What Family Means (14 page)

But she didn’t know if she could deal with Will seeing her. She was still heavy, and her breasts felt like watermelons under the peasant-style wedding dress. All Debra could think of was the myriad stretch marks on the sides of her breasts and across her lower belly. She had no doubt that Will loved her but he hadn’t been there during her pregnancy and the birth. He couldn’t possibly appreciate what her body had been through.

Would he accept her as she was?

“What, sweetpea? Mommy’s here.” She’d just fed Angie, but the little peanut was hungry again. Debra looked at the clock on her nightstand.

Ten-thirty.

The church was five minutes away, and she wasn’t due there until a quarter to. She decided to feed Angie now so she’d sleep through the ceremony.

As she cushioned Angie at her breast she swallowed a twinge of guilt. If she’d let Will in on her pregnancy and they’d married sooner, this might be Angie’s baptism. As it was, they were going to baptize her in a couple of weeks. Debra wanted to be married when Angie was baptized, and Will agreed.

She’d done the right thing, she hoped. This way she knew Will had come back for
her
and wanted to marry her even before he’d learned about Angie.

Debra eased Angie over to her other breast. Ten thirty-seven. She’d make it, no problem.

She looked around the tiny motel room while Angie suckled. Thank God she and Will were moving into their apartment immediately after the wedding. It wasn’t much, but it was clean and in a safe part of Buffalo, near the university.

They both agreed it would be the most open-minded place to settle and start their life together. And it wasn’t too far from Will’s office. It also had a small extra room Debra planned to use as a studio.

She’d studied art history but her passion over the past year had turned toward fiber arts. She wasn’t fond of the current macramé pop art and wanted to help preserve more traditional fiber arts like weaving and knitting.

It seemed odd to be in this nondescript motel room instead of the house she’d grown up in. But her mother refused to have anything to do with the wedding. She hadn’t even held Angie yet. It cut through Debra’s heart when her mother said, “I can’t believe I have a mulatto grandchild. I raised you better.”

Debra had left the house of her childhood with Angie in her arms, tears of pride in her eyes.

But she wasn’t without resources. She’d saved some money from her teaching assistant job the past year, and paid to stay in this room for a week.

Angie’s cry for attention brought her back to the present.

“It’s okay. Let’s go.” She lifted her daughter and nestled her against one shoulder. While she patted Angie’s back and waited for the needed burp, Debra realized that this was what it all meant. This was what mattered.

Having a healthy baby. A baby with two parents who loved her and had the means to support her. It might not be in the style Will was used to, but it wouldn’t be the unhealthy emotional environment Debra had known, either.

W
ILL WAITED IN THE FOYER
of the church. It was time for Debra and Angie to be here. He should’ve put his foot down and insisted on picking her up, the hell with tradition.

He purposely hadn’t called his mother this morning. Or yesterday. He’d wanted to give her another chance, to see if the mother he knew she
could
be would emerge from the anger and grief. To see if this horrible break in their relationship could be mended.

No such luck.

He wanted today to be special. For him and Deb, and of course, Angie.

His sister was still living at home with Mama, and his brother was away at army summer training, so he wouldn’t have any guests. Neither would Deb.

Fine. They’d start this journey on their own. With their love, faith and the friendship that had sustained them all these years since they were little kids.

Sure, the great friendship that had her keep your own child from you.

His gut tensed.

He had to let it go. It was his fault as much as Debra’s that they hadn’t been together when Angie was born.

He saw her blue Chevy Nova pull into the church parking lot. His bride, his child. He wished he could turn
back time. He wished he’d gone to Boston sooner. She hadn’t answered any of his letters; they’d all been returned, stamped Address Unknown. And he hadn’t been able to find her address through directory assistance. He’d only had her phone number. He told himself again that he should’ve driven up there sooner.

But the day’s drive was more than he could have handled. Between closing Dad’s office, dealing with the finances, being vetted for partner at the city’s leading architectural firm and looking in on Mama, it’d been too much.

