The Mother's Promise

by Sally Hepworth

  “Just … think of it this way. Most people take out roadside assistance when they buy a new car. They don’t expect anything to go wrong with it, of course, it’s a new car. But it’s insurance. It means they know they’ll be taken care of. Just in case.”

  Alice didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking. She’d been focusing her energy on remaining positive—for Zoe. She didn’t see the point of “planning for other possibilities.”

  Sonja’s hand was still in the air. Alice looked at her wrist. The bruise was yellow now, but still there. “What happened,” Alice asked, “to your wrist?”

  She hoped it sounded like a change of topic rather than an accusation—even though the truth was, Alice was suspicious. And her suspicions were confirmed when Sonja immediately shrugged it back under her shirtsleeve. “Oh, nothing,” she said. Sonja looked for a moment like she was going to continue, but she just stopped as though she’d lost her train of thought. For the first time, Alice wondered what was going on behind her perfect, Botoxed exterior.

  “Are you married?” Alice asked. Sonja wore a ring, but she never talked about her family—and Alice had never asked Sonja anything about herself.

  “Yes,” Sonja said.

  “Kids?”

  She shook her head. “Unfortunately not. I married too late for that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sonja shrugged, sipping her coffee. “George and I have a full life.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Well, it’s not as though things are perfect. No marriage is.” Sonja put down her cup.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Alice admitted.

  “You’ve never been married?” Sonja asked. “Not to Zoe’s father?”

  “Not to him or anyone else,” Alice said. “I’m not sure if that makes me lucky or unlucky.”

  Sonja’s eyes were downcast as she absently swept the loose sugar granules into a pile. “At the beginning, you think it’s all going to be happiness, romance and charm. Then real life creeps in. You know, the ugly stuff.” Sonja’s mouth twisted on ugly stuff. She was speaking in a slightly detached way, as if she’d forgotten Alice was there.

  “Ugly stuff … like your wrist?” Alice asked.

  Sonja glanced up quickly. Consciously or unconsciously, she fiddled with her shirtsleeve again. “All sorts of ugly stuff,” she said eventually.

  Suddenly Sonja seemed to remember herself. “But … life has its ups and downs, doesn’t it?” She pasted on a false, bright smile. “During the downs you just have to remind yourself that the next up is just around the corner.”

  “I agree,” Alice said. “Although … while it’s good to be optimistic, isn’t it prudent to plan for all possibilities?”

  They locked eyes. Alice cocked her head. For the first time, Alice felt like they were both actually seeing each other.

  “That’s familiar advice,” Sonja said.

  “It’s good advice,” Alice admitted. “And perhaps we should both take it?”

  They both lifted their coffees in unison then, and after they put their cups down again conversation went in a different direction. But, despite herself, Alice had heard what Sonja was saying to her. Alice hoped Sonja had heard it too.

  59

  Zoe still walked to school these days. She was doing better with people, but she didn’t know if she’d ever be comfortable on a bus. However, unlike before, when she was filled with dread on the way to school, now she looked forward to it. Because Harry met her halfway.

  She could see him now, up on the corner, his hands shoved in his pockets. The sight of him, as always, started a flap of panic in her chest. By the time she reached him her heart was thundering and her hands were shaking, but if he noticed, he didn’t seem bothered. He removed one of his hands from his pocket and put it around her, sneaking a kiss on her forehead. And then they walked to school, arm in arm—even as her cheeks flamed.

  Inside, as they put their books in their lockers, Emily arrived. A few minutes later, Lucy Barker and Jessie Lee joined them. Everyone chatted, and Zoe listened as she rummaged in her locker for books before heading to class. It was nice being a part of the group—even if she was at the periphery.

  English came and went. After class, as everyone funneled through the door, Mrs. Patterson called her name. “Zoe, can I see you for a moment?”

  She paused, freaked out. “Uh … sure.”

  Harry glanced back, a question in his eyes. She shrugged.

