Mom's the Word

by Marilynn Griffith

  “I just don’t see how this could have happened. I came to you for a prescription. It didn’t do what it was supposed to do. This never would have happened in New York.”

  The doctor smiled. “God is in New York, too, I’m afraid. We know a lot of things about the human body. We’re learning more everyday. Sometimes, though, things just don’t cooperate exactly. What you thought was your cycle was probably the baby implanting itself. It happens.”

  It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to her.

  “Thanks, Doc. We appreciate you getting us in so quickly. I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of you, huh?”

  Dyanne shut out her husband’s chitchat with the doctor and retreated into her own thoughts. She’d been so confident a month ago that she would be a good mother, so sure that having a baby was the right thing to do. Now, she wasn’t sure about anything except that this was not at all the way she’d wanted to feel about finding out she was pregnant for the first time.

  What’s wrong with me? Dyanne wondered. How ungrateful and foolish she must seem. Women all over the world were wanting babies at this very moment. Praying to have them. She’d been one of them just a few weeks before. She’d mourned the months when no one had proclaimed her pregnant as the doctor had done today. She’d even envied Karol Simon and thought her silly for struggling with motherhood. Now she wondered how her neighbor had ever managed to get through all this three times and keep her sanity.

  “Come on. Let’s get you home,” Neal said, helping Dyanne up out of the chair.

  “Oh, please. Don’t talk to me in that tone. It’s just morning sickness, for goodness’ sake. Nothing a little spinach and mango can’t cure.”

  “Did you really keep that down this morning?”

  “It’s the only thing I can keep down. Fallon finds it quite amusing. Don’t you dare laugh.”

  He dared. “I want you to know that I’m sorry for how I handled all this. Going back and forth about it. I should have just respected what you wanted in the beginning. That way, this could have been a happy day for you.”

  Dyanne squeezed her husband’s hand and leaned into his shoulder, but she didn’t respond to his remark. She wasn’t sure if there was anything Neal could have done that would have made a difference. Like everything else on her life list, Dyanne had gone after what she wanted—and gotten it. And for once, she wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.

  “He hates it.” Ryan announced Steve Chaise’s opinion of Fallon’s book with a flat, bored voice. The verdict had forced its way through the fax machine just sixteen minutes after the first chapter had been sent.

  Good but not great. She’s trying too hard. I need Fallon to be Fallon, but sharing her faith. Work on it and get back to me. Don’t play it safe. Not this time.

  Usually, Dyanne would have spent half the day trying to figure out how to break the news to Fallon. Now she had to get it out before she found herself head down in the toilet losing her lunch. Ryan, who’d read the pages as many times as she had, picked up the originals and scanned them again as though assessing them once more.

  “What do you think?” she asked before biting the bullet and heading downstairs.

  Ryan put the pages down. “I think he’s right, based on that chapter. I’ve seen more of the book and things really do open up a lot later. Have you noticed that the pages since your Dad got here are a cut above the others? I mean really. She’s in a good storytelling groove now. The faith seems more inherent instead of just tacked on like she remembered it was supposed to be a Christian book.”

  Dyanne nodded, pausing again to remind herself that this was the neighbor boy from next door and not some publishing mogul. Though in some ways everything in her life seemed out of control, she had to admit that God had been doing a great job in a lot of areas, too. She’d worried that helping out with Karol’s kids would keep her from getting Fallon’s book done, but the truth was she would never have been as far along as she was without Ryan’s help. As for his comments about the book, she totally agreed.

  “It’s true. I really like the pages from the past four or five days. The story of how she became a raw foodist—”

  “Except when she’s not a raw foodist!” Ryan echoed one of Fallon’s most famous quotes.

  “Exactly. I was thinking last night that this second section is less of a self-help book and more of a memoir.”

