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Amber Quill Press
Excerpt from DAUGHTER OF THE HEART
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CoverArt by Trace Edward Zaber
Prologue:
It was time. The woman moved through the dormitory-like rooms in her crisp, white uniform and surveyed the sleeping residents. She stopped to take the pulse of one patient, then tucked the soft cotton sheet around the thin shoulders.
Moving on, she touched the warm forehead of another patient, then the thermostat on the wall. Seventy-eight degrees. One of them had pushed it up again, wasting the doctor’s hard-earned money. She switched it back to sixty-six.
Nurse Hilda Krakowski realized a deep sense of satisfaction as she surveyed the neat rows of beds.
This was her life, her calling, and she was fiercely loyal to the man who’d given her another chance to work in her profession. She often fantasized that they were Romeo and Juliet, two star-crossed lovers.
Nurse Krakowski returned to her desk and made careful notations in each chart. Heart palpitations reported in one patient; they’d have to keep a watchful eye on her. Abdominal cramping, difficulty breathing, water retention...
From the clock on the wall, she noted it was time to visit the “special” ones, the ones who were ready to be tested. Standing, she smoothed her skirt, touched her cap, securing it in place over her graying hair, then looked down. The shoes were her only flaw, but a small price to pay.
Nurse Krakowski knew everyone called her “Squeaky” behind her back because of the incessant sounds her shoes made. It was a humiliation she endured. The doctor insisted she wear them. He didn’t want her sneaking up behind him as she’d done in the past when wearing her silent-soled oxfords.
With a deep sigh, she picked up another clipboard and continued her rounds, reciting the sacred oath with each step.
Twilight deepened into the darkness that once again brought Ronni Frost’s nightmares to life. She rinsed and dried her coffee cup, methodically hung the kitchen towel and straightened the cloth until it was perfectly centered on the rack.
Anything to delay bedtime. She garnered no comfort from the aroma of the decaf perking on the stove. Ronni walked into the living room to rearrange her miniature canine collection. Her gaze caught on the dachshund figurine her son Jesse had given her when he was five. They’d always owned dachshunds, until they lost Slinky. Enough losses.
She moved through the silent house as ghosts from the past accompanied her. She reached to turn off a lamp, but instead, stumbled and sent it crashing to the floor. Shaken, she knelt to pick up the pieces.
She’d go crazy if she stayed in this house much longer. Two thousand square feet had always seemed so spacious. Now the walls closed in on her. Ronni surveyed the familiar furnishings, the anniversary clock on the mantel, the subtle plaid family room furniture, twin crystal lamps. All replaceable things, she’d discovered in her thirty-eight years.
When would the papers go through? The process was taking forever. Ronni was tired, but if she went to bed early, she’d simply stare into the darkness, like every other night since...
She willed the wall to go up in her mind, blocking out the memories that destroyed her. Instead, she thought about what to do after escrow closed.
The doorbell rang and she jumped, her eyes wide as she glanced at the wall clock. Eight p.m. Almost precisely the same time the Marine officers had come to her door six months ago.
The bell rang again, sounding more insistent. Ronni’s pulse quickened as she headed toward the front entrance. Who could be visiting at this hour? She tightened the belt on her burgundy robe.
Maybe her neighbor, Marge, needed something, but Marge knew better than to surprise her this time of night. Ronni had told her about the nightmares.
She flipped on the light and peered through the peephole, surprised to find a young woman standing there. Her hair was the color of bleached straw, and overly done makeup gave her the appearance of a sad clown. She snapped her gum when Ronni opened the door.
“May I help you?” Ronni wanted this person off her doorstep as quickly as possible.
“Mrs. Frost?”
“Yes?”
“Can I come in?” She blew a bubble, popped it, then spit the wad over the porch banister and lit a cigarette in one continuous motion.
“Why?” Ronni narrowed the gap in the open doorway as a cloud of cigarette smoke tickled her nostrils. She pressed her fingers against her nose to suppress a sneeze.
“I knew Jesse.”
At the mention of her son’s name, Ronni took a step backward. A chill enfolded her body and she trembled. Her vision blurred with pain.
“What do you want?” She choked out the words. “Don’t you know my son is dead?”
“Yeah. One of his buddies told me.”
When the young woman didn’t elaborate, Ronni said, “I’m not up to this right now. Maybe another time.” She didn’t for a minute believe that her son had anything to do with a girl like this.
The stranger shifted her weight and put a hand on her hip, her clear blue eyes looking directly into Ronni’s dark ones. “I’m pregnant with his kid.”
Ronni couldn’t speak as she absorbed the girl’s bald statement and the swollen shape of her young body. “What are you trying to pull?” Was this a horrible joke?
