by Fox, Susan
Grace came in from the bedroom. “Hi, Isadora. Jimmy Lee, it’s time we got going.”
I studied my mother, slim and graceful in worn jeans and an embroidered shirt, her long hair loose down her back. Gabriel couldn’t help but find her attractive.
“Don’t go,” Alyssa whispered, tugging on my father’s hand.
Quickly, I reached into my backpack. “Look what I have, Alyssa. Have you seen these movies? Which one would you like to watch tonight? And I brought some of the books I loved when I was your age, and all of them are about animals.”
Curiosity overcame shyness and the girl began to paw through the pile of books and DVDs.
My mom hugged me. “Thanks, Isadora. By the way, about lunch? And Gabriel?”
“What?” I asked warily.
“No-one can say you’re playing that ‘I’m your future daughter-in-law, please like me’ card.”
“Uh…” What, exactly, did she mean?
“I can’t say I agree with some of the things you said to him, but points to you for stating your opinion. The two of you strike some sparks”—she shrugged, and I winced, then she went on—”but that’s not a bad thing.”
Yes, it was. Thank heavens she’d misinterpreted the sparks. Or maybe it was me who was misinterpreting them. Goddess, but I was confused!
Fortunately, she changed the subject. “You and Alyssa have a good time. There’s chili in the oven, fruit on the counter, frozen yogurt in the freezer.”
“And I brought popcorn,” I said. “We’re all set. I hope your meeting’s productive.”
And, almost, I wished I was going with them. But soon, like Alyssa, I forgot everything else but enjoying our evening together. We ate chili in front of Beethoven, a family film starring a St. Bernard, then she had a bath and I tucked her up in the tiny spare room and read her a story. As much as I’d always known I was destined to be a vet, so had I known I wanted to be a mother one day.
After Alyssa had fallen asleep, I changed into pajamas and curled up on the couch to read through some of my old children’s books, contented for the first time in days. Tonight was like a tiny window into the future, and I liked the view very much.
* * *
When we were all seated at my parents’ table for a Sunday breakfast of oatmeal yogurt pancakes and fruit, Jimmy Lee asked Alyssa, “Did you two have fun last night?”
“Oh, yes!” The girl went into a long description of everything we’d done.
When she finished, I asked my dad how their evening had been. He launched into an equally lengthy and enthusiastic narrative about the meeting, the ideas that had been discussed, and how effective Gabriel had been.
“We’d still have been there, futzing around trying to decide what to do,” Grace chimed in. “But Gabriel got us focused and organized. Now we have a couple of committees and a plan of action. We’re going the lawsuit route, knowing it’s as much about publicity as getting into court and winning. Anyhow, the first step is to identify plaintiffs for a class action.”
“And Gabriel’s going to be your lawyer?”
“Well, sure,” my father said.
“Let me get this straight. The goal is to get the government to change its policy and to increase funding levels, right?”
“Right on.”
“If that happens and this never goes to court, what does Gabriel get out of it financially?”
He gave me a puzzled look. “Nothing. But he’s not doing it for money. He’s volunteering his time like the rest of us.”
“And covering the disbursements. And maybe turning down paying work because he’s occupied with this class action. And with organizing all of you people.”
He shook his head. “What are you getting at, Izzie? You don’t think this is a good idea?”
“Yes, of course I do. It’s a great idea.” And Gabriel was a damned saint for doing it.
“You’re not making a lot of sense,” Jimmy Lee pointed out.
“She has issues with Gabriel,” Grace said quietly. “You know what it’s like, meeting a future in-law and trying to figure out the relationship.”
I concentrated intently on slicing a pancake, trying not to flush.
Jimmy Lee snorted. “Yeah, but Gabe is nothing like your parents.”
“It’ll all work out,” I said quickly, hoping it would prove to be true. “Now, let’s talk about when you’re going to visit the clinic.”
We made plans, finished breakfast, and an hour later, moving sluggishly after the big meal, I hiked home.
