“How do you like it so far?” Lashaundra opened her little carton of chocolate milk and took a long drink.
“It’s okay.” I stared at the food on my plate—a slice of turkey, mashed potatoes with brown gravy, and some canned fruit. It looked disgusting.
“It’s a lot better than the last school I was at,” she said, spreading potatoes over her turkey slice.
“Where was that?” I took a tentative bite of potatoes.
“Alabama,” she said. “That place was terrible. Everything was old and dirty. The kids were mean. I hated it.”
“How many schools have you been to?”
She paused a moment, chewing, then said, “This is the fourth. How about you?”
“This is my first.”
She stared at me. “Really? You never went to school before?”
I shook my head. “I just did my lessons at home.”
She nodded. “I did that, too, sometimes. But when we stayed anywhere for more than a couple months, Mama always sent me to school. This one is pretty nice.”
“It’s so loud,” I said.
“Yeah, but you’ll get used to it.”
“I’m really glad you’re here.” I couldn’t even imagine what I would do if she wasn’t there.
“Me too,” she said. “It’s nice to know someone.”
Another blur of classes passed and I walked outside to see Emma waiting for me, her arms wrapped around her stomach. It was bitterly cold out. But I didn’t care. I had made it through my first day of school.
“How was it?” she asked.
“It was okay. Pretty loud.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Did you see Lashaundra?”
“She’s in four of my classes, and we have lunch together.”
“Good,” she said. “Was everybody nice to you?”
I shrugged. Mostly I had been ignored.
“One girl in my English class shared her book with me.”
“That’s nice. Didn’t you get your own book?”
“They had to order it.”
We got in the car and drove toward home.
“So do you think you’ll like it?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think I will.”
22
Emma
“Mrs. Bohner?” A nurse called my name and we followed her to an exam room.
“The doctor will be right with you,” she said.
“Thank you.” Brannon grinned at her and she beamed back at him.
After a few minutes, Dr. McLaren walked in and smiled at us.
“Well, it’s official. You’re pregnant. Congratulations!”
“Thanks, Doc!” Brannon shook his hand. “When is she due?”
“Mid-September, I’d say. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I said.
“No morning sickness?”
“No, I feel pretty good.”
“Is this your first pregnancy?”
“Um, no. I had a baby, a boy. He died.”
“I’m so sorry.” Dr. McLaren put his hand on my shoulder. “Was he stillborn?”
“No, he lived five weeks. But he never was very strong and then he got a respiratory infection and . . . and he died.”
Dr. McLaren wrote something on my chart.
“Well, we’ll monitor you very carefully and do everything we can to make sure you have a healthy baby.”
“Thank you.”
“In the meantime, I want you to start taking prenatal vitamins, get plenty of rest, avoid stress, and eat a good, healthy diet.”
“Can I still have coffee?”
“Yes,” he said. “But not more than one cup a day unless it’s decaf. Decaf is okay.”
“What about work, Doc?” Brannon asked. “She works at the diner and is on her feet all day. I think she should quit and stay home, right?”
“That’s really up to Emma,” the doctor said. “If it starts to be too much, she should at least cut back her hours. But there’s no reason for her to quit if she doesn’t want to. The more active she stays, the healthier she and the baby will be.”
I smiled at Brannon. He’d been talking about me quitting my job ever since he found out I was pregnant. But I didn’t want to quit. I loved my job. I loved the people I worked with, I enjoyed the customers, and I certainly didn’t want to be stuck at home all the time.
“We’ll want you scheduled for monthly visits,” Dr. McLaren said. “Vickie will set that up for you. Do you have any other questions?”
“Well,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks redden. “Actually, I was wondering . . . I mean . . . is it still okay for us to . . .”
“Sex is fine,” he said, laughing. “As long as you feel like it, it’s fine. Some women have sex right up into the ninth month.”
“Okay, good.” I glanced up at Brannon. He wasn’t smiling like I thought he’d be. In fact, he looked angry.
“Okay.” Dr. McLaren shook my hand and then Brannon’s. “We’ll see you next month.”
Brannon didn’t say anything as I made my next appointment with the receptionist or as we walked out to the truck.
“Are you upset about something?” I finally asked.
He turned to me and his eyes were hard.
“I can’t believe you asked the doctor about . . . about sex,” he spat. “Good God, Emma. You’re pregnant. You’re a mother now, not a slut.”
I stared at him, feeling myself getting flushed.
“But I thought . . .”
“I know what you thought,” he spat. “You thought you’d just humiliate me in front of the doctor by acting like a whore.”
He revved the engine as I reached for the door handle. Before he could say anything else, I was out of the truck and walking away from him.
“Emma!” he yelled after me. “What the hell are you doing? Get back in the truck right now!”
I kept walking, my eyes blurring with tears. Behind me I heard the truck door slam and Brannon’s footsteps closing in on me. He grabbed my arm and turned me to face him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” I yelled. “What the hell is wrong with you? I am not a slut, Brannon. I am a wife who loves her husband and wants a real marriage with sex and the whole deal. And I will not be talked to like that. Not by you, not by anyone!”
His face reddened, his hands gripped my arms.
“Get back in the truck,” he hissed. “We don’t need to talk about this in public.”
I glanced around and saw Mrs. O’Hearn standing in the doorway of the flower shop, watching us.
“Let go of me,” I said softly. “You’re hurting my arms.”
He released his grip, took a deep breath, and stepped back. “Okay, look,” he said, “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t believe you would talk to the doctor like that. It’s not . . . proper to talk about sex with your OB. It’s . . . God, it’s almost obscene.”
I stared at him for a long minute and then sighed. “Brannon, I think Dr. McLaren knows we have sex. I mean, I am pregnant.”
He smiled a little then and ran his hand over his eyes. “I know that. It just doesn’t sound very ladylike, in your condition.”
“My condition is pregnancy, honey. Not leprosy.”
He reached for me again, this time more gently, and pulled me into a hug.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just old-fashioned about some things. Will you get back in the truck now?”
I kissed him and smiled. “Yes, I will get in the truck, but only if you promise to take me to lunch. I’m starving.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he said. “What do you want to eat?”
“Pizza,” I said firmly. “I believe I would kill for a mushroom-and-jalapeño pizza.”
That afternoon, we told Jenny about the baby.
“No way!” she yelled, hopping from one foot to the other. “For real? You’re really having a baby?”
“Yep, we are
,” Brannon said. “In September you’ll be a big sister.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?” she asked.
“We don’t know yet,” I said. “The doctor said he’ll do an ultrasound at four months, but even then we might not be able to tell. So . . . it will be a surprise.”
“I hope it’s a girl!” she said. “I really want a little sister.”
“Well, we can’t promise you that,” Brannon said, laughing. “But whether it’s a boy or a girl, you will be a big sister.”
“What are you going to name it?”
Brannon looked at me and I looked at him. We hadn’t even talked about names yet.
“I don’t know,” I said. “To be honest, I haven’t thought about it.”
“Well, I think we should name her Mia,” Jenny said. “Mia or Sasha, those are my favorites.”
Brannon laughed, shaking his head.
“Hold your horses there, ma’am. We don’t even know if it’s a girl. And I’m sure as hell not naming my son Mia or Sasha.”
“Well, obviously not if it’s a boy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If it’s a boy, we should call him Isaac.”
I laughed, watching the two of them. They were both so excited they were almost giddy. I rested my hands on my flat belly. This is your family, baby, I thought. And we already love you so much.
“Hey, you,” Brannon said. “Are you okay?”
I nodded even as tears dripped down my face.
“I’m just really happy.”
“Me too, babe,” he said.
“And me!” Jenny yelled. “I’m happy, too! Can I call Lashaundra and tell her about the baby?”
“Sure,” Brannon said. “I think that’s okay, isn’t it?”
He turned to me.
“It’s fine,” I said.
And it was. A lot of women don’t tell people they’re pregnant until after the first trimester. But I knew this baby would be healthy. Our baby would be strong and happy and loved more than any child in the world.
23
Jenny
“What about Seth?” Lashaundra had been listing baby names for the last half hour while we ate lunch.
“I like it,” I said. “Are you going to eat your pickle?”
She shook her head, forked the pickle, and dropped it onto my plate.
“Or maybe Wesley. No, not Wesley. How about Cameron?”
I laughed. “I don’t think my dad would go for Cameron. He likes names like Bill and Paul, you know, old-fashioned, boring names.”
“What about Emma? What kind of names does she like?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Emma hasn’t said any names she likes.”
“My mom has already started knitting a blanket for the baby. It’s green and white. Then if the baby is a boy she’ll trim it in blue, and if it’s a girl she’ll trim it in pink.”
“Your mom knows how to do a lot of stuff, doesn’t she? I mean, she bakes and she decorates cakes and she knits. You’re really lucky.”
Lashaundra grinned and dipped her last french fry in a small puddle of ketchup.
“She’s okay,” she said. “She’s teaching me to knit. Maybe she’ll teach you, too.”
We stood up to take our trays to the counter, when a big boy walked right into Lashaundra. Her tray crashed to the floor. Everyone stopped talking to stare.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Lashaundra said.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going? And while you’re at it, why don’t you just go back to Africa where you belong, jungle monkey?”
Several people around us laughed and the boy grinned at them.
I recognized him now, the same boy I’d seen on my first day of school, the one with the saggy pants. Now he was dancing around like a monkey in front of Lashaundra. I stared in disbelief as she drew back her fist and slammed it into his stomach.
Immediately, two teachers came running. One put her arms around Lashaundra, the other grabbed at the boy’s arm to keep him from hitting her back.
“Both of you, to the office right now!” one of the teachers yelled.
“It wasn’t Lashaundra’s fault!” I said. “He was being really mean to her.”
