hour and you’re about to miss breakfast.

It took a few seconds for Jennifer’s brain to click on. Where was she? What was this cluttered mess all around her? Gloria sensed her confusion.

I know it’s a shock to wake up in the middle of all this chaos. Believe me, I tried to straighten things up, but I was afraid to rouse you. Trust me, we’ll find some place to stow all this stuff. Meanwhile, you better hurry if you want to get something to eat. I had breakfast already.

Jennifer tried to hide her emotion. She had always lived a quiet, well-ordered life. Dismay and depression overwhelmed her as she attempted to pick her way through the clutter and hunted for her hairbrush.

Did you see a brush around here? I’ve got to do something about my hair before I face my public. The joke fell flat, as she knew it would. Luckily, she found a comb in her purse. It was better than using a stranger’s brush. Gloria’s was in full sight and had been offered.

Thanks, but I think the comb will do.

With all that hair – never! Gloria refused to feel offended. She was determined to get along with her roommate. Tact and forbearance were two of Gloria’s major talents. The third was brainpower, which had helped her to enter Glenbrook on a scholarship.

As she watched Jennifer struggling with the comb, she was more impressed than ever by her roommate’s height.

Did you ever think of applying to UConn? They would have loved you on their basketball team.

For a moment Jennifer thought of saying, But I’m not black. Instead she said, Strangely enough, I’ve never played the game. You see, I never went to regular school. This is my first. She paused to watch the expression on her roommate’s face. Gloria stared at her, mouth opened.

Your first! Wow, that knocks me over. You’re probably smarter than any of us.

On the way to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, Jennifer smiled for the first time. I may not be smarter, but I think I could beat most of them in the altitude department.

*****

To Jennifer’s relief, the dining hall was almost empty by the time she arrived. She longed for some quiet. The chatter and confusion along the dorm corridors had gotten on her nerves. All those high-pitched, giggly female voices, the pushing and shoving, were foreign to her. Where were the male students? Wasn’t this a co-ed school?

Ah, she spotted a young man sitting alone at a table along the wall. He was as fair-haired as she and would probably stand about six-feet when he did stand. Not bad looking either, she mused. As she passed by she noticed some bacon and scrambled eggs on his plate.

She hesitated before she spoke. Last night I wasn’t feeling too well and missed supper. Right now I’m starving. Do you recommend the bacon and eggs?

He gave a wry smile. Do you want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? The eggs stink, and so does the bacon.

She laughed. Well I guess you’ve answered my question. I have another question. What’s your name? Mine is Jennifer Bayers, and I come from a small place in Connecticut called Waterville. But why am I going on this way? I must be light-headed from lack of food.

Without waiting for his answer, she walked towards the breakfast buffet. She had been mortified by her brashness. What made her do it? Her mind must still be muddled from yesterday’s episode with her mother. That was yesterday, she told herself. Today is a new chapter. She was not the first person in the world to learn of being adopted. Get on with life, she urged herself as she placed some coffee, a Danish, orange juice and some cold cereal on her tray.

Instead of choosing a table closer to the breakfast offerings she deliberately walked towards the section where the young man was still seated. He did not seem displeased when he saw her approaching him. There was room enough for her tray after he had cleared a space for it on his table.

You never gave me the chance to tell you my name, he said. My name’s Blake Jennings and I’m from Connecticut, too. When you mentioned Waterville, I remembered a wonderful day there as a child. Wasn’t there a famous place in the area called Christmas Cove? Why, you’re blushing! Don’t tell me your family runs the place? I think we all had lunch at a restaurant called The Three Bears, and afterwards we all had a ride on a hay wagon. It was one of the most exciting days of my life."

As he talked he became more and more animated as if he were reliving that enchanted time ten years ago. As she listened to him, Jennifer’s rosy cheeks had made her eyes look even more violet than ever.

The name Bayers – of course that’s how The Three Bears got its name. With those eyes, you must have looked adorable as the Baby Bear.

Jennifer was still red-faced as she answered. The blushing came from pleasure, not embarrassment. Some day when you have a couple of hours, I’ll tell you all about the story of Christmas Cove. It’s a true American success fable. Meanwhile, I have to check on some of my courses. See you soon, I hope.

