“I know, but it’s the only way. You need to get that welding experience any way you can. And the money is a plus.” She was making sense—a role reversal for them. Usually Glory swung with her impulses, while he was the rock, the practical one.
“You’re right. If I can make it through the winter, we’ll have enough to get me through the welding program at the CC.”
“Sometimes you have to wade through the mud to get to the clear water.”
“That’s my Roseville girl talking,” he teased. “Someday we’ll take the girls to that old swimming hole at Miller’s quarry.”
“Not likely. Unless a new age of enlightenment suddenly hits Crescent County, Oregon.”
“You’re right,” he admitted. Although he wanted his daughters to experience the joys he’d known as a kid in the country, he couldn’t dismiss the barbs that two mixed-race girls might encounter in that rural area. Not that Portland was a bastion of black life, but in between the old school and the leftist elites there was a middle range of tolerance. Portland, Fairbanks, Roseville—every place had its dark corners. He and Glory would have to teach their girls how to deal, how to choose their battles, how to step up when it was time to be counted.
“Are you writing?” Glory asked. “Send me some poetry.”
“Soon,” he promised. Right now his words were too raw, soaked in longing for home. He didn’t want to make her cry. “I’m losing it up here, babe. I’m like one of those astronauts who’s broken loose from his tether.”
“That’s why I’m here to talk you down.” He could hear the old Glory in her voice: the sense of humor, the confidence, the hope. “I got you, Spaceman. What’s his name? The guy in the song.”
“Major Tom.”
“That’s it. Wherever you go, whatever you do, you’ve got a lifeline that leads back to me.”
“Back to you,” he said, thinking about the long road home and wishing that he were driving south right now. Back home, back to Glory.
CHAPTER 5
Maybe it had been a mistake to keep the pregnancy a secret from Pete’s family. As Tamarind scanned the landscape of the state park dotted with McCullum aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins, and their offspring, she wondered how she was going to keep this a secret throughout the picnic when it consumed her thoughts. Granted, it had taken her and Pete so long to get pregnant that they’d agreed to keep the fertility details to themselves, and it seemed too soon to broadcast the announcement through his large, loving family. But sitting here in the center of the McCullum patchwork quilt, Tamarind longed to sing out the coming of the new family member.
As she reached for a floret of raw cauliflower, she smiled at Cousin Mary’s three kids who knelt in the grass, plucking at flowering weeds as they talked over their juice boxes. Sibling companionship. Growing up as an only child, Tamarind had longed for the camaraderie of a sibling, even one who fought with her over the last piece of creamy kulfi sprinkled with pistachios. Sometimes she felt that she’d missed out on the support, the laughs, the responsibility. Marrying into Pete’s large, loving family had seemed like hitting the jackpot. Everyone in West Green knew the McCullums—had gone to school with one of the kids, been a patient of Doc’s, taken art lessons with Janeece. But Tamarind, whose family moved to the Portland area from New Delhi when she was seven, had learned the hard way that you couldn’t walk into an instant attachment.
Back then, the kids at school didn’t know what to make of a little brown-skinned girl who spoke Hindi as well as English. It didn’t help that Tamarind’s family followed the Indian customs of their ancestors. Tamarind brought roti bread in her lunch sack and celebrated Diwali instead of Halloween. When Tamarind finally brought two classmates home, she’d been embarrassed when they wanted to know the source of the smell in the kitchen, where her mother was preparing curry and subzi. One of the girls, a willowy blonde named Olivia, had refused to try Rima’s curry. But the other, a rangy girl with a deep curiosity and the climbing skills of a monkey, had pronounced Mom’s curry delicious, and a friendship had been born. They were still close friends, though Sidney and her husband had moved to California for job opportunities last year.
Relationships took time; Tamarind knew that. Although she had veered away from many Indian traditions to fit in with people at school and work, she had learned that the only way to truly be accepted was to stand up and be yourself. But that didn’t make it any easier as an outsider among some members of Pete’s family. His father, Doc, was a brisk, tough nut to crack. And in the three years she and Pete had been together she hadn’t found an effective way to deal with the bossiness of Pete’s sister, Kaysandra.
