“Well, that’s great,” Hazel said, her tone softening slightly. “I hope it works out.”
“So do I. He’s so much better than he was, but even so, he needs this.”
“Okay, but what about your needs? Doesn’t that count for anything? I mean, you’ve already walked away from your career to raise your kids. Why does—”
“No, I didn’t,” Hope said, interrupting her sister and then shushing her when Hazel began to argue. “Hazel, I didn’t walk away from my career to raise a family because raising a family was my career. It was the career I wanted more than any other. And I was really, really good at it.”
“Yes, you were,” Hazel said. “But you did the job, Hope. Mission accomplished. Now you’ve got a second career that you’re also really, really good at. Something you love.
“Unless, of course, I’m wrong about that. Unless the women—Mandy, and Deedee, and Steph, and all the others you’re always talking about—don’t mean as much as I thought they did.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Hope snapped, and slurped at her wine. “And don’t try to play mind games with me, Hazel. I love my job, and my students. I don’t want to walk away from them. They need me.”
“So doesn’t it make you mad that McKenzie just assumes that you’ll quit?”
“Yes!”
“Then why don’t you tell her that? Tell McKenzie that you don’t want to be her babysitter?”
“Because I do!” Hope shouted. “Don’t you get it, Hazel? I want to take care of my grandchild. I can’t wait to hold that little bundle in my arms. And I want to take care of McKenzie too. I want to be there for her, to support her as she undertakes the most difficult and important job of her life, the way I wish our mother could have been there for me. I want to take care of Rick. And my boys. And my students. And you. I want to take care of everybody!”
“But, Hope . . . you can’t. Nobody can.”
“I know!” Hope shouted again, this time putting the phone in front of her mouth, making absolutely sure she was heard. “That’s why I’m so mad!”
Hope pinched the bridge of her nose again. Her headache was getting worse. Much worse.
“So?” Hazel asked after a moment’s pause. “What are you going to do?”
Hope sighed. “I don’t know. McKenzie and I are getting together on Saturday. She wants me to help her pick out a crib. Hopefully, I’ll figure it out before then. Or be kidnapped by aliens. Or drafted. Does the military accept nearsighted women in their fifties?”
“Wow,” Hazel said after a long pause. “You really are a mess.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Hope said, and emptied her glass.
* * *
After visiting several furniture and department stores and finding that prices for new cribs far outstretched McKenzie’s budget, Hope suggested they check out consignment shops. At the second one, they found an inexpensive crib and changing table that were nearly identical to models that McKenzie had liked at the department store.
The only problem was, both pieces had a dark cherry stain. McKenzie had her heart set on doing up the nursery with white furnishings and light gray walls, with coral and yellow fabrics for the quilt and curtains. Once Hope assured her that they could paint over the stain, McKenzie bought the crib, asking the shop owner to hold the furniture until Monday, when Rick would come with his truck to pick it up.
After four hours of shopping, McKenzie was hungry, so they walked over to a storefront café not far from the consignment store. Peering through the window, Hope saw ten tables, all empty, and hesitated before going inside. In her experience, empty tables were often the sign of a bad chef. But there weren’t any restaurants nearby, and as McKenzie said, “Burgers are burgers. Besides, I’m starving,” so Hope let it go and they went inside. Later, she wished she’d listened to her instincts.
The atmosphere was casual, more diner than restaurant, with only one waitress on duty who took orders at the counter, then delivered food to the table. Hope ordered a BLT, sweet potato fries, and an iced tea. McKenzie ordered a double cheeseburger, large fries, strawberry milk shake, side salad with extra Thousand Island dressing, and took a menu to the table so she could decide on dessert later.
After they had placed their orders and sat down, Hope grinned at McKenzie. “You should have just ordered the whole left side of the menu. It would have saved time.”
“Oh, I thought about it. Believe me.”
McKenzie pulled a sleeve of crackers out of her purse, tore open the package, and shoved a saltine into her mouth. Hope gave her a curious look.
“You’re still getting morning sickness? Maybe you should mention that to the doctor. It’s usually over by the second trimester.”
“Not sick,” she mumbled, her mouth full. “Starving. These are my emergency crackers. I never leave home without them. Were you this hungry when you were pregnant? Last week, I went to buy groceries and ended up eating half of a rotisserie chicken, an apple, and a package of cookies before I even got home. And it was ten o’clock in the morning.”
“Maybe not quite that hungry,” Hope said, sipping iced tea through a straw. “But once, when I was pregnant with the twins, I decided to make your dad a cake for his birthday. You know, as a surprise. By the time he got home from work, there was one slice left.”
McKenzie grinned and stuffed another cracker in her mouth. “Good. I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
“I gained forty-five pounds when I was pregnant with you.”
McKenzie’s eyes went wide. She chewed quickly and then swallowed, ridding her mouth of the crackers. “Forty-five pounds! Seriously?”
“Seriously. Remember, you were a pretty big baby. Seven pounds and four ounces, even though you were early.”
“Well, I always did like making an entrance,” McKenzie said, flipping a hank of hair over her shoulder and pretending to preen. “But forty-five pounds . . . How long did it take you to lose it?”
“Who says I did?” Hope said, then flapped her hand and laughed when she saw the stricken look on her daughter’s face. “Honey, it was a joke. Actually, I’m down another five pounds. Since your father cut back on his baking, they keep melting away. If this keeps up, I’m going to have to take in some of my pants.”
“Fine,” McKenzie groused. “Rub it in, why don’t you?”
“Honey. Stop. You’re growing an entire human. Of course you’re gaining a little weight. But don’t worry; once the baby is born, you’ll lose it in no time. Running after kids is amazing exercise. And you’re planning on nursing, aren’t you?”
“For as long as I can,” McKenzie said. “Between maternity leave and my saved-up vacation days, I’ll be able to stay home for two months after the baby is born. But once I go back to work, I don’t know.”
“The longer you can nurse, the better it’ll be for the baby. And for you, best weight loss plan ever. Plus, you’ll save a fortune on formula. Nursing is just a matter of planning ahead, even when you’re working. What if Dad and I get you a pump for your birthday? A really good one?”
“Sure,” McKenzie replied. “I mean, I did have my eye on this really gorgeous red handbag I saw at Nordstrom. But what girl would want a new purse when she could have a really sweet breast pump?” McKenzie broke out laughing and Hope joined in.
How nice this is, she thought to herself. Cozy and close and absolutely right.
Each of Hope’s children was her favorite child. Collectively and individually, she loved them with every ounce of her breath and being. She didn’t know another way, not when it came to her children.
And yet from the moment of McKenzie’s birth, the love she had felt for her daughter, though equal to that which she felt for her sons, was somehow different.
Perhaps it had something to do with the circumstances of McKenzie’s very dramatic entrance into the world.
Years later, Hope could still remember the terror that gripped her when she realized that they weren’t going to make it to the ho
spital and Rick pulled the car over to the side of the road. She recalled the searing, unanesthetized pain that racked her body as she strained to bring forth her child and the heart-exploding ardor she felt for her strong, calm, heroic husband. Until that moment, she hadn’t imagined she could love him more than she already did, and yet she had. And she remembered, too, the relief, exhaustion, and giddy joy she’d felt when, after she channeled every last drop of energy into that final, agonizing push, Rick looked up at her and cried out, “It’s a girl!”
She had worried, during her pregnancy, that she would not be able to love this new baby as she had her twins. But the moment when Rick then wrapped the child, slick, wet, and squalling, in his sweater and laid her on Hope’s chest was the moment she learned that love was a well with no bottom. She could draw again and again and again, and it would never run dry.
And the new baby was a girl. A girl!
She had dreamed of having a daughter, a child with whom she could relive and renew the intimacy and shared bond of womanhood she’d felt with her own mother, sharing food and laughter and inside jokes, stories and wisdom, passing the torch of all she had known and learned in life to the next generation.
And now, finally, after all these years, her dream had come true. And soon, a granddaughter.
No, the well never runs dry.
The waitress arrived, carrying a tray loaded with their lunch. Hope scooted her single plate as close to her side of the table as possible to make room for McKenzie’s several. As soon as the waitress disappeared in the back, Hope shoveled half of her sweet potato fries onto McKenzie’s plate.
“You sure?” McKenzie asked, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her mother’s offering.
“You go ahead.”
McKenzie was so focused on sating her hunger that several minutes ticked by before another word passed between them. When McKenzie’s burger was gone and she slowed down somewhat, Hope took a sip of iced tea and cleared her throat.
“So, Kenz. Speaking of maternity leave and you going back to work, we should probably talk about childcare.”
McKenzie lifted her hand, bringing the conversation to a halt until she could finish chewing. “I know,” she said at last. “I was wanting to talk to you about that. After I got home from the baby shower, I realized that I made it sound like I was signing you up for free babysitting for the rest of your life. But I want you to know, I’m planning to pay you.”
“Kenz,” Hope said, shaking her head. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do. It’s only fair. And if you’re worried that I won’t be able to afford it, don’t,” she said, spearing a chunk of green pepper with her fork. “I just found out that I’m getting a promotion to department head and a pretty nice raise to go with it.”
“Oh, McKenzie! That’s wonderful. All your hard work is paying off. Good for you, sweetie. I’m proud of you.”
McKenzie shrugged, but her smile signaled her satisfaction. “My supervisor said it had been in the works for a while, but I think they sped up the timeline because of the baby. A lot of people go on maternity leave and never come back.
“I never understood that before,” she said, reaching down to rub the dome of her stomach, “but I do now. Crazy, isn’t it? I haven’t even laid eyes on this baby, but I already know how tough it will be to go back to work. Good thing I’ve got somebody who actually knows what she’s doing to take care of her,” McKenzie said, looking up with a grateful smile. “Really, Mom. Makes me feel so much better about everything.”
The surge of love that Hope felt in her heart at that moment was accompanied by a smaller but palpable feeling of disappointment, the sensation of standing behind a door that was closing. But what else could she do?
“I’m glad, Kenz. Happy I can help.”
McKenzie’s grin and nodding response said that she was happy too.
“I mean, can you imagine what would happen if I had to raise this poor baby unsupervised?” she said, looking down at her stomach with affection and then laughing. “I’d probably drop her on her head or go into the store to buy milk and forget she was asleep in the car seat or something.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Hope protested.
McKenzie started eating again. “Well, maybe not that. But we both know I’d find some way to screw things up. Anyway,” she said, washing down her fry with a slurp of strawberry milk shake, “I’m just glad this baby will have a real mother to look out for her, somebody who knows what she’s doing.”
A bell jingled as the door to the café opened. A man wearing a bomber jacket, Oakland A’s baseball cap, and green tennis shoes with a weird faux alligator pattern walked up to the counter and grabbed a menu from a rack near the register. Hope glanced at him briefly, then leaned closer to McKenzie and lowered her voice so they wouldn’t be overheard.
“McKenzie,” she said, fixing her eyes on her daughter, “you know how thrilled I am to be a grandmother. And you know I’m going to support you in every way possible. But this baby can only have one mother, and that’s you.”
“No, no. I get that,” McKenzie replied, speaking casually but failing to meet Hope’s gaze. “But compared to you . . .
“I mean, you were an amazing mother, the best in the whole neighborhood, maybe in the whole world. Everybody thought so. My friends always used to say that I didn’t know how lucky I was, having you for my mom.” McKenzie touched her fingertips to her stomach, very lightly and cautiously, as if she were testing the heat of a candle flame. “Until now, I’m not sure I did.