The girl didn’t budge, but her eyes narrowed and her upper lip curled. “I don’t want nothin’ from you, lady. Just thought you had a right to know, that’s all.” She turned and trounced down the walkway into the night.
Ronni slammed the door, then leaned against it with a hard thud. She closed her eyes, as if that would erase the words she’d just heard. After what Jesse had told her, this person’s appearance was the cruelest irony of all.
Her memory jolted back to the night Jesse had told her he was gay. That was one time she’d been glad Tyler wasn’t alive, she thought with shame. She didn’t know how he would have reacted.
Ronni and her son had wept together as she’d blamed herself and he’d begged her not to. Then he told her how difficult it was, going through high school as a popular jock and pretending to ogle the girls as much as his fellow athletes did. He’d hated himself and cursed God, but eventually faced the truth.
After that, Ronni had suffered through each stage of grief, denial, anger, self-blame, despair, and gradual acceptance. All she knew was that she loved her child unconditionally, while secretly praying for a miracle. She knew that God worked in mysterious ways, but was the unborn child of a wayward waif the answer to her prayer? Even if Jesse’d been straight, she couldn’t imagine him being attracted to someone like that. But, part of Jesse might be alive in that girl’s womb, if what she said was true. No matter how the baby was conceived, it could be her grandchild.
Ronni threw open the door. “Wait!” Her voice traveled into the night.
The blonde was clear down the block, her image fading into a light spring fog. She stopped, but didn’t turn around, her shoulders hunched.
Ronni hurried up to her, shivering from the cold that had descended with the sun’s disappearance. “I’m sorry I reacted that way. You caught me by surprise.”
The young woman whirled, her expression tormented yet defiant. “You think this wasn’t a shock for me, too? I’m knocked up by the first guy who treats me decent, and he goes and gets himself killed in training. It’s not fair.”
Ronni didn’t need to hear the details now, maybe not ever. “What’s your name and where can I reach you?”
She snorted as if doubting she’d ever hear from Jesse’s mother again. “The name’s Angie Kendric. I’m staying with some relatives down in South Sac.” She rattled off an address.
Ronni repeated it in her mind. “Will you call me in a few days, and we can talk? My number’s in the book under R. Frost.” Of course, Ronni assumed Angie probably already knew that since she’d found out where Ronni lived.
Angie shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Please?” Ronni felt as if she were on the verge of a precipice. She could either jump or turn back, forfeiting the chance to look ahead.
“Yeah, sure,” Angie said. She climbed into th driver’s side of an old Chevy station wagon.
Ronni watched as she drove out of sight.
Over the next few days, Ronni thought of nothing else and argued with herself constantly. What if it wasn’t Jesse’s child at all? How had it happened? The girl might be preying on her grief, hoping for money.
She rubbed her temples to ward off the headache that hovered, then went to the stone fireplace where photos stood of her husband and son in uniform. She’d just recently displayed them again.
Jesse had wanted to follow Tyler into the Corps and Ronni knew it was his way of keeping his father alive. She was fearful, knowing what Jesse’d face if his secret were discovered.
Tyler had been a career military man with strict rules for himself and others. What a shock when he’d died of a massive coronary in Texas during a joint operation with the border patrol. Everyone had assumed he was in perfect health.
Six years after his father’s death, Jesse talked to the recruiter.
“Why, Jesse?” Ronni had asked when he told her. Enlisting was the last thing she wanted him to do.
“I have to do this, Mom. To prove something to myself and to Dad.”
“Your father isn’t here. You don’t have to prove anything.”
“Yes, I do,” he said with a plea in his eyes.
“Did Jack talk you into this?” Master Sergeant Jack Murdock was a family friend.
“This is what I want.”
Four months later, she flew to San Diego for Jesse’s graduation from bootcamp with Jack as her escort. A slight breeze stirred off the bay as the band played the Marine Corps hymn. Shivers slithered down her spine at the refrain, “From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli...”
Ronni didn’t realize how tightly she held onto Jack until he pried her fingers loose and shook his hand to restore circulation. He grinned, and she smiled back.
Jack gazed down at her with a warm glow in his eyes, then he tapped the tip of her nose in an affectionate gesture. “You okay?”
The ceremony awakened many memories, and Ronni appreciated Jack’s thoughtfulness. She nodded and gave him a shaky smile.
After the impressive ceremony concluded and the graduates were dismissed, it wasn’t long before Jesse found her. He picked her up and twirled around, as they laughed together. When he set her down, she said, “Let me look at you.” To her, he was the handsomest young man in the world, six feet tall, with black hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a grin that melted the hardest of hearts. “Oh, Jesse, I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, beaming, then sheepishly, “I missed you...and your cooking!”
