The Life List (37 page)

He studies the letter. “I’m guessing that was inadvertent. She didn’t mean to specify a gender.”

I shake my head. “No. She knew it. She knew I would have a baby girl. And I believe she helped me get Austin Elizabeth. She softened Jean’s heart.”

“Whatever you say.” He sets the letter aside and reaches for his coffee cup. “Do you think she’d be happy about your relationship with Herbert?”

For some reason, my heart stammers. “Absolutely.” Rudy comes up beside me and I scratch his chin. “Herbert’s exactly the kind of guy my mother would want for me. Why would you ask?”

He shrugs. “Oh, I just … I …” He shakes his head. “Look, I’ve only met
Doctor
Moyer once. You know him better than I do.”

“That’s right, I do. And he’s awesome.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I just …” His voice trails off.

“Look, Midar, if you have something to say, spit it out.”

He looks me in the eye. “I just wonder if awesome is enough.”

My God, he sees it. The tiny ripple in my gorgeous glass pond. The one I’ve been ignoring, hoping time will smooth out. I haven’t told anyone—not even Shelley or Carrie. Because someday soon that ripple will fade, and once it does, I don’t want anyone to doubt my love for him. I can—and I will—love Herbert.

“What are you implying?” I ask, keeping my voice casual.

He pushes aside the bowl of berries and leans in. “Are you happy, B.B.? I mean wigged-out, over-the-moon happy?”

I walk to the sink and rinse my cup. Along with Herbert, I think of every good thing in my life. Austin, and my job, my new friends and family …

I turn to him and smile. “You have no idea.”

He studies me for a moment before finally throwing up his hands. “Okay then. It’s settled. I’m sorry I ever doubted it. Herbert’s the guy.”

T
he following morning, Sunday the sixth of May, weighing in at four pounds, twelve ounces and wearing a pink layette from her aunt Catherine, Austin comes home. Herbert put up a ferocious battle, insisting the baby and I move back to Astor Street, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Pilsen is our home for now, and besides, Selina and Blanca would be heartbroken. They’ve been gushing over Austin’s pictures for the past month, buying her little sneakers and stuffed animals. Deserting them now is out of the question.

Herbert snaps pictures all the way down the hospital hallway and into the car. We giggle, struggling to get her miniature body
strapped into her car seat. She looks lost in the plastic contraption, so I prop blankets around her to keep her from tipping.

“Are you certain this car seat is the right size?” Herbert asks.

“Yes. The hospital inspected it, and believe it or not, it’s the size for her.”

He looks skeptical but closes the door anyway before rushing over to my side to help me settle in beside her. He extends the seat belt and reaches over me to latch it, as if I’m the second child.

“Herbert, please. You’re allowed to spoil the baby, not me.”

“I beg to differ. I intend to spoil both my girls.”

I loosen my seat belt strap, feeling suddenly cramped and caged. It touches me, his concern for Austin, but his devotion to me still feels overwhelming at times. I reach out to close the door. But Herbert has already closed it for me. I feel my blood pressure rise, and silently chastise myself. I’m the one with issues, not him.

When I enter my little apartment with my baby in my arms, I feel my mother’s presence so deeply I want to call out to her. She’d love this moment, this baby, this woman I’ve become. She’d greet me with a kiss, then lean in to better see the baby, taking her from me as quickly as I’d allow it.

“Where would you like me to put this?”

I turn to see Herbert, holding the hospital bag aloft. He shouldn’t be here. This scene belongs to my mom and Austin and me. He has invaded our special moment.

But he doesn’t know that, and he looks so adorable, holding the pink-and-brown-polka-dot bag. I smile at him.

“Please, just set it on the counter. I’ll get it later.”

He’s back in a flash, rubbing his hands together. “How about some lunch? I can whip up a delicious omelet … unless you’d rather have—”

“No!” I snap, followed by rush of guilt. What kind of cold, ungrateful person am I? I touch his arm. “I mean … yes. An omelet is fine, thank you.”

I remember a line from the movie
Terms of Endearment
. “Don’t worship me until I’ve earned it.” That proud, independent sentiment always resonated with me. But why? Once again I wonder if the man who raised me left a scar so deep that, as an adult, I can’t accept genuine affection. I was so desperate to “earn” Charles’s approval—and Andrew’s, too—that I sacrificed my true identity. And even then I fell short. It’s different with Herbert. I can finally be myself, and he adores me—the real me. For the first time in my life, I’m in a healthy relationship, just as my mother had hoped.