No, he couldn’t focus on that. He and Debra were together again, and Angie was their beautiful daughter. Mama might never get over his marriage to Debra, but he’d bet his future partnership that she wouldn’t be able to resist Angie. Not for long.

Present Day
Buffalo, New York

T
O
W
ILL’S RELIEF
,
the storm had passed and he was on his way home. He talked to the voice-activated cell-phone system in his car. “Call Angie.”

“Dialing Angie,” the smooth digital voice of the hands-free system replied.

“Hello?”

“Hi, babe. You still at the house?”

“Yeah, they didn’t get the plows out here yet.”

“Sorry, Angie. I know you’re trying to get yourself established at the station.”

“Yeah, well, that’s how it goes.”

Was that acceptance in his daughter’s voice?

“Can you stay put at least until I get there?”

“Uh, sure, Dad. What’s up?”

“I want to talk to you about something.”

“Fine. See you in a bit.”

“Tell your mother I’m on my way.”

He disconnected and kept his eyes on the still-treacherous roads. It wasn’t like him to tell his kids what to do, but this was different.

He couldn’t handle Angie and Jesse making the same mistake he and Deb had.

A
NGIE WENT DOWNSTAIRS
to the family room. Grandma Vi had gone back to her cottage. She said she needed a decent rest after sleeping in the guest room, which made Angie laugh. Grandma Vi was her own person as much as she’d ever been.

Her mother was in her studio, so she didn’t hear the door open when Will came in.

Angie went over and gave him a hug.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey, baby.”

He shrugged out of his coat. “I’ll bet you’re wondering why I need to talk to you so badly.”

“Not really. I imagine it has something to do with me and Jesse?”

“You got it. Where’s your mother?”

Dad could never be away from Mom for very long.

“In her studio.”

“Let me go say hello and then we’ll sit down. Do you mind making us some tea?”

“Not at all, Daddy.”

Angie measured out the jasmine tea that was her father’s favorite. Will came back into the room just as she was pouring the boiling water over the infusers.

He sat at the kitchen counter. Angie walked around and sat next to him.

“What’s up, Dad?”

“Angie, your life is yours. You know how I feel about that. And I like Jesse—he’s a good man.” Will paused
and took a sip of the hot tea. “But I also know that you two will work it out. This is what marriage is all about.”

“Dad, please.” First Mom, now Dad. She’d had enough of this. She was thirty-five, not fifteen.

“Hear me out, baby girl. Your mother and I were in somewhat similar circumstances, oh—” he looked up at the wall and stroked his chin “—about thirty-six years ago.”

“I know, Mom told me. She’s never really hidden it from us—the boys and I noticed years ago that your anniversary date and my birthday are awfully close. I just never put it together until Mom told me the whole story at the café.”

“Yes, they are.” Will smiled at Angie, and she felt the intensity of his love in every word. “I’ve never held this against your mother, Angie, or I’ve tried not to, but the fact that I didn’t get to share the pregnancy with her, or be there for your birth, well…” He shook his head. “I wish I’d been given a choice. That’s all.”

“You would’ve married Mom right away?”

“Of course. And I would’ve been there for her.
With
her. What if she’d died? Or you hadn’t made it? How would I have felt then, after the fact?”

Angie stared at her father. He’d never talked to her about this before and she felt uneasy. It seemed too personal, too private.

“Dad, all’s well that ends well. You and Mom got married. You raised us. I never knew any differently until I was an adult, and then I could handle it. The most important thing is that you two stayed together.”

“Honey, I’m not complaining. I’m just saying it
would’ve been nice if I’d been given an option to be a participant in your life from the get-go. For me, for you and for your mom.”

“But Mom knows you love her. You always have.”

“Of course she does. But love isn’t just about knowing, Angie. It’s about doing.”

Her father drank more of his tea and drummed his fingers on the table. “If you love or have ever loved Jesse, if you love the baby growing inside you, you have to give it all a chance. And that starts with telling Jesse.
Now.
”

Angie blinked. “I’m supposed to meet him in Paris. I’ll tell him there.”