A strange feeling, almost a lightness of spirit lifted her as she left the dining hall. What was the cause – the much-needed nourishment? Not really, but how could the words of a total stranger bring her so much comfort? She had dreaded entering a real school for the first time. Suddenly, Glenbrook Junior College did not seem like such a threatening place. Who knows, she might even grow to like it

*****

Gloria was waiting for her when she returned to their room.

Whatever they fed you in that place, it’s done wonders. Guess you must have avoided the scrambled eggs, she said smiling.

Jennifer laughed. You’re so right. I was warned against them by a very nice guy by the name of Blake something.

Hey, you don’t waste time making friends, do you? He must have been really cute to bring that color back to your cheeks, Gloria teased.

Cute was a word never used by Jennifer. She stiffened a bit. Well he was very pleasant, comes from Connecticut, too, and even recalled visiting the place my family runs.

Gloria resisted an impulse to ask, And where is that? Instinct warned her that her roommate was rather an oddball who needed special handling. She was attractive looking and poised, but was probably terrified and lonely at finding herself in a foreign atmosphere. Tactfully, Gloria changed the subject. How ‘bout this room? I worked like a dog trying to make some sense out of this mess.

Heavens, Gloria, the change is amazing. And no thanks to me. You seem to have found a place for everything. How did you manage it? I guess I’d better not look under the beds.

On her way back from breakfast she had passed several open doors in her dormitory. Compared to those rooms, their place looked like an ad in House Beautiful. A few years ago, before the college went co-ed, their room would have been a single. In those days the young women needed more space for their possessions. Now, instead of trunks and suitcases, backpacks were used, and back then a complete wardrobe meant a closet full of party clothes, not two or three beat-up blue jeans. Though their lives were more streamlined, the women of today were as sloppy and careless as ever, but in Gloria, Jennifer had been paired with an exceptional roommate, as meticulous as herself. She was thankful.

Gloria noticed Jennifer’s glance under her bed.

I hope you don’t mind. I put that big flat package there. It was heavy and looked like some kind of picture, leaning there against the wall. I was afraid it might get broken. She paused, hoping to hear more about the mysterious object.

To her disappointment, Jennifer made no comment other than Thanks, it was really thoughtful of you.

Actually, she was angry as she looked at the large, securely wrapped picture under the bed. I never wanted to take the thing to school with me, but my mother insisted. She’d said, ‘Going away from home is going to be tough enough on you as it is. Maybe this picture will make you feel less homesick.’ she explained later.

Curiosity prevailing over tact, Gloria finally blurted out, Why are you so edgy about this picture? It can’t be that bad! Let’s open it. I’ll help you find a spot to hang it. The two of them pulled the package along the rug and began to remove the wrappings.

Jennifer watched her roommate’s expression as the enormous photograph was revealed. It was an aerial view of Christmas Cove taken a few years before by a magazine photographer.

My God! Didn’t I see this in some article about New England places to visit? I remember a kind of story about the history of Christmas Cove? asked Gloria.

Jennifer blushed. It was an embarrassing write-up, much too effusive and full of clichés. "The title of the piece still makes me cringe: ‘A Legacy Turned into a Legend.’ Ugh! Now you might understand why I didn’t want to take that picture to school with me."

Of course I do. You’re very proud of your parents’ achievement but you didn’t want to look like a boaster. What do you say we stash it under the bed again? Maybe later, when you feel more secure here, we could put it up on the wall, Gloria suggested.

The two women had reached a new level of friendship. Again, a feeling of light-heartedness came over Jennifer. Her deep loneliness, her tension had abated. Arm in arm, they left the room together. Gloria had never had a rich friend before. Jennifer had never had a girl friend.

*****

A few days later, in their tidy house at Christmas Cove, Sophie Bayers was packing homemade brownies to send to her daughter. Several phone calls had passed between them. What a relief it was to hear Jennifer’s cheerful voice.

To think that I’d been so concerned ever since we left her, she said to her husband.

"Darling, you’ve been concerned about that child ever since you first held her in your arms. Thank God you finally cut the cord and agreed to send her off to college. I always was against that home-school thing. Even if our local school were inferior, she would at least have learned how