Herbert peeks around the kitchen wall, an egg carton in one hand and a stick of butter in the other. He grins at me, a smile as sweet and unassuming as a schoolboy’s. I step forward and take his face in my hands, and stare into his eyes so intensely that his face flushes. Then I lean in and kiss his mouth, long and deep and desperately. My spirit and soul and every drop of blood coursing through my veins cries out,
Love him!

And with all of my being, I beg my heart to obey.

T
he spring daffodils fade, leaving a path of daisies in their wake. Summer’s pace slows and I drink in every moment with Austin. I trade my heels and skirts for flip-flops and sundresses, and my three-mile runs become lazy strolls behind a baby buggy. Lucky for me, my daughter’s a happy girl, and with the exception of a few bouts of sneezing, she’s remarkably healthy. When I read and sing and talk to her, she listens, wide-eyed and focused, and I swear I see Sanquita in her curious little face. I’ve started a journal for Austin, pointing out their similarities and recording every detail I remember about the brave, beautiful woman who gave her—and me—life.

In honor of Austin’s three-month birthday, I breeze down the familiar hallway toward the neonatal unit, my daughter snug
against my chest in her Moby Wrap. LaDonna spots us from a distance and leaps from her perch behind the desk.

“Brett!” She throws her arms around me then peers into the sling. “Oh, my goodness, Austin Elizabeth! We’ve missed you so much!”

I kiss my baby’s forehead. “We’ve missed you all, too.” I lift Austin from the wrap and LaDonna takes her.

“Hello, cutie pie,” she says, holding the baby out in front of her. Austin kicks her feet and coos. “Look how big you are!”

“Eight pounds, one ounce,” I say, grinning. “We just came from Dr. McGlew’s office. She’s a picture of health.”

LaDonna kisses her forehead. “That’s wonderful.”

I hold out a plate of cookies and a card, stamped in purple with Austin’s footprint. “We made you some goodies for taking such good care of us all those weeks.”

“Aw, Brett, thank you. You can put them on the counter. They’ll be gone by the end of the day.” I feel her eyes on me as I place the cookies on the nurses’ station. “Motherhood suits you.”

“Really? You like these dark circles under my eyes?” I laugh. “Honest to God, LaDonna, I have never been more exhausted in my life. Or more grateful.” I glance down at the wonder I call my child. When she sees me, her face bursts with utter joy, like a blaze of sunshine, and I melt. “I say a prayer of thanks to Sanquita every day. Austin is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “Ever.”

LaDonna winks at me. “Good for you. Now, come sit down. Maureen and Kathy just left for break. They’ll want to see the baby.”

“We can’t stay.” I glance at the clock behind her desk. “We’re on dinner duty tonight at Joshua House. But we’ll be back another time.”

“Well, before you leave, you have to tell me what’s happening. Have you and Dr. Moyer gotten engaged yet?” She raises her eyebrows
mischievously. “You know, every nurse up here had a bit of a crush on Hubert.”

“Herbert,” I correct her. “He was pushing for a small ceremony on August seventh, my mother’s birthday, but it’s too soon. For now, I just want to focus on this little pumpkin.”

“Good move,” LaDonna says.

I gaze down at my daughter. “It’ll happen someday, of course. Herbert’s wonderful with Austin. You should see them together.”

She smiles and pats my hand. “Oh, Brett, I’m thrilled things worked out for you. The baby … your gorgeous beau. Your fairy godmother sure takes good care of you.”

I think of my mother and Sanquita, and their roles in making my dreams come true. But that’s only part of it …

“It’s true, I’m incredibly lucky. But fairy godmothers can only do so much. I think we each hold the power to grant our own wishes. We just need to find the courage.”

She smiles. “Well you’ve done it, girl. Good for you!”

A sinking feeling comes over me. Would my mother agree with LaDonna? Or am I giving up on the one thing she said I should never compromise on? Do I have the courage, this late in the game, to toss aside the prototypical Mr. Right in hopes of finding Mr. Absolutely Right? Or is that courage at all? Maybe it’s stupidity, or immaturity. Just where is that line between courage and arrogance, between wanting what’s right, and expecting more than we deserve?

