A Sliver of Sun

by Dianna Dorisi Winget

  “I’m not sure, honey. But I called Dr. Morgan, and she said she’d meet me at the hospital for another ultrasound.”

  “Ginger,” Ben said, “go get my car keys off the dresser in the bedroom.”

  Ginger ran inside, and Ben scooped Mama up in his arms. “Piper Lee,” he said, “open the car door.”

  I hurried toward the car, glad for something to do. Ben settled Mama into the passenger seat. “Oh, wait,” she said. “Piper Lee, go grab my purse.”

  I headed back into the house and nearly ran smack into Ginger on her way out. A minute later we both piled into the back seat and headed for the Maycomb County Hospital.

  Ben shot Mama a look. “All you said was you were gonna take a nap before supper. Why didn’t you tell me something was goin’ on?”

  “It wasn’t,” Mama said. “I felt fine until about fifteen minutes ago.”

  I leaned as far forward as my seatbelt would allow. “Are you having pain, Mama?’

  “No, no pain, honey. Just a lot of pressure is all.”

  It had only been a month since Mama and Ginger and I had gone to the very same hospital, to meet up with Ben after the prison riot, and all the worry and scary feelings came rushing back like yesterday. Only this time it was way worse … this time it was Mama.

  Ginger and I got left in the waiting room while Ben and Mama went into an exam room across the hall. The nurse winked at me as she pulled the door closed behind her. I curled up on one end of a blue plaid couch and Ginger sat on the other end. A football game played on the TV in the corner, but I didn’t pay any attention to it. I was trying too hard not to cry, trying not to think about what I’d do if anything ever happened to Mama. When I got tired of staring at the closed door across the hall I picked up a National Geographic with a polar bear on the cover and stared at it instead.

  I thumbed through three magazines before the door to the exam room finally opened. The nurse poked her head out. “You girls can come and see your mama if you’d like.”

  Ginger and I jumped up and hurried across the hall.

  Mama sat on a bed that was covered with crinkly white paper, and I was real relieved to see her looking normal. She smiled. “Hey, there. Thought you might like to hear what the nurse had to say.”

  I wanted to go to her, but the room was small, and there wasn’t much standing area with all the machines and other hospital stuff. Ben sat in the only chair. He wiggled a finger at us, and Ginger went over and perched on his knee. I stood on his other side.

  “Your mama’s gonna be just fine,” the nurse said, “but she’s suffering from an incompetent cervix.”

  Suffering? Mama looked okay for now, but the word still scared me silly. I couldn’t stand to see anything suffer. I’d even sworn off watching Nature, after an episode where a cheetah killed a baby gazelle.

  “What’s a cervix?” Ginger asked.

  “It’s like a small tube,” the nurse said, “that attaches to the uterus where the baby is growing. It usually stays closed tight till the baby’s ready to be born, but sometimes it gets thin and weak too early. That’s what’s happening with your mama.”

  I swallowed. “Is that really bad?”

  “Well, it can be if it allows the baby to come before it’s ready.” She looked at Mama. “What I’d like for you to do, Heather, is take it easy for the next two weeks. Stay off your feet as much as possible. Then we’ll check again to see what’s happening and go from there.”

  “That’s it,” Ben said. “You’re done waitressing.”

  Mama made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Now, Ben, I can’t just up and quit with no warning.”

  “Yes, you can,” he said.

  The nurse looked between the two of them. “It might not be necessary to quit at this point, but you should definitely take the next two weeks off. And if your cervix continues to relax after that, your husband might be right, Heather. Would your job allow you to take a leave of absence?”

  Mama bit her bottom lip. “Well … I have some vacation time coming, but that would be a few weeks at best.”

  The nurse patted Mama’s hand. “I know this kind of thing can really throw a monkey wrench in your plans, but you have to do what’s right for you and the baby. The ideal is to get you to at least thirty four weeks.”

  Mama sighed. “Piper Lee came a little early—three weeks.”

  The nurse nodded. “Your cervix was likely the reason. But since it was a first pregnancy the problem took longer to show up. Plus, now you’re ten years older, which also plays a factor.” She smiled. “Getting old is really tough, you know?”