“Delicious, aren’t they?” Kaysandra rested one knee on a nearby picnic table, watching as Maisie dished up some baked beans.
“Out of this world,” Cousin Maisie agreed.
“It’s a foolproof recipe. You use five cans of beans. I always add fava beans, but it doesn’t really matter what kind.” In her crisp white shirtdress with the slimmest pink pinstripe and matching pink leggings to the knees, Kaysandra looked cool, with just the right hint of summer casual.
Seated at the next table, Tamarind questioned her choice of khaki shorts and a black print top with an empire waist as she crunched on a carrot and pretended to focus on the hummus and veggie platter. She’d chosen the top because it hid her thickening waist, but it was so bland. Unlike the McCullum women, who knew how to pull an outfit together, whether it was a gem-toned summer dress, bold print kaftan, black tights topped by a long-line tank top, or jeans with a T-shirt boasting the name of a college. The McCullum women had a certain swagger and style that Tamarind admired but hadn’t yet acquired. Big-boned and square, Tamarind was the girl who fell in love with colors and patterns until she saw how they clung or draped from her body in the unforgiving light of a dressing room. But soon she’d have a new wardrobe. For the next family effort, Tamarind would be decked out in a flowing maternity dress.
The biggest downside of the McCullum family Memorial Day picnic was that the touch football game consumed the men, leaving Tamarind to fend for herself amid Pete’s loud, boisterous family. It wasn’t that Tamarind was shy; there simply had never been an incident before or after the wedding that solidified her place in the family.
“My kids love ’em,” Kaysandra went on, “and I haven’t broken the news that they’re actually good for them.” She put a lacquered finger to her lips as she lifted her chin toward the picnic table in the shade where nearly a dozen kids sat eating.
The kids’ table.
Kids were plentiful at McCullum family gatherings. One of the things that usually poked at Tamarind’s sensitive spot at functions like this. But not today.
Today Tamarind had a secret that brought her such euphoria she didn’t care about the kids’ table or the adorable baby nursing under the pavilion or the fact that her sister-in-law was proclaiming herself Queen of Beans. All the sacrifices, the ten grand, the month of shots and nausea, swelling and vomiting, had been worth it. She was going to be a mom. This time next year, she and Pete would have a little baby.
The knowledge of the life inside her made Tamarind so secure and happy that she felt able to tolerate her sister-in-law. Leaving the noble veggie platter behind, she pushed away from the kids’ table and approached the mighty Kaysandra.
“I’m going to have some of those famous beans I keep hearing about.” Tamarind dished a spoonful onto a paper plate. “Is this a secret family recipe?”
“It is, but I can share it with you. How you doing, Tam?” Kaysandra asked, using the shortened name that used to make Tamarind bristle. Back in grade school kids teased her in music class, calling her “Tam-tam-tambourine.”
“We’re good.”
“You two still trying?” Tact was not in Kaysandra’s toolbox. She floated the bald question out into the spring afternoon in front of God and children and the entire family.
Tamarind looked around to see who was listening, but the other women and chi
ldren were eating and chatting and milling around and did not seem to be paying attention. “We’re always trying,” she said, forcing a devilish smile. “Isn’t that the fun of being married?”
“I guess. You guys got a great attitude.” The pity in Kaysandra’s eyes made Tamarind look away. Don’t be feeling sorry for me, she wanted to say. Instead, she focused on chasing some garbanzos and butter beans across the plate with a spoon.
“I’d be a little cranky if I’d been trying for that long. What’s it been? Two years? Three?”
In lieu of an answer, Tamarind pushed the spoon into her mouth. “Mmm. These are heavenly. I would love to have your recipe.”
“I’ll email it to you.” Kaysandra touched Tamarind’s forearm for emphasis. “And you know what else I’m going to send you? I’ve got some brochures from work about being a foster parent that you two should take a look at.” Kaysandra was a rock star in the world of social work. A strong advocate for children in foster care, she had placed foster kids with a few members of the family. “Pete and I were chatting about fostering a child as a way to adopt, and I think you two would be perfect.”
