He looked and chuckled. “Well, at least we know people will keep an eye on her.”
“Yeah. You think you can get some of your friends on the force to drive by every once in a while? I don’t like the leer on Baldie over there.”
Soon the truck was empty and all the pizza we ordered for the movers was gone. The men filed out of Maria’s apartment single-file, each receiving a kiss on the cheek and a hug from my birth mother. I had a feeling they’d be only too eager to come up and help her again, and I marveled at her ability to draw people in the way she did. She was truly a vivacious woman who lit up a room when she entered it. I thought it was cute to see those big, burly men tripping over each other to do her bidding.
Maria had packed a ton of stuff for her trip up north, and we spent the entire evening going through boxes, putting things away and generally making the old brownstone with its airy rooms and high ceilings feel like a cozy home. That is, until I found the photo albums.
“Mom, look what I found!” I exclaimed, dropping down on her comfortable apple-green and dusky-rose plaid tufted sofa and opening the first album. There she was as a little girl, and I was amazed to see how much she looked like I did when I was little.
She looked at me with a queer look on her face, almost like she was in pain. Alarmed, I said, “What’s wrong?”
“You called me Mom. I’ve been wondering if you would. And hoping you could.”
“It just came out,” I told her. “But you are my mom. It just felt, I don’t know, right. Natural, you know?” And it did. At that moment, I fully embraced Maria as my mother, and once I did, I felt such a sense of peace and love. I felt healed, whole.
“I’m so glad.” Her eyes filled and she sat down next to me on the couch and enfolded me in a hug. “Thank you, my darling daughter.”
“You’re welcome, my wonderful mother.” I smiled into her violet eyes.
“You’re going to make me start bawling. I can’t take all this happiness! Here, let’s look at these albums before I get salt all over them. I was hoping you’d unearth these. I’ve been dying to show you.”
We sat close together and flipped the pages slowly. She gave me a story with each photo. “Look, I think I was about two or three in that picture. That was Easter. I can tell by my dress. My parents were very religious, I think I already told you, and they always bought me beautiful dresses to wear to church every Easter.”
“What were they like, my grandparents?” I was curious, and slightly nervous to ask the question. After all, they were the reason Mom gave me away. I looked down at the photos, studying them, while Mom considered her answer. My grandmother, Edith, was tall, willowy, and had dark brown hair in the picture. It was obvious it ran in my family. There was a firm set to her jaw that looked as though she’d brook no arguments. She wasn’t smiling in the picture, and there was a powerful aura surrounding her. She looked a bit intimidating to me and I wondered if it was a good thing I didn’t end up living with them.
My grandfather, Carmen, was balding, bespectacled, and beefy. He wasn’t fat, but he had the look of a prize fighter, and I wondered if it was where I got my predilection for karate. I could almost hear his voice, which I was sure was gruff, gravelly and stern. His eyes, even smiling in this photo, were strong and full of hard-working conviction. He looked like those old pictures you’d see of Italian immigrants at Ellis Island, fresh off the boat. He looked like a man who’d worked his way up from nothing and was fiercely proud of how far he’d come.
If my guesses were right, I shared some of their characteristics. I wondered if they had ever thought about me, and if they regretted forcing my mother to give me up. Would they have accepted me eventually? Would they have possibly even loved me? I was part of them, after all. They were my family. But it was weird to think of the people who forced my mother to give me away as my grandparents. I didn’t have much luck with grandmothers, it seemed.
“They were very proper, very religious. They loved me, of course they did, but they were very strict, very devout. Grace at the table before every meal. Church two days per week, confessions weekly, as if they ever did anything worth confessing. The one sin they committed, where they made me give you up, was considered the right thing to do. It’s why I have a hard time with religion. Too many ambiguities. How Christian is it to separate a woman from a child she gave birth to, the child she loves? It’s criminal, if you ask me.”