  Mama sniffed. “Guess so.”

  The nurse handed Mama some paperwork. “Okay, you’re free to go for now. I’m setting you up for your next appointment. But if anything at all changes from now till then be sure to come in right away.”

  “I’ll do that, thank you.”

  Ben booted Ginger off his knee and stood up. He reached for Mama, but she narrowed her eyes at him. “Ben Hutchings, would you go away. I’m not helpless.”

  He stepped back looking a little hurt, and the nurse laughed and patted his arm. She rose up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear as though Mama couldn’t hear. “It’s true, she’s not helpless, but you keep after her anyway.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ben said. “I intend to.”

  I walked next to Mama as the four of us left the hospital and headed for the car. Ben insisted Mama call the Black-eyed Pea on our way home, and she sighed and gave him a look, but didn’t argue. And I couldn’t help but worry, if the kid was this much trouble before it was even born, what was it gonna be like after?

  Chapter Thirteen

  As soon as we got home, Ben settled Mama into his big, brown recliner and sent Ginger and me out to clean up the soybeans. They were a stinking, gloppy mess, and I couldn’t believe we hadn’t smelled them before.

  Ginger tipped a plastic bucket toward me and pinched her nose with the other hand. “Hurry up and scoop.”

  I growled under my breath. “Then hold the dang bucket still.”

  We lugged the soybeans out to the scraggly field behind the garage, and I gouged a hole in the hard baked dirt. Ginger hovered over me like a plantation owner over a slave. I’m not sure how I got appointed the slave, but I figured if I fought her, we’d be out there twice as long. The sweat was running into my eyes before Ginger declared the hole deep enough.

  “Bout time,” I said, and let the shovel clatter to the ground. “I did the hard part. The rest is up to you.”

  I guess she knew better than to argue, because she didn’t complain as I traipsed off to the house. I headed straight to the fridge for a glass of sweet tea, expecting to see Mama in the recliner. But she stood at the kitchen counter instead, thumbing through a cook book.

  She glanced up with a smile. “Good, you’re back. I’ve been wanting to see that article you told Ben about.”

  Irritation poured through me like tea from the pitcher. “It was in your Woman’s Way magazine, Mama. Seems like you would’ve seen it already.”

  “Maybe I did and just forgot.”

  I finished filling my glass before I trudged into Ginger’s room, found the article and brought it back out to Mama.

  She ducked her head as she read, mumbling “uh-huh, mmm,” once or twice. Then she looked up, her eyes dancing. “I can see why you girls thought what you did. But these dietary suggestions are stuff you’d do a month or two before you tried to get pregnant.”

  I shrugged. “Don’t matter now, does it?”

  “No, it surely doesn’t.” She turned back to her cookbook with her lips pressed tight, and I knew she was trying not to laugh.

  The screen door screeched open, and I expected it be Ginger. But it was Ben who stepped up beside me.

  He gave Mama a look of disapproval. “You’re s’posed to be sitting down, Heather.”

  Mama rolled her eyes. “I agreed not to go to work. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna spend the next two
weeks sitting on my behind. You wouldn’t sit for ten minutes if it were you.”

  “But the nurse said …”

  “All she said was to take it easy. As long as I’m not on my feet six hours a day I ought to be okay.”

  Something about the way she said those last few words worried my stomach a little, like she wasn’t quite as convinced as she meant to sound. “Mama, why did the nurse say you needed to get to thirty four weeks?”

  “Because by then the baby’s developed enough to be born without much chance of serious problems.”

  “So if something happened and it did come too early, it’d just hurt the baby and not you, right?”

  As soon as the words rolled off my tongue, I realized how mean and awful they sounded.

  Mama opened her mouth, then closed it again.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” I scrambled to make her understand. “I only meant … just that …” But then words failed me, on account of I really had meant it. I just hadn’t meant to share it.

  Ben cleared his throat. “You get those soybeans cleaned up?”

  I glanced up to find him eyeing me like a chigger that needed to be squashed. “Yes, sir.”