Along the way, my cell rang. It was Richard. “Have a good time with your folks?” he asked, then before I could answer he rushed on. “I’ve only got a minute, Iz. I’m at the office with a couple of other associates, working on that merger. But I wanted to let you know you may be getting a call from Caroline Winston.”
“Who?”
“Eric’s mother. I saw her yesterday and she’s not what I thought. Well, in some aspects she is. Too young to have a kid that age, no education past high school, not much in the way of job skills. But she seems like a concerned mom who’s trying her best in a tough situation. She’s paying off debts her ex ran up—and ran out on—and she’s working two jobs. Anyhow—” He broke off and I heard voices in the background.
“I have to go,” Richard said. “Anyhow, Ms. Winston kind of likes the idea of what I’m proposing, but wants to know if she can trust me. I guess a mother has to be suspicious when an older guy wants to hang out with her son.”
“Oh yeah, I didn’t think of that. But Richard, obviously you’re not some kind of sick—”
He interrupted. “She has no reason to know that. She wanted character references. I gave her your name, and Mom’s and Frank’s. So she may call. Thanks, Iz, have to run.”
He hadn’t given Gabriel’s name as a reference.
He also hadn’t said anything about getting together this evening. Experience told me he might well be working late even though it was Sunday. Would he make time to call Gabriel about the DNA test?
* * *
When I got to the clinic, I put Pogo out in the small walled courtyard at the back, then chatted with Betty, who was handling reception.
“You have a new client tomorrow afternoon,” Betty said. “I have to say, she was a bit fussed you weren’t working today. I suggested she come in and see Felipe but she refused to settle for anyone but you.”
“Really?”
“Her name’s, um, let me see…” Betty did a brief hunt for her reading glasses and located them perched atop her silver curls. She jabbed them on and consulted the online appointment calendar. “Althea Fitzsimmons. She has a Persian cat called Princess Anne.”
Crow-woman.
Betty pulled off her glasses and set them down. “You have a fan there. Where did you meet her?”
“In the most unlikely place. A ballroom at the Hotel Van.”
She started to ask another question, but the doorbell jingled and we both looked up.
My parents walked in with a shy Alyssa clinging to Jimmie Lee’s hand. The girl’s gaze darted around the unfamiliar room then focused on me as I went to greet her.
“Hi, Izzie,” she said shyly. “This is your clinic?”
“It is. I’ll show you around.”
Alyssa dropped Jimmy Lee’s hand and tugged impatiently on mine. “Yes! I want to see the animals. I want to meet Pogo.”
Leaving Betty and my parents—whom she’d met on a few other occasions when they’d dropped in—to catch up, I took Alyssa off to meet the animals. Grace and Jimmy Lee joined us in a few minutes and we made a short tour of the clinic, with me telling the wide-eyed girl a little about veterinary work. Then I said, “Would you and Pogo like to play for a while?”
“Yes, please!”
Soon she and the terrier were occupied with a game of fetch in the courtyard. The girl was bright, sensitive, and clearly loved animals. “One day I want one just like her,” I murmured to Grace.
“We sure wouldn’t
object. She’s a special girl.”
For a few minutes my parents and I leaned against a sun-drenched wall, contentedly watching Alyssa and Pogo, then I remembered I had less pleasant things to discuss with them. “Any luck last night, identifying who might be framing you?” I murmured to my father, asking the question I hadn’t been able to at breakfast because of Alyssa’s presence.
He shook his head.
Grace sighed. “It was horrible, Isadora. Looking around at all those faces, many of them people we’ve known for ten, twenty, even thirty years, and wondering if it could be one of them.”
I winced sympathetically. “But the meeting itself was productive, right? I’m surprised you decided on litigation. That’s not your usual method.”
Grace gave a dry chuckle and Jimmy Lee laughed, too. “I admit it, I like getting my hands dirty,” he said, rubbing them together energetically. “Grass roots stuff. Remember, Izzie, my first exposure to civil rights was as a little boy in Georgia, and the big issue was racial discrimination and desegregation. Situation wouldn’t have improved but for all the boycotts, sit-ins, marches, and protests.”