“You’re so sweet, but . . . foster care isn’t really in our plans.” And I can’t believe Pete rolled over for you that easily. Tamarind could just imagine him being cornered by his older sister, the bully of the sibling group.
“Lot of kids out there, and children of color are hard to place here in Oregon,” Kaysandra said.
Tamarind was tempted to ask how many children of Indian descent were in the program, but she knew the answer already. A big fat zero, since Oregon did not have a diverse population.
“You and Pete would be awesome as mommy and daddy,” Kaysandra said, continuing with the sales pitch. “You two could make a huge difference in some kids’ lives.”
A flicker of maternal joy heartened Tamarind. At least Kaysandra was pushing for a good cause and she believed in Tamarind’s and Pete’s parenting skills. Tamarind was tempted to share their good news. That would stop the pitch, the hard sell. But her sister-in-law was not one to keep a secret, and Tamarind couldn’t deny her husband the pleasure of telling his family. Just suck it in and smile.
“It must be very satisfying for you,” Tamarind said, “helping all those kids. I know everyone in the family admires that.”
Kaysandra batted the notion away with a swipe of her hand. “Sheesh. I try.” She touched Tamarind’s wrist. “I’ll get you those brochures. Just something to think about.”
“You are a formidable advocate.”
“I gotta look out for my babies. My helpless babies,” she said, scanning the picnic area. “My flesh-and-blood kids should be able to fend for themselves, but I don’t know where they’ve gotten to.” She shielded her eyes from the sun and shouted: “Anyone seen my kids?”
“I saw them!” Janeece McCullum called to Kaysandra as she headed toward them across a wide swath of grass. Her sister Rosie walked beside her, both women stepping carefully amid clods of fresh-cut grass and fallen fir cones that looked like something much worse.
“You did?” Kaysandra turned to her mother. “Are they behaving?”
“I saw Isaiah and Jason. Missy is minding them. Doing a good job.”
“Where’re they at?”
“Over by the pond. Watching the cutest family of ducks.”
“Something amazing, the way those babies follow their mamas,” Aunt Rosie added. A plump woman, she wore a fire-engine red shift, denim jacket, and sunglasses that hid her eyes. “My kids never listened that way.”
“Tell me about it.” Janeece looked majestic as usual, her hair braided in a smooth crown atop her head, her willowy figure accentuated by a flowing caftan, an abstract spray of color against a sapphire background. Probably hand-painted by Janeece.
Tamarind tilted her chin up at her mother-in-law, grateful when Janeece placed a hand on her shoulder and graced her with those eyes, wise and serene. In Janeece’s big round eyes she saw all the light of amber in the sun.
“Children.” Janeece chuckled. “You can only pray that your little ducklings will follow along half as well.”
Resisting the urge to press a hand to her belly, Tamarind smiled. Her mother-in-law had confidence in the future, insight into Tamarind’s potential as a parent. Thank you, Janeece, she thought, letting the silent message float on the summer breeze. Thank you for believing in me.
CHAPTER 6
Life is good, Glory thought, agreeing with the cute graphic poster she passed as she pushed the stroller through the mall. She had a husband who loved her, money in the bank, and two amazing daughters to fill her days.
Rolling over the fake cobblestones of the mall’s interior, she let out a lazy yawn. She had nursed the baby after talking with Winston, then had dozed off again. Although she’d caught just a few spotty hours of sleep, the haze of exhaustion and stress had been eased by Winston’s phone call. Winston was okay. Now the other details would fall into place. The gray mist of depression seemed to be dissolving as she moved through the mall atrium to the elevator.
“Mommy, can I throw a penny in the fountain?” Ruby peered over at the old fountain, three circles of water spouting in front of a pile of rocks where the water cascaded down. The smells of chlorine and Cinnabon mingled, not unpleasantly.
“I don’t think I have a penny,” Glory said. “And they don’t want coins in the fountain. It can break the water system.” In truth, she was anxious to get upstairs to the food court for cheap eats and good company. She’d recently made friends with a group of sisters who met for lunch at the mall after they finished work each day. Women her age who didn’t judge Glory for her life choices.