“You handle it how you want, sweetheart, but handle it. Don’t put it off. If you’re not going to Paris in the next few days, you have to tell him now.”

Angie didn’t agree with her father. She thought it was best to tell Jesse in person. But this wasn’t the time to argue about it.

She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Dad. I know this wasn’t easy for you.”

He nodded and stared down at his mug. “I just want you to give it
all
a chance, Angie.”

Present Day
Buffalo, New York
Debra

T
HE NEXT MORNING
came too quickly. Will insisted on going to work, even though he’d barely made it home the night before.

After Will left, I spent most of the morning working in the studio.

Until Angie called me from her cell. But she was here in the house, wasn’t she?

“Mom! Grandma’s having a hard time breathing.”

Angie had obviously gone back to the cottage to see Vi.

I threw down the phone and ran out the back kitchen door toward the cottage.

I took the shortest route across the lawn.

It wasn’t shoveled like the pathway. I had to lift my knees high to get through the deep snow.

My slippers weren’t meant for snowshoeing but there wasn’t time to change into boots.

Rose barked wildly, running ahead to get to the cottage. Her barks spiked my alarm as she always seemed to sense when Vi wasn’t doing well.

Once I reached the cottage and opened the door, I saw that Vi was hunched over on the couch, gasping for air. Angie was massaging her back, cooing to her.

“It’s okay, Grandma. Help’s coming. Mom’s here.”

“Hey, Vi. What’s going on?”

I knelt beside her but she only spared me a glance. She needed all her energy to get oxygen.

“Tight…chest…hurts.”

“Hang on.”

I went into her kitchen and got her emergency meds, then grabbed the oxygen tank from the pantry.

“Let’s get you hooked up.”

Angie continued to stroke Vi’s back while I got her on the oxygen and gave her the drugs I’d been instructed to.

“You’ll feel better soon.”

Even as I said it, Vi’s complexion pinked up.

She always refused any outside help except for me and Will. A permanent care facility could’ve been an option but not for Will’s mother. Or for us. Not as long as we could take care of her.

When her breathing evened out and she was more relaxed, leaning back on the couch, I spoke.

“Vi, this is why it’s important to use the oxygen and take your meds each day. It’ll prevent these crises.”

She waved her hand in front of her face.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to die sooner than later.”

“Grandma!” Angie hated Vi’s talk of death. But Vi had claimed she’d be joining her dear departed husband “soon” for the past thirty-six years, since his death.

“Vi, we’re all going to die. But there’s no need to go out before we have to or with this kind of suffering.”

Her gaze locked on mine. I saw her pain, her frustration. She’d always been the maestro, orchestrating her own life—or at least thought she was. Now even the illusion of control was gone.

“Just let me lie here. If the good Lord wants me, He can take me now.”

Gently I lifted her feet and swung her around so she could lie full-length on the couch. I reached over her and tugged down the afghan I’d knitted her, placing it around her. The shades of browns and purples accented her pallor but also brought out the amber flecks in her brown eyes.

“The good Lord isn’t taking you anywhere right now,” I said briskly as I tucked the edge of the blanket under the sofa cushions.

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t. But you’re looking a heck of a lot better than you did fifteen minutes ago.”

Vi sniffed and rolled onto her side. “Where’s the remote? It’s time for my show.”

Yes, she was definitely feeling better.

“Here, Grandma.”

“I’ll make you some tea,” I said.

I went into her kitchen and made enough tea for all three of us. Vi needed to come over to our house and stay there. But she’d fight me on it. I decided to wait and have Will tell her instead.

Vi’s days were numbered, and I tried to remind myself that it was no different for any of us. But I couldn’t lie. Her doctor had told us a year ago that this time would come, when the congestive heart failure she’d suffered for so long would attack with a vengeance.

And her eighty-five-year-old body wouldn’t be able to fend it off.

As we sat there and sipped tea and tried to help Vi get some down, I mused that my own mother was the same age but appeared twenty years younger. Yet my mother never spent much time with us. Her interest in her grandchildren was fleeting at best.

