A Memory Away

by Melinda Curtis

  “And you made planters instead,” she said gently.

  The room funneled down to her eyes. He could read so much in their depths. Compassion, understanding. She saw the truth he’d buried so deep he hadn’t known it himself, hadn’t seen it in the mirror every morning. He didn’t want his parents to come over. Or at least, he hadn’t. Not at first. And now, weeks later, he’d put it out of his mind.

  Dad must hate me.

  No. If he didn’t hate Greg, Dad would never hate Duffy. But he’d know. He’d know and it would be another disappointment Dad chose to bear.

  The blood rushing to his head made him dizzy. He was grateful for Jessica’s touch, for her understanding. He barely understood the implications of his actions, but he knew he had to make things right with his dad. And perhaps, with Jess.

  Without knocking, Eunice let herself in. She carried a cake pan with aluminum foil over it. “I made butter cake.” She set it down next to the brownies, and claimed a seat, oblivious to the tensions at the table. “If you like it, I can give you the recipe, Jessica.”

  “Is it a favorite of your mother’s?” Jess didn’t let go of his hand. It was probably the only thing anchoring him upright.

  “It was a favorite of my father’s.” Eunice was in full-on self-absorbed mode. He knew when she got like this, she didn’t see anything but herself and her own needs.

  So like me.

  The thought shocked Duffy backward in his seat. Jessica’s touch melted away and as it did, his heart pounded harder.

  This could be me in fifty years.

  Never married. No children. Parents and siblings gone. He’d be a dotty old man. Okay, maybe not dotty and desperate for attention like Eunice. He’d more likely be the hermit in the neighborhood, the one who complained about neighbors who didn’t put their trash cans away the moment the garbage truck left the street, the one who shouted at children who played on his grass, who...

  He’d listened when his father and Jess spoke of how wrong it was that he isolated himself, but he hadn’t moved beyond the justification behind why he was doing it.

  Duffy reclaimed control of the conversation, butter cake be damned. “When is this class of yours?”

  “Are you going back to school?” Eunice studied him with wide eyes. “I always wanted to get a degree.”

  “It’s a class to learn how to give birth,” Duffy said firmly. “I’m going with Jess.”

  “It’s a class to learn how not to panic while giving birth,” Jess corrected. “And Duffy isn’t going with me. I was going to ask you, Eunice.”

  “Me?” Eunice preened. There were eye blinks and hair fluffs. “I’d love to go.”

  “Then it’s settled. The three of us will go.” Duffy speared a bite of eggplant. “I’ll drive.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  JESS LUMBERED DOWN Duffy’s front steps like an old cowboy after a hard ride. “You don’t need to walk me home, Duff.” Just like he didn’t need to go to Lamaze class with her. She’d been unable to talk him out of it.

  “We’re walking you home.” He and Goldie.

  Eunice was already climbing the steps to her place. Her butter cake had been surprisingly tasty, although the piece Jess had eaten felt like it was already clogging her arteries. Or perhaps that was the frustration she was feeling over Duffy’s sudden caregiving streak.

  When she’d pointed out the inaccessibility of his house to his father, she’d expected him to rationalize his choice behind his need to live a carefree lifestyle. Instead, he’d grown silent.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask,” Duffy began when he reached her side after locking up. “What happened with your job in Santa Rosa?”

  Jessica shoved her hands in her jacket pockets, fisting them on either side of Baby’s bulge. “Do we have to go there?”

  “My parents and I went by yesterday and...well, Vera was weird about your leaving. She thought we were your lawyers.”

  Wasn’t that peachy? Duffy’s mother must think the world of Jess.

  “I made a mistake. I thought my boss was my friend.” She’d positioned Vera in her heart as a mother figure. “She lied to me.” Saying it out loud hurt all over again, the achy, bring-you-down hurt that was hard to overcome. “Vera knew about Greg and the chance to own my own bakery. She didn’t tell me because my baking had become popular. She wanted to keep me there. Knowing that, how could I stay?”

