Mother's day

by MacDonald, Patricia J

  Linda looked back at her mother, but Alice was staring at the floor. “You’re not being fair to me,” Linda said.

  Bill snorted derisively. Alice did not reply.

  Slowly Linda went over to the door and looked out at her suitcase lying on the front steps. Bill drew back when she walked past him, as if afraid she might brush against him. “I’ll get a room,” she said shortly.

  “I’m sorry,” said Alice in a pleading tone.

  “Don’t be sorry,” said Bill. “It’s her own fault.”

  “I’ll call you, Mother,” said Linda.

  Alice wanted to say something. I love you. But she didn’t dare. Not in front of Bill. She tried to say it with her eyes, but Linda did not look at her. She wanted to embrace her again, but it would have to wait.

  “Don’t hurry back,” Bill said. Linda looked back at him ruefully as she stepped outside, but he stared straight ahead as though she were invisible, a ghost drifting through the open door.

  L

  Chapter Four

  Karen sat in the living room, an open book on her lap, staring out the front windows into the night sky. From the floor above, there was a continuous muffled thunder of rock music. Greg came into the room and watched his wife intently for a minute before he managed to summon a rueful smile.

  “Enjoying that book, are you?” he said.

  Karen looked up at him blankly. “What?” she asked.

  “That book you’re so absorbed in,” he said, sitting down across from her.

  Karen looked down at the book in her hands and closed it with a sigh. She placed it on an end table. “I don’t know why I even bothered to open it,” she said.

  Greg folded his arms across his chest. “What’s on your mind?” he said.

  “As if you didn’t know,” she said.

  “Well, what about her? Specifically. Maybe we’d better talk about it.”

  Karen stared beyond him, out the window again. You could see stars glimmering through the trees in their yard. She tried to collect her thoughts. Finally, in a dismal voice, she said, “You’re going to say I’m overreacting.”

  “I doubt it,” he said grimly.

  Karen was a little surprised by his tone. Usually he did his best to minimize her worries, to explain them away. But tonight his expression seemed to mirror her own. “What if,” she began. “What if this woman wants to take Jenny away.”

  Greg shook his head. “She can’t,” he said.

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Of course I do,” he countered. “This was a legal adoption. That woman gave up all rights to her baby when she signed those papers. Of course I’m assuming that the incompetent Arnold Richardson did have her sign the papers.”

  “Don’t say that, Greg.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure he did.”

  “These days it seems as if the old rules don’t apply anymore,” Karen mused. “You’re always seeing these women on ‘Oprah’ and ‘Donahue’ who show up years later and win their natural children back in court.”

  “Those are one-in-a-million situations,” Greg insisted. “That’s why they’re on ‘Oprah’ and ‘Donahue.’ I mean, it would be one thing if we were just foster parents, or we bought her on the black market or something. But that’s not the case.”

  “It just seems like there’s no limit on how long these women have to change their minds and decide they want their child back,” Karen protested.

  “There certainly was a limit, as I remember. It was in the papers, and it was something like a month.”

  “It was three weeks,” Karen admitted.

  “So, you see, you answered your own question.”

  Karen nodded. She could never forget the tension of those three weeks, wondering if a phone call would come from Richardson, reporting the mother’s change of heart. She hardly dared give her heart away to the baby she held so tenderly, fearing the worst. And when the time was up, and the agreement sealed, she rejoiced inside all over again.

  “If you want,” said Greg, “I’ll call Arnold Richardson in the morning and explain the situation to him. He’ll tell you himself. She hasn’t got a legal leg to stand on.”

  “I hold Arnold Richardson responsible for this mess. He let someone get into our private files.”

  “I’m sure he had no idea what was happening,” said Greg.

  “That’s no excuse,” said Karen angrily. “He should run a tighter ship.”

  Greg took a deep breath and picked up a magazine, impatiently riffling the pages.

  “Now you’re mad at me,” she said.

  “No, I’m not. I just don’t want you going to pieces over this. The sky hasn’t fallen. You just have to remain calm.”

  “Like you,” she said.

  Greg did not reply. He rolled up the magazine into a tight tube and whacked it into his palm absently.

  r “It’s just that legality isn’t everything, Greg.” “Meaning what?” “Meaning what if Jenny wants to be with her? What if she chooses Linda over us…over me?”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” he cried. “Why would she choose a stranger over the family she knows and loves?”

  “You saw her reaction,” said Karen. “She was thrilled with the whole thing. It was as if she had been waiting all her life for this wonderful ‘birth mother’ to appear.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Maybe I am. But I’m scared. She and I can’t have two words in a row these days without a fight. I mean, we are at each other’s throats. Everything I do or say is wrong. And then, whammo, along comes this glamorous, mysterious stranger who says, Tm your real mother and all I’ve done is fantasize about how wonderful you are and you turn out to be even more wonderful than I ever imagined.’” Karen got up and began to pace around the room. “So, on the one hand we have the unnatural mother, Karen, who’s an old witch that makes her pick up her clothes and do her homework, and on the other we have Linda, the all-embracing birth mother, who treats Jenny like some kind of walking miracle. I ask you, which one is more appealing? Which one would you choose?”

  “That’s not all that’s involved,” Greg insisted, avoiding her frantic gaze.

  “She’s looking for a reason to reject me once and for all. And that reason just walked in the door this afternoon. And I can’t stand it, Greg. She’s all I’ve got. She’s my only baby.”

  Greg banged the magazine down on the coffee table and jumped up. “Stop it, Karen. Stop blowing this thing out of proportion. Try and be rational, for God’s sakes.”

  Karen glared at him, and then tears came to her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “If I can’t tell my fears to you…”

  An anguished expression rose in his eyes. He looked away from her. “Look,” he said. “You are acting as if this whole thing is up to Jenny. As far as I’m concerned, we’ll just tell her that she can’t meet with this woman anymore. We just forbid it. She’s a minor. We’re her parents. And what do we know about this woman, anyway? She could be some kind of a nut. She could be unbalanced. At the very least she has poor judgment, showing up out of the blue like this.”

  “That’s true enough,” said Karen. She came back to the couch and sat down beside him.

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t know why you agreed to this meeting tomorrow in the first place.”

  Karen did not reply.

  “So, it’s that simple. We simply forbid her to see this Linda anymore and that’s the end of it. I’ll be glad to deliver the verdict to Miss Emery myself. You don’t ever have to set eyes on her again.”

  “No,” said Karen with a sigh. “We can’t do that.”

  “Believe me,” said Greg, “I’ll tell Jenny too. I don’t mind being the villain.”

  “No,” said Karen. “It’s not that. It’s just…we can’t deny her the opportunity to get to know her natural mother. Not now that they’ve made contact. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be fair to Jenny. She has a lot of questions, I know. The school p
sychologist told me that. It’s a critical age for this identity crisis business. And adopted children have it the worst. Maybe it would help her to know this woman. To find out about her. And her father. Whatever Linda wants to tell her.”

  “I don’t get it,” Greg cried in exasperation. “First you say one thing, and then, when I offer a solution, you say the opposite. I’m trying to protect you. And Jenny. Let me do this.”

  “It’s not a solution,” Karen insisted. “Don’t you see that? If we make a big issue out of it, she’ll just sneak off and see her. Or worse. No, we have to let her go. Or she’ll hold it against us.”

  “You don’t know what you want,” he said furiously. “You’re going around in circles.”

  “Stop yelling at me. This isn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for this to happen. I’m just trying to cope with it,” she cried. “Why are you mad at me?”

  “Because you won’t let me do anything,” he fumed. “You’re predicting doom, and when I try to find a way to head it off…”

  “There is no way to head this off,” said Karen. “She’s here. We have to deal with whatever happens. All I was doing was saying how I felt “

  “Fine,” said Greg. “If that’s what you want to do, suit yourself.”

  “I was hoping for a little support from you,” she said indignantly.

  “You want me to hold your hand while you let this woman destroy what we’ve built?” he cried.

  Karen looked at him in amazement. She felt dizzy, as if the ground had dropped away beneath her. He was always the cool head, the optimist. “Is that what you think?” she asked. “Is that what you really think?”

  Greg shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s this day. It’s been a terrible day.”

  She felt a sudden wave of pity for him. Shame, almost, for having voiced all these dire possibilities as if she were talking to some disinterested third party. After all, Jenny was his child, too. Whatever the outcome of this showdown between mothers, it was turning his world upside down, too. “If it hadn’t been today,” she said gently, “it would have been another day. We just have to face it.”

  “I guess you’re right,” he said grimly.

  She touched his face, which was creased with worry. “We can handle it,” she said.

  “That’s my line,” he said.

  “Usually,” she admitted.

  He looked away.

  Chapter Five

  The woman seated behind the motel desk was so absorbed in her book that she did not notice the wiry, sallow-complected man enter the lobby until he was right in front of her. She started and let out a little cry, clapping a beringed hand to her ample chest. “Eddie, my God. You’re like an Indian the way you sneak up on people.”

  Eddie McHugh checked his watch against the clock on the wall. “Those mystery books you read make you jumpy,” he said.

  Margo Hofsteder closed her book and looked at her own watch. “Is it eight o’clock already?”

  Eddie nodded. “I mopped up around the ice machine again,” he said. “But you better get somebody over here to fix it. I don’t know beans about refrigeration and stuff like that.”

  Margo, a heavyset woman in her late fifties, sighed and slid off the stool behind the desk. “I called the appliance repair guy two days ago,” she complained. “He keeps saying he’s coming. I’ll tell you, sometimes I wonder why I keep this place now that Anton’s gone. He always had a way of getting these people to hop to it.”

  Eddie grunted impassively. He’d heard it all before. He came around the desk as Margo wedged her way out past her night desk man. Margo and her husband, Anton, had owned the Jefferson Motel for twenty years. In December Anton had keeled over one night at dinner and was gone before the ambulance arrived. Margo was still dickering about whether to sell or stay on. In February she’d hired Eddie as a night clerk and general maintenance man. Ed and his wife were separated, and while Margo didn’t pay a lot, a free room in the motel was an irresistible part of the deal. Between the two of them they managed to keep things running pretty well in the off season, but summer was coming, with its crush of visitors, and Margo had to decide what to do. Ed was okay, but he was no ball of fire about taking care of things. And it just wasn’t any fun without Anton. On the other hand, sitting around with a bunch of other widows in Florida wouldn’t be much fun, either, Margo realized. It gave her a headache to think about it.

  “Now you know how to work this credit card thingamajig,” Margo said, pointing to a small console on the counter that looked like a child’s calculator.

  “I know,” said Eddie irritably. She asked him that every single time she left him to work the desk.

  “Well, okay,” she said. “I’m going home to finish my book. Good night, Ed.”

  And eat a pound of candy, Eddie thought as she sailed out the door of the lobby. “G’nite,” he said.

  He turned on the ancient black-and-white portable TV behind the counter and began to watch the Red Sox game. He managed to get through two batters before the door to the lobby opened and he looked up to see his wife, Valerie, come striding in wearing a sweatshirt, cut-off denims, and gold, high-heeled bedroom slippers. She was dangling a lit cigarette in one hand. A cloud of carnation scent and smoke seemed to fill up the room.

  “Well, well, I thought you’d be off plunging some toilet,” she said by way of greeting.

  Eddie’s gaze returned to the game. “What do you want? Where are the kids?”

  “Right out there in the car,” said Valerie.

  “Well, take ’em home and put ’em to bed.”

  “I have to talk to you,” she said, picking a stray speck of tobacco off her tongue with her silver-polished fingernails and examining it.

  “Didn’t you ever hear of a phone?” said Eddie.

  “That’s just it,” she cried triumphantly. “They turned the damn phone off today.”

  “So, pay the bill.”

  “With what, Eddie?” Valerie demanded, taking a deep drag on her cigarette. “I can’t afford to pay it. Not with what you’re giving me.”

  “Stop bitching. Nobody tells you to call your mother for an hour every day. That’s what runs it up.”

  “Don’t talk against my mother, Eddie. She’s been good to us,” she said, pointing her cigarette at her husband. The long ash trembled, dropped, and disintegrated on the countertop.

  Eddie rolled his eyes. “Use an ashtray,” he said sullenly, and slid a magenta aluminum ashtray down the counter to her. Valerie squashed out her butt on the gold-leaf printing in the center that read “Jefferson Motel, Parkway Boulevard, Bayland, Mass.” and a phone number.

  “You always have enough money for the magazines and those cancer sticks,” Eddie observed.

  Valerie shook the last cigarette out of her pack, her stringy blond hair drooping around her pinched face. She crushed the pack wearily and tossed it on the floor. “Look, babe,” she said, “I didn’t come here to fight.”

  “Pick that up and put it in the trash, for crying out loud,” said Eddie. “Margo will get all over me for your mess.”

  “Margo,” Valerie grumbled, bending down to retrieve the wadded-up, empty pack. “Look,” she said, “why don’t you just ditch this place, come back home, and see if you can get your old job back at the water company.”

  “Number one,” said Eddie, “they’re still laying people off at the water company, and number two, if I come home, it’s just going to be more bitching and complaining from you.”

  “I won’t,” said Valerie. “I promise. The kids miss you.”

  Eddie shook his head. He wasn’t about to discuss number three—that even though it was a shit job, he liked living here, sleeping late in his own room with no one to bug him. And the job had another benefit, too, which he didn’t want anyone to know about.

  “Come on, babe,” she pleaded, “We’re still good together.”

  Eddie pretended to be thinking it over. Just then the lobby door opened and a good-looki
ng, dark haired woman walked in. Eddie straightened up, composing his sharp features into a friendly expression.

  The woman walked up to the desk. She glanced at Valerie, who took a seat on one of the lobby chairs and pretended to leaf through a magazine.

  “I’d like a room,” the woman said.

  “Okay,” said Eddie. “How many nights?”

  The woman frowned and hesitated. “I’m not sure.” She brushed her dark hair off her forehead in a nervous gesture.

  “The reason I ask is, we have a weekly rate,” said Eddie helpfully. He turned a Jefferson brochure around to face her. The woman read the information while Eddie’s gaze traveled slowly up and down her frame.

  Valerie coughed, and when Eddie looked her way he saw her narrowed eyes were riveted to his face.

  The woman pushed the brochure back across the desk. “I probably will be here a week,” she said hesitantly.

  “It’s a good deal,” said Eddie. “You’d pay as much for four nights.”

  “Okay.”

  “How many people?”

  “Just myself.” The woman passed her plastic card across the desk.

  “Okay, Miss…Emery,” said Eddie, reading off the card. “I’ve got room 173 for you. Ground floor, near the soda machine, but private.”

  “It sounds fine,” she said.

  “Ever been to Bayland before?”

  Linda smiled wryly. “Not for a long time.”

  Valerie cleared her throat loudly.

  “Well, it’s a nice little town. Enjoy your stay.”

  “Thank you,” said Linda, picking up her bag.

  Eddie walked out from behind the counter and scrutinized her. “There’s a lot of places to eat in the area if you’re hungry.”

  “I’m not,” said Linda shortly, taking the key he held out to her. “Excuse me.”

  As soon as Linda was out the door, Valerie jumped up from her seat, tossing aside the dogeared magazine. “You scumbag,” she cried. “You were coming on to her.”

  “I was doing my job,” he said.

  “Don’t tell me. I know what you were up to. I know you.” Valerie raised her hand as if to slap him, and Eddie grabbed her wrist and twisted her forearm.