“Aw-w-w.” Ruby stretched the sigh out to three syllables. “But I want to make a wish.” She tugged on Glory’s dress for her to stop the stroller. As Glory was putting on the brake, Ruby jumped out of the rear basket and spun toward the fountain. “I want a wish, Mommy. Daddy lets me make a wish.” Before Glory could grab her, her eldest was headed down to the water.
The East Center Mall’s builders had constructed steps leading down to the water in what had to be a moment of idiocy, and Glory always worried that her adventurous daughter would be the one to wade in. Now she bumped the stroller down two levels and left it parked while she corralled her oldest daughter.
“Ruby, stop! You can’t run off like that.”
“Okay, Mommy. I just want to make a wish.” She held her little hand out, her lips curled in a hopeful smile.
Her combination of innocence and determination melted Glory’s heart. “Oh, little duck, let me see if I have change.” Back at the stroller, she dug in the diaper bag and managed to scrape out a lone nickel.
She brought it back and leaned down to press it into Ruby’s palm. “Here’s a nickel for you.”
“Ooh!” Ruby’s blue eyes glimmered. “How many wishes in a nickel, Mommy?”
“Five. Or one big wish.”
“One big wish, Mommy. That’s what I want.”
“Good.” At least it wouldn’t take long, Glory thought as she pointed her daughter toward the quivering water. Ruby hopped down the last two steps, Glory’s breath catching each time. Pausing at the bottom level, Ruby held the fist with the coin to her mouth and paused, as if praying over it.
Winston was the adventurous parent, while Glory worried about every bump in the road, seeing every concrete surface and sharp object as a potential hazard. The stroller was still safe a few steps up; the only people nearby were moms and an elderly couple sitting on a bench facing away from the fountain, which was oddly ugly and refreshing at the same time. The basin of the pool was so blue, and the purple and yellow flowers flourishing along one edge gave it a lush look. The statue atop the waterfall was of a Native American man, kneeling down to catch the water gurgling through his hands, and though Glory liked the idea of honoring native people, the innocent look on his face said he had no idea of the ways white civilization would marginalize and torture his descendan
ts. She had overheard someone in the food court saying that the tribal man rose to his feet after the mall closed at night and went outside to smoke a pipe. The statue was definitely creepy.
A few feet away Ruby cast the coin into the fountain and clambered up the steps in an excited little dance. “I made a big wish, Mommy. I wish for Daddy to come home.”
“That’s a sweet wish. And the best part is, it’s going to come true.”
“Today?” Ruby pleaded.
“Not today, honey. But soon.” She took Ruby’s hand and led her up the steps.
“When is soon?”
“He’s coming back as soon as he can. Daddy has some work to do in Alaska. He needs to finish his job up there.”
“Is he almost finished?”
Glory felt guilty that the concept of time was lost on a four-year-old. Even a smart kid like Ruby. “I know you miss him, love bug. I miss him, too. But he just started a new job, so he’s going to be there a while longer.”
“No, Mommy. I wished him back.”
There was no arguing with four-year-old logic, so she tried distraction. “I’m hungry. How about you?”
“No, Mommy.” Ruby broke away from her clasp and ran across the atrium. “I want Daddy!”
So do I, Glory thought, tamping down her annoyance as she kept her eyes on her daughter. “You’d better come with me if you want to ride in the glass elevator.”
Ruby stopped in her tracks and glanced back over her shoulder. That bait got her every time. “Okay, Mommy,” she said, climbing onto the back of the stroller once again.
Up on the second level Glory headed to the food court, where she ordered two kids’ meals from the taco shop—cheese quesadillas with rice, beans, and a side of applesauce. Best deal in town, and one of the meals along with Ruby’s leftovers was more than enough for Glory.
The baby began fussing while they waited in line, and soon after Glory ordered, her whimpers accelerated to a screeching cry. Feeding time again. Glory held her on one shoulder while she paid, but Aurora would not be soothed. Glancing toward the tables, Glory caught the attention of one of the sisters, Laura Lemon, who waved her over. Quickly, Glory hustled her kids and the stroller over to the petite young woman with a ring through her nose and short lemon yellow hair, which had earned her the Lemon name.
The Sisters Page 4