A
fter thirty minutes of gathering supplies, performing a last-minute diaper change, and packing my baby girl into her stroller, we’re finally out the door. What did I possibly do with all the extra time before I became a mother?

Unlike most July scorchers, today’s sky is overcast, and a gentle breeze tickles my bare arms. As we near Efebina’s Café, I spy
Brad sitting under an umbrella table. He stands and greets me with a café con leche and a hug.

“How’s my big girl?” he asks, lifting Austin from her stroller.

“Tell Uncle Brad how terrific you are, Austin. Tell him how you smile at your mommy.”

“Are you a happy girl?” He coos and nuzzles Austin. With his free hand, he pulls an envelope from his pocket. Goal number seventeen.

“Fall in love,” I mumble.

“Congratulations, B.B. Two months until September’s deadline and you’re right on track. It’s time to move on and buy that horse and the house. You said Herbert’s game, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

Brad shifts closer to me. “Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing.” I take my drowsy daughter from his arms and tuck her into her stroller. “Go ahead. Open it.”

His gaze is laser-focused on me. “What is it about this one? You’ve always been raring to go when I offer an envelope. Last time I tried to open this, you wouldn’t let me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Open it.”

He cocks his head in a way that tells me he’s not buying it, but he opens the envelope nonetheless. He releases the folded pink page, sets it facedown on the table, and stares directly into my eyes.

“This is your last chance, B.B.,” he says, gripping my arms. “If you aren’t in love with Herbert, you need to tell me now.”

My heart stammers. I stare back at him until I can no longer stand it. Four months of doubt and frustration rise to the surface. I plant my elbows on the table and drop my head in my hands. “I’m so screwed up, Brad. I thought I loved Andrew, the most self-absorbed man I’ve ever met. But for some reason I can’t muster any depth of emotion for this great guy who’d do anything for me.” I clutch two fistfuls of hair. “What’s wrong with me, Midar? Am I still looking for someone I have to win over, like Charles?”

He tousles my hair. “Love is fickle. If we could choose who we fall in love with, do you think I’d choose a woman who lives two thousand miles away?”

“But Herbert is so good. He loves me. And he loves my baby. And he wants to marry me. What if I lose him? What if I never find anyone else who loves us the way he does? I could be alone forever, and Austin would be fatherless.”

“That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Your mother wouldn’t have left the goal on your life list if you weren’t able to accomplish it. She knows you’ll meet someone.”

I groan. “Now you sound as crazy as I do.”

“I’m serious. It’s occurred to me more than once that she’s engineered some of these events.”

“Well, if that’s the case, maybe she engineered my relationship with Herbert. Maybe she guided him here to Chicago, into my brother’s department, just so we’d meet and fall in love.”

“I’m not feeling it.”

“Why not?”

He gives me a wan smile. “Because you’re not in love with him.”

I look away. “But I should be. Maybe if I just try a little harder, give it a little more time …”

“Love is not an endurance test.”

“But Herbert thinks we’re meant to be together—and maybe we are.” I sigh and rub my temples. “If only my mom would give me a sign. If only she’d send one huge, unmistakable signal telling me whether or not he’s the one.”

He stares at the folded letter on the table. “Shall we?”

The sight of the letter makes my heart leap. “I don’t know. Would that be fair?”

“I think we can take a quick peek. Who knows? Maybe it’ll shed some light on your feelings.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Brad unfolds the letter and clears his throat.

“ ‘Dear Brett,

“ ‘I’m sorry, darling. This is not the man for you. You are not in love. Keep trying, my dear.’ ”

My mouth falls open and I let out a gasp of relief. “Oh, thank God!” I throw back my head and laugh. “She gave me my sign, Brad! My mother has spoken. I’m free!”

I feel Brad’s eyes on me. He’s no longer reading. He’s folding the letter and sliding it back into its envelope. And where are his reading glasses? How was he able to read Mother’s message without his glasses? My face falls.

“Oh, God. You made that up.” I go to snatch the letter from him, but he holds it aloft.

“It doesn’t matter now. You’ve got your answer.”

“But he adores Austin. And he thinks we’re going to be a family. He’ll be crushed.”

“You’d rather wait until he’s on one knee, offering you a diamond ring?”