Читать книгу What Family Means - Geri Krotow - Страница 11

Present Day

Buffalo, New York

ANGIE LOWERED the car window and let the crisp air wash over her face. For the first time since she’d returned home, she was grateful for the cold. It took her mind off her heaving stomach.

Off her life.

She turned into the parking lot of Koffee Klache. Mom said she’d come over right around two, after she’d checked in on Grandma Violet.

Angie looked at the car’s digital clock. One forty-five. She had fifteen minutes to pretend she wasn’t pregnant, that her life hadn’t taken such a major detour.

Her stomach felt otherwise. She shoved open the door and threw up on Koffee Klache’s slush-covered blacktop. When she was done, she leaned back in the seat and tried to will her nausea away. She wouldn’t be able to have a coffee, much as she might wish she could. But she didn’t want to meet Mom at home. This was more neutral territory.

After several minutes she hauled herself out of the car and into the coffee shop.

“Hi, Angie! The usual?” Molly the barista smiled her welcoming grin. Angie managed to smile back, despite the acrid taste still in her mouth.

“Hey, Molly. Uh, no, not the usual. I’ll have an iced ginger tea, please, with some honey.”

“You got it.” Molly didn’t question Angie’s choice of “iced,” even though it was freezing outside.

The tinkle of the bell above the entrance was followed by the scent of her mother’s perfume, which made Angie’s stomach roil yet again.

Maybe she should’ve waited until tonight to meet with her mom. Evenings seemed to be her best time as of late.

“Hi, honey!”

Angie turned around and practically fell into her mother’s warm hug. The fuzzy yarn of her mom’s scarf tickled Angie’s cheeks. She gave Debra a hug back and hoped to pull away as quickly as possible.

But the touch of her mother, the softness of the scarf, even the scent of Debra’s perfume, undermined Angie’s resolve. For an instant she clung to her mother as though she were six and had just found out she wasn’t invited to her friend’s birthday party.

“Ange?”

Debra hugged Angie tighter, then drew back and studied her daughter. Angie couldn’t believe her mother was nearing sixty. She looked as she’d always looked—better, in fact.

“What do you want to drink, Mom?”

Angie slipped out of her mother’s arms and grabbed her own drink from the counter. Debra took the hint and walked over to order.

Angie sat in their usual spot—the two easy chairs by the back window. Her mind echoed with the conversations she and her mother had shared in this space over the years. While Angie was still in high school, the breaks during college and her frequent trips back since settling in San Francisco with Jesse.

No guarantee that Jesse would agree with her decision to stay here, once he found out she was pregnant. When the Director of Operations job opened up at the NOAA facility in Western New York, he’d finally agreed to make a temporary move with her to Buffalo; with his credentials they were both confident that he’d find an equally good—temporary—career opportunity as a neurosurgeon. They’d put their condo up for rent just as Jesse was sent to Iraq.

Part of her felt childish for not telling Jesse the minute she knew she was pregnant. But she wasn’t a child anymore; she was a thirty-five-year-old woman about to have her own child.

Debra carried her usual green tea and a small plate of oatmeal raisin cookies to the table. How her mother stayed so slim was beyond Angie. Angie took after her father’s side—just one glance at a sweet put the pounds on.

“How’s Grandma Vi doing?”

“She’s fine.” Debra sighed. “I checked on her after knitting group and fixed her an omelet.” Angie knew that taking care of Grandma Vi was more complicated now. Something as simple as getting her to eat regularly made a huge difference, but the responsibility tended to take over her mother’s life.

Debra’s silence confirmed Angie’s thoughts.

“How was the group?”

“Fine, fine.” Debra busied her hands with settling her coat and her purse; she rested her knitting on her lap. Knitting or anything fiber-related could always lift her mother’s spirits.

“What are you making now?” Angie stared at the ball of pink fuzz in Debra’s lap. She hoped it wasn’t something for her.

Debra laughed. “It looks alive, doesn’t it? It’s a new yarn. I thought it’d be perfect for your future niece or nephew.”

Of course. It was for Blair and Stella’s baby.

Angie tried to focus on how great Blair and Stella had been this morning. They weren’t pregnant yet, but Angie had no doubt they would be soon. In the most perfect manner, and everyone would know about it.

Blair’s twin, Brian, wasn’t married yet. But his growing relationship with “the blonde” Blair had mentioned was promising.

And then there was Angie.

Angie glanced up from the yarn into her mother’s green eyes. Mom’s red hair still corkscrewed around her face, the longer locks a halo about her head. Debra wore an expression reserved for her tough-love moments.

Angie gave a mental groan.

“Are you planning to tell me what’s going on or do I have to extract it out of you over this entire pot of tea?”

Angie squirmed at her mother’s tone, and the immediate flush of anger at her own childishness annoyed her.

“I’m pregnant.”

How’s that for an adult statement?

Debra’s mouth dropped open and the sound of her ceramic mug hitting the marble mosaic table reverberated.

“You’re not!”

“I am, Mom, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t even start.”

Angie watched as the struggle between tears and joy played across Debra’s face. If Angie wasn’t so afraid it would make her throw up again, she would have laughed.