“Let’s face it,” she said, finally looking up, cracking her lips into a stiff smile. “I couldn’t even manage to keep a marriage together for more than two years. Just imagine the havoc I could cause in twenty years of parenting. Everybody knows how selfish I am. Zach was always telling me that and he was right.”
Hope felt her jaw tighten. She wanted to remind McKenzie that Zach, having explored new depths of selfishness, was hardly one to speak. But remembering her personal promise not to get into the habit of speaking ill of her grandchild’s father, she held her tongue.
She tried formulating a more diplomatic response but was distracted by the movements of the man in the bomber jacket. He’d been shifting his feet and sniffing ever since he came through the door. He was probably in a hurry and impatient for service, but for some reason Hope kept looking toward him. Something about him bothered her.
Now he smacked the bell on the counter. The waitress came out from the back. The man tugged his baseball cap lower on his head, shielding his eyes, and leaned across the counter.
“McKenzie—”
“You know it’s true,” she said, talking over her mother. “I’m selfish. But mothers can’t be. That’s why it’ll be better if you can handle more of the mother thing. I’ll be more like the dad. I’ll pay the bills, start a college fund, that kind of thing. And then be around on weekends for the fun stuff—taking her to the park, or soccer games, or out for ice cream.”
Hope wasn’t listening. Her eyes were glued to the scene playing out at the register. At first, the waitress hadn’t seemed to understand what the man was saying to her. When he leaned even closer, he said it again and grabbed her sleeve.
“McKenzie—” Hope said more urgently, reaching for her daughter’s hand.
“Mom, I know. Okay? I know what you’re going to say. But you don’t—”
The waitress’s eyes had gone wide and color drained from her face. She shook her head. When the man reached into his jacket pocket, the hair stood up on the back of Hope’s neck.
The waitress let out a short, sharp cry. Hope saw fear in her eyes, a glint of steel from the man’s pocket.
“McKenzie!” she shouted. “Kenz, get down!”
Hope kicked her chair backward and sprang across the table, pulling McKenzie to the floor amid a clatter of dishware and silver. She shoved McKenzie as hard as she could, pushing her under the table, then spread out her arms, making her body a shield between
her daughter and unborn grandchild, and the man with the gun.
Chapter 32
It happened so fast that almost before McKenzie realized what was happening it was over. One minute she was eating French fries and minding her own business, and the next minute her mother was screaming and pulling her down and McKenzie was on the floor, covered in spilled strawberry milk shake, trying to figure out what was going on.
The gun was real and loaded, but Hope’s shouts and the cacophony of clattering dishware had distracted the gunman. He turned momentarily toward the sound, and the waitress, thinking quickly or perhaps not at all, snatched a vase full of half-dead flowers from the counter, dashed the stale and stinking water into his face, and then smashed the vase over his head. Later, the police officers said that she’d been very lucky and should have just handed over the money.
They’d all been lucky. The man dropped the gun, grabbed his bleeding head, and fled on foot through the door. Alerted by the commotion, the café’s chef-owner ran in from the kitchen at almost the same moment, wielding a cleaver.
The police were called and arrived almost immediately, as well as an ambulance. McKenzie insisted that she was fine—the baby started moving around as soon as McKenzie got up from the floor—but Hope was even more insistent. To appease her, McKenzie agreed to go to the hospital for a checkup and an ultrasound. The baby was fine. Apart from a cut on her forearm, caused by contact with a broken plate, Hope was unharmed as well.
The police searched the area but were unable to locate the gunman. Later that afternoon, however, one of the officers who had been on the scene came into the emergency room on other business and noticed a man sitting in the waiting room, waiting to be treated for a gash on his head. He was wearing a bomber jacket, greenish tennis shoes with a strange alligator pattern on the uppers, and held a bloody Oakland Athletics baseball cap in his lap. The waitress was able to identify him in a lineup. After his fingerprints were matched to those found on the gun, he was charged with attempted robbery.
So it all turned out well. No one was hurt and the bad guy was caught.
Hope on the Inside Page 23