What Family Means

by Geri Krotow

  Talk about a lifetime ago.

  When I’d knitted that shawl for Vi, I’d been intent on proving to her how worthy I was to be Will’s wife. That I was different, and that my being white wasn’t going to hurt Will or our children, not if I could do anything about it.

  Of course, it hadn’t just been Violet’s fault that I’d harbored this deep fear of failing Will or the kids. I’d done it to myself with my constant worry that my upbringing couldn’t be overcome. That even though I’d attended one of our nation’s top colleges, I’d never get over growing up on the wrong side of Buffalo.

  As Will and I faced the prejudice that a relationship like ours could bring, I became obsessed with protecting my children from it. Too much so. They needed to know the world wasn’t perfect and that there would always be those who’d single them out for being from a racially blended family.

  Thank God times had changed!

  But I never stopped worrying about my children.

  Blair and Brian had experienced the type of racism any African-American child in a mostly white suburban setting would, but they had risen above it, and as the other kids had gotten to know them they’d gained the respect and admiration of their classmates

  Angie had had it tougher. Girls can be mean to each other, especially in junior and senior high. Unlike her twin brothers, Angie hadn’t had athletics to ease the pain of her shyness or her adolescent insecurities. Her uncertain racial identification, because of her pale skin and dark, curly hair, had made her the victim of some cruel jokes. I’d felt so guilty in those years—still did, if I examined my heart.

  But then…if I hadn’t married him, our children wouldn’t have been born at all. And Angie wouldn’t have her grandmother’s café-au-lait skin, and Blair wouldn’t have Will’s shoulders or Brian his adept hands.

  I held the shawl to my face and breathed in. I’d sat for so many nights crying and knitting my tears into this yarn. I’d longed for Violet to know the love Will and I had rediscovered in Paris. We were determined to thrive here in Western New York.

  All these years later, I no longer had to tell her. She knew.

  So why hadn’t I been able to let go of the past and my worries about the kids? They’d all grown up and were on their way to wonderful lives and families of their own.

  Angie was going to work things out with Jesse, I was sure of it. She just had to get over her fears of rejection and her excessive need for independence. Blair and Stella would have a baby soon enough, God willing, and Brian would find his life’s partner in due time.

  It would all work out. I had to believe that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Present Day

  Buffalo, New York

  WILL LOOKED AROUND the dinner table. His aging mother sat next to him, her face relaxed and her smile comfortable despite what she’d been through today.

  His daughter, Angie, three months pregnant with his first grandchild, sat on his other side, chatting with his mother.

  Debra, his wife and mate of more than thirty-five years, sat opposite him. She’d been quiet tonight, just answering a few questions here and there.

  From this angle and with the aid of the candlelight on the table, Debra looked almost identical to the way she had when he’d met her again in Paris. Her red locks were enhanced by a bottle now, but they were the same sun-streaked curls that had caught his eye in the Paris classroom. The same curls he’d grown used to gazing down at whenever he walked her home from the bus stop.

  Her eyes were beautiful seas of green that he’d willingly lost himself in thousands of times over the years.

  Her mouth wasn’t smiling tonight, though. Maybe the storm and taking care of Mama had been a little much for her. And she was worried about her exhibit, no doubt.

  “Hey, hon, how’s it going with your show?”

  “Fine. Well, I still have some work to do, but it’ll all come together.”

  Will smiled.

  “That’s what you always say when it’s stressing you out.”

  Deb offered a weak smile.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” She put down the fork that had been pushing her casserole around. “Actually, I may change it.”

  “But, Mom, your show’s only two weeks away!”

  Angie understood what her mother put into each art event.

  “I know. But all I have to really finish is my current weaving. I’m using other stuff from over the years as the basis of the display.”

  “Want to use my shawl?” Violet cackled at her own joke. The shawl was so tattered from Vi’s constant use, especially in cold weather.

  “Thanks for the offer, Vi.” Debra smiled.

  Will couldn’t keep the grin off his face. His three women all at the same table, all smiling.

  And Mama was still here with them.

  Life didn’t get any better.

  ANGIE WENT BACK to the guest room after dinner and packed her bag. Dad had brought Grandma Vi over to the house and the roads were clear. She could go home.

  The storm had given her time to rethink her situation with Jesse. It was one thing to let her pride keep her from having a relationship with him but to keep the baby from knowing his or her father—that was pure thievery.

  She shoved her few clothes and toiletries into her large tote, but her fingers paused on the ivory prayer shawl Mom had made her when she’d gone to college.

  She played with the soft wool and marveled at how detailed her mother’s stitches were. Angie loved to knit, too, but would never master the art as her mother had. Few people did.

  The shawl had comforted her through so much.

  She remembered when she’d gone to college—excited, afraid. But it was just the beginning….

  And then she’d met Jesse.

  She shook her head and placed the shawl in her tote. Work was calling, and after that she’d have to start preparing for her trip to Paris.

  Debra

  “YOU MADE A GREAT DINNER, honey.” I was already in bed.

