Building a Family

by Lyn Cote

  “Mother, Dad,” Eleanor said, “this is Pete and Mike’s mom, Kerry Ann Beck, and this is Pete’s daughter, Cassie.” Everyone greeted each other.

  Eleanor watched her mother’s expression turn more and more speculative. Eleanor stiffened. Her friends had a right to drop by whenever, and she wouldn’t apologize. But that didn’t stop her stomach from knotting. Her mother only wanted her to associate with people she thought worthy. “Thanks so much. Would you like a tall iced tea?”

  “Sounds wonderful. And I noticed you have a nice patio out back. Why are we all inside on this rare, sunny afternoon?” Kerry Ann gestured toward the door.

  “We’ll be going,” Kevan said.

  “No, stay for a while,” Mavis said, motioning them to follow her outside. “I know Eleanor has plenty of iced tea and lemonade. I’m just getting to know people here.”

  Dex grinned. “Kevan has been trying to talk me into moving here, too. Says he wants some family close by.”

  “Well, I just moved here, and so far, I love this area,” Mavis said, walking to the back hall.

  John held out his arms to Cassie. “Want to go outside?”

  “Cassie, do come outside,” Kerry Ann called over her shoulder. “I brought bubbles.”

  “Oh!” Cassie launched herself at John. “Bubbles. Let’s go blow bubbles. Can Tiesha blow some, too?”

  John caught her. “Sounds like a plan.” He led the girls outside, chuckling. The Paxtons followed.

  Only her mother remained. “You seem to have a lot of friends here.”

  “Yes, I do.” Eleanor wished her mother didn’t make her feel taut and insecure.

  Before her mother could say more, Pete and Mike re-entered. Pete cleared his throat. “Eleanor, I know you’re busy, but Mike and I need you for just a minute.” Her mother grimaced and left. Pete smiled in his way that melted Eleanor’s resistance. “I think I know how we can avoid any further rain delays.”

  Eleanor moved toward him. How did he always manage to draw her nearer? “You did?”

  “I checked with the principal and superintendent of the high school. They said I can borrow the big tent the school owns for community gatherings.”

  Mike spoke up, making both of them step back and turn toward him. “Guys, I hate to interrupt but I’m heading out. I was on my way to pick up a part at the auto supply. I’ll see you two at the Habitat site if not sooner.” He lifted a large hand and left, exchanging friendly goodbyes.

  “Tent?” Eleanor returned to the topic. “You mean you’d put the tent up over the shell?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Have you measured to see if it’s big enough?”

  He pulled a folded piece of paper from his jeans’ pocket. “The Paxtons’ house is a ranch so the tent will rise to about three feet above the peak of their roof and will actually cover the whole house and—”

  “That’s wonderful!” Her mood soared. Unable to stop herself, she threw her arms around him. “I’ve been trying and trying to come up with a way to move things along.”

  She knew she should release him but couldn’t. His strength bolstered hers. “The house must be ready before Jenelle brings home their new baby in late August.”

  “Eleanor,” her father called from the back door, “should I fire up the grill yet?”

  Hearing his footsteps, she leapt back from Pete as if they’d been kissing or something, grateful her dad had come in, not her mother. Their recent near-kiss at the Habitat site flashed in her mind.

  “Do you have enough chicken for our guests?” her dad asked.

  “Yes, I think so.” She took another step away from Pete.

  Pete moved toward her dad and the back door. “I didn’t come to party crash.”

  “Pete, I’m enjoying your daughter so much,” John objected. “Why don’t you stay for a while longer?”

  Eleanor wondered why her dad had said this. Did he think she and Pete were involved? Her cheeks were flaming, a telltale sign.

  “I don’t want to intrude,” Pete said, obviously hesitant.

  “Hey, the Paxtons are making sounds of leaving. If you go, too, I’m the only guy here. Have a heart.” John grinned.

  Pete nodded, suddenly grinning, too. “Okay. If you’ve been blowing bubbles with Cassie, she won’t be ready to leave yet.”

  Eleanor watched this male bonding, still struggling with her confusion over Pete.

