Comfort and Mirth

11. Attachment

>11. Attachment January blew in cold and wet—not the kind of weather to take a baby strolling about in—so Camille had been confined to the house for almost two weeks. Coral was coming every weekday, and though life was completely different, their daily routine was settling back into a predictable rhythm. At last Camille found an hour or two each evening to read, crochet, or sit at the kitchen table sketching garden plots while the sun sank behind the oaks. Baby’s first Christmas had come and gone. Camille baked gingerbread men and spice cookies, and Brooks set the tree up in the parlor. On Christmas morning, Santa Claus came down the chimney and surrounded the tree with toy soldiers and Teddy bears. Camille made a Christmas ham with all the trimmings. Andrew sat amidst the commotion with a bland smile and an occasional gurgle. For Camille’s birthday, Brooks kept his promise and had a tremendous ivory latticed arched trellis delivered, which he had ordered to the exact specifications she had wished for over Christmas dinner. It sat like a princess on the screen porch next to the tea table, regally awaiting milder weather for its permanent installation four to five yards beyond the back door. Camille had her culinary herb garden design done, as well as her climbers and borders around the trellis, but she couldn’t decide how she wanted to landscape the rest of the backyard. In her first sketches she had opted for two 70 large crescent gardens by the back fence, each with a crape myrtle tree, providence roses, and filled in with star jasmine. In later sketches she thought it better to stagger the main gardens to surround the larger oaks so she could grow wisteria to hang over the roses. But this evening, she played with the possibility of digging four large gardens—one in each corner—to form a pleasant vignette for a play yard. They would have to leave plenty of room for swings, playhouses, and games of tag and croquet. It would also be wise to leave grass under the oaks for picnic tables. As the children grew, they would certainly host birthday parties and garden gatherings , and barbecues were popular in Texas. She shaded in her final plan for the night and propped her latest sketch against her applesauce preserves on the sideboard hutch.With a last look out at the trellis,she heard a few raindrops on the tin roof joints of the screen porch. She checked Brooks’ veal cutlets, rice, and carrots in the warming ovens, wondering if she should wrap them and put them in the icebox. It was already after nine, and the meat would certainly be getting tough. She closed the oven door, dropped her dishtowel on the counter, threw up her hands, and sighed. She climbed the stairs for the third time to check on Andrew, who had slept through his evening feeding. He had outgrown his bassinet and slept in his crib, which Camille had moved into their bedroom despite Brooks’ objections. She admired the curve of the child’s long eyelids into the dark feathery lashes that lay like goose down against his pink cheeks. A gentle rain played a soothing lullaby against the bedroom window. He looked so snug she knew he would sleep through to his next feeding around midnight. She kissed her fingertips, gently touched his forehead, and taking a quilt from the rack at the bottom of their bed, wrapped herself up and went down to the parlor to wait for Brooks. 71 Attachment She picked up a Jane Austen novel from the mahogany coffee table, curled herself up on the gray davenport, tucking the quilt around her legs, and stared up at the pressed tin ceiling tiles. Brooks could not be reached on the phone in this weather, and he would not come home until the rain stopped for fear it would make the interior of his Cadillac smell musty. She shook her head and opened her book to her place. As she finished the seventh chapter, the wind whipped up against the tall windows. She peered between the lace panels to watch as the rain blew toward her in large drops. The glass was beaded with cold fog, and the only thing visible through the storm was the pale halo of the tower light on the corner of Elm and...