Muddy Bottom

by Ashley Farley

  “Come with me. I have a surprise for you.” Taking her hand, Liza pulls her to her feet and leads her down the stairs and through the kitchen. A group of women in the café yell, “Surprise!”

  Sadie and Max are here, along with a small group of Hannah’s and Liza’s closest classmates and their mothers. Pink and blue balloons float about the room, and tables are arranged into groupings for refreshments, games, and gifts.

  Hannah is moved to tears. She turns to Liza. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

  Liza beams. “You’re having a baby, Hannah. These moments in life should be celebrated, even if they happen ahead of schedule.”

  As the group surrounds her, embracing her and offering congratulations, out of the corner of her eye, Hannah spots Max sneaking away into the kitchen.

  “I heard you got a job in California,” Mattie says. “That is so cool.”

  Hannah smiles at Mattie. She was the party girl in their group. Never very studious, but always fun to hang out with.

  “In cyber security,” Liza says in a bragging tone. “She designs websites on the side. She’s very talented.”

  “Oh, really?” says Miss Allison, Mattie’s mother and the town’s florist. “My website is long overdue an overhaul.”

  “Me too!” Miss Jenny, another mother and romance author, pipes in. “I need a website to showcase my novels. I’ve been putting it off for years. I know nothing about managing a website.”

  “Do you have a business card?” Miss Allison asks.

  “Not yet,” Hannah says, mentally adding business cards to her growing to-do list. “But I can give you my contact info.”

  Liza grabs a notepad off the coffee bar and scribbles Hannah’s cell number on two sheets of paper, handing one to each of the mothers.

  Hannah beams. “If you’d like to see an example of my work, check out the website I built for the bakery at islandbakery.com.”

  Loud knocking on the door wakes Birdie from a deep sleep. Disoriented, she sits up in bed, raking her fingers through her greasy hair.

  “Open this door, Birdie, or I’m calling the fire department to come beat it down.”

  “Go away, Max.”

  “I’m unlocking my phone. I’m punching in a nine and a one and another—”

  Birdie stumbles to the door and flings it open. “What’s your problem? I’m taking a nap.”

  “Ha. Longest nap in the history of naps. You’ve been hiding out up here for two weeks now.”

  Still gripping the doorknob, Birdie says, “Exactly. My bedroom is my safe haven. There’s no booze to tempt me, and I can’t insult Hannah with the many callous words that find their way to my lips.”

  Max brushes past her. “That’s it. Your little pity party is officially over. Your very pregnant daughter has been working overtime to compensate for your absence. She’s been standing on her swollen feet all day while you’ve been up here feeling sorry for yourself.” She jabs her finger at the floor. “Her friends are downstairs, throwing her a surprise baby shower as we speak. You’re gonna get yourself cleaned up, which includes taking a shower and putting on a nice sundress, and then go to that party like a proud grandmama-to-be.”

  Birdie glares at her. “Or else what?”

  “Or else our friendship is over.”

  Birdie straightens. “You don’t mean that,” she says, although she’s never seen Max more serious in her life.

  “Damn right I do. I’ve held my tongue long enough, hoping you’d come to your senses on your own. It is way past time for you to rejoin the rest of the world.”

  Max grips Birdie by the arm and marches her over to the bathroom. “Get in the shower. And be sure to wash your hair. I’ll pick out something for you to wear.” Max shoves her into the bathroom and closes the door. “And hurry,” she yells.

  But Birdie takes her time in the shower, relishing the warm water massaging her aching muscles. As she towels off, she feels revitalized, more human than she has in the past fourteen days. A proud grandmama-to-be. How is she supposed to pretend to be that?

  Max is right about one thing. It’s not fair for Birdie to dump her business on her pregnant daughter.

  Birdie forgoes drying her hair and putting on makeup. She slips on the yellow-and-pink floral sundress Max hands her and follows her best friend at a distance downstairs to the bakery. Hannah is opening her first gift when they arrive.

  Hannah’s friends and their mothers are extra generous in their gift-giving. They bestow expensive items on her—a stroller and car seat and bouncy seat. They feel sorry for her daughter. Poor Hannah, unmarried and pregnant. Poor Hannah, whose father embezzled money from his law firm and ran off with another woman.

  Birdie is not one to get hung up on what other people think. But today, shame simmers within, alongside the anger and self-loathing.

  Birdie forces a smile and graciously thanks the party guests for coming. She waits until everyone has gone except Max to inspect the gifts. She hasn’t spoken face-to-face with her daughter in fourteen days, and she can’t bring herself to meet Hannah’s eyes. “You certainly got a lot of nice gifts. How will you get all this stuff to California?”

  “Liza offered to drive out with me and fly home.”

  Her statement is a knife to the heart. “So, you’re still moving to California?”

  “Yes, Mom. Nothing’s changed while you were . . . um, sick. I have a job waiting for me.”

  Max pulls Hannah in for a half-hug. “But you’ll be here for a while after the baby comes, won’t you?”

  “About a month, give or take a week,” Hannah says, smiling warmly at Max.

  Birdