What Family Means (15 page)

Again, she was his rock.

The very fact that Mama allowed Debra to tend her spoke of a trust that no one would have ever believed.

Violet Bradley had given Debra a hard time, that was for sure. But Vi didn’t count on the quality in Debra that had attracted Will since they were kids.

Her genuine care for other people. Whether it was a kid on the bus or Will or a stranger in the grocery store, Debra
cared
about how they were in that moment she shared with them. Will loved Debra for her compassion but hated when it turned to taking care of others at her own expense. He’d seen her run herself ragged over the years and end up with no time for him and the kids. And no time for Debra. Will loved it when she felt fulfilled, taking care of herself. She glowed with life and love and was a bigger, better version of the woman he’d married.

Will chuckled to himself.

He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t resist Debra’s big green eyes, wide-open and sparkling with compassion.

Mama had just taken a while, that was all.

August 1979
Buffalo, New York

S
EVEN MONTHS PREGNANT
,
Debra waddled down the driveway of their Cape Cod colonial and shoved herself behind the steering wheel of the aqua Chevy Nova.

Angie was wrapping up her morning at Grandma Vi’s. Of course, Violet never spoke to Debra, never made eye contact. After repeated failed attempts at hosting a family dinner, Debra told Will to take Angie to his mother’s.

Debra couldn’t tolerate the hostility anymore.

But she knew that Violet had fallen in love with Angie the first time she’d seen her, right after the wedding. Violet’s eyes had still been burning with rage at Debra and only softened marginally when she glanced at Will. But the sight of her first grandchild with mocha skin and sweet baby curls had melted a good portion of the glacier that was her heart.

Not that Debra received any of the warmth.

Debra drove the few miles to Violet’s house, where Will had grown up. She and Will had chosen to live
closer to the suburbs and hoped to be out near Orchard Park or East Aurora before too long. They needed one more good year with his business.

It’d been rough with the recession, but Will’s talent and hard work had paid off in hard-won contracts for several shopping malls around the country.

The heat of the day was in full swing as she pulled up in front of Violet’s huge entryway. Debra sighed. The babies jostled for position and one little foot connected with her rib cage.

“Ooof.” She rubbed her belly.

Once she’d managed to hoist herself out of the car, she walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. She reached in for the package on the seat. Wrapped in white paper with tiny violets printed all over it was the shawl she’d knitted Vi. She’d actually knitted it years ago, when she and Will were just married and Angie was crawling around on the floor at her feet.

But only today did she have the nerve to give it to Vi.

Today was the anniversary of Will’s father’s death. And it was too hot for Violet to even entertain the idea of using the shawl. But Debra was sick of the constant tension. This was her attempt to negotiate a peace.

Before she could get to the front door, the screen swung open and Angie ran out. “Hi, Mommy!”

Angie hugged Debra’s knees so tight, Debra had to hang on to the door of the car so they wouldn’t buckle.

“Hi, sweetheart. Did you have a good time?”

“Yes, Grandma Vi and me ate san’ witches and drank l’monade and watched
General ’opital.
”

“You watched
General Hospital?
” Debra was grateful her five-year-old wouldn’t have understood most of the soap opera’s goings-on.

“Uh-huh.” Angie’s curls rasped against Debra’s legs. Debra looked at the front door. Vi wasn’t in sight. She didn’t come out unless Will was with them, or unless she absolutely had to.

Debra squared her shoulders. Enough was enough.

“Let’s go back in for a minute, honey.”

“Okay, Mommy. But Grandma already said bye.”

Clutching her daughter’s hand, Debra walked up to the door and peered in. Vi wasn’t in the foyer or the living room, either. She didn’t want to barge in and startle Vi, so she rang the doorbell.

The huge gong made Angie giggle. “That sounds like our church bell, Mommy.”

“Yes, it does, sweetie.”

Vi’s steps were unmistakable, the shuffle of her feet in house slippers rhythmic against the hardwood floors.

She rounded the corner and Debra acted as though she’d been studying Vi’s front garden all along.

When Vi reached the door, she didn’t say anything. She didn’t open the door, either.

Part of Debra wished it was winter so she’d have glass between them instead of just the screen. Vi’s negativity unnerved her.

“Hey, Vi. Thanks for having Angie over today.”

“She’s my granddaughter, aren’t you, baby?” Vi cooed at Angie, completely ignoring Debra.

Debra leaned over as best she could with her bulge of a stomach and spoke in a quiet tone to Angie.

“The car’s in the shade and the windows are open. Why don’t you wait for me there, honey? I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Okay, Mommy.” Angie smiled at Vi again. “Bye Grandma.” She skipped to the open passenger door and climbed into the backseat, where several teddy bears were arrayed.

Once Debra was sure Angie was out of earshot, she turned to Violet again, who still stood at the screen door.

“I’ve got something for you, Vi.”

“Any reason?” The condescension in Vi’s tone sent chills of warning down Debra’s back.

“Many reasons, actually. I thought you might like a little gift to cheer you up today.”

“Nothing will ever cheer me up from the loss of my husband. If you and Will—”

“Violet, I’ve had enough of this. You’re the grandmother of my daughter and of these two boys inside me. You don’t have to like me, but you’re going to have to accept me. I’m not going anywhere. I love your son. Can you focus on that?”

Debra’s anger gave her the momentum and courage to look directly at Violet, something she didn’t think she’d ever done before.

“You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“No, I don’t. But I can imagine. If anything happened to Will, I’d—” Tears welled up and her throat tightened.

“You’re lucky all you have to do is imagine.” Violet’s tone was just as hard, but Debra detected a note of another kind. Was there even a glimmer of a chance that Violet would crack, maybe a fraction of an inch, and let her in?

“I suppose your mother’s thrilled about the new babies.” Violet nodded at Debra’s belly.

“No, actually, she’s never been happy with me since Will and I got married.”

“I understand.”

No, she didn’t understand, but Debra wasn’t about to go into her own family’s issues. Debra’s mother didn’t like Will, not just because he was black but because she saw how happy Debra was with him. Linda had never got over her bitterness at her husband’s leaving. She couldn’t be happy for Debra because she had no happiness for herself.

“I’m tired of it, Vi. All the bickering, the blaming. I loved Will’s father, too, you know. He gave my mother that job all those years ago and kept us off food stamps and welfare.”

“He was always doing for the less fortunate.”

Irritation made another swipe at Debra’s composure but she ignored it. Violet couldn’t keep herself from consigning Debra and her “kind” to their “place.”

Debra sighed. “I know it’s too hot for this now—” she held the package out to Violet “—but I hope you’ll appreciate it when fall comes.”

Violet stared at the offered gift as though it were hot coals ready to sear her hands. Debra watched the emotions on Violet’s face. Stubbornness, pride, sorrow, exhaustion. No regret, but Debra knew better than to expect too great of a miracle.

All Debra prayed for was a tiny one—that Violet would take the damned shawl.

Violet clucked her tongue. Debra was about to turn
and go, but she saw Vi raise her skinny arm and unlatch the screen door.

She opened it just far enough to take the gift Debra had painstakingly wrapped. Vi didn’t open the door any farther, nor did she even say “thanks.”

But she took the gift. That was enough for Debra.

“We’ll see you next week.”

Debra walked back to the car. Vi didn’t knit, so she wouldn’t understand how much work had gone into the shawl or the intricate pattern Debra had designed for her.

But it didn’t matter.

Violet had accepted the gift.

Present Day
Buffalo, New York
Debra

T
HE REST OF THE AFTERNOON
went smoothly. I’d spoken with Vi’s doctor, who assured me I’d handled things correctly. There was nothing to do at this point except to make Vi comfortable. She could live another day, a year or a decade. Such was the aging process and the effects of congestive heart disease.

“Okay, ladies, I’m going to get our dinner in the oven.” I put down my knitting and stretched. “Anyone need anything?”

“I think I’ll eat dinner here tonight,” Violet said, but her eyes never left the screen. The shopping channel was displaying its “best of the best” housecoats.

“We’ll see. Let me go figure out what it is!”

I gave Vi a peck on the cheek and squeezed Angie’s arm. Angie smiled at me, a smile that said, “Don’t worry, I’m here with her.”

I walked back to the house with Rosie at my heels.

“You’re hungry, too, aren’t you, girl?”

The golden retriever wagged her tail and her whole body shook, even though she was shoulder-deep in snow.

Once inside, I set about making dinner. I pulled the salmon steaks out of the refrigerator and grabbed the fresh dill I’d bought at the gourmet store.

Then I tidied up the family room and as I folded Vi’s old shawl, I smiled to myself.

Talk about a lifetime ago.

