Not My Daughter

by Barbara Delinsky

  "But he's dead, and I'm pregnant."

  Susan looked at her. "So?"

  "And I've never met your mother."

  Feeling an odd calm, Susan smiled. "My brother's kids call her Nana. You can call her that, too."

  "But I don't know her," Lily cried. Her eyes were filled with terror--but they were still the same hazel eyes that Susan's father and her brother had. "I don't know Jackson or his wife or his kids," the girl cried. "And I'm pregnant."

  Susan took her hand. That fact was nowhere near as upsetting as her father being dead. Maybe she was simply getting used to it. Or maybe, by comparison, nothing her family could dole out at home would be as bad as the last week had been. The thought of leaving Zaganack for a few days appealed to her. It would mean missing a play put on by the Drama Club--but thinking of school gave her a thought.

  "You have that fabulous little skirt you bought for the Zaganotes, and a black sweater that hides a multitude of sins. No one'll ever know."

  Lily wasn't amused. "What if someone there has seen the Gazette?"

  "Who there would read the Gazette?"

  "What if someone asks?"

  "Why would anyone ask?"

  Lily took her hand back and tucked both under her arms. She seemed horrified. "Are you looking forward to this?"

  "Not to my father's funeral," Susan said quietly, eyes filling again as she said it. "But to fighting, yes. Weren't you the one who wanted to fight--against the Zaganotes for voting you out, against the editorial in the Gazette? Maybe I need to start by going home."

  She thought of what Kate had said. They still love you. They just never got past the anger. When they sent you away, they stopped the clock. Maybe it was time to start it again.

  "I haven't seen my mother since I was pregnant," Susan said determinedly. "I want her to meet my child."

  Chapter 17

  Kate's heart went out to Susan. To have so much happen at once was unfair. "I'm so sorry," she said. "You sensed something when you talked to your mom. But the timing couldn't be worse."

  "Actually, it's okay. You were right; the clock stopped. I do need to go back. Maybe I'm running away from what's happening here, but this also feels like unfinished business. If things are better there, great. If not, well, Lily will understand what I've been talking about all these years. It will be a learning experience for her."

  "Like working as a mother's helper last summer was?" Kate asked dryly.

  Susan made a quiet sound. "That one backfired."

  "Slightly."

  "This could, too." Susan sighed. "If nothing else, Lily will see a different part of the country."

  Suddenly Kate had the best idea. "Why don't I come? I could give you moral support. You wouldn't be quite so outnumbered."

  "You're sweet, Kate. But no. I have to deal. Besides, you can't leave your family."

  "And I wouldn't love to run away with you? Hey, I could leave Mary Kate in charge. Let her get a taste of what's in store."

  ------

  When Kate called Sunny, she was still smarting from the fiasco at the barn, thinking that Susan and Kate might have stood up for her more. Hearing the news, though, she forgot all that.

  "Omigod. Poor Susan."

  "She's taking Lily there," Kate said. "I told her I'd go with her, but she wouldn't hear of it."

  "I'll go," Sunny offered. "I'd love to get out of town."

  "That's what I said. Sad that it would be for this reason."

  Susan's father's death, PC Wool, Jessica, Dan--Sunny wasn't feeling good about any of it. Then she thought of her own father and felt even worse. She admired Susan for having courage to face the enemy. Forget visiting; Sunny refused to call her parents now, she was that humiliated by her mother's put-down. And there was Susan, going back home after being disowned. It was a sobering thought.

  "Is there anything we can do while she's gone?" she asked Kate.

  "Keep PC Wool moving. That means I keep dyeing, while you push ahead with the promo for the spring line."

  "Like how?"

  "Like adding finished items to your current display."

  "I already have some."

  "Add more. Photograph them. If Pam's going to get Cliff to sign on to an enhanced catalogue spread, let's give him a taste of what he'll get."

  "What good will it do if Pam lets us down and there's no coverage at all?"

