We walked down that hall together until we got to Judy’s room.
She looked at me, her uncertainty reminding me of the moment when I put my wedding veiled hat on her pretty head at my wedding. I wished I had that thing with me, because she needed something to protect her, but all she had today was her dad, and me.
“You ready?” I asked. “Once you are inside the room, you’ll notice other things besides all the hospital stuff. It’s really a happy room, once you look around. She’s comfortable, I promise.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s okay,” I said. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, Peyton. You can do this, and you’ll be glad you did.”
She smiled, still unsure, but stepped across the threshold.
Inside, Judy, dressed in one of her fringe-trimmed rodeo queen outfits, was sitting on her bed. Keith was seated at the little table in the corner drinking water from a purple tea cup. It made Peyton smile, albeit a bit wobbly. Her eyes were glued to Keith’s, afraid to look at her mother sitting on the edge of the hospital-looking bed.
“Girl. You came!” Judy exclaimed.
Peyton’s eyes grew wide.
“Sweet girl,” Judy said. “And there’s baby.”
Peyton turned, her mother wasn’t looking at her, but at the picture of Peyton and Stevie on the desk.
Peyton whispered to me. “Did you give her that?”
“No. She had it already when we found her here. When your dad found her.”
That made Peyton smile a little more, but it quickly faded. Her lips trembled. This was not the mother she’d dreamed would come back someday, and it would take some getting used to, definitely more than two visits. I wanted to help, but I followed Keith’s lead and went to sit down beside him.
“That little girl in that picture, she’s my girl,” Judy said.
Peyton stared at her in the way that a kid might stare agape at a stranger, only I didn’t chastise her. She stood, her little body shaking, and I was sure that girl’s knees were going to buckle.
“My girl, my cowgirl, used to cry when she was tired, but you know what I told her?” She looked at Peyton then.
Peyton gave a slight shake of her head.
“Cowgirls don’t cry,” Judy said.
But they do.
Peyton didn’t cry, though. She smiled.
“My mom, I mean you, used to say that to me, too,” she said, her voice shaky.
I glanced at Keith. He nodded.
Peyton stepped close to the bed. Judy was looking at her in that way where she cocked her head sideways like a child. Peyton was looking at her the same way, and then I saw the resemblance in Judy. That mouth, the perfect nose, the olive skin. Judy’s eyes widened for just a moment, and Peyton’s did, too. I wondered what was going on in both of their confused minds. Judy continued to look at Peyton, her eyes wide, but Peyton regained her composure and gently sat down beside her mother. Her mother rested her hands on either side of her and I knew she wasn’t there right now. Her mind did that, wandered off into places we had no idea about. It was probably just as well, because that was when Peyton reached up and awkwardly wrapped her arms gently around her mother, rested her head on her mother’s shoulder and stayed there. After a while, a long while it seemed, Judy raised one hand and began to pat Peyton’s hand. Her eyes were far, far away, but Peyton’s were looking in the dresser mirror at the image of herself with her mother. It was sad, but also precious.
When Peyton glanced at Keith and then at me, I held up my cell phone, a question in my eyes. She nodded, and I snapped a picture of those two. At the exact same time, Judy turned to stare at her daughter. I don’t know if she recognized Peyton or not, but when we looked at the picture later on, there was a slight smile on Judy’s face.
“I want to call her Judy,” Peyton said.
We were back home and I was busy cleaning the house and obsessively checking my hospital bag. It would be any time now. I would not be able to chaperone Peyton’s dance that was for certain.
“That’s what she calls herself,” Peyton said. “So I’ll call her that. She won’t understand why I’d call her mom.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” I said, proud of her sudden maturity.
Over the last couple days, she opened up about how she felt, and she found little ways to deal with what was obviously a complex and difficult truth about Judy. Sometimes, she jokingly called her dad, “Cowboy Man,” which made us all laugh, mostly because it made her laugh. Once she walked into the kitchen in one of her mother’s old rodeo outfits when Kim came to pick her up for another visit to Cottonwood Manor. We had all stopped talking, stunned. It was almost as if Judy, as Violet, had walked in, so striking was the resemblance to Judy’s younger, healthier self. Keith had told her she looked beautiful and Kim had given her a gentle hug.
Over the past week, she seemed to be at peace with Judy’s situation, although we couldn’t be sure. It was still pretty early, but it appeared that she wanted to see the silver lining of it all.
“Let’s go comb the horses,” I said when she was having a really good day.
“Are you sure you feel up to it?” Peyton looked doubtful.
“I’m sure. As long as we don’t have to ride them.”
Peyton giggled. “Luckily you have a good excuse not to continue our lessons, but after that baby is here, we’re going to try again.” I nodded my agreement, although inside I wasn’t sure I would ever be any good at riding horses.
“Honey, I’m so sorry I can’t come to your dance tomorrow night. I really wanted to boogie with you kids.”
She laughed. “Trust me, it’s okay if you don’t come.”
I chuckled at her meaning. “So you don’t need me to send Aunt Marta in my place?”
“Please, no,” she said. “I am a big girl. I’m almost fifteen.”