When I’d knitted that shawl for Vi, I’d been intent on proving to her how worthy I was to be Will’s wife. That I was different, and that my being white wasn’t going to hurt Will or our children, not if I could do anything about it.

Of course, it hadn’t just been Violet’s fault that I’d harbored this deep fear of failing Will or the kids. I’d done it to myself with my constant worry that my upbringing couldn’t be overcome. That even though I’d attended one of our nation’s top colleges, I’d never get over growing up on the wrong side of Buffalo.

As Will and I faced the prejudice that a relationship like ours could bring, I became obsessed with protecting my children from it. Too much so. They needed to know the world wasn’t perfect and that there would always be those who’d single them out for being from a racially blended family.

Thank God times had changed!

But I never stopped worrying about my children.

Blair and Brian had experienced the type of racism any African-American child in a mostly white suburban setting would, but they had risen above it, and as the other kids had gotten to know them they’d gained the respect and admiration of their classmates

Angie had had it tougher. Girls can be mean to each other, especially in junior and senior high. Unlike her twin brothers, Angie hadn’t had athletics to ease the pain of her shyness or her adolescent insecurities. Her uncertain racial identification, because of her pale skin and dark, curly hair, had made her the victim of some cruel jokes. I’d felt so guilty in those years—still did, if I examined my heart.

But then…if I hadn’t married him, our children wouldn’t have been born at all. And Angie wouldn’t have her grandmother’s café-au-lait skin, and Blair wouldn’t have Will’s shoulders or Brian his adept hands.

I held the shawl to my face and breathed in. I’d sat for so many nights crying and knitting my tears into this yarn. I’d longed for Violet to know the love Will and I had rediscovered in Paris. We were determined to thrive here in Western New York.

All these years later, I no longer had to tell her. She knew.

So why hadn’t I been able to let go of the past and my worries about the kids? They’d all grown up and were on their way to wonderful lives and families of their own.

Angie was going to work things out with Jesse, I was sure of it. She just had to get over her fears of rejection and her excessive need for independence. Blair and
Stella would have a baby soon enough, God willing, and Brian would find his life’s partner in due time.

It would all work out. I had to believe that.

Present Day
Buffalo, New York

W
ILL LOOKED AROUND
the dinner table. His aging mother sat next to him, her face relaxed and her smile comfortable despite what she’d been through today.

His daughter, Angie, three months pregnant with his first grandchild, sat on his other side, chatting with his mother.

Debra, his wife and mate of more than thirty-five years, sat opposite him. She’d been quiet tonight, just answering a few questions here and there.

From this angle and with the aid of the candlelight on the table, Debra looked almost identical to the way she had when he’d met her again in Paris. Her red locks were enhanced by a bottle now, but they were the same sun-streaked curls that had caught his eye in the Paris classroom. The same curls he’d grown used to gazing down at whenever he walked her home from the bus stop.

Her eyes were beautiful seas of green that he’d willingly lost himself in thousands of times over the years.

Her mouth wasn’t smiling tonight, though. Maybe the storm and taking care of Mama had been a little much for her. And she was worried about her exhibit, no doubt.

“Hey, hon, how’s it going with your show?”

“Fine. Well, I still have some work to do, but it’ll all come together.”

Will smiled.

“That’s what you always say when it’s stressing you out.”

Deb offered a weak smile.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” She put down the fork that had been pushing her casserole around. “Actually, I may change it.”

“But, Mom, your show’s only two weeks away!”

Angie understood what her mother put into each art event.

“I know. But all I have to really finish is my current weaving. I’m using other stuff from over the years as the basis of the display.”

“Want to use my shawl?” Violet cackled at her own joke. The shawl was so tattered from Vi’s constant use, especially in cold weather.

“Thanks for the offer, Vi.” Debra smiled.

Will couldn’t keep the grin off his face. His three women all at the same table, all smiling.

And Mama was still here with them.

Life didn’t get any better.

A
NGIE WENT BACK
to the guest room after dinner and packed her bag. Dad had brought Grandma Vi over to the house and the roads were clear. She could go home.

The storm had given her time to rethink her situation with Jesse. It was one thing to let her pride keep
her
from having a relationship with him but to keep the baby from knowing his or her father—that was pure thievery.

She shoved her few clothes and toiletries into her large tote, but her fingers paused on the ivory prayer shawl Mom had made her when she’d gone to college.