  “Thanks, Will. I’m glad you convinced Vi to stay over.”

  “I don’t know how much I convinced her. She’s a stubborn woman. It wouldn’t surprise me if tomorrow she decides she’s going to live in the cottage on her own again.”

  I sighed and put down the latest issue of my favorite fiber arts magazine. “She doesn’t have a choice anymore, I’m afraid. You know that, don’t you?”

  Will’s face was stoic, but I saw the sadness in his eyes.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Come here.” I patted the comforter.

  Will complied and laid his head on my chest. I rubbed his arms and ran my fingers through his hair. I felt the relaxation seep through him.

  “I suppose we all think our parents will somehow live forever,” he murmured.

  “My mother will, mark my words.”

  “Aw, honey, even your mother’s getting older. We all are.”

  “Vi’s had a good life, Will. It was horrible for her to be widowed so young, but she made her choices. She could’ve remarried or at least dated.”

  “Never. Not after my father.”

  “Will, I understand that, but we all have needs.”

  Will turned his head and looked into my eyes.

  “Are you telling me that if I croak you’ll take up with someone?”

  “I’m saying that if either of us goes, then the other should know it’s okay to find someone else. It doesn’t have to be the same kind of love—it can’t be. But why should a widowed spouse be lonely the rest of his or her life?”

  Will chuckled. “You have anyone in mind?”

  I swatted him. “You know what I mean, Will. I wish your mom was healthier, but considering her age she’s done really well.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “When I was sitting at dinner tonight I looked around the table and realized my mother isn’t who I’ve had in my head all these years.” Will paused, as if putting t
he words together from a life span of memories.

  “She’s all of that, the strong, immovable mountain I’ve always known as my mama. But she’s changed, too. She’s more tolerant of the bigger issues, less patient with the little annoyances.”

  “I hope we all get to where she is, Will. Look at how much she’s grown—she was brought up to believe in the black-and-white of life, no pun intended. She’s had to adjust to, and I think she’s even accepted, the grays. That’s quite an accomplishment.”

  “You know what truly amazes me, Deb?”

  I stared into his eyes, the harbor of my heart.

  “What’s that?”

  “You.”

  “Me?” My stomach dropped a notch. Had my soap-box speech angered him?

  “Yes, you. You talk about her coming a long way—you didn’t even know ‘china’ didn’t necessarily refer to a country when I met you. You’ve dealt with prejudiced idiots from all walks of life. Yet you still have the same positive, cheery outlook that you did when I saved you from the school bus over fifty years ago.”

  “I didn’t need any saving! You didn’t save me—you watched out for me.”

  “Whatever you want to call it. I’d like to think I’ve saved you from yourself, too.”

  I told myself to calm down and let him talk. This was about Will and his feelings about his mother. But it was difficult to sit still while he turned the conversation toward me.

  “What’s wrong with me that I needed saving from myself?”

  “Nothing. You’ve just had a chance to relax the strict habits you grew up with.”

  “I don’t know. If we hadn’t married I’d still have my degrees, my education. That’s not something anyone can take from me.”

  “No, but you’d still be clipping coupons and stocking up on cans of tuna and tomato soup.” Will smiled.

  “There’s nothing wrong with tuna and soup.”

  “No, but we can afford healthy, unprocessed food. You said yourself you’re grateful you can shop at the organic store instead of the box warehouse.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And you wouldn’t have started shopping there unless I dragged you into a nicer grocery store over thirty years ago.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far…” Will was hitting too close to my emotional jugular. It’d been difficult for me to shift gears from not having much of anything as a child and student, to being able to have whatever I needed, whatever I wanted.

  Will sat up and leaned against the pillows on his side of the bed.

  “I don’t want to fight, honey. You’re getting your guard up and I’m sorry I said anything. I just wanted to make the point that I’m happy the women in my life can sit down at the table together, and the love and respect they have for each other shines through.”

  “Thanks…”

  “Come here and give me a kiss.”

  Not one to argue in bed, I did exactly that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Present Day

  Somewhere over the Atlantic

  THE FLIGHT WAS MORE comfortable than Angie had expected. It didn’t hurt that Mom and Dad had surprised her with an upgrade to business class. She stretched out in the reclining seat and watched her personal television screen. The movie was a romantic comedy.

  Since she had no idea whether her own story would end happily or tragically she didn’t want to get involved in the movie. She pressed the channel changer and an animated film appeared.

  Even the cartoon cat was pregnant.

  Had society always been this family focused, or was it something she noticed in her current state?

  “More tea, miss?”

  Angie smiled at the flight attendant. He was probably her age.

  “No, thanks. How much longer?”

  “We’re about halfway.”

  “Thank you.” The flight attendant meant halfway to Paris. But for Angie, it was halfway home to Jesse.

  Present Day

  Paris, France

  “I NEVER MEANT for our break to be permanent, Angie.”

  “Me, neither. But when you didn’t call, and you didn’t offer any resistance to the idea of me transferring to Buffalo, I took that as your answer.”