  "Pam will come around. I'll call her. I have to tell her about Susan's father anyway."

  Sunny was happy to let her make the call. She had no desire to tangle with Pam again. Besides, with Dan downstairs watching old episodes of Law and Order, Darcy upstairs watching a Harry Potter movie, and Jessica somewhere or other out of the house, she was feeling sorry for herself. When she felt sorry for herself, she went for ice cream.

  Pam had cooked dinner for eight this Saturday night, but as she often did when the Celtics were on, she took orders for dessert and drove with whoever wasn't watching to pick it up at PC Scoops. This night, she had two other wives with her. If not for that, she might have backed out of the store when she saw Sunny. But she was stuck, opening the door before she could think of a diversion, and, within seconds, was face-to-face with the woman, who looked none too happy to see her, either.

  "Did Kate call you?" Sunny asked awkwardly.

  Pam shook her head.

  "Susan's father died this morning. She's going back home."

  "Oh my." Even beyond the death was the going home part. Susan hadn't been back since before Lily's birth. "She's such a good person," Pam said, believing it in that instant, despite what Zaganack thought. Then she remembered her manners. "Sunny, you know Joanne Farmer and Annie McHale, don't you?"

  After quiet greetings, Sunny left. Pam ordered from her list, but her thoughts were on Susan. Once home, after handing out the various sundaes and shakes, she excused herself and went upstairs. As soon as Susan answered the phone, she said, "Sunny told me about your father. I am sorry, Susan. You must be stunned."

  "At first. Now I'm just sad. The chance to make this right is lost forever. So please, Pam. Do not let that happen with us. The scene this morning really bothered me."

  Pam hadn't called to talk about that, but since Susan had raised it, she couldn't resist. "Sunny can be a bitch."

  "So can you."

  "She overreacted."

  "She's feeling vulnerable. We're all questioning the way we've raised our kids."

  "And I'm not? My daughter betrayed her friends. That bothers me." A lot about Abby bothered her right now. There was more to the story than she was telling. If Pam faulted Susan, Kate, and Sunny for not knowing what their daughters were doing, how could she not fault herself? For the betrayal alone, Pam felt incredible guilt.

  "But Abby isn't pregnant and Jess is," Susan said. "And I'm not sure I'd call Sunny's home rigid, just organized. You know where that comes from."

  Pam did, but she was still annoyed. "She needs to relax."

  "We all do. Friends are my family, Pam. I need you guys."

  Pam wanted that. In the privacy of her bedroom, she could admit it. Downstairs? That was harder. There had been talk about Susan during dinner. It hadn't been flattering.

  "Anyway, Sunny says you're going home. I admire you for that." Pam wasn't exactly estranged from her family; she talked with her mother often. But her family couldn't keep up with the Perrys. They lived by their own rules in a modest house in a modest neighborhood in a different state. The wedding had been here in Zaganack, in the backyard of Tanner's parents' estate, and Pam had spent hours making her family presentable. In the years since, she had kept them at arm's length. She was a snob, though not without guilt.

  "Is Lily going with you?" she asked Susan.

  "Not happily. She's terrified. But I can't leave her here."

  "She could stay with me," Pam offered, then caught herself. "But she probably wouldn't want to after what Abby did, but I miss their being together. I wish they could still be friends."

  "Would Tanner a
gree?" Susan asked.

  No. He would be mortified if Lily showed up on their doorstep while Susan was gone. Even Abby might not be ready for that--not that it wouldn't be a good lesson. The idiocy of the pregnancy pact notwithstanding, Abby shouldn't have betrayed her friends. She claimed she had known nothing about it last summer, but Pam wasn't convinced--and she couldn't share her doubts with Tanner. Town sentiment was running too strongly against the Tates.

  She must have been a little too slow in replying, because Susan said softly, "It's fine. Lily needs to be with me anyway. It's her grandfather who died. She has to pay her respects."

  Pam nodded, feeling awkward. "Is there anything I can do while you're gone?"

  "I'm okay, I think. Evan Brewer will cover for me at school."

  "You should have an assistant principal."

  "Tell that to the board. They were the ones who eliminated the position."

  "It was a budget decision," Pam said. "They did it at all the schools. Besides, Evan headed a private school before coming here. He has administrative experience."

  "How convenient is that," Susan remarked.

  It was a minute before Pam followed. "That isn't what I meant. No one is moving into your office while you're back home burying your father. Have you talked with Phil?"

  "Uh-huh. He said it was a bad time to leave."

  "It is." All the assurances in the world were worthless if Phil decided that Evan had done a fabulous job, even for the few days Susan was gone. If it came to that, what could Pam do?

  "I didn't plan this," Susan said.

  "I know. There's no good time for a death."

  "Will you tell the school board that?"

  Lily was asleep when the phone rang and, reaching for it, was too groggy to be cautious. "Hello?"

  There was a silence, then Robbie's deep voice. "Your light's still on. I thought you'd be awake."

  She had fallen asleep on her back. Again. Now she rolled to her left side, the one the books said allowed the best blood flow for the baby, and rubbed the spot where her ponytail had dug into her scalp. "I was knitting. I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep."

  "Are you okay?"

  No. As details of the evening seeped back, she realized she was not. "My grandfather died."

  There was a pause, then a startled, "The grandfather you've never met?"

  "Yeah. Mom and I are flying to Oklahoma tomorrow."

  "That's heavy. You should have said something when we were there."

  "We didn't get the call until after you left, and anyway, after so many things go wrong you just get numb." She hesitated. "That wasn't a fun scene tonight. Your mom didn't look at me once."

  "Be grateful. Not looking is better than glaring, which is what she does each time she sees me."

  "This baby wasn't your doing."

  "You said it was."

  "You know what I mean. Having sex wasn't your idea--but you didn't tell your parents that, did you." It wasn't a question.

  "I don't want them hating you."

  "You shouldn't have told them at all," Lily said. This baby was supposed to belong to her and her mother. As bad as it was that the whole town knew, the Boones knowing made it worse. She was losing control. She hadn't counted on this.

  "I meant what I said," Robbie declared. "I'll marry you."

  "I'm not getting married."

  "Then at least let's date."

  "So everyone at school will guess? Robbie, this baby isn't about its father. I said that the first time you called."

  "But you picked me. You could have been with any guy at school."

  "No," she said and might have elaborated, only she was growing emotional again. It happened last time she talked with Robbie, too. Then she had blamed it on hormones. This time she blamed it on the prospect of flying to Oklahoma tomorrow to meet the family from hell.

  "Maybe I should go with you," he said. "He was my baby's great-grandfather."

  Lily was beside herself. "Robbie. Listen to me. This is not your baby. It's mine."

  "You admitted I'm the father."

  "Biologically, but that's it. Tell anyone at school, and I'll deny it."

  There was a pause, then a wounded, "Is there something wrong with me?"

  "No! It's me. Robbie. My baby."

  "You're going to need help."

  "I have my mother."

  "I have money."

  "You do not."

  "I do. My mother's father left some to each of us."

  "She'd never let you use it on me."

  "Not on you. On my baby."

  "Omigod. I can just imagine it. Your mother would never forgive me then." It was unfair, Lily realized. Annette Boone had always been warm and friendly before this.

  Robbie must have been thinking the same thing, because he said, "She's not like that. She just didn't think this would happen. If she acts angry at you, it's because she's disappointed in me. This isn't what she planned."

  Shades of Susan, Lily thought. "Why is it," she cried, "that our lives have to follow our parents' plans? Why do I have to go halfway across the country to meet a side of the family that effectively disowned me because my mother didn't follow their plans?"

  Robbie left enough of a silence to give the question merit, then asked, "How long will you be gone?"

  "Could be one day, if they kick us out. Could be three if they don't."

  "Are you nervous?"

  "Terrified. I mean, like, they're going to look at me like I'm the devil--and they don't even know I'm pregnant!"

  "Will you tell them?"

  "I might. That'd really give them something to talk about." But she hoped it wouldn't come to that. Her mother would be crushed, and Susan was already bearing the brunt of this pregnancy. Lily regretted that.

  "Can I call you while you're there?"

  "Sure," she said, thinking she might need all the help she could get.

  "Will you call me if anything happens?"

  "Sure." It was going to be an interesting trip.

  "What if someone asks me straight out if the baby's mine?"

  Lily closed her eyes. "Think of your mom. She doesn't want this getting out. And think of me." She sighed. "All I wanted was a baby. How did this get so messed up?"

  Chapter 18

  It was a long trip. After driving to Portland, they flew to Philadelphia, then Chicago, then Tulsa, where Susan rented a car and drove an hour. There was a tiny inn in the center of her town, still open all these years later, according to the Internet, but if they had stayed there, news of their arrival would be all over the place before Susan could make it to the house. Her nightmare scenario had her being barred from entering.

  Playing it safe, she had booked a room at a Comfort Inn two towns over. By the time they checked in, it was eleven at night. Lily had napped during parts of the trip, curled in her seat on the airplane with her history book on her lap and her head on Susan's shoulder, so childlike that it was hard to remember she was pregnant. So Susan didn't. She turned the clock back six months and took comfort from her daughter's closeness during those moments when she wasn't obsessing over changes to the school handbook, a draft of which was on her laptop, over thought of Evan back home, over anticipation of her mother's reaction to seeing her.

  Too keyed up to sleep, Susan knitted to unwind. She had taken a skein of the sport weight wool that Kate had just dyed and was making a cowl for the catalogue spread. The pattern looked complex but was not, which made it a good project both for her now and for customers later.

  There was no e-mail, though her BlackBerry had plenty of bars. Evan Brewer had filled in for her a time or two when she'd been at conferences. Politically, she couldn't have asked anyone else to cover. He had age and experience.

  But he was ambitious. Not hearing from him made her nervous. Finally, she was tired enough to let that go, too.

  They slept soundly, took their time getting dressed, and read the paper over breakfast in a coffee shop. Refusing to think about Evan or even her
mother, Susan drove slowly, studying the landscape she hadn't seen in so long. The day was brightly overcast; she wore dark glasses to break the glare.

  "Very flat," Lily remarked. "Not as green as home."

  Much of that was seasonal, Susan knew. "We've been spoiled by evergreens. Out here, there are more oaks. Once spring comes and they leaf out, it will be beautiful. There's hickory farther east and pine to the south. Over there by the river, those are cottonwoods." They, too, were bare and bowing to the wind. "I'd forgotten about the wind. It's a prairie staple in winter." Indeed, it buffeted the car as she drove.

  She pointed to a pretty sign that marked the town line. "That's new." A minute later, they were passing farmhouses. "Those've been here forever. Farmers used to focus on cattle and wheat, but they've branched out. Poultry is huge."

  A few miles more, and the houses were closer together. They were small and single-storied, folk-style homes with additions tacked on at the back or the side. As they approached the center of town, the style didn't change, only the extent of improvements. Here there were stone fronts and two-car garages.

  Turning, Susan drove down a side street to show Lily her high school. And the house where a friend had lived. And Rick's house.

  Back in the center of town, she pointed out the drugstore, the feed store, the dress shop owned by her mother's good friend. The window display was surprisingly chic. A new owner?

  She was slowing to admire what looked to be a newly built library when Lily said a quiet, "Mom. We agreed we'd get there early. It's after ten."

  Yes. They had agreed on early. The wake ran from eleven to six, and given the prominence of Susan's father, there would be crowds. She wanted to get there before the rest did.

  Picking up speed, she drove the few blocks to her parents' street and, with growing anxiety, passed more of those single-storied homes, now of brick, until she reached the one with the gabled front, the one in which she had grown up.