Ride the Rainbow Home by Susan Aylworth Page B

and when it's not."
    "Correction, you can tell. I wouldn't have the faintest idea."
    "You'd catch on soon." Sally yawned. "Well, we'd better get some sleep while we can. No telling when the next alarm will go off."
    "What time is it, anyway?"
    "Around two-thirty."
    Meg moaned. "No wonder motherhood ages a woman."
    "Speak for yourself, single lady." Sally wobbled down the hall.
    Meg fell into bed exhausted, but unable to sleep. Until Sally dragged her back to Rainbow Rock, she'd never imagined having little ones of her own. In fact, she had sworn she'd never subject children to the kind of childhood she'd had—the serial marriages, the frequent uprooting, the instability. It wasn't until she'd seen Tommy tossing in fever that she realized she had begun to cherish the dream that someday she might have her own little Tommy. Tonight was forcing her to think again. The panic that had formed such a knot in her belly was a clue as to how unready she was to accept that kind of responsibility. Any thought of her having children was surely just a dream, maybe an impossible one. Better to smother it in her pillow while it was still young and new and didn't yet have the power to break her heart.
     
    * * * *
     
    Tommy awoke early Tuesday, his fever up but not as dramatically as it had been during the night. He rested fitfully when medicated, but found comfort nowhere but in his mother's arms. Sally complied, giving Tommy all the mother-care he asked for, and Meg had her hands full keeping up with the rest of the household, even caring for the newborns except when Sally needed to nurse one or the other.
    Tommy remained ill all day Tuesday and went to bed with a fever Tuesday night. Meg was beginning to wonder whether she could leave Sally alone with the children on Wednesday evening, even for a dinner out with Jim. When he called that evening, she told him about Tommy's fever. "He's been so sick. I really couldn't leave Sally alone here with an ill child and three others to care for."
    "I understand," Jim said. "Maybe I can bring dinner there?"
    Meg brightened. "That would be nice. Why don't you call tomorrow and I'll let you know how things are going?"
    "Sounds good," Jim answered. "I drove by your condo today," he added, his voice casual. "It's number 1778, right? The one with the frilly curtains in the window and the hanging flowerpots?"
    "Yes," she said, glowing with pride. "What did you think?"
    "It's very nice," Jim said, but his expression flattened Meg's hopes. "You have a nice view from the top of the hill."
    "There are lots of nice views in the East Bay." She wondered if she sounded as disappointed as she felt.
    "Well, I'll call when I get home tomorrow."
    "Okay. Talk to you then."
    "Good night, Meggie."
    Meg hung up the phone feeling more alone and empty than she had since she'd come back to Rainbow Rock. Could she blame Jim if he wasn't crazy about her condo? Now that she thought about it, she couldn't really picture him there. He belonged to mountains, canyons and sky, rock and earth and water. He'd be utterly out of his element stuck in rows of little boxes, identifiable only by their numbers and the color of the flowers out front. "Oh, Jim," she whispered aloud, and sat by the phone as tears edged down her cheeks.
     
    * * * *
     
    Tommy's fever was down when he awoke on Wednesday and except for a couple of ugly mosquito bites that had festered, Sally thought, because of the fever, he seemed pretty much like his old self by lunch.
    "That settles that," Sally said as she put him down for a nap. "When Jim calls tonight, feel free to go and enjoy. And Meg, I couldn't have gotten along without you these last couple of days. You've been a lifesaver."
    "I don't know how you made it even with my help," Meg answered. "It amazes me how much a mother has to know."
    "One of the nice things is the on-the-job training. But you'll figure that out when your time comes."
    "I don't know." Meg sank down beside her friend on the couch.