“You’ve been saying that for the past nine months, sweetheart.”
She giggled. “I know, but soon it will be true.”
Out in the barn, we ran the large round brushes along the horses’ sides and backs. There was even a special brush for combing their manes, which always made me think of Marta and combing the manes of our Barbie horses when we were kids.
“Peyton, there’s something I want to share with you.”
“Uh-oh. Is it bad?”
“No. Well, yes. It is not good, but it’s not bad anymore. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, Stevie, or your dad, but I just think that if we’re a family, you should know some things about me that I don’t usually share with many people.”
“Sure,” she said, rubbing the comb over the horse’s mane. I tried to relish this moment, knowing that not every moment with Peyton was going to have this oneness we were currently feeling, but I wished the subject matter wasn’t so difficult to talk about.
“Well, to start with, this isn’t the first time I’ve been pregnant.” Her eyes widened as I told her all about my other babies, and especially about the baby I held for a little while. She was crying by the time I finished and I hated to break her little innocent heart, but I felt it was the right thing, to tell her.
“Sarah,” she whispered. “Baby Sarah. It’s like I almost had a sister.”
I smiled.
“I love that name.” She hiccupped.
I did too. I named her after the nurse who sat silently outside the door of my room as I said goodbye to my baby. Nurse Sarah was older, probably close to retiring, and had been there through it all beginning to end. I’ll never forget how when it was over, she had touched my shoulder, assured me that God was still in his heaven and that Sarah was with him.
“So,” Peyton said, blinking back tears, looking at me over the back of Lizzie. “Is the reason you’re telling me this because you might lose your baby, the way you lost Sarah?”
“Oh no, baby girl, that’s not why.” I ran the comb over the pretty paint horse’s back. “Well, maybe, but I have a good feeling about it. It’s different than all
the other times before.”
Wow, I sounded like my dad. I guess all his preaching had gotten to me, but now, as I thought about Peyton or Stevie, or the baby I was carrying going through life with no faith, I could see why Daddy never gave up on me and my shaken faith. He had always been bound and determined to pray me back to it. And besides, I wanted Sarah to have a heaven.
“How do you know this baby will be okay?”
I patiently explained all the things that had happened, even the medical details. She took it all like a mature person, which also amazed me. While I believed kids needed to be protected, I was seeing with Peyton that we didn’t need to treat her like a child. She really was growing up.
“I’m going to pray for your baby,” she said.
Ah, so Daddy had been teaching her, too. I smiled.
“Did Grandpa Marshall tell you that sometimes prayers are answered in ways we don’t understand? Like when I prayed for my momma to get well and she didn’t.”
Peyton stared. “Pia’s mom said your mom was sick and that’s why she died. That’s so sad.” Her eyes held compassion.
“What did Kim say was wrong with her?”
“Schizophrenia.” Peyton gave me a sympathetic look. “That’s as sad as Alzheimer’s.”
“Yes. It is.”
“Our mothers were so young. Is it true that your mom, you know…?”
“Took her life?”
She nodded.
“I don’t know. Daddy said she didn’t know what she was doing. Maybe she did it to get away from the voices in her head.”
“Maybe it was like my mom leaving us. Maybe she did it because she thought it was the right thing.”
“Maybe. I’ll never know.”
“If she knew about her disease, do you think it was the right thing for her to do?” Peyton asked.
I shrugged. How many times had I asked myself that same question?
“I don’t know, honey. What do you think?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think it was the right thing to do. You would have been better off with your mother in your life, even if she was sick and in a home.”
I smiled. “The same as you?”
“Yes. I don’t agree with what my mom did.” Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t cry.
“Peyton,” I said. “You amaze me, honey. You know, you don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to cry.”
“As they say, cowgirls don’t cry.”
“Peyton, about that.”
She giggled. “It’s just something that my mom and dad always said, but I know it’s okay to cry. Right now, I’m just fresh out of tears.”
I stared at her as she combed and loved on Lizzie.
“That’s okay,” I said, rubbing the back of my flannel sleeve across my eyes. “Being pregnant with this baby makes me an emotional wreck. I have enough tears for both of us.”
She laughed, looking all the world like her father at that moment.
“You know what I think?” Peyton said.
“What’s that?”
“I think God brought you and me together because we’d understand what each other was going through. I mean, think about it. What are the chances that my mom would have early-onset Alzheimer’s and yours had schizophrenia, and they both decided to leave us—and both in this small town?”
“But you found yours,” I said.
“You and Dad found her,” she said.
The horse before me nickered.
“Mandy, do you think the same thing will happen to us?”
I stared at her. She was utterly beautiful in that moment and while I wanted to believe that it wouldn’t happen to her, I wasn’t sure. I prayed that it wouldn’t. I opened my mouth in answer, not sure what would come out.
“I don’t think I want to know,” she said. “Is that okay?”
I smiled, nodded. She went back to combing her horse, her eyes still bright with hope, despite the toppling of her childish fantasies. I wanted her to stay that way forever, to protect her from any harm that befell her, tear down every wall that stood in her way, and shield her from any pain that threatened her happiness. I didn’t care if she was my stepdaughter in the eyes of the world. In my heart, she was my daughter.