  “Yes! That’s what it is. A memoir. Wait. Give me a pen.” Though Ryan could use the computer fairly well for a boy heading into middle school, when it came to book talk, he most often asked for a pen to scribble down something and pass it to Dyanne for her approval. This time, he seemed to be writing forever.

  Dyanne’s stomach had started its afternoon gymnastics session when Ryan finally passed her the notepad. There were several scratched-out phrases, circles, stars and arrows that Dyanne couldn’t follow, but the final result was boxed at the bottom of the page with, “What do you think? New Title?” scratched beside it.

  “The Green Grandma’s Guide to God, Mangoes and other Miracles,” Dyanne said slowly, already starting for the stairs. “I get where you’re going, Ryan. I don’t know if this will be the final, but I’m feeling it.”

  He smiled and started down the stairs behind her with his hands jammed into his front pockets in satisfaction. “I was thinking sort of Sweet Potato Queen vibe, but not, you know?”

  She paused on the stairs. Until three weeks ago, the boy had only read classics, Christian novels and some fantasy here and there. Now he was doing market analysis like a professional. “I think you’ve spent too much time on our bookshelves. That one might be over your head.”

  He agreed. “Just scanned it.”

  Downstairs, they found Fallon, Judah and Dyanne’s father cooking chicken and rice seasoned with the herbs from Fallon and Judah’s latest project—a herb garden. She could tell from their expressions that they were about to ooh and ah her about being pregnant and insist she sit down and all that other foolishness, so she cut right to the point.

  “Steve Chaise isn’t too hot on the first chapter. Doesn’t think it’s genuine. Says it’s forced and too safe. Doesn’t sound like you. I think you should consider his—”

  “He’s right,” Fallon said, stirring fresh lemon balm and garlic into the rice. “Kelvin and I have been talking about it this morning. He thinks my stories are my strength. I suppose I use them more in my speaking than my writing. What do you think?”

  Dyanne smiled. Her father grew more useful every day. “I agree—”

  Fallon waved her publicist away. “I was talking to Ryan. Speak up, child. You’re the boss here, you know.”

  Though it was obvious he wanted to answer, Ryan’s good manners won out. “I’ll let Miss Dyanne answer that. We had a discussion before coming down.” He took a step back.

  Reverend Kelvin gave the boy a nod of approval.

  “All right, Dee Dee. Hit me with it. I thought the kid would at least take it easy on me. You’re a pistol when you’re not pregnant. I know you’re going to take me through it now.”

  Dyanne took the seat that her father held out for her. Protesting any longer would only make him insist more vehemently. “Sorry if I’ve been snarky, Fallon. I don’t mean it. Bear with me. It’s getting better.”

  “You’re doing fine, sugar. Don’t pay me any mind. That’s my nerves talking.”

  They both laughed, Dyanne knew that Fallon had a point. Neal had been walking around on eggshells, too. She’d have to pray harder and get more sleep. Sleep and food were the big ticket items these days. “Ryan and I both like your latest pages the best. I think it starts heading to a good place in chapter three or so and just gets better from there. What do you think about a memoir instead of your usual type of work?”

  Fallon stopped stirring. “A memoir? Oh, I don’t know. Those always seem so…egotistical.”

  It wasn’t easy, but Dyanne managed not to laugh in Fallon’s face. “I’d say that you have a healthy ego, so that shouldn�
��t be a problem. It doesn’t have to be your whole life story. More like your take on life. A series of essays and stories. Your thoughts on God, vegetables and love.”

  Ryan whipped out his notebook and started scribbling again.

  Reverend Kelvin smiled. “I think it’s a wonderful concept. It could also fit with your nonprofit, once you figure out what it’s going to be. God, vegetables and love is a good place to start. If someone could teach children just about those three things, the world would be a different place.”

  Dyanne wanted to hug her father as she watched Fallon’s conflicted face become peaceful.

  Judah, who’d been shucking peas intently into a bowl and taking in their every word, lifted his head only when he’d set the last one free from its pod. “Put some recipes in there, too. You’re good with food.”