  Duffy said nothing. No doubt he was thinking how could she risk an income when she was about to have a baby?

  “I tried to get other jobs, but no one would hire me.” She sighed. “It was a rash decision and it could have been disastrous.”

  “If not for the offer here.” He put his arm over her shoulder. And although she didn’t want to need his strength, she took it anyway. “You made a decision because you had a backup option.”

  “I made a decision because I couldn’t stand the thought of being used for profit. It was a stupid gut reaction. I didn’t spend enough time considering my responsibility to Baby.”

  They were almost to the planters now. Almost to the parting of ways for the night. Parting. With hugs. With kisses.

  Or not.

  Jess fumbling in her pocket for the keys.

  “I’m sorry,” Duffy said as they reached her door. His arm fell away.

  “For what?”

  “There’s a long list. Starting with my distrust of you and ending with this.” He drew her close.

  Jessica’s belly bumped him. “Lamaze chauffeurs don’t kiss their passengers.” A weak, awkward attempt at humor and avoidance of what could only lead to more weak, awkward moments. But she didn’t move from the shelter of his arms.

  “You’re a strong, principled woman, Jessica Aguirre. And I’m proud to call you...” His smile slipped.

  “Friend,” Jess finished for him, taking the opportunity to rise up on her toes and plant a kiss on his cheek. She stepped back, and he let her go.

  She waited until she was upstairs to admit to Baby that she was disappointed.

  * * *

  DUFFY AND GOLDIE were at the bakery before Jess unlocked the door in the morning. It was nippy, but the sun was out and there was a promise of warmth in the air. He hoped the warmth would carry over to human interactions.

  Jess opened the door. “I didn’t make Danish, but you can have lemon loaf or Bundt cake.”

  “I’ll take whatever came out of the oven. It smells awesome.” He stepped inside, then grabbed a couple of chairs and took them out front.

  “What are you doing?”

  He carried a table out next, attaching Goldie’s leash to a table leg. “I called my parents last night. They’re coming today.” Best tell her and rip off the Band-Aid quickly.

  “Now?” So much panic stuffed into one word.

  “In a few minutes.” Duffy noticed the empty coffeepot. “I’ll make the morning joe.”

  “I’ll have the nervous breakdown.” She wasn’t kidding. She stood in the middle of the bakery, pale and still.

  Duffy wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be fine. Instead, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “My mom has made progress since you saw her last. She wants this.” At least, Mom wanted to want this. There was the release-of-claim paperwork, which Duffy was sure Jess would object to. But he knew better than to try to stop his mother once she’d made up her mind.

  “That’s what you told me before and Linda didn’t want any part of Baby or me.” She gazed up at him with liquid eyes. “And I said all those awful things.”

  “You spoke from the heart.” As she always did. “And my family took it to heart.”

  She didn’t look as if she believed him. A timer went off in the kitchen, a call to action she didn’t ignore.

  By the time t
he coffee was done, Duffy’s parents were pulling up. He helped them get settled at the outdoor table, told Jess they’d arrived, brought them coffee and slices of Bundt cake.

  “This is the best cake I’ve ever eaten,” Dad proclaimed.

  “Is she coming out?” Mom had the contract in her lap.

  “She’s in the midst of making something. She’ll be out soon.” Duffy was glad they had time alone. He needed to clear the air. “Dad, I owe you an apology.”

  He scratched his head. “For what?”

  “I rented a house here without thinking about you and your needs.” The words came out of Duffy’s throat as if they’d been scraped from a barrel bottom.

  Mom stared into her coffee.

  Great. She’d known it, too.

  Dad went with pretending he didn’t know what Duffy was talking about. “It’s your place, son. I don’t know why—”

  “The stairs, Dad.” Duffy’s throat was threatening to close. He had to work to get the words out. “I never should have rented a house that wasn’t wheelchair accessible.”

  “You should always do what’s right for you.” Dad reached for Mom’s hand. “We’ll get by.”

  Duffy appreciated the sentiment, even as he realized it might not always be possible. “I’m going to build a ramp on my back stairs today. So you can come inside anytime.”