She played with the soft wool and marveled at how detailed her mother’s stitches were. Angie loved to knit, too, but would never master the art as her mother had. Few people did.

The shawl had comforted her through so much.

She remembered when she’d gone to college—excited, afraid. But it was just the beginning….

And then she’d met Jesse.

She shook her head and placed the shawl in her tote. Work was calling, and after that she’d have to start preparing for her trip to Paris.

Debra

“Y
OU MADE A GREAT DINNER
, honey.” I was already in bed.

“Thanks, Will. I’m glad you convinced Vi to stay over.”

“I don’t know how much I convinced her. She’s a stubborn woman. It wouldn’t surprise me if tomorrow she decides she’s going to live in the cottage on her own again.”

I sighed and put down the latest issue of my favorite fiber arts magazine. “She doesn’t have a choice anymore, I’m afraid. You know that, don’t you?”

Will’s face was stoic, but I saw the sadness in his eyes.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Come here.” I patted the comforter.

Will complied and laid his head on my chest. I rubbed his arms and ran my fingers through his hair. I felt the relaxation seep through him.

“I suppose we all think our parents will somehow live forever,” he murmured.

“My mother will, mark my words.”

“Aw, honey, even your mother’s getting older. We all are.”

“Vi’s had a good life, Will. It was horrible for her to be widowed so young, but she made her choices. She could’ve remarried or at least dated.”

“Never. Not after my father.”

“Will, I understand that, but we all have needs.”

Will turned his head and looked into my eyes.

“Are you telling me that if I croak you’ll take up with someone?”

“I’m saying that if either of us goes, then the other should know it’s okay to find someone else. It doesn’t have to be the same kind of love—it can’t be. But why should a widowed spouse be lonely the rest of his or her life?”

Will chuckled. “You have anyone in mind?”

I swatted him. “You know what I mean, Will. I wish your mom was healthier, but considering her age she’s done really well.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“When I was sitting at dinner tonight I looked around the table and realized my mother isn’t who I’ve had in
my head all these years.” Will paused, as if putting the words together from a life span of memories.

“She’s all of that, the strong, immovable mountain I’ve always known as my mama. But she’s changed, too. She’s more tolerant of the bigger issues, less patient with the little annoyances.”

“I hope we all get to where she is, Will. Look at how much she’s grown—she was brought up to believe in the black-and-white of life, no pun intended. She’s had to adjust to, and I think she’s even accepted, the grays. That’s quite an accomplishment.”

“You know what truly amazes me, Deb?”

I stared into his eyes, the harbor of my heart.

“What’s that?”

“You.”

“Me?” My stomach dropped a notch. Had my soap-box speech angered him?

“Yes, you. You talk about her coming a long way—you didn’t even know ‘china’ didn’t necessarily refer to a country when I met you. You’ve dealt with prejudiced idiots from all walks of life. Yet you still have the same positive, cheery outlook that you did when I saved you from the school bus over fifty years ago.”

“I didn’t need any saving! You didn’t save me—you watched out for me.”

“Whatever you want to call it. I’d like to think I’ve saved you from yourself, too.”

I told myself to calm down and let him talk. This was about Will and his feelings about his mother. But it was difficult to sit still while he turned the conversation toward me.

“What’s wrong with me that I needed saving from myself?”

“Nothing. You’ve just had a chance to relax the strict habits you grew up with.”

“I don’t know. If we hadn’t married I’d still have my degrees, my education. That’s not something anyone can take from me.”

“No, but you’d still be clipping coupons and stocking up on cans of tuna and tomato soup.” Will smiled.

“There’s nothing wrong with tuna and soup.”

“No, but we can afford healthy, unprocessed food. You said yourself you’re grateful you can shop at the organic store instead of the box warehouse.”

“Yes, I did.”

“And you wouldn’t have started shopping there unless I dragged you into a nicer grocery store over thirty years ago.”

“I wouldn’t go that far…” Will was hitting too close to my emotional jugular. It’d been difficult for me to shift gears from not having much of anything as a child and student, to being able to have whatever I needed, whatever I wanted.

Will sat up and leaned against the pillows on his side of the bed.

“I don’t want to fight, honey. You’re getting your guard up and I’m sorry I said anything. I just wanted to make the point that I’m happy the women in my life can sit down at the table together, and the love and respect they have for each other shines through.”

“Thanks…”

“Come here and give me a kiss.”

Not one to argue in bed, I did exactly that.