“Did you ever forgive them?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I would have been able to, had the situation been reversed. I was having a hard enough time forgiving Gran for her many transgressions. I wasn’t sure I liked what that said about me, but I was human, after all, and if I’d learned anything since all this started, it was that no one was perfect. I’d also learned that unconditional love meant accepting someone’s flaws and loving them in spite of them.
“Eventually I did, after a lot of years and a whole lot of therapy. In their own misguided way, they only wanted what was best for me. They loved me, and I loved them. I know now why they did what they did and I forgive them for it, but it doesn’t mean it was right. Letting them bully me into giving you up was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”
“It doesn’t matter now. We’re together, and nothing will keep us apart ever again.”
A wistful look crossed her face, but it disappeared seconds later, replaced by a smile. “Here, look at this picture. Don’t you look just like I did?”
I examined the picture and nodded. We did look startlingly alike. There would be no clue to help me find my father in my appearance. I was all Mom.
I glanced at the clock and was surprised to see it was after eight. The time had flown. I loved every minute of my time with my mother, but it was time to go home to my men.
“Will you be ok for the night? I have to go. Benjie likes it when I tuck him in.”
“I’ll be fine. Go home. I’ll see you later. Tell Ryan I said thanks again, alright?” she asked, giving me a gentle pat on the back and a kiss on the cheek.
I let myself out and headed home to my family. They were waiting for me when I let myself in.
“Catie, you’re home!” Benjie shouted, obviously still wound up from the day. He was toting the raggedy stuffed dog Mom had given him while we were unpacking. When she told him she’d had it since she was a little girl, he appeared completely awed and had carted it around the rest of the day, calling it ‘Grammy’s Doggie’ and kissing its worn felt nose. “Daddy says I have to go to bed. Can I have a story first?”
“Sure, come on.” I led him into his room and tucked him and Grammy’s Doggie into bed, inhaling the sweet little boy scent of him, all sun-kissed skin and play and peanut butter. He was delicious, and I nibbled on his neck, making him squeal.
“That tickles, Catie!” He giggled happily. I laughed with him and cuddled him close. I rearranged his blankets and tucked him in tight, just the way he liked.
“What story do you want me to read to you?” I asked him.
“No, no reading. Tell me and Doggie a story,” he insisted, his bright brown eyes eager and full of life.
“What kind of story?”
“One about dragons and princes and stuff.”
“Ok. Once upon a time, there was a little prince named Prince Benjie—“
“Hey, that’s me!” he chirped.
“Is it? Cool! I didn’t know you were a prince. Can I tell the story now, Prince Benjie?”
“I command you to tell me the story,” he said grandly, gesturing widely with his chubby little hand, clunking me in the chin with it.
“Ok. So, Prince Benjie ruled in a far away kingdom called Pittston, and he was regarded as the greatest ruler in the land.”
“Why?” the little mop-top prince asked me.
“Well, he was kind and courageous.”
“What’s courageous?” he asked somberly.
“It means brave.”
“Oh. I’m brave.”
“Sure are. Can I continue, Your Highne
ss?”
“Yep.”
“Ok. So, he was so brave he challenged a dragon. He was walking in the woods one day and he came upon this huge fire-breathing dragon who roared, ‘Who goes there?’ Prince Benjie said, ‘It is I, Prince Benjie, and I command you to leave this forest.’”
“Why did he want the dragon to leave?”
“Well, the dragon breathed fire, didn’t he? What would happen if he caught the trees on fire?”
“Oh. Ok.”
“So, the dragon says, ‘I don’t want to leave. Where would I go?’ and the prince says, ‘How should I know? Just go so you don’t set my forest on fire.’”
“I feel bad for the dragon. He shouldn’t have to leave his home,” Benjie said in a quivering voice. I was mortified when he began to cry.
“Benjie, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“My mommy tried to make me leave home when she wanted me to move to New York. I’m glad I didn’t have to go. I would have been sad without you and Daddy. Catie, don’t ever leave me, ok?”
I hugged him and kissed his little tear-stained cheeks.
“Benjie, I’ll never leave you, ok?”