  Fallon let the spoon slide into the pot and put a hand on her hip. “That child done opened it all up for me now. If y’all need me, I’ll be in the office. Kelvin, will you finish up this rice for me?”

  The reverend had already picked up the spoon. “I’ve got this. You just cook up something good on that computer. Go on now. I’ll bring you some food up later.”

  “Bring me some, too…” was all Dyanne could get out before she made a run toward the hall. As she banged through the bathroom door, she heard Fallon giggling on her way up the stairs.

  While Fallon was great for comfort or a quick meal, there were many things about having babies that she just didn’t know.

  “Even if I’d had a child, everything has changed so much these days that it seems totally different from what I remember when my sisters and friends were having children,” Fallon said after another round of Dyanne’s anxious questions. She was going to recommend that Dyanne call Karol Simon next door, but Dyanne didn’t want to be a bother.

  Karol saved them both when she came over uninvited and smiling with a basket of hot muffins. “Look, I hate to barge in, but I know how it was when I was pregnant the first time. I’m no expert, but I just wanted to let you know that you can ask me anything and I’ll find out if I don’t know. We’re up late so call anytime. If you need me to run errands for you when I go in town, I can do that, too. Anything. Just let me know.”

  Dyanne bit into a muffin and started in on her questions: “Why does my belly itch? Should I keep working out? Can I really breastfeed for as long as they recommend? Are these colors right for the nursery?” On and on she went, until she stopped herself. “I sound like a bride, don’t I? Planning her wedding.”

  Karol laughed. “A little. It’s sort of like that in a way.”

  Fallon made tea and they sorted through paint chips and swapped wedding stories. Dyanne paused a little before sharing hers. “We got married at the courthouse. It was very romantic really. Neal had told me that he’d marry me after graduation, so we’d gotten some of the things we needed and were in the planning stages. Then he got accepted to grad school and I got my job and…we just got married.”

  “I love it!” Fallon clapped her hands together. “People do all that uptight planning and end up divorced before the wedding is paid off. We could use a little spontaneity now and then. Well, I can, anyway. You, Dee? I’m not so sure. If I’d known the Mango Man back then, I might have given him some different advice. I’m just glad that we’ve got you now.”

  Karol smiled. “Yes, I really am glad. I’m so excited for you, too. I know on the phone you sounded hesitant in giving me the news about the baby, but I really am happy for you. We all are. It’ll be wonderful to have a baby around this place again. We’ll try not to spoil your little one.” She took another sip of tea.

  Fallon crunched a biscotti she’d unearthed somewhere. “Speak for yourself. I’m going to spoil that kid rotten, right, Dee?”

  The women’s voices folded around her against the cold of her own expectations. She held their words tight and close, especially Karol’s, who seemed so convinced that Dyanne could and would make a good mother. Each day, Karol came back, bringing a little something to smooth Dyanne’s way—sometimes it was as simple as a roll of paper towels to clean up the last meal she’d lost, but she always made Dyanne feel as if she wasn’t alone, as if she’d crossed over into the sorority of motherhood.

  It was only after getting to know Karol better that she realized this group wasn’t as organized or well-outfitted as she’d supposed. What they did have, these mothers, was stronger than most anything else, a love different from what a woman felt for her husband, her siblings or even her own mother. It was a fierce and covering love, Dyanne knew, even if she was only starting to feel the flow of it. It came more slowly than she would have liked, but it came, often after holding hands in prayer with Karol Simon.

  Son Scribbles

  It seems like only yesterday you bounced past me, trucks in both pockets of your kindergarten coat. I thought you’d be short forever, following behind me.

  What a fool I was.

  I follow now, seeking the endless curiosity walking proud on forever legs. You are becoming defiantly handsome, strangely beautiful and eagle-eyed enough to see the strings to all my puppets. You know how I throw my voice, hide my soul.