  “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said, then filed out of the room.

  “Have a seat, Zoe,” Mrs. Patterson said. “We need to talk about the oral component of your English grade.”

  Zoe tensed up. There had been no mention of this since the debate and she had hoped they would just give her an average grade and move on.

  “I graded the written portion of the debate, and it was excellent. An A-plus. But you still need to deliver an oral component to pass English.”

  The tension in Zoe’s stomach turned to horror.

  “Now, given last time, I understand that you might not want to deliver it in front of the entire class. But I’ve spoken with Mrs. Hunt and also Dr. Sanders, and we all agreed that you are capable of doing something to fulfill this requirement. So we’ve decided to put you in charge.”

  “What do you mean … put me in charge?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like. You will decide what material you want to deliver, and who you want to deliver it to. I, of course, need to be one of those people. But it can be as small or large as you like.”

  Zoe felt the terror release like a swarm of moths.

  “You might like to arrange a small group of friends, people that you really trust. You don’t even need to stand on a stage. You are in charge of this, Zoe. You let me know in the next couple of weeks what you’re going to do and we can take it from there.”

  “I’m just … I’m not sure I can, Mrs. P.”

  Mrs. Patterson was silent for a moment; then Zoe heard her sigh. “You know, Zoe, many people are highly successful in spite of their fears. A lot of famous actors and actresses got into acting to address their fears of the public eye. They somehow learn to channel their fears and use them to make them better at what they do. Some of them have even won Oscars.”

  “I don’t know how I could channel my fears into a good speech,” Zoe said.

  “Think about it. Maybe there is a way that you can do this presentation that is uniquely you.” Zoe looked up, and Mrs. Patterson smiled. “For the record, I’m looking forward to it. You’re intelligent. You’re creative. Your speech-writing skills are the best in the class. Something tells me you have a lot to say that is worth listening to.”

  Mrs. Patterson pulled a document out of her folder and handed it to Zoe. “Here are the criteria you will be graded on. As long as your speech fits into these guidelines, you can be as imaginative as you like.”

  Zoe took the document, a feeling of dread brewing in her belly. But as she stood up and turned to walk out the door, she had an idea. Something that is uniquely you.

  She had an idea.

  60

  “Fuck!” Alice whispered as she heard the ringing in her ear. But whispering cusswords was horribly unsatisfying. From her bedroom she could hear the hum of the television out in the living room. Zoe would be curled up in front of it. So she needed to be quiet.

  But all she could hear was Sonja’s words swirling in her mind. While it is wonderful to be optimistic, it’s also prudent to plan for all possibilities … it’s insurance. Alice knew Sonja had a point. After all, healthy people did it all the time. They nominated someone to be a guardian for their child in the event of their death, jotted down their name in a will and never thought about it again. End of story. Alice decided it would be a good idea to do the same, but unfortunately it wasn’t as simple as that. Even if there had been an abundance of possibilities (which there wasn’t), it would have been hard to find the right person for Zoe. Zoe was a special kind of g
irl—she needed a special kind of parent. It took Alice a while, but she realized there was only one possibility. She just needed to pluck up the courage and ask.

  “Kate speaking.”

  “Kate!” Alice’s heart jumped. “It’s Alice.”

  “Alice.” Kate sounded wary, and Alice understood why. Even though Kate had come to the rescue when Alice was ill—and even after Zoe had stayed with her again—Alice still hadn’t spoken to her properly since the day she’d told her on the phone to stay away from Zoe. “Hello. It’s good to hear from you.”

  Alice marveled at how a person could be so nice. Part of her hated it. Part of her was counting on it.

  “I must apologize again,” Kate started.

  “Please don’t,” Alice said. “After all you’ve done for Zoe, I think we can call it quits.”

  “Okay. Good.” Kate was quiet a moment. “Dr. Brookes told me your white-cell count was still low. Try not to be discouraged. Hopefully your levels will come up in a few weeks and we can try more chemo.”