“Promise?”
“I promise. You’re my man, my own little guy. Don’t you know how special you are to me? I love you, buddy.”
“Love you, too, Catie.”
“So, let me finish the story. The prince thought a moment and said, ‘Dragon, let’s make a deal. Can you cook?’ The dragon nodded, and the prince, who was very kind and smart as well as courageous, said, ‘My cook just left and I have no one to heat up the oven to make my favorite pizza. Can you do that for me?’ The dragon said, ‘Sure I can! Thank you!’ and the prince let the dragon move in. They had pizza every night and became the best of friends. The end.”
I glanced down at my stepson, but he was sound asleep. I tucked the covers around his little chin and kissed the top of his head. I rose from Benjie’s bedside and turned to leave the room. Ryan was leaning against the doorframe.
“Nice story, honey.”
“Yeah, well, it didn’t turn out quite like I planned, but sometimes you have to improvise.”
“Catie, thank you for loving him.”
“How could I not? He’s part of you.”
“Come here.” It was a request, a seductive one, and I obeyed instantly. I stepped into his embrace and tipped my face to his to receive a smoldering kiss.
He scooped me up and carried me to our bedroom where he proceeded to ravish me senseless. The heat, the absolute flash of it as he entered me was enough to knock the breath out of me and reduce me to a quivering heap. His mouth did amazing things to my body, coaxing me, tormenting me, driving me insane with the sheer mastery of it.
And when it was over, he pressed soft kisses to my neck and sighed, a masculine sigh that said he was one hundred percent satisfied. It was gratifying.
“So, how did your day go with your mom?” he asked after we settled into the covers for the night.
“It was wonderful. Thanks so much for your help.”
“My pleasure, sweetie. She seems great.”
“She is great. I’m so happy. I can’t believe I have a real family at last. I never thought in a million years it would happen. She’s everything Gran isn’t.”
He chuckled. “No bullet-proof armor required?”
“Nope. I’m so glad she’s here. I have it all now. I have you and Benjie, Isamu and Mom. I have a real family. And if I never talk to Gran again, well, at least I have you all. It’s ok.”
“It is?” The question was a serious one, and I smiled at the concern I heard in his voice. I knew what he meant but I’d been thinking about it all day.
“Yeah, it really is.”
“Well, good. But get some sleep, will you? I have to be at work at seven, and all this happiness is keeping me awake.” He pulled me close and snuggled us deeper into the covers.
I grinned and closed my eyes. Happiness. I could get used to that.
Chapter 8
It was hard to concentrate on work over the next week, but duty called. Little Roger Madigan had decided again he wanted to be a stuntman when he grew up, and to practice, he jumped his skateboard down two flights of stairs. Turns out, he wasn’t such a good daredevil; his right leg, his left arm, and two ribs had been broken. He was a regular at Dr. Ross’s pediatric physical therapy office, and I greeted him warmly when he was wheeled into my treatment room, freshly freed from his latest casts. His parents, resigned by now at his antics, gave me a wry smile and settled in to watch us work. We went through some basic flexibility and strengthening exercises, most of which he was already familiar with from his other sports- and daredevil-related activities, and his session went smoothly.
I did an initial evaluation of Parker Crampton, a new patient whose legs had been broken in a car accident eight weeks prior, and adjusted the padding and fit of the new prosthesis for little Ashley Thompson, a girl whose 3rd degree burn had necessitated the amputation of her right arm. I bantered and joked with my little patients, but my mind was only half on the tasks at hand. I was preoccupied, to say the least, and longed to be with my mother.
I felt like we had to make up for lost time, and wanted to spend every waking minute with her. I loved the way she put her arm around me and squeezed me when I arrived at her house to visit, the way she laughed at my really bad jokes and praised me constantly. I loved how she’d begun cooking for me, sharing with me all the old family recipes she’d collected over the years. I relished those first tastes of home.
If Ryan felt slighted in any way by my absence from our apartment, he said nothing, silently giving me the room I needed to pursue a relationship with my newfound family.