He squeezed her again, then turned to Jack, his father’s friend and Jesse’s rock of security since Tyler Frost’s death. The men eyed one another, then shook hands.
“Well done, Private Frost,” Jack said in his deep voice.
“Thank you, sir. For everything.”
Two months after graduation, Jesse was dead.
Now Ronni shook her head to clear the visions of the past. She had to stop torturing herself.
But what if...what if Jesse’s child, her grandchild, really did exist? And what if Angie decided to have an abortion? Maybe it was already too late. Ronni certainly hadn’t welcomed the girl’s appearance. She realized the unborn child might never know about its father if Ronni didn’t get involved. She should’ve asked more questions the other night.
Ronni pulled a map from a desk drawer in her desk and searched for the street Angie had mentioned. Having found the location, Ronni finger-combed her hair and grabbed a sweater. All she could think about now was talking to Angie again, praying she hadn’t waited too long.
Ronni backed out of the driveway, nearly running over the neighbor’s Siamese cat. She drove as if possessed, not sure what to do when she reached her destination, but it was suddenly imperative to find Angie as soon as possible.
Ronni tried to read the names of the streets, but most of the streetlights were shattered. A man at a corner gas station directed her to a delapidated house down the block. When she’d parked, Ronni noted that the lights were dimmed. She went up the cracked concrete walk and tripped over a lone skate. she hesitated, then knocked. When no one came, she knocked louder, feeling a desperate urgency. After a few minutes, a woman opened the door.
Consternation played across her face. “What do you want?” She self-consciously drew back her stringy hair, then let it fall into its original disarray.
Ronni swallowed. “I came to see Angie.”
Several children of varying ages chased each other through the room, then out again. The smell of burnt toast hung in the faint smoke stream near the ceiling.
The woman yelled at them to slow down, then said to Ronni, “Angie’s not here.”
“Do you know where she is? I have to see her.”
The brunette folded her arms across her thick waist, as if attempting to hide her wrinkled housedress. “What do you want with her?”
Ronni sighed, realizing she was the stranger at the door now. “I’m Ronni Frost, Jesse’s mother.”
The woman’s expression remained wary. Apparently Angie hadn’t mentioned Jesse. Was her story fabricated for Ronni’s benefit alone? For money? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t take a chance on letting a part of Jesse slip away. She’d never forgive herself.
Eye-to-eye, they stared, neither moving. Finally, the other woman took a step back. “Come in,” she said, as if resigned.
Ronni went inside. The brunette locked the door behind them and pulled the tattered shade.
“Are you Angie’s aunt?” Ronni asked, holding out her hand.
She gave a weary nod, ignoring the gesture. “I’m Teresa. Angie’s mother is my half-sister.”
Ronni followed her into a cluttered living room as the children ran through again, shrieking. She remembered how Jesse had always showed off for company when he was little.
Teresa moved the tinker toys off the sofa to make room. “Why do you want to talk to my niece?”
Ronni clenched her hands in her lap and inhaled deeply, ignoring the foul odor coming from the carpet. “She came to my door the other night and told me she’s carrying my son’s baby.”
Teresa swore under her breath. “I doubt if she knows who the father is. That girl will be the death of me yet.”
Ronni leaned forward as she asked, “Where are her parents?”
Teresa threw up her hands. “Who knows? My sister’s been dumping her on me for years. Angie’s father’s dead.” Her voice had gone flat when she mentioned him.
Ronni began to get the picture. She hated to think about the conditions under which these people lived. Disappointed, she stood. “Thank you for talking to me,” she said. “Please ask Angie to come see me again. It’s important.”
Teresa shrugged. “If I see her.” As she let Ronni out, she warned, “You don’t know what you’re setting yourself up for, lady.”
On the drive home, Ronni realized she’d led a sheltered life. She’d never had to live in poverty. Angie must’ve been shuffled from one place to another, feeling unwanted everywhere.
Even after she had lost Tyler, Ronni’s friends rallied to help cushion and absorb her grief.
And there was Jesse. The fresh pain stunned her with its intensity as she thought of her second devastating loss. The memories always ambushed her when she least expected.
When Ronni arrived home and pulled into the driveway, she leaned her forehead on her hands as she gripped the steering wheel. After a long while, she straightened and stared at the brick house. So big...so empty. She was glad she’d sold it and doubted she’d have a single regret when it was time to leave. Just a few more days...
Ronni forced herself to stir. She made her way to the door where she fumbled with the key. It always stuck, no matter how often she had a new one made. The phone started ringing just as she went through the door.
Ronni hesitated, then picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Ronni, it’s Jack.” His deep voice turned her inside out, as always. “Ronni?”
She swallowed. “Hello, Jack. How are you?”
He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking. I put too much pressure on you too soon after...”