  My faith-paint peels away under your unflinching gaze, but love me

  Anyway. I know I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you, the long, lean reflection of the best of me.

  Just when I feel hopeless, you look up from dragging dreamy fingers

  In the sand and tell me to go in peace, to rest in the grace that is you.

  —Karol, day 19, for Ryan’s birthday

  Chapter Sixteen

  Karol’s twenty-one days weren’t quite up, but Rob agreed to let her be Mom for one day. Ryan’s birthday. It had taken much more heart and hurt than she’d thought it would to rewrite the book that now rested in her hand. The cover was cool and hard, just as she’d always thought it would be. What she hadn’t expected was the rush of emotion when Rob cracked the spine, read the first words.

  “It’s so good. Even after reading it so many times the past few days. I am so proud of you.”

  He’d seen everything in the past week, read through all the curling, pained papers beneath their bed. He’d seen all Karol’s mistakes, all her fears, all the parts of her that only worked on paper, the pieces that even she could only see on the page. He’d seen it all and yet he loved her. If it were possible, she thought he might have loved her more. The quiet confidence of his feelings now felt fierce and proud.

  That made Karol happy because it was what she’d felt for Rob all along, but been unable to express. In all those years, she thought she’d been trying to get published but her stories and poems had really just been one long love letter.

  The breath caught in Rob’s throat as he finished the dedication, a poem for Ryan. Ryan might not be able to appreciate the truth of the words until he was older and had children of his own, but that was okay, too. She liked to think that she was giving her son something that he could grow into but never grow out of.

  “This is the best gift. Oh—” Rob swiped at his eyes but didn’t actually cry “—he’s just going to love it. And that cameo of him on the cover? Priceless.”

  A week before, Neal had taken a picture of Ryan fast asleep with his head in a book and a pen in his hand. The image had struck something deep in Karol and she’d decided to incorporate it into the cover of Indigo Dawn, the novel she had just completed. There was a young boy in the novel and Ryan fit his description.

  “I enjoyed writing that poem, too. I think I’m going to do one for each of the children. Start a tradition. Poems for their birthdays. With gifts of course.”

  Rob closed the book and put it back in its nest of tissue paper inside the gilded box they’d chosen. He shut the lid carefully. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that, though. You might be busy writing another novel. You have some really great stories—”

  Karol put her thumb to his lips then brought it to her ow
n. “Thank you for saying that. For believing in me. For so long, I was bound by those boxes under the bed. I didn’t know it, but I’d put some expectation on myself and when I didn’t achieve it—”

  “Yet.”

  “Let me finish. When that first manuscript didn’t get published, I think I felt like there was nothing else I could be good at. So I tried to be a good mother, but that’s hard to do when you’re living next door to Hope. So I tried to be the best wife—”

  “And that’s hard to do when you’re married to a jerk.”

  Karol threw a wad of paper streamers at Rob. “You are not a jerk, but if you keep interrupting me you will be severely punished.”

  “Promise?” He grabbed her by the waist.

  She laughed. “I guess this is God’s way of shutting me up. Anyway, to make a long story short, I’ve decided to do what Pastor Newton spoke about last Sunday—give myself away.”

  “To us?” Rob asked hesitantly, no longer laughing.

  With a nod, she confirmed his thoughts. “To you.”

  He held her face in both hands. “But what if you’re meant for other people, too? What if we’re—if I’m not enough?”

  “You are more than enough,” Karol said softly. “If God wants me to share my words with other people, He’ll show me. He’ll show us. Until then, you’ll have to suffer through reading my stories,” she said in a low voice.

  They kissed slow and easy and held each other for what seemed like a very long time.

  “How long before the kids are due back from Neal and Dee’s?”

  “An hour, I think, but I was going to get them early. She’s hardly keeping food down, poor thing.”

  “Ryan is helping. Fallon begged me to let them come. They’re all outside. Leave them for a few more minutes and follow me.”

  “I don’t know—”