  “Then go play or something,” he said.

  A tingling filled my chest, and I looked at Mama. But she stared down at the cook book and wouldn’t raise her head. I took my tea and slunk out of the kitchen feeling lower than dirt. I couldn’t believe I’d done it again—hurt Mama’s feelings and riled Ben without even trying.

  I plopped down on the porch swing and watched Ginger tote the bucket and shovel back to the garage. A sudden urge to go someplace came over me. I didn’t care where—swimming, the library, to visit Miss Claudia—just any place but here.

  “Think we could talk your daddy into taking us swimming?” I asked Ginger as she walked over to the porch.

  “I dunno,” she said. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  And right that very second Ben came outside, jiggling his keys in his hand. “I’m goin’ to the lumber store,” he said. “Anybody can come that wants to.”

  Ginger seemed to get a fresh spurt of energy. “Oh, I’ll go. They’ve got free popcorn, and a giant gumball machine too.”

  I hesitated. The lumber store wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it would do in a pinch, ‘specially if there was free popcorn. I gulped down my last few swallows of sweet tea and darted inside to announce I was leaving.

  Mama was still paging through the cookbook. “Yeah, I heard,” she said, without looking up. “Go on ahead.”

  I dashed to the bedroom to grab some quarters and then hurried out to the truck. I made Ginger sit in the middle, and scooted in beside her. The air conditioning didn’t work in Ben’s truck, so I rolled my window down and let the hot air blast my hair into a mess as we travelled along the old highway toward Darien. We were halfway to the lumber store before Ginger finally asked the question I’d been wondering about.

  “How come we’re goin’ to the lumber store, Daddy?”

  “To get what I need to build the addition.”

  “What addition?”

  “I’ve gotta enlarge the storage room, turn it into a nursery.”

  Ginger looked shocked. “You’re gonna stick the baby in the storage room?”

  Ben tipped his head. “Well, giving it a corner of your room would be a simpler fix.”

  “No, way,” Ginger squealed. “There’s all ready two of us in there.”

  “I know,” Ben said. “That’s what your Mama told me.”

  “I can’t believe she’s gonna let you stick it in the storage room. There’s bugs and spiders in there.”

  Ben chuckled. “Won’t be a storage room by the time I get done with it.”

  I pictured the little room off the back of the house. It wasn’t much bigger than a closet, and cluttered with outgrown clothes, extra bedding, and cleaning stuff. Plus all the extra odds and ends Mama had stashed there since we’d moved in—like the iron and ironing board, her big speckled canning kettle, and Mowgli’s bag of cat food. I couldn’t remember seeing any spiders in there, but I figured there probably were some.

  “So how big are you gonna make it?” Ginger asked.

  “Not very big,” Ben said. “Wood’s expensive.”

  We turned into the parking lot of Griffon’s Building Supply, and I breathed in the woody, sappy-fresh scent of lumber as I slid out of the truck. A bell jangled against the glass doors as we pushed our way inside, and I hopped across the dirty black floor mat.

  The man at the counter was busy with another customer, so Ben turned down an aisle lined with gray plastic bins full of nails and screws in every shape and size. He looked everything over for a bit, before he filled a metal scoop with nails and dumped it in a paper sack.

  I was about to ask Ginger where the popcorn was when a screeching whine made me jump. A girl with short black hair and plastic goggles stood in front of the key cutting machine. The air filled with the smell of hot oil and smoky metal, and Ginger wrinkled her nose and fanned a hand in front of her face.

  The noise stopped a few seconds later, and the girl turned around and took off her goggles. I sucked in a breath.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  Angela!

  I nudged Ginger with my elbow. “Guess who?” I said, without moving my lips.

  Ginger spun toward the girl, and her face paled.

  Angela looked real surprised for a second too, then she smiled all friendly like. “Hey, Piper Lee. Hey, Ginger.” She came out from behind the counter and bounced over to us. “How are you doing? Is this your dad?”

  Ginger stared back at her, stunned. “Uh … yeah.”

  Ben looked between the three of us. “Y’all know each other?”

  Angela bobbed her head and held out her hand to Ben. “I’m Angela. We’re all in the same class at school.”

  Ben reached out his hand and said, “Hey, there.”

  The man behind the counter headed our direction. “Somethin’ I can help you folks with today?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ben said. “Need some quotes on plywood and 2x4’s.”

  “Sure thing. Come on up to the counter.” He ran a hand down Angela’s hair. “Get busy stacking that fertilizer, darlin’, and be sure to sweep up good around there after.”

  Angela bobbed her head, all sugar and sweetness. But as soon as the adults walked away, her smile turned into more of a sneer. “My uncle owns this store. He pays me to work here on weekends, and sometimes afterschool too.” She craned her neck toward Ginger. “And talking about school, how’s our book report going?”

  “G-g-good,” Ginger stammered. “Fine.”

  Angela grinned like she’d just heard a great joke, and right then is when I lost any doubt Ginger had been telling the truth about her. “Well, guess I better get back to work.” She paused long enough to give us a sly look. “Oh, and sorry if you wanted popcorn. We’re fresh out for today.”

  I bristled.

  Ginger looked like she wanted to cry. She crept over and stood next to Ben, who was pouring over the numbers Mr. Griffon tapped into his calculator.

  I followed her up to the counter and nudged her with my elbow. “Come on, we can still get gumballs. I brought quarters.”

  The gumball machine was in the shape of a Mickey Mouse head and loaded with hundreds of brightly colored balls. I stuck a quarter in and cranked the knob, and a bright purple gumball dropped into my hand. “Mmm, grape,” I said, handing Ginger a coin. “See what you get.”

  “I really hate her,” she whispered, taking the quarter.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said.

  Ginger twisted the knob and got a hot pink gumball. She popped it in her mouth and her cheek pouched out like a chipmunk. She looked surprised when I handed her another quarter. “Go ahead,” I said. “I brought four. That way we can each keep one for later.”

  I pointed to a black gumball nestled up near the glass. “Looky there, I’ve never seen a black one. Must be
licorice.” I was sorely tempted to shake the machine to see if I could make the black one drop down near the opening, but figured I better not with Ben and Mr. Griffon standing so close. I ended up with a yellow one instead. Ginger’s was white with pink speckles.

  Ben stepped up behind us. “I’m gonna pull the truck around back,” he said. “You kids wait in here.”

  Ginger tensed up a little as he and Mr. Griffon walked out the door. She glanced over her shoulder.

  Angela was stacking little bags of fertilizer below a shelf of ceramic garden pots. She gave us a snotty look. “Uncle Griffon lets me get gumballs outta there whenever I want. I don’t have to pay for them.”

  I took a closer look at the Mickey Mouse head. “How’s it open?”

  Angela snorted. “You think I’d tell you?”

  I started toward her, but Ginger put a hand on my arm. “Leave her be, Piper Lee. She might do somethin’ to you.”

  “Just let her try,” I said, and pushed her hand away. I walked over to Angela. “So how much does your uncle pay you to work here?”

  “Six dollars an hour. Plus all the gum and popcorn I want. Bet you wish you had a job.”

  I chomped down on my gumball and got a fresh spurt of grape. “How do you know I don’t?”

  “Do you?”

  “No. But if I did, it sure wouldn’t be handlin’ cow poop.”

  She scowled. “I don’t handle cow poop.”

  I gestured toward the pile of bags containing Walt’s Best—premium, organic fertilizer. Flopped sideways and drooping, they looked like they were about to bust their seams. “What do you think fertilizer’s made of?”

  “Dirt.”

  “Soil’s dirt. Fertilizer’s cow poop.”

  Angela glared at me for a few heartbeats, before breaking into a sweet smile. “Well,” she said, “guess if anybody knows about cow poop it’d be a Southern hick like you.”

  Heat burned my neck and rushed right up to the tip of my ears. The jangle of the door bell is the only thing that kept me from slapping her right then and there. All three of us turned to see Ben and Mr. Griffon come back inside. The phone rang.

  “Hey, Angela,” her uncle called. “Come grab the phone so I can ring up Mr. Hutchings.”