And here Vi, who’d fought tooth and nail to keep Will and me apart, had become an integral part of our family.

Once I felt she’d come through the worst of her episode, I left Angie with Vi and went back to the house to call Will.

“Your mother had a spell, honey.”

“How bad was it?”

“She’s okay now, but it was scary for all of us. Thank God Angie was over there.”

I heard his sigh, felt the heaviness in his heart.

“We’re lucky we’ve had her this long,” he said.

“Yes, we are. But it doesn’t make this any easier.”

“Do you think we should take her to the doctor?”

“I’m going to call him now. He said he’d be willing to come out here if we ever need him, but honestly, I’m pretty sure we’re okay. He’s not going to tell us anything different, and I followed all his instructions.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for doing this, honey. Do you want me to come home now?”

What he was really asking me was, “Will my mother still be alive when I get there?”

“No, I think she’s fine now. You may want to call her in a bit.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“What aren’t you telling me, babe?”

“Will, she needs to come live with us. Even the cottage is too far away. If Angie hadn’t been there, she could have died.”

The act of uttering those words made my heart beat faster. In some ways, I thought I was detached from Vi, despite our years of mending fences. But she was Will’s mother. And she’d been more of a mother to me than my own.

“Can you and Angie get her to the house now?”

“Honey, you know your mama. She’s not going to come over here unless you’re the one calling the shots. It’s not a problem. Angie and I will sit with her through the day, and you can bring her over tonight.”

“All right.” His business tone was back in place. The
news had scared him, but we’d both known for a while that this time was coming.

“See you later, honey.”

“Bye.”

What I didn’t want to talk about over the phone was the obvious. Anytime in the past when Vi had a spell like this, she’d called the house or my cell phone immediately.

She hadn’t this time. If Angie hadn’t walked over to watch the soap with Vi, it could have been a different day altogether.

My fingers itched to knit. I needed the rhythm of the needles and yarn between my fingers to soothe my racing mind. If I wasn’t calm, I wouldn’t be able to keep Violet comfortable and at ease.

And Angie had to be kept calm, too.

I changed my wet socks and sweatpants and put on my favorite comfort socks with jeans. I’d knitted the socks several years back, and the cashmere yarn was soft against my feet. It was not politically correct to buy cashmere these days, because of the dust clouds caused by those huge herds of goats in China. So I was glad I made the socks guilt-free when I did.

With Will’s sweater and more yarn stuffed into my tote bag, along with some tuna sandwiches I’d quickly made, I headed back to Vi’s.

The snow sparkled under the sun. As bright as the sun looked, it didn’t warm up the temperature, which had stayed well below freezing for over a week. We were having a rough end of winter.

At least the storm had passed, and I heard the plows
in the distance. They’d have our street cleared soon, but until then Vi, Angie and I could enjoy the afternoon together. I swallowed some tears, along with the thought that this could be our last time….

W
ILL LOOKED OUT
at the street in front of his office. He’d made it in this morning only because he had four-wheel drive, but had called the house and told Angie to stay put—the highway to where she worked was still blocked and he saw no reason for his daughter and future grandchild to be at risk.

He should’ve stayed home today. He could have. But he’d left out of habit. He was also feeling a little closed in, with the intensity of Deb, his mother and Angie all together.

Just a few weeks ago he’d cursed his younger sister for not being here for Mama. She lived in Africa with her husband—her four kids were grown and gone. Jimmy and his wife were in South Carolina, where he’d retired from the U.S. Army. It was too far to expect them to come up here regularly and they couldn’t drop everything each time Mama had a spell.

She’d never leave Buffalo. Her roots were here, and her ties to Dad’s memories.

It hadn’t been easy, caring for Vi, dealing with her quirks and her hatred of his marriage to Debra in the early years.

But he was glad that Mama had Deb. That they were together—and that he’d been able to do what his father had asked.

Take care of Mama.

Deb had played a huge part in this, and he didn’t give her enough credit. Plenty of other women would’ve walked out on him, just to get away from his family. Not Debra.