“There were lawsuits, too,” I pointed out. “That’s a large part of what the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People did, right? Legal action? Like for the little black girl who wasn’t allowed to go to a public school.”
I glanced at Alyssa, a child whose father must be black. During her lifetime she’d face some discrimination, but nothing like she would have had she been born in Georgia when Jimmy Lee was a kid.
“Yeah,” my father said. “Brown versus the Topeka Board of Education in Kansas, decided in 1954. Sure, that decision was major, but things didn’t change much, especially down south where I lived. African-Americans had to go to the back of the bus, couldn’t eat in the same restaurants as whites, couldn’t use the same bathrooms, couldn’t buy or rent a house in a white neighborhood. Couldn’t even get registered as voters most of the time.”
He, too, was watching Alyssa. “Even when the fucking laws changed,” he muttered under his breath, “you didn’t see equality happening. It took grass roots action then, and it still does now.”
“True, but let’s face it, you just like mixing things up,” I commented fondly.
Grace linked her arm through his. “He does, and so do I. It makes us feel like we’re really doing something. But there’s a place for other methods too, and I think Gabriel’s route is a good one. Besides, it’s not just litigation, it’s publicity.”
“Grass roots action, combined with using the law to work the system,” Jimmy Lee said. “Like Gabe says, the voters have to care. The issue is equal rights for people with disabilities. Okay, most voters aren’t disabled; maybe they don’t even know anyone with a disability. But we’ll make sure they do when every plaintiff in the lawsuit is interviewed. When the cameras go into their homes and show how they live, and the impact the government cuts have had. It’ll be all over the Internet, then TV’ll pick it up.”
I nodded. “That makes sense. You’re making it personal, like those blood donor ads when they ask whether you’d donate blood if you knew someone who needed it. So, where do you start?”
“We’re splitting the duties,” Grace said. “The various organizations that support people with disabilities will put the word out and identify potential plaintiffs. Gabriel’s working out a list of questions, and volunteers like Jimmy Lee and I will contact the prospective plaintiffs. We’ll compile all the information then pass it along to Gabriel. He’ll interview our short list, finalize the list of plaintiffs, do the legal research, file the statement of claim, and so on. He and the disability organizations will work together on media releases, YouTube videos, and so on.”
“Sounds like you did some good work last night.”
“Yeah,” my dad said. “Fueled by Grace’s chili.”
Gabriel had provided the apartment, and Grace the meal. Almost as if they were a couple.
I studied my parents, who were leaning shoulder to shoulder watching Alyssa. They looked to be in perfect harmony. It wasn’t my business whether Grace and Gabriel got involved. If it didn’t bother Jimmy Lee, why let it bother me?
Deliberately, I turned my thoughts in another direction. “What do you think about Alyssa helping out at the clinic after school now and then? There’s a high school girl who comes in to feed the animals, clean the cages, and do some other chores. Britt’s a sweet kid, a real animal lover. It would be fun for her as well as Alyssa.”
My mother reached out to hug me. “Sounds wonderful, hon. I can bring her over … let’s see, probably on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I don’t have any tutoring clients those afternoons. Does that work for you?”
“Sure. I’m guessing you still haven’t told Gabriel about her?”
My parents didn’t answer—and that was, of course, their answer. I hated being part of this conspiracy to keep Jimmy Lee’s lawyer from knowing what his client was up to. “You could be shooting yourself in the foot, Jimmy Lee.”
“Hell, Izzie, look at the girl. Can’t have her going into the system.”
I looked, my heart gave a mushy throb, and I shook my head. “No. But Gabriel might come up with a better alternative.”
Jimmy Lee shook his head. “I know the alternatives. They aren’t good.”
I gave a sigh of resignation and hugged him. “I love you, you stubborn man.”
He hugged back. “Love you too, baby.”