  Jess joined them. She set a plate of biscotti and shortbread cookies on the table. Her gaze bounced everywhere. “Thank you for coming.”

  “It must be exciting to open your own bakery,” Mom said carefully. “And be your own boss.”

  Jess risked a look at Mom’s face, risked a small smile. “I hope my experience makes me a better boss. When I’m in a position to hire someone, that is.”

  “Sit down, my dear,” Dad said. “You’re putting a kink in my neck.”

  Jess sat with a mumbled apology.

  “I’m joking,” Dad said. “Everyone puts a kink in my neck. Hazard of my condition, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, Thomas.” Duffy’s mother raised her gaze skyward, and then she smiled at Duffy. “I don’t think we would have made it through the lean years without your father’s humor.”

  Duffy nearly fell out of his chair.

  Mom’s gaze brushed over all three of them. “He’s as quick with a quip as I am with a barb.”

  “We’re all a work in progress.” Dad’s sunny smile infected Mom, infected Jess, infected Duffy. They all smiled at each other.

  A green Buick parked nearby. Agnes poked her head out the window. “Is this a private party? Or can anyone come?”

  “The more the merrier.” Dad waved them over.

  “Welcome to Harmony Valley,” Duffy said under his breath. But this time his nosy, overly friendly neighbors didn’t seem so bad.

  * * *

  JESS RETREATED TO the kitchen as soon as she heard a timer buzz. She had nothing in the oven. She’d set it as an excuse in case she couldn’t handle Duffy’s mother.

  Agnes, Rose and Mildred had invited themselves to sit with the Dufraines. It had taken the pressure off Jess, but she welcomed a little breather.

  Linda walked in, holding a tightly rolled set of papers. Clips held her too-dark hair smooth and tight away from her face. She wore a button-down that was buttoned up, every last button. Everything about her screamed controlled unhappiness. “Need any help?”

  “No, thanks.” The words came out like a nervous twitter. She swallowed and tried again. “Do you need anything? Coffee? Water?” A wooden stake to drive through my heart?

  A glance at the photograph with three generations of Martins decorating a wedding cake calmed Jessica’s nerves. She was safe here. She belonged. Nothing Linda could say could take that away. Besides, she seemed to have taken her nicey-nice meds today.

  “I do need something.” Linda unrolled the papers and handed them to Jess.

  A gaping pit formed in Jessica’s stomach and dropped in front of her toes. “What’s this?”

  “A peace treaty, of sorts.” Linda’s smile was equal parts apology, embarrassment and determination, making her seem like she had a soul.

  Jess began to read. The gaping hole at her feet widened. Vertigo set in. Jess felt as if she were teetering on the edge, fully expecting to be pushed into the abyss from behind. The contract proposed she sign away all rights to Greg’s assets. In exchange, she’d receive one thousand dollars. And a happy grandmother for her child.

  “I brought my checkbook,” Linda said softly.

  Jess felt the shove, felt the tumbling nausea of defeat. And then her gaze found the wedding cake photo, the one with three bakers working in harmony. She held on. “Does Duffy know about this?”

  “In theory.” Her lips barely moved. “He advised me against it.”

  If Jess signed, she’d have everything she ever wanted for Baby—grandparents and a family. If Jess signed, things would be easier between Duffy and his mother. If Jess signed, she’d be selling out, dropping into the abyss where principles were bought and sold as quickly as red velvet cupcakes on Valentine’s Day.

  Jess ripped the sheets of paper apart. Her head cleared. Her stomach steadied.

  “What are you doing?” Linda cried.

  Jess handed the remains to Duffy’s mother. “I don’t place conditions on relationships. I can’t be bought or sold. If you want to be involved with my baby, it’ll be because you’ve found a place in your heart for Greg’s child, not because we signed a contract. Excuse me.” Jess escaped up the stairs, shut herself in the pink bathroom and sat on the pink toilet. Her limbs shook and her breath came in ragged gasps.

  Footsteps announced a visitor. “Jess?”