Benjie, however, sulked a little. It seemed as though he took my statement that I’d never leave him to mean I’d never be away from home. Ever. He started whining whenever I left to go spend time with my mom and it ripped my heart to pieces. I would never choose between them, or abandon Benjie the way his own mother was quick to do, but he didn’t know that.
So to spend time with both of them while Ryan was at work, I took Benjie and my mother to the zoo.
Benjie loved it. He raced around and mimicked the sounds the animals made. He laughed at the yawning hippos and roared like the lions who stalked back and forth in their habitats. He hollered at the goats that bleated at him in the petting zoo and demanded three hot dogs (at four bucks apiece) at the concession stand, then only ate one.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the dolphin tank, watching in awe as they swam in lightning-fast laps in front of him. He giggled with my mom over the funny faces the monkeys made and tugged her in the direction of the gift shop, insisting he just had to have a stuffed turtle, like the big tortoise that had smiled at him from his mound of dirt. He ran us ragged in the hot, mid-summer sun.
Benjie bellowed that he wanted to see the snake house, so we hooked right and made for the snakes. I had been talking to Mom about what she wanted to do after the zoo, but she didn’t answer. I looked back at her and was surprised to see that she had fallen behind and her face was oddly flushed and fatigued. Benjie backtracked and made circles around her. She smiled feebly but faltered and almost fell over.
“Mom!” I exclaimed, rushing to her side and catching her. I boosted her upright and walked her over to the benches in front of the snake building.
“Are you ok?” I asked, running my hand up and down her back.
“I’m fine. It’s just the heat,” she insisted. “It’s very warm out today, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, pretty warm. Do you want to leave?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute, would you?” Now that the flush had fled her face, it appeared waxy, almost white. I was worried.
“Grammy, what’s the matter?” Benjie’s little face was scrunched up in worry.
“Nothing, sweetie. I’m just hot. Here, I feel fine now. Let’s go.” She rose and held her hand out to Benjie. “Come here, handso
me. Snakes scare me. I need you to protect me.”
Benjie giggled and said, “Ok. Come on, Grammy. I’ll save you.”
We oohed and aahed over the boa constrictors, the rattlesnake whose rattle we heard even through the thick glass walls of its cage and recoiled in terror as the cobra showed us his hood and charged at us from behind the glass. But to my anxious eyes, Mom still looked ill, so I cut our day at the zoo short.
I dropped her off and said, “If you need anything, you’ll call me, right?”
“Of course I will, sweetheart. Quit worrying about me.”
“Sorry. Can’t help it. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, Catie. Tell Ryan I said hello, ok?”
“Ok. G’night.”
I watched her shut her door and escorted my rambunctious stepson home. He was still wound up from our day and he chattered nonstop.
“Why’s Grammy sick?” he asked me, bouncing in his seat.
“She’s not sick. She just got hot.”
“Oh. But she threw up the other day.”
“She did?”
“Uh-huh. When she came to dinner,” he said, chewing the gum we got for him from the gumball machine at the zoo. He had been most impressed by it because it was shaped like animals. He wanted the elephant because it was biggest, but had to settle for the bear and the bird because I ran out of quarters.
“Maybe it’s my cooking,” I teased him, winking at him in the rear-view mirror.
“Your cooking’s mostly good, Catie. But I don’t like the broccoli. It’s not really baby trees, you know. Maybe Grammy doesn’t like broccoli either.” Benjie eyed me soberly, and I had to stifle a laugh.
“Maybe. Or sometimes people get indigestion,” I suggested.
“What’s ‘gestion?”
“It’s when people get upset bellies,” I explained.
“Oh,” he said somberly. “Catie, I got ‘gestion.”
“Yeah?” I smiled secretly. He had eaten one hot dog, two candied apples, a pretzel, a candy bar and a soda at the zoo. It was no wonder.
“Uh-huh,” he confirmed angelically.
Holding On (Hooking Up) Page 6