  Angie’s entire body was on alert as she sat facing Jesse on the park bench. They’d met at the airport as planned, with no delays. Their luggage was already at the hotel, where they’d stopped only to freshen up before venturing out into the Paris streets.

  Jesse combed through his hair with his fingers. His wireless glasses did nothing to hide the burning intensity of his blue eyes as he studied her every expression.

  “God, Angie.” He clasped her hands. “I really messed this up. And I don’t want you to think this is a passing phase because I’ve been around so much death and pain. I’ve also seen a lot of hope in the kids who pull through.”

  Angie smiled at him and spoke quietly. “‘Kids’? Weren’t some of them our age?”

  “Yeah, but most were just out of high school, maybe college. That’s the one big reason I was able to help so many. If it was you or I with those kind of head injuries…” Jesse’s voice trailed off and he looked at the dirt on the park’s path. Their bench was to one side, and they had a fantastic view of the Concorde Place from there, including the Egyptian obelisk.

  “I’m so sorry, Jesse. It must be really tough on you.” She took her right hand from under his and stroked his cheek. He grabbed her hand and pressed her palm to his lips.

  Searing awareness charged her hormones, already active thanks to her pregnancy.

  She had to tell him.

  “Angie, I don’t want to talk about my work right now. I want to talk about us.”

  Angie forced back the watery pressure behind her eyes.

  Jesse looked at her. “Okay. Let’s do it,” he said. She knew what it would be.

  “Oh, Jess—”

  “I think we should—”

  They both stopped and grinned at each other.

  “I’m sorry. You first.” She had to give him a chance.

  “Angie, we’ve been—I’ve been—really stupid. I should’ve considered having a family years ago. You aren’t my mother, I’m not my father. We’re us. I believe in us, and more importantly, these past three months have taught me that I don’t want to live without you. I can’t—not if I’m going to live the life I’m meant to live.”

  “Oh, Jesse.” Where did she start?

  “Wait, this is still my turn, okay?” His expression was serious, his gaze intent. “I need to be with you. I need for us to be a family.”

  When he uttered the word family, Angie felt a tiny flutter deep inside her belly, as though there was a butterfly trapped there. She gasped and put her hand to her abdomen.

  “What? Are you having a cramp?”

  She laughed. “No, no. Go on.”

  Jesse looked a little perplexed at her reaction but kept talking.

  “I’m not joking about this, Angie. We belong together, and if you can forgive me for being such a hard-headed arse for so long, I want to make it up to you.”

  She smiled at his use of arse. It was a private joke between them from their much-enjoyed trip to Scotland three years ago.

  Despite the humorous interjection, there was no doubt that he was serious. But she still wasn’t convinced.

  “I think we’re going too fast. Maybe we should wait until you’re back in the States for a few months, and this is well behind you.” She knew that people did crazy things in wartime, that they looked for emotional connections and—

  “Angie, as far as I’m concerned, we’re not going fast enough.”

  Jessed eased off the bench and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a black velvet ring box as he knelt in front of her.

  “Jesse, your—”

  “Angela Bradley Medford, will you stay with me forever and be the mother of my children?”

  Angie didn’t deserve this. After all she’d put them through, all she’d kept from Jesse th
ese past months.

  Jesse had never lost faith in her, in their love.

  She grasped his hands with hers, covering the ring box with her own hand.

  “Yes, Jesse Medford, I’ll do whatever you want, my love.”

  Jesse placed the intricately carved gold ring on Angie’s shaking right finger. He kissed the back of her hand and then looked up, into her eyes and straight to her heart.

  “When we got married, it was forever, Angie.”

  “I know, Jesse. I know.”

  He got to his feet and pulled her up next to him, and Angie didn’t care who was watching. It was just the two of them—the three of them—and a delicious kiss.

  Of course, she still had to tell him about their child.

  “Jesse, there’s one more thing. Now that you’ve, um, kind of…proposed to me again, it’s only fair to tell you that you haven’t been talking just to me.”

  Jesse frowned with that puzzled expression she adored. “Oh?”

  Confidence welled up in her. Love for Jesse and faith that he’d changed. He’d accept her and their baby.

  “Do you remember the bottle of Barolo on New Year’s Eve?”

  “Sure, I vaguely remember the bottle of wine. But what I remember clearly is you, naked, on the floor…”

  He grew silent and Angie pulled back. His body was still, his face unreadable. He blinked.

  “You—we—we’re pregnant?”

  “Yes.” Tears poured down her cheeks. And they weren’t due to the hormones.

  They came from the joy that exploded inside her at Jesse’s huge grin.

  He let out a loud “whoop” and pulled her to him, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. Her ankles hit the wrought-iron legs of the park bench.

  “Ow. Jesse!”

  “I’m sorry, Angie. But we’re going to be a family! Do you know what that means?”

  “I have an idea—and I figure we’ll find out the rest together.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Two Weeks Later

  Buffalo, New York