“Don’t,” she said in a whisper. She couldn’t talk about Jesse, even with the man who loved him like a son. Not yet.
“Please. Just listen to me. I want you. I’m not denying that. But I’m still your friend, even if we never go beyond that.”
Ronni’s throat felt so tight, she couldn’t answer.
He waited a moment, then went on. “I couldn’t let things stay the way they were the last time we saw each other. I want you to know you can count on me, no matter what.”
“I know that,” she managed to choke out.
He was silent again, but Ronni couldn’t say the words he wanted to hear. She doubted she’d ever risk love again. It hurt too much.
“I’ll call again soon,” he said finally. “Good night, Ronni.” He hung up.
She merely stood there, clutching the phone, with tears running down her face. “Oh, Jack,” she moaned. “I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t be yours.” Ronni stumbled to the sofa and cried over all her lost loves.
She was climbing up the winding staircase later when she heard a faint knock at the door, so faint she wondered if she’d heard right. Gripping the oak banister, she listened hard and heard it again.
The luminescent hands on the hall clock showed it was nearly eleven. Wearily, she retraced her steps and swung open the door without checking the peephole.
Angie stood outside, snapping her gum. “You wanted to see me?” she asked as if unconcerned. Her hair was even messier than before, and her mascara was smudged. She carried a rumpled grocery bag.
Ronni led the bedraggled girl into the living room. “What is it? What’s happened?”
After a quick glance around, Angie sank into the nearest chair. “My aunt threw me out. She said she’d put up with me long enough.” She lifted her chin, the vulnerability visible in her eyes. “She said I’d been begging to get pregnant and that God would punish me.”
Instinctively, Ronni reached over to brush the hair out of Angie’s face. Even her hair smelled like cigarette smoke. Ronni wasn’t sure what to do next. Behind them, the clock began to chime the hour.
“Listen, Angie, why don’t you to stay here tonight, and then we’ll talk tomorrow. We’re both too tired to think. You can take a hot bath while I find you something to sleep in.”
For an instant, defiance flared in Angie’s blue eyes, then faded. “Yeah, thanks.”
“And one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m allergic to cigarette smoke, so please don’t smoke in the house, okay? Also, it’s bad for the baby.”
“I only smoke a couple a day.”
“Then it shouldn’t bother you to smoke outside,” Ronni said firmly.
What would she do with the girl tomorrow? Ronni wanted to know---had to know---the truth about the child she carried, but admitted to herself she was scared. While Angie soaked in a lavender-scented bath, Ronni rummaged in her closet until she found a blue terry cloth robe and flannel nightgown. The night air cooled quickly. She flipped on the light in the guestroom, turned down the quilted comforter and knocked on the bathroom door.
“Angie, I’m setting your nightclothes right outside. See you in the morning.”
After a long silence, “Yeah. Night.”
Ronni paused, waiting for more. Finally, she sighed and went down the hallway to her own room. She scanned for wrinkles as she creamed her face. Who was she trying to impress? Ronni brushed her teeth with vigorous strokes as if she could scrub away the bitter taste of the place where Angie had lived.
She lay awake for a long time, listening to the rustling of movement in the other room. She pretended for a moment that it was Jesse, then refused to continue that hurtful game. What would she do with Angie?
First, she should find out if Angie would allow the blood tests that would determine the child’s paternity. She wasn’t even sure how it was done. This was not how Ronni’d imagined becoming a grandmother, if indeed she was.
She could hear Jack now, warning her not to fall for any con games. Her thoughts zeroed in on him, and she could almost feel his arms around her.
; Angie lay awake in the guest room, staring into the darkness as she thought about the fix she was in. She wasn’t really surprised her Aunt Teresa kicked her out again. Whenever Antonio knocked her aunt around, she took it out on Angie. It scared her what they might do to their kids.
What did surprise her was that Mrs. Frost came looking for her. Angie didn’t know what to expect when she got here tonight. Certainly not an invite to stay in Jesse’s home. Jesse wasn’t like the others; he had treated her like she was a real person, not some piece of trash.
Angie tried to picture his face, but the image was faded. No way would she let herself wallow in grief now. Just her luck--knocked up--and the father’s snuffed. Not that he would’ve married her, even if she wanted to.
She dragged in a deep breath, dying for a cigarette. She really had cut down a lot and knew she should quit, but nobody was laying down a bunch of rules for her.
Angie patted the mattress and rubbed her fingers over the soft quilt. She couldn’t remember sleeping on clean sheets before. They smelled like sunshine and fresh air. She couldn’t imagine just one person rattling around in a house this big.
She felt her baby kick and placed a protective hand over her stomach. What would she do with this baby?
Damn Jesse for dying sudden like that. He owed her something, and by God, his mother was going to pay.
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