The teacher holding Lashaundra turned to me and said, “You come along, too. We’ll let the principal figure this out.”
I followed them down the long hallway to the principal’s office, my stomach clenching, my palms sweating. I had only been at school a couple weeks and I was already in trouble. Daddy would be so disappointed in me.
The principal looked up as we entered his office.
“These two were fighting in the lunchroom,” the teacher holding the boy’s arm said.
“Jasper Rigby,” the principal said, looking over his glasses at the boy. “This is the fourth time this year you’ve been in my office for fighting.”
“She hit me!” the boy yelled. “I didn’t hit her.”
“Only because I stopped you,” the teacher said.
The principal looked at Lashaundra. “And what is your name, young lady?”
“Lashaundra Johnson, sir,” she said.
“Did you hit Mr. Rigby?”
“Yes I did, sir. But he deserved it.”
“Okay, why don’t you-all sit down and tell me what happened.”
The two teachers who had brought us to the office left, and Lashaundra and I sat down. I reached over to hold her hand. Jasper stood staring at the principal, sneering.
“Mr. Rigby, I asked you to sit down.” The principal stared right back at him until Jasper finally sat down with a thud.
“Now, Miss Johnson, tell me what happened.”
“She hit me!” Jasper yelled again.
“I asked Miss Johnson to talk. You’ll get your turn to talk next.”
Jasper sighed loudly.
“He ran right into me and made me drop my tray,” Lashaundra said. “Then he called me a jungle monkey and told me I should go back to Africa.”
“Is that true?” The principal turned to Jasper.
“She’s the one who ran into me,” he said. “And she’s the one who hit me.”
“Did you call her a jungle monkey?”
Jasper didn’t reply. He just kept sneering.
The principal sighed now and shook his head. Then he looked at me.
“And why are you here?” he asked.
“The teacher told me to come with her,” I said. “And he did call Lashaundra a jungle monkey.” I nodded at the boy as he glared at me. “And he was scratching his belly and acting like a monkey and everything.”
“Mr. Rigby,” the principal said, turning toward the boy, “you will apologize to Miss Johnson immediately.”
Jasper sat in silence, staring hard at the principal, and then at Lashaundra and me.
“I asked you to apologize,” the principal repeated, his voice low.
Still Jasper said nothing.
Finally, the principal took a deep breath and turned back to Lashaundra.
“Miss Johnson, I appreciate that Mr. Rigby insulted you. He was very wrong to do that. But hitting is never an appropriate response. I will be calling your parents to tell them what you’ve done, and I think you will need to stay after school today in detention.”
“Yes, sir.” Lashaundra’s voice was soft.
“You two go back to your classes,” he said.
We rose and Jasper got up, too.
“Not you, Mr. Rigby. We’re not finished here.”
When I told Daddy and Emma what had happened, Emma’s eyes grew wide.
“Is Lashaundra okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “But I’ll bet she’s in trouble at home.”
Daddy shook his head. “Well, he sure had it coming, didn’t he? Frankly, I’m glad Lashaundra punched him. He deserved it.”
He laughed and shook his head again. “Imagine, little Lashaundra punching out a bully. Good for her!”
“Did you say the boy’s last name is Rigby?” Emma asked.
I nodded. “Jasper Rigby.”
“I’ll bet he’s Damon Rigby’s son. He’s a bully just like his father.”
“Who’s Damon Rigby?” Daddy asked.
“He’s a jerk who comes into the diner sometimes. He’s always yelling at his wife, just humiliating her every chance he gets. And he’s a bigot, too. You should see the way he looks at Angel when he sees her.”
“Jasper is the boy we saw that first day of school,” I said. “The one with the saggy pants.”
“Well, I’m kind of sorry Lashaundra crossed him. You stay out of his way, okay? It sounds like he’s a bully just like his father, and the farther away you are from him the better.” Emma put her hand on mine.
“Okay.” She didn’t really have to tell me that. I already knew I wanted nothing to do with Jasper Rigby.
24
Emma
“Emma, that’s wonderful, honey! When are you due?” Resa hugged me tightly.
“The middle of September,” I said.
“Is Brannon just over the moon?”
I laughed. “He’s pretty excited. So is Jenny.”
“I bet they are.” She pulled back to look me up and down. “Are you feeling okay?”
I nodded. “I’m fine. No morning sickness or anything yet.”
“Let’s hope the Good Lord keeps it that way,” she said. “I puked my guts out when I was pregnant, every single time. I even ended up in the emergency room with Justine. I was so sick they had to give me one of them IV drips. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”
“So far, I’m good,” I repeated.
“Well, if you’ve got any questions, honey, you just ask. I been through it four times, so I guess that makes me a pro. Who’s your doctor?”
“Dr. McLaren.”
“He’s good.” She nodded. “Real nice.”
Harlan emerged from the kitchen.
“You gonna keep working for a while?”
“Sure,” I said. “I feel good; I like my job. There’s no reason to quit.”
The Seventh Mother Page 12