  “Why don’t you go outside with my dad, Pete?” Eleanor turned to the sink, wanting time to compose herself before her mother saw her again.

  “I think I’ll stay in here for a moment,” Pete said tentatively, “and help you get what you’re going to whip up and then we’ll go outside together.”

  Why did he want to stay? Suddenly, uneasiness grabbed the back of her neck.

  Deserting them, John headed toward the door. “I’ll light the charcoal, and you bring the chicken breasts out when you want me to get them started.”

  “Okay, Dad.” Eleanor faced Pete and found him much closer than she’d expected. She couldn’t be unhappy he was staying. His presence somehow strengthened her, in spite of her mother’s unspoken disapproval.

  “I like your dad,” Pete said, only a few inches from her, his breath tickling her ear.

  “I do, too,” she murmured, his nearness igniting a glow from within. A swift clutch of coldness followed this warmth. Mother will not be happy if Pete, Kerry Ann and Cassie stay.

  She’d always accepted her mother’s extreme feminism as a fact of life. Now, and not for the first time, she wondered what could be the root of this hard bone of contention between them. Why did her mother want Eleanor to remain single? Eleanor had never come up with a cause.

  When it came to Eleanor, her mother behaved like a surly watchdog, as if she had to guard her daughter from any sign of weakness or traditional femininity. I’m not a weak, helpless female. I’m a successful professional woman. What is with my mother? I’m going to have to find out once and for all.

  Kevan stepped inside, refusing an invitation to stay. He left with a friendly wave.

  Within very few minutes, Pete had helped Eleanor assemble the pasta salad. All the greens Kerry Ann had brought were freshly washed, and it took only moments for Eleanor to combine them into a large salad bowl. Then Pete helped scoop out the hard-boiled yolks for the deviled eggs.

  “You better let me go outside now,” Pete said teasingly. “I’m a fiend when it comes to deviled eggs. Not many will actually reach the table if I stay.”

  “Would you take the chicken breasts with you? They’re in the fridge in a large, clear, Tupperware bowl.”

  “I can do that.” Pete moved away, and she missed his presence immediately.

  He whistled as he carried the large bowl outside. The sound lifted her spirits higher. I will not let my mother ruin today. I’m happy Pete, Kerry Ann and Cassie have come. Why can’t I have friends that aren’t all college professors?

  It’s my life after all. Eleanor set the plate of deviled eggs beside the pasta salad in the fridge. Then, removing her apron, she brought out her pitcher of fresh lemonade and her platter of appetizers. She lifted her chin and walked toward the door. It’s my party, and I’ll have a good time if I want to.

  Chapter Seven

  After the appetizers had been devoured, John and Pete used the instant thermometer to check the temperature of the chicken breasts and declared them ready to eat. All of them sat at Eleanor’s new picnic table. Cassie insisted on sitting beside Eleanor. Cassie’s preference for her still touched Eleanor deeply. Also by request, her dad sat on Cassie’s other side.

  “You have a charming daughter,” her dad said to Pete.

  “I have a son, too,” Pete said. “He’s with his grandfather today, riding the tractor.”

  “Is that safe?” Delia asked sharply.

  “Quite safe,” Kerry Ann said. “This is modern farming. My husband and Nicky are sitting in an air-conditioned cab.”

  John chuckled. “I’ve
never been on a tractor. Do you think your husband would let me ride along sometime this summer?”

  “I’ll ask him.” Kerry Ann smiled and dug her fork into the greens she’d brought.

  Eleanor tried to keep herself occupied with being a good hostess and ignoring her mother’s intimidating and ominous silence. She had no luck with this, or with disregarding how Pete ignited her awareness of him—his every expression, intonation, movement. Too soon, the summer lunch had been eaten, and Kerry Ann, Cassie and Pete had risen to leave.

  “It was nice to meet Eleanor’s parents,” Kerry Ann said, taking Cassie’s hand. “I’ll see you at home later, Pete.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got some errands to run,” Pete said. “Eleanor, thanks again for lunch. I’ll make arrangements to bring the tent out and get it set up. Then we can finish the shell and enclose everything—rain or shine.”

  Unable to stop herself, Eleanor went to him and took his hand, squeezing it. She tried not to show how he affected her. “Thanks, Pete. This is a great idea.”

  As Kerry Ann led Cassie away, the little girl turned and called, “Miss Ellie, will you come and swing with me again at my grandma’s house?”

  Eleanor grinned, hiding her deeper reaction. How could anyone reject this sweet child? “I’ll try. Bye, Cassie!” The three of them disappeared from sight. She turned back to her parents and Aunt Mavis. “I’ll get busy and put the leftovers away. Then I’ll come back out with more lemonade.”

  “I’m sorry,” Delia said, abruptly rising from her lawn chair. “I have some emailing to do. I need to go to Mavis’s.”

  “Delia,” John objected. “Email can wait. We’re spending the afternoon, the whole afternoon, with our daughter as planned.”

  “The guests have left—”

  Her mother’s dismissal of her lit the fire. Eleanor burst into invisible flames. “We have something to discuss, something important.”

  Delia swung her attention to Eleanor, looking worried.

  “I’m adopting a child.” Eleanor said the words as a challenge.

  Mavis shook her head at Eleanor as if scolding her for lack of finesse.

  Both Eleanor’s parents gawked at her. Her father recovered first. “That’s a big decision. Do you mean a child or an infant?”

  Eleanor sank into the nearest lawn chair, suddenly deflated. “I’ve already spoken to a social worker about adopting a child from the foster care system. There are a few little girls whose parental rights have been severed.”

  Delia remained silent, her mouth slammed shut.

  How long would that last? Eleanor wondered.

  “I take it you’ve given this a lot of thought?” John asked, obviously choosing each word with care.

  “Yes. Of course I have.” Eleanor brushed back wisps of hair disturbed by the warm breeze. “I want to be a mother, but I don’t seem to connect with the kind of man I’d like to marry. And I’ll be thirty-three this December. It’s time to do this.”

  “I’m happy,” Mavis said, “that Eleanor cares enough about others to want to give a child a home and a mother.”

  Delia threw her hands upward. “Why would you want to tie yourself down with a child? You’re young. You should be traveling, carefree.”

  “I know you never let yourself be tied down with a child,” Eleanor said. The words spoken low grated in her throat. “Aunt Mavis raised—”

  “I loved my career,” Delia interrupted. “You should be thankful that I did. I tried to help you grow up to be independent, self-sufficient.”

  “Eleanor is a successful woman with a career,” her father said soothingly. “Why can’t she adopt a child if she wants to?”

  Delia turned brusquely. “She can do whatever she wants. I really must go now. While I’m here, the archeological dig in Utah needs me to keep in touch with them.”

  Eleanor rose and blocked her mother’s exit. “Mother, I want your support. This little girl will become your granddaughter.” And I won’t have her slighted by you.

  “Eleanor, I’m not the kind of woman who can’t be happy without grandchildren.”

  “That’s not the issue. This isn’t about you, Mother. It’s about the child I’ll adopt. Will you welcome her into the family?”

  “Of course.” Delia moved around her. “Just don’t expect me to don an apron and have her over to bake cookies.” She glanced toward her husband. “Mavis can bring you home with her. I’ll be in the office at Mavis’s.” With a quick thank-you, Delia hurried down the drive and disappeared around the house.

  “Why is she like that?” Eleanor asked, sitting down, feeling abandoned.

  Neither John nor Mavis replied for a few beats. Then her father came over and sat in the chair next to hers and took her hand. “Your mother loves you. You have to believe that. But there is a reason why she is as she is.”

  “What is the reason?”

  “That is something that you and your mother need to thrash out together.” Her father rose and gathered bowls of leftover food and headed for the kitchen.

  Eleanor looked across at Mavis.

  “Honey, your mother loves you. And this is something that you should have confronted her about long ago.”

  “How could I?” Eleanor asked sarcastically. “She was never around me long enough for a deep discussion.”

  And Eleanor knew that she’d avoided deep discussions with her mother, too. Their connection had been too tenuous, too insecure to test with honesty. She’d always hoped that someday she would have done enough to win her mother’s affection. And with that reassurance, she could have discussed the things that mattered most.