Just after I got home, I got a call from Caroline Winston. She sounded sincerely concerned for her son’s welfare and I did my best to assure her Richard’s intentions were honorable.
“Eric’s father walked out on us,” Caroline said softly. “It shattered him. What happens if he gets too attached to Richard and Richard doesn’t stick around?”
“I hear you, but…” I nibbled my lip. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Richard felt a bit, uh, neglected by his own father and—”
“Yeah, he mentioned that.”
Oh. Richard really had been sharing confidences with this woman. Absurd to feel a twinge of jealousy. Quickly, I said, “Then you can appreciate that he wouldn’t do that to your son.”
“That’s what he said. It’s good to hear it from someone else, too. He seems like a really nice guy. I’ve talked to his parents—well, his mom and stepdad—and they say he’s, like, totally responsible.” The woman paused. “You’re his fiancée?”
“Yes.”
“Uh, can I ask how you feel about this? It’d mean him spending less time with you. Then, after you get married, you’ll probably have kids of your own and, well…”
“You’re wondering if I’m the possessive type who’d try to stop him from seeing Eric? No, that won’t happen. I’d like to meet Eric myself, and maybe we can all do things together from time to time. No, Caroline, this is important to Richard. I support him totally.”
“Thanks.” She gave a small laugh. “You’re nicer than I’d be if Richard was my guy.”
What did she mean by that?
“Well,” she went on, “I appreciate your being so open and generous. I’ll think this over, talk to Eric.”
I hung up, grateful I would never be in Caroline’s position. When Richard and I married, it would be forever. It was so important to pick the right man, one you loved and trusted completely.
I felt a twinge at the thought of trust. Richard trusted me too, and of course I deserved that trust. No human being could avoid having a few lustful feelings for people other than our partners. The critical thing was to not act on them.
It didn’t surprise me when Richard phoned late in the afternoon and said they were still working on the merger, and were having pizza delivered to the office. I told him about my conversation with Caroline. “I think it’s looking good, sweetheart.”
“That’s great. Now if only things go smoothly with Gabe.”
“You haven’t had a chance to talk to him about the DNA test?”
�
�And I won’t get it today. I’ll try to call him tomorrow.”
“At the office?”
“Sure, why not?”
Should I point out that the usually considerate Richard was being callous about his father’s feelings? But then he didn’t believe Gabriel had much in the way of feelings when it came to his son. “Let me know how it goes.”
“About dinner tomorrow…”
“I’m afraid I’m working. Sorry.”
He sighed. “It’s probably just as well. We have a big meeting with all the parties tomorrow morning—we’re getting everything ready tonight—and who knows what will come out of that? I’ll probably have to work, too. We really do have to find time to go apartment hunting. Maybe this weekend?”
“Let’s plan on it.”
As we hung up, I envisioned Richard as a juggler, tossing balls in the air. And now he intended to add an Eric ball, so he’d have to juggle even faster. Or maybe he’d reexamine his priorities. Maybe the partnership fast-track wouldn’t prove to be so important after all. For me, all I cared about was that he had a job he enjoyed, with a decent—and regular—pay check.
Having been given an unexpected free evening, I called Janice and asked if she’d like to come over and cook dinner with me.
“You’ve saved me,” she said dramatically. “I’m utterly fed up with my own company. What should I pick up on my way?”
“I have some leftover pad thai and a bunch of vegetables that need to be used. What about a stir fry, over rice?”
“Sounds good.”
“Can you get some ginger? And I’m low on soy sauce. Shrimp, if they look good.” Janice wasn’t a vegetarian, but was always happy to respect my food choices. Just so long as I kept some caffeinated coffee beans in my freezer for her.
She arrived twenty minutes later, petite and sleek in black leggings and a long pink top that brought rosy color to her cheeks. As we began chopping and slicing, she said, “How’s it going with Jimmy Lee?”
I brought her up to date, which took us all the way through dinner preparation. As we worked, Alice came and sat on the floor between us, shamelessly begging for shrimp. We tossed her a few, and I saved a handful for Peek-a-boo.