“I don’t believe it, Mom. You’re actually speechless.”

“This is wonderful—but you said you never wanted chil—”

“Mom, I said don’t start. I mean it.”

“What do you expect, Angie? My only daughter tells me she’s having my grandchild and I’m supposed to—what? Be quiet?” Debra picked up her tea and gulped down a huge swig.

“Ouch!” She grimaced as she burned her tongue.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“I’m fine.” Debra took a deep breath. She turned her head to the side, her gaze aimed at the huge picture window that looked onto the entrance of the café. But Angie knew Debra wasn’t seeing anything but her own thoughts.

Debra turned her face back toward Angie and smiled. “Oh, honey. I’ve always dreamed of this. I mean, your brother and Stella, they’re trying and that’s wonderful, but there’s something so special about your own daughter having a baby.” Debra eyed Angie over her mug. She wasn’t done.

“You have other things to consider, sweetheart. You are older.” Debra reached over and Angie welcomed the warmth of her mother’s hand clasping hers.

“Mom, I’m older than you were when you had us, but I’m not ancient, for heaven’s sake.”

“What does Jesse think?”

Angie looked at her mother.

Debra looked back at her, face expectant. Until realization clouded in her eyes and pursed her lips.

“You have told him?”

“Uh, no, not yet. Ughh.”

Angie gripped the arms of her chair and inhaled deeply. Her stomach was doing the tango again. Apparently the ginger tea wasn’t working its charm.

“No, I haven’t told him. What’s the point in worrying him when he’s so far away? I don’t want him to worry about anything while he’s in such a hotspot.”

“Honey, don’t you think Jesse would be thrilled to know? That it might give him the extra strength he needs when he’s dealing with some of his tougher cases?”

“I haven’t even told him I’ve permanently relocated to Buffalo.”

“You what?” Debra’s eyebrows rose so high on her forehead that Angie wondered if they would completely disappear under her copper bangs.

“I didn’t tell him I’ve moved out here.” Angie stared at her glass of tea. It kept the heat flaring out of Debra’s eyes from blistering her skin.

“Why not?”

“Lots of reasons. Last year, after I did my dissertation, this opportunity came up. Jesse didn’t want to talk about relocating anywhere until he finished his mission. But I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to work in Buffalo. He thinks I’m out here for a trial run.”

She’d grown tired of her job as resident meteorologist at a local TV station in the Bay Area and had promised herself she’d find something more challenging once she completed her Ph.D. She’d never had to be on television, thank God, but she needed more challenge than the job offered—fairly superficial behind-the-scenes analysis of weather patterns.

That meant she’d had to leave California and life as she and Jesse had known it. Jesse thought it was all temporary, that they’d go back to California if the “experimental” career changes didn’t work for either one of them. But she’d decided on her own to make her position permanent.

She didn’t want to think about the dangers Jesse faced today and every day since he’d left. He was a top neurosurgeon and when the chance had arisen to help save lives in Iraq, he took it with no hesitation.

“That’s why you’ve been so dodgy whenever I asked how long your contract is with NOAA.” Debra knew Angie had landed a coveted position with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration in Buffalo.

“I’m here to stay, Mom. I want the baby to know my family, to have cousins. In San Francisco I’d be on my own.”

And reminded too much of what she might lose with Jesse. She didn’t want him to think she’d “tricked” him into the pregnancy. They’d both had a good time that night and she’d had no indication that she was fertile. Up until now, their protective measures had worked….

“You know your father and I support you, honey.”

“Mom, don’t go blaming yourself for this. This has nothing to do with you or Dad or our color.”

Angie was well aware that her mom often wondered if their children suffered because of their interracial background. Debra was from a Polish-American family in one of Buffalo’s poorer suburbs.

Dad was from an educated African-American family and had grown up in an affluent neighborhood. Debra had been her family’s first to go to college and to have a real career. Will was just another son in a long line of college-graduate professionals.

Angie considered herself both black and white, although she knew many people saw her as African-American, especially in areas that were still predominately white. She’d been born with her dad’s curly hair and the lighter brown skin of her paternal grandmother. She had Debra’s green eyes.

On the West Coast, in the anonymity and cultural diversity of San Francisco, she’d never felt her skin color was an issue. She’d been free to become the woman she was today.

“You know, I have a better idea of what you’re going through than you realize.”

“Really, Mom?” Angie tried to keep her tone neutral, but if she had a cookie for every time Mom said she “knew” what Angie was feeling, Angie would weigh three hundred pounds.

“Seriously, Angie. I was younger, it was a different era, but I expected to raise you on my own.”

“You were married, though.”

“Well, after I was pregnant with you. As a matter of fact, it was after I’d had you.”

“After I was born?”

Debra steadied her gaze on Angie. “Your dad and I were almost—” she shook her head “—no, we were high-school sweethearts. Or at least we were meant to be.”

Heat rushed into Angie’s face as she stared at her mother. “Why don’t I already know this?”

Debra flicked her fingers against her mug. “No reason to bring it up before. Do you really want to know the details?”

Angie didn’t hesitate. “Yes. And start with the high-school stuff.”