  It was genuine, Alice realized. The way Kate cared.

  “Yes, I’m sure they will,” Alice said.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” Kate asked.

  Alice choked back a small sob that leapt out of nowhere. “Actually yes … I wanted to ask you a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  Alice swallowed. What on earth was wrong with her? “Could I … could I come over tomorrow?”

  Kate didn’t hesitate, not even for a second. “What time?”

  Alice got Kate’s address and made a plan to go over there the next day. After she hung up, she pulled herself together. It was just insurance, after all. Nothing more. Yet for some reason she cried until the world became as blurred as she felt inside.

  61

  The next afternoon Kate squinted at the figure standing in front of her house. She was bundled in a navy blue coat with a red scarf flapping in the breeze. Her hands were ungloved and clasped together, wringing. Kate raced down the stairs. The house was empty again, for now. David was back from Mexico, but their issues, unfortunately, had returned with him. They’d had a few talks, made a few inroads, but the baby dilemma hovered between them, threatening to ruin every pleasant dinner, every nice conversation. Now, it felt like he was gone more than he was home. And the kids were at Hilary’s this week, which made the house eerily quiet. There was only so much aloneness one person could take.

  She opened the front door. “Alice?”

  “Hello,” she said, but remained where she was. She looked thin, small. Her face was gaunt, and her head was covered in a red knitted hat.

  “Would you like to come in?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Have a seat,” Kate said, once they were inside. Alice seemed strangely stiff and formal. Kate wondered what was going on. “Shall I make coffee? Or tea?”

  “I’m fine.” Alice sat in the armchair.

  Kate sat opposite. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better for not having the chemo,” Alice said. “And worse, for not having chemo.”

  “And how is Zoe?”

  “She’s involved in her own life. She has a boyfriend, some friends. She’s probably doing better than she ever has.”

  “That’s fantastic,” Kate said.

  “But I’ve been thinking,” Alice continued. “About what would happen to Zoe … I mean, I have no intention of dying. But it seems the … prudent thing to plan.”

  “I see,” Kate said slowly. “Well, yes, that makes sense.”

  “Problem is, I don’t have a lot of options.”

  “Zoe’s father definitely isn’t a possibility?” Kate asked.

  “No.” Alice’s voice was firmer than Kate had ever heard it. At first Kate thought she was going to leave it at that, but then she sighed. “The truth is … how can I put this?… Zoe wasn’t conceived consensually.”

  “Oh, Alice, wow.”

  “It was the best thing to ever happen to me,” Alice continued quickly. “It gave me Zoe. But, no, Zoe’s father is definitely not an option.”

  “Of course not,” Kate said.

  They descended into silence again. And Kate had a sudden feeling that she and Alice had become a team. A team responsible for looking out for Zoe. Surprisingly, it was a team she very much wanted to be on.

  “Well, how about your brother?” Kate said.

  “Paul’s been pretty good these last few weeks. He’s come nearly every time I’ve needed him. But he’s not a potential parent for Zoe.” Alice dropped her gaze. “Kate … Zoe really likes you.”

  Kate edged forward, trying to catch Alice’s eye. “I really like her too. She’s a wonderful girl.”

  Alice’s face suddenly seemed to spasm. It took Kate a moment to realize she was trying not to cry. “Well, then I hope you’ll humor me when I ask if you’d consider … becoming her guardian. If something happens to me.”

  For a moment, silence engulfed them. Kate felt something shift in the room.

  “It’s just insurance,” Alice continued, lifting her head now. “I have no plans to die. But … Zoe feels comfortable with you. You understand her. Maybe even better than I do.”

  “That’s not true,” Kate said.

  “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. The fact remains, I think…” Alice swallowed. “I think she’d be happy with you.”

  Kate hadn’t seen this coming. And still, somehow, the idea wasn’t shocking. But it wasn’t as simple as that. She imagined bringing this up with David. You know how you don’t want a baby, how about the teenager of one of my dying patients? Just what every troubled marriage needed.

