Secrets She Left Behind. Diane Chamberlain

and I were nearly to the high-rise bridge before either of us spoke.

      “You think that’s a wise thing for you to do?” he asked.

      “What do you mean?” I asked, although I knew.

      “You know. Taking care of a baby.”

      “I want to,” I said.

      It was the closest we’d ever come to discussing Sam. I bit my lip, feeling anxious. Finally, Steve was giving me an invitation to talk about him.

      “Do you ever think about him?” I asked.

      “Who?” he replied.

      “Sam.”

      He was quiet for so long I thought he was going to ignore the question.

      “Doesn’t do any good to think about him,” he said. Then he pointed to a speed-limit sign. Thirty-five miles per hour. “Is that new?” he asked. “I thought it was forty-five along this stretch.”

      

      Jamie suggested I come to the real-estate office where he worked. I supposed he wanted to interview me before accepting my offer of help, but when I walked into his small office, I found him holding the baby. I sat down and he walked around his desk to hand the infant to me.

      Every baby looked beautiful to me, even those with cone-shaped heads and scrunched-up faces and homely features. All of them, staggeringly beautiful. Yet Maggie Lockwood was extraordinary even at a month old. She had Jamie’s enormous brown eyes, and they were wide open, already taking in her world. She had a thick crop of dark curls and tiny features carved in pale, flawless porcelain.

      “She’s a little colicky,” Jamie said. “But she’s a good baby.”

      It was like holding feathers, she was so light. Like holding a miracle. Experiencing God. The thought slipped into my mind, and tears filled my eyes. Could I bear it? Helping to care for this child?

      “Are you all right?” Jamie asked.

      “She’s just so beautiful.” I felt one tear slip down my cheek, but managed to stop the rest. He’d think I was deranged. Maybe the sort of woman who would steal a baby. I looked up at him, clearing my throat as I grounded myself again in my surroundings. “Is this her first visit to your office?” I asked. “Your coworkers must have flipped over her.”

      He tapped his fingers on his desk, not answering right away. “Actually,” he said, “I’ve brought her here all this week.” Leaning forward, he studied his new daughter where she rested quietly in my arms. “Laurel’s having a hard time.”

      Was he confiding in me? “I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said.

      “She had a very rough start,” he said. “She hemorrhaged during the delivery and is anemic and I think she feels isolated and…unsure of herself.”

      “Oh. Poor thing.” I felt sympathy for the woman I’d met only a couple of times. How hard to have a new baby and not feel up to taking care of her. “I hope she feels better soon.”

      “Thanks. Me, too.”

      I looked at the stack of real-estate brochures on Jamie’s desk. “It’s strange, seeing you here in an office,” I said. “Seeing you look human.”

      He laughed. “I’m very human,” he said. “That’s all I am. All I want to be. A good human.”

      “I…” I wanted to tell him what my few visits to the chapel had meant to me. I knew I would be going back, with or without Steve. I looked down at Maggie, whose long-lashed eyes were now closed, the lids twitching a little as if she was dreaming. “I don’t know how to explain to you how I feel in your chapel,” I said, raising my gaze to him again. “I’m not religious, so it’s strange. It’s hard to put into words.”

      “It’s bigger than words?” he suggested.

      I nodded.

      “Oh, Sara,” he said. “Welcome to my world.”

      

      Jamie and Laurel lived in a round cottage called the Sea Tender, right on the beach. I didn’t want to feel envy when I walked inside the cottage and took in the ocean view from the living-room windows, yet how could I help it? Clearly, the Lockwoods had money, something I doubted I’d ever have myself.

      “Oh, this is fabulous!” I said as Jamie led me through the room to the sofa, Maggie sleeping against his chest. He’d asked me to stop by to “reconnect with Laurel,” since I’d be helping out with the baby. “Have a seat,” he said. He handed Maggie to me. “I’ll let Laurel know you’re here.”

      I settled down on the sofa, the sleeping baby on my knees. A few minutes later, Laurel walked into the room. She moved slowly, as though her legs were made of concrete, and I honestly wasn’t certain I would have recognized her. Her hair was long and stringy and dull, her eyes lifeless. Her face was not pale as much as jaundiced, like a tan that was fading in uneven patches. She wore a yellow robe that needed a good washing.

      Seeing her, I felt deep concern that the pretty woman from the chapel had been replaced by a ghost. I could see that she had a long recovery ahead of her. Maggie’s delivery must have been horrendous.

      “You have a gorgeous baby.” I lowered my eyes to Maggie to hide my shock at Laurel’s appearance.

      “Thank you.” Laurel sat down in a rocking chair.

      Jamie brought me a glass of iced tea I knew I wouldn’t touch. It would be sweet, no doubt. That Southern abomination.

      “You two remember each other, of course,” Jamie said as he sat down on the other end of the sofa.

      “Of course,” I said. “Your house is beautiful, Laurel.”

      “Thanks.”

      “I…Jamie and I thought I should meet with you to see if you have any special instructions about Maggie.”

      Laurel shrugged as though she didn’t really care how I took care of her daughter. “Just don’t kill her,” she said.

      “Laurel!” Jamie said.

      My body must have jerked at Laurel’s words because Maggie started to whimper.

      “Shh, honey.” I tightened the blanket around the baby, wondering if Laurel could possibly know about Sam. Who could have told her? I was afraid to look up. I didn’t want to meet her eyes.

      Laurel laughed, breaking the tension in the room. “You know what I mean,” she said.

      “Well, okay.” I attempted a laugh myself. “I think I can manage that.”

      

      Jamie had a tiny office in the chapel, and that’s where I spent most of my time with Maggie because Laurel didn’t want me in the house.

      “It’s not you,” Jamie reassured me. “It’s anyone right now. She’s too tired to have someone around.”

      Or the baby around, I thought. It was unspoken between us, but Jamie and I both knew there was something more going on with Laurel than tiredness. Laurel wanted Maggie out of the house. Out of her sight.

      The chapel had electricity and Jamie installed a small refrigerator and a hot plate in the little office so I could heat Maggie’s formula. There was also an old-fashioned wooden cradle and a lightweight stroller. I spent my days there with Maggie, reading and teaching myself to knit when I wasn’t feeding, cuddling or changing diapers. I couldn’t believe my luck at being able to spend so much time in the beautiful, simple building. I was drawn to the panoramic windows, and I watched the sea for dolphins and the sky for pelicans. In a way, I finally had beachfront property.

      When the weather was mild enough, I took Maggie for walks in the stroller. I’d push the little girl right past the Sea Tender, learning quickly there was no point in stopping in for a visit. Neither