  “Go away, Duffy.”

  Too late, she realized she hadn’t locked the door.

  Duffy entered and sat on the edge of the pink tub. “Mom’s leaving,” Duffy said quietly, his expression grim. “Dad said to thank you for your hospitality.”

  Jess drew on every ounce of willpower she had to remain silent. She stared at pink tiles and willed herself to be calm. She’d have thought all that pink would ease her stress. Pink was such a mellow, happy color.

  Duffy sighed. “I told her you wouldn’t sign, but Mom’s kind of a learn-by-mistake woman.”

  “She’s afraid.”

  “We’re all afraid, Jess. Even you.” There was compassion in his gaze.

  She wanted none of it. “Don’t lump me in there. I made my peace with Greg.”

  “Yep.” He nodded slowly. “But you haven’t made peace with your past. You view every gesture of friendship as having strings.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Jess, I couldn’t even give you flowers.” He touched her knee. A brief connection that he immediately broke. “At some point, you’re going to have to take your own advice. Move past the fear and let go.” He left her, shutting the door behind him.

  Leaving Jess wondering if he was right.

  * * *

  “I’VE NEVER SEEN so many pregnant women at one time,” Eunice said upon entering the Lamaze classroom. “And they’re all so...so...big.” Most were bigger than Jessica. “Where are the chairs?”

  Jess followed Eunice into a room at a health clinic in Santa Rosa. Five couples were laying blankets on the carpeted floor. Duffy was the last to enter, carrying Jessica’s comforter and a pillow.

  Jess took one look at the couples and turned to Duffy, placing a hand on his chest. “You can wait in the car.”

  “I’m Kiki, your instructor.” A tall woman smiled fast and sweet, a flash of teeth against her dark skin. “This must be Jessica. And your partner is...”

  “Me.” Eunice introduced herself with pride. “And that’s our driver. Duffy.”

  Kiki gestured toward an empty space on the floor.
“Partners can sit there.”

  “I can’t sit on the floor.” Eunice would never get back up. “I thought I’d have a chair and Jessica would lie in bed.”

  “Wouldn’t that be ideal?” Kiki’s smile never wavered. “Unfortunately, we don’t have room for beds in our classroom.” She gestured again toward the floor, as graceful as if she were a model on a game show featuring a coveted prize. Hand up, graceful flick of the wrist, hand down. A real pro.

  “You can sit in a chair, Eunice.” Jessica took the comforter from Duffy and spread it out. “I’ll take the floor.”

  “I’ll sit with you.” Duffy wasted no time sitting next to her, despite Jessica’s protests.

  Eunice didn’t know whether to be jealous—she was supposed to be Jessica’s partner—or pleased—Duffy and Jessica were clearly meant for each other. Helping Cupid would be almost as satisfying as helping to deliver Jessica’s baby.

  Kiki brought Eunice a plastic chair that was as uncomfortable as sitting on the wrought-iron bench in the town square. And then class began.

  After introductions, Kiki presented a diagram of the birthing process, and then showed a brief video of a live birth.

  “Oh, my,” Eunice whispered. Her stomach felt like the time she’d tried eating sushi. She raised her hand. “Excuse me. As coach, I wouldn’t be on the tail end of this business, would I?”

  Duffy shot Eunice a look of disbelief.

  “Good question.” Kiki clearly enjoyed her job. She smiled all the time. She seemed to smile bigger when she looked at Eunice, most likely because Eunice was a good student, always had been. “What do you think, class? Where should your support partner be during delivery?”

  A pretty blonde who looked like she was carrying twins said, “Wherever Mom wants you to be.”

  “That’s right. Mom’s doing all the work. She gets to decide who goes where.” Kiki moved on, demonstrating breathing techniques and basic types of massage to relax Mom-to-be, and then encouraged the partners on the floor to practice massage. The first position was sitting cross-legged, facing each other.

  Jessica glanced up at Eunice, who shrugged and said, “I lost my ability to sit like that at least twenty years ago. Tag.” She poked Duffy’s shoulder. “You’re it.”