  “Oh, Alice, I … I am so touched that you asked me. And you know I adore Zoe. It would be a privilege but … honestly, I don’t know. I have to talk to David and—”

  “I understand,” Alice said too quickly.

  “I want to be clear,” Kate said. “I care about Zoe. I want Zoe to be all right more than anyone.”

  “Not more than anyone,” Alice corrected. “But you’re a close second, and that’s why I hope you’ll take her.”

  62

  “David,” Kate said. “I have to talk to you about something.”

  Kate had been watching David silently for several moments. She’d promised Alice she’d think about her request, talk about it with David, and get back to her. She wanted to wait, to choose her moment, but Kate knew Alice didn’t have much time. Which meant, neither did Kate.

  David was pouring himself an after-work Scotch. Without looking up, he said, “Sounds serious.”

  “It is. I had a visitor this afternoon. Alice Stanhope. Zoe’s mom.”

  David brought his glass over and sat down on the other end of the couch. “How’s she doing?”

  “Not so great. There’s a real possibility she won’t make it.”

  “Wow,” David said.

  “Alice asked if we would take Zoe after she dies.” Kate knew she shouldn’t blurt it out like that, but there was no right way to have this kind of conversation. Tentatively, she looked at David.

  “Us?”

  “Yes. I said I’d talk to you about it.”

  David blinked slowly, taking it all in. Kate steadied herself. The fact that this was the longest conversation they’d had all week didn’t bode well for a positive response. It also, likely, didn’t make them a perfect choice for welcoming a troubled child into their home. Even so, Kate found herself holding her breath. She wanted this, she realized. Not just for Zoe. For herself.

  “Well,” he said finally, “what do you think?”

  She felt vaguely optimistic that he was, at least, willing to discuss it.

  “Well,” she said, tucking her legs up under her on the couch, “on one hand, it’s probably not the best idea bringing a new person into the family when things are not … completely harmonious with us. On the other hand, she exists. A fifteen-year-old girl with severe anxiety is about to lose her mother and have no one left in the world. She can
either come to live with us, or she can bounce around in foster care until she is spat out at the age of eighteen. And David … I care about her. I mean … I care about all my patients and their families but … I really care about Zoe.”

  David put his glass on the coffee table.

  “I’m not trying to emotionally blackmail you,” Kate said.

  “I know. It’s just a lot to take in.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “And it’s very out of left field. But I guess … my initial response is … maybe we should help her.”

  Kate suddenly realized she’d been holding her breath.

  “We’ll have to speak to the kids about it. But … you’re right. She exists. She has no one. Her mother has come to us. We have to consider it.”

  Kate allowed herself to wonder how it might look if Zoe did join their strange blended family. With stepchildren, ex-wives and their new husbands, they all had a story of how they’d come together. Perhaps Zoe would find a place amongst them all?

  “Why don’t we talk to the kids tonight?” he continued. “See what they think. Then we can take it from there.”

  “Yes,” Kate said. She scooted across the couch and sat beside him. “Yes, okay.”

  David reached out and took her hand. That’s when Kate realized. The way you got past an obstacle in your marriage was through trying. David was trying. And so would she.

  63

  Alice sat on the couch with Kenny in her lap. Across town, Kate would be speaking to her husband, making a decision about whether or not she’d be Zoe’s guardian. It was agony, waiting for someone to make the most important decision of your life.

  It got Alice thinking about people. Pre-motherhood, if she had pictured this inconceivable situation, she’d have thought there would be a dozen people willing to take her child. Her child’s father, of course. Her parents. Her friends. And yet, she found herself in the kind of situation that most people swore could never happen to them. With no one. The irony was, since the cancer diagnosis, her life had more people in it than it had had in years. Kate. Sonja. Paul. Andrew. And still, she didn’t have enough people.