So, this was the feeling of parental love that Momma felt for me. This was how Keith felt about his children, and how Daddy felt for Marta and me. I thought I had known before, but in that moment, I finally understood, and I wondered if on some level it was this feeling that made Momma leave Marta and me, to protect us from the pain of seeing her succumb to her disease. I wished for a long moment that I could call her back, tell her I would have survived, just like Peyton was doing.
“I love you, Peyton.” I let it slip out. It was just a spontaneous thing that I couldn’t have helped if I’d tried.
“I love you, too,” she said.
Now, I hadn’t been expecting that.
Chapter Twenty-Four
On the night of the prom, we sent Peyton off with Estefan. I was too tired to chaperone just as I’d predicted. Peyton seemed to understand, but I was careful to put extra time into everything she’d need to get ready. I wanted it to be dreamy for her. She spun in a circle, draped in a short, flowing lavender dress that I made – and yes, that was a nod to Judy.
Keith pulled me aside. “You didn’t tell me her dress was so short.”
“Oh, stop it,” I teased. “It is not too short.”
Keith looked doubtful, but I could tell he’d handle it. He stepped between her and Estefan as they walked outside. We took lots of pictures, Stevie cried because Peyton would not take him with her, and I cried a little bit when Estefan helped Peyton into the passenger side of the truck like a true gentleman. When Keith called Estefan over before he could escape, Peyton leaned out the window and shot me a worried look. I don’t know what Keith said to him, but Estefan’s tanned face turned white, even in the fading light. I wanted to save him, but I stayed back. This was a father thing, I guessed. It was exactly what my own daddy had done before every single dance.
“What did you say to him?” I asked.
“Something fatherly,” he said.
“Something mean,” I said.
He just chuckled and walked in.
I waved them out the driveway and hobbled toward the house behind him and Stevie with plans of taking a nice long bath, but I never made it to the steps.
“Keith?” He turned, his smile faded and he ran to me.
“Are you okay?”
“I am, but…” I glanced down at the ground where a tiny puddle had gathered at my feet. The contractions hit me hard. I had been feeling twinges all day long, but hadn’t said anything because they were sporadic. The next one to hit was strong.
He rushed to open the car door. I got in. Slipping into the driver’s seat he started the car and backed out of the drive away.”
“Keith?”
“Huh?”
“Stephen?” Stevie had already skipped into the house, no idea what was happening.
“Oh yeah.” He flung the door open.
“Keith?”
He popped his head into the window.
“While you’re getting Stevie, grab my leopard suitcase beside the bed, and call the doctor before you come back out.”
“Okay,” he turned and ran.
Even with all that pain, I had to chuckle. For a man who had two children, he was acting like he’d never been through this before, and with all his rodeo trips, I realized he might not have. On the way to the hospital, I called Marta. I knew she would call Daddy.
“Should we call Peyton?” Keith asked.
I looked at him like he was crazy. “Are you nuts? No! Don’t ruin her first prom. The baby probably won’t even be here before she gets home. Call her in two hours.”
“Um, okay.” He said.
“What does that mean, um, okay?”
He chuckled.
“What?” I demanded.
“It just means you’re g
oing to be one of those women when you have the baby.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A bossy one.”
“I am not, and I order you to stop saying stuff like that. It’s ticking me off.”
He obeyed, but I saw him grinning ear to ear.
I moaned. “You think this is funny?”
He grew serious. “No, not at all. I’m sorry.
He put his hand on my knee.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
“Daddy? Is Mommy okay?”
“She’s fine, honey. She’s just having a baby.”
In the back seat, Stevie clapped his hands happily. “A baby. A baby. A baby. A baby. A baby.”
By the time we reached the hospital in Pillar Bluff, I was more than ready to have that baby, and I think the baby knew. Because it didn’t waste any time in coming. I barely remember, it happened so fast after I got there, but besides how quickly the baby came into the world all shiny and new, everything was normal. Marta and our dad didn’t even make it in time, so they swung by to pick up Peyton, regardless of what I’d told Keith, and the first time she held her new baby brother, she was still wearing her prom dress.
All my grumpiness gone, I had Marta take a picture of Peyton, Stevie, and little Judson. Peyton, beautiful in her dress, sat in the middle, the baby nestled in her arms, while Stevie leaned in with the kind of grin only a five-year-old could have. Marta snapped the picture and leaned back to admire her niece and nephews.
Peyton smiled down at Judson, looked at me, and said, “He’s perfect. Just perfect.”
“I’m sorry we ruined your prom,” I said.
“Oh, Mandy.” She waved it away. “It’s my baby brother. No prom is worth missing this.”
Keith and I shared a look that said, our little cowgirl’s growing up.
“A few more days and he would’ve been born on your birthday,” I said.
“It’s okay,” she said, staring into his sweet, little face. “He deserves his own little day.”
“So do you,” I said, still tired and longing for sleep. I guessed I’d be feeling like that for quite a while. “We’ll still celebrate your birthday.”
The Real Thing Page 21
