The New Baby. Brenda Mott

town of Boone’s Crossing in east Tennessee was the perfect place to do just that.

      Granny Satterfield’s log house had been in the family for three generations, though no one had lived there in a long while. It rested in a hollow, or “holler” as the locals pronounced it, six miles from town, surrounded by dogwood, hickory and oak trees. Knee-high grass and irises in vivid shades of lavender and deep violet choked the yard, front and back, tangled vines climbed over the lawn ornaments Granny had always treasured. Alongside the house ran a creek, close enough to the bedroom window for the relaxing sound of trickling water to lull Amanda to sleep each night. Even so, dark dreams plagued her. Drove her into nightmares so vivid, she’d wake up in a cold sweat, fear making her heart race in what quickly turned into a panic attack.

      Sometimes she dreamt of the baby she’d never had a chance to hold. And other times, she saw her sister, Nikki, and her brother-in-law, Cody, wandering aimlessly down a long, dark hallway, searching for something they’d never find. Once, she even dreamed of Caitlin Kramer, the young girl who’d had the flat tire that night. From what Amanda had read in the local paper, Caitlin had been a top-notch equestrian with high hopes of making the Olympic show jumping team. But the injuries she’d sustained had ground her dreams into dust.

      Nikki, Cody, Caitlin…and how many others? How many people, herself included, had been affected by the chain reaction set off when one drunk had decided to climb behind the wheel? The thought made her crazy.

      THE RINGING PHONE pulled Amanda from her half awake, half asleep state of mind. Throwing back the covers, she stood, then hurried to the kitchen and lifted the cordless receiver from its base. “Hello?”

      “Hi.” Nikki’s voice came across the line sounding a little fuzzy, which probably meant she was using her free cell phone minutes. Not that she’d had any reason to worry about long-distance rates lately. Shamefully, Amanda had been avoiding her sister, ignoring her messages on the answering machine, still hurt by the harsh parting words they’d exchanged when she left Colorado.

      “Nikki.” The wall clock told her it was four-thirty in Deer Creek. “What are you doing up so early?”

      “Trying to catch you at home.”

      She rubbed the ache that hammered between her eyes. “If you’re calling to tell me what a horrible sister I am, I already know. I’m so sorry I haven’t called you sooner.”

      “Well, you ought to be. I was beginning to worry.” Nikki’s concerned tone bordered on big-sister bossiness, leaving Amanda torn between laughing out loud and bursting into tears.

      Though she’d telephoned Nikki briefly upon arriving in Boone’s Crossing, she’d only called to let her sister know she’d gotten there safely and that she’d found a position as Assistant Director of Nurses at the nursing home in town. Nikki would’ve worried about her, no matter what sort of hurtful words stood between them. Their conversation had been stiff and brief as the two of them sidestepped one another’s feelings.

      Now Amanda felt awful for not being in touch. She missed Nikki far more than she’d believed possible. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. The silence stretched between them while she scrambled for the right words. How are you? seemed shallow, since Nikki had not been fine in a long while. And, What’s going on with you? fell short for the same reason.

      “Are you okay?” Nikki asked.

      “I should be the one asking you that.” Amanda took a deep breath and decided to dive right in. “I’m fine, if you mean physically. But mentally…no. I can’t stop thinking about you and Cody…” She fought to keep her voice from trembling. “…and little Anna.” Can’t stop being afraid every time I drive on a highway. This was exactly why she’d avoided her sister. She’d hoped time and distance would begin to put things right between them. Instead, it felt as though nothing had changed.

      “We’re getting by,” Nikki said.

      But from her tone, Amanda knew different. Cody had responded to the loss of the baby by channeling his hurt into anger, striking out at everyone around him. Herself, Nikki, even his best friend Mark, who ironically had once been Amanda’s fiancé. But that was a whole other can of worms. One she didn’t want to open ever again.

      She and Nikki had stood by one another, awkward, confused, each hurting in her own way. Who was the real victim here? And how did they put the pieces of their lives back together?

      Seeing a therapist hadn’t helped much, not for any of them. And neither had any of Amanda’s attempts to make things better. She’d wanted to repay Nikki and Cody for the expenses they’d incurred during the surrogacy procedure—expenses that had eaten up their entire savings, leaving Amanda with the feeling that she’d robbed them of their last chance for a child of their own. Nikki had responded to her offer with offense and sadness. How could you think the money mattered? Cody had become even more angry. You can’t buy back our daughter, Amanda!

      “Come on,” Amanda prodded. “I know you better than that. Remember, you’re talking to the kid who used to find your diary no matter where you tried to hide it.”

      Nikki’s sob wrenched her heart, and Amanda cursed under her breath, wishing she hadn’t pushed the issue. That she hadn’t been such a coward and run over fifteen hundred miles to get away from the pain that chased her anyway.

      “We’re not getting along,” Nikki said. “I thought for a while the counseling was working, but now I feel like we’re right back to square one.”

      Amanda let her feet slide out from under her, sinking down to sit on the cool linoleum, her back pressed against the cupboard where Granny Satterfield had always kept a jar of lemon drops. They’d been Granny’s cure for whatever ailed you. Amanda longed for the days when life was so simple. When she was five and Nikki was eight, and the two of them climbed Granny’s trees and rode their pony double, talking about what they’d be when they were all grown up.

      “Come home,” Amanda said. The idea was spontaneous, flying from her lips before she could stop it.

      “What?” Nikki gave a dry laugh. “You’re the one who needs to come home, Amanda. We haven’t lived in Tennessee since we were in elementary school.”

      Amanda squeezed her eyes shut. “I know,” she whispered. “But it’s so peaceful here, and the people are really friendly. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that coming here has solved everything for me, because it hasn’t.” Again, frustrated anger rose inside of her. She’d been perfectly satisfied with her life before the accident—well on her way to having everything she’d dreamed of. She was certain Mark would change his mind about not wanting kids once he’d seen the baby, and that the two of them would marry as planned and have children of their own. “But I do think being here is going to help me heal.” Eventually.

      “It’s not the same here without you,” Nikki said. “There’s no one to go to lunch with, or shopping.” Her voice came out thick. She sniffed. “No one to talk to.”

      Amanda swallowed over the obstruction in her own throat. “You’ve got friends there who love you, hon.”

      “Yeah, but not like you. No one else has ever loved me so unconditionally.”

      Her heart clenched as Amanda struggled not to cry. She’d hated watching Nikki suffer through repeated miscarriages, the result of an incompetent cervix, and had been more than willing to carry Nikki and Cody’s biological child when the subject of surrogacy had come up. Nikki’s words echoed in her memory— Now that’s what I call sisterly love. Amanda, you are the most caring, giving, person. They’d hugged each other and cried, but those tears had been happy ones.

      The tears she now heard in her sister’s voice were anything but, and she felt like hell for leaving Nikki behind. How could she explain that she’d had no choice? That she’d felt as if her last thread of sanity had been torn in two?

      “I can’t come back right now,” Amanda said. Maybe never.

      “But you loved your