  Mavis rose. “Come, let’s clean up. You need to pray about this.”

  Eleanor, feeling wearier than she should, rose and obeyed. “Will you pray about it, Auntie?”

  Mavis squeezed Eleanor’s shoulder. “Honey, I’ve been praying about this for years.”

  Under an overcast sky, Pete drove up New Friends Street and parked in front of the Habitat site, ready to get the tent up so the project could catch up with the planned building schedule. Eleanor already stood near the lonely-looking, roofless shell. A few volunteers, including Dex, Kevan’s uncle, who’d come to help put up the tent, milled around in the unusually heavy humidity. Pete called to them. Soon the six of them were carrying the rolled-up canvas tent.

  With Eleanor directly across from him, Pete couldn’t stop himself from glancing at her with concern. Ever since sharing lunch with her and her family a few days ago, he’d turned the troubling impressions of her family over and over in his mind. His family had stresses. Didn’t every family? But Eleanor’s mother had seemed to him… What? He didn’t know what to call it, other than not happy. Should he say something or remain silent?

  Eleanor had helped him with his problem, and he wanted to help her. Didn’t friends help friends? And wasn’t that what he was doing today? Pete preferred dealing with real stuff, wood and nails, not all that touchy-feely stuff.

  Right now, he had to stop thinking about Eleanor and her family and start getting this tent up. First the six of them unrolled it, and then using ladders, he and another volunteer hefted it over the roof. While they were working on the supports and stakes, he managed to stand next to Eleanor. He murmured into her ear, “I’m going to Mavis’s soon to inspect her house.”

  “I’m glad you’re going to make sure it’s ready for winter,” she said.

  He nodded, unable to look away. The delicate curve of her ear had captured his gaze. “I like her, and I like her house. It was built solidly, but every house needs maintenance.”

  She made that humming agreement sound, but her mind definitely appeared to have drifted off to something else. But what?

  Eleanor had hurried home from the Habitat site before the social worker, Ms. Green, arrived. I hope I let Pete know how much I appreciated his getting that tent. But if she hadn’t, she’d make up for it.

  She walked through her house, making sure not a speck of dust remained. Thou
gh she tried, she couldn’t get her low mood to budge. Her mother’s dark presence seemed to hang over her, sucking out her bright hope to adopt Jenna, the little girl in the photo Ms. Green had showed her. Would this adoption separate Eleanor ever further from her mother?

  Eleanor was just wiping down the gleaming kitchen counter one more time when the doorbell rang. Her heart bobbed up into her throat.

  She opened the door and Ms. Green, dressed in khakis and a crisp blouse, greeted her.

  Eleanor stepped back to let her in and tried not to show her agitation.

  “There’s no need for you to be nervous,” Ms. Green said.

  “Guess my nonchalant mask isn’t working.” Chuckling with the woman helped ease Eleanor’s tension. Still, her mother’s unhappy expression kept bobbing up, cinching a tight band around Eleanor’s lungs.

  “Why don’t you show me around first?” Ms. Green suggested.

  “I just bought this house end of last year. I had been living in a rented duplex, but wanted my own home.” Eleanor led her through the living room with its redbrick fireplace and then through the dining room and kitchen, her heart throbbing with her anxious desire to please this woman. “I chose this neighborhood because it is an established one. I don’t like living where the houses are taller than the trees.”

  Ms. Green chuckled at this. “An interesting observation.”

  Eleanor showed her the three bedrooms and two baths. “This bedroom is mine. The smallest one I use as a home office and this—” she paused at the doorway of the empty bedroom “—would be my daughter’s room.” Jenna’s room. “I haven’t done anything more than clean and prime it because I would want to decorate it according to her wishes.”

  “Excellent.” Mrs. Green nodded. “Why don’t we go to the kitchen, and I’ll ask questions, and we can fill out the rest of your application.”

  The interview process went quickly, and Eleanor found herself relaxing more and more.

  “Now, it’s not necessary to have their approval,” Ms. Green said. “But I always like to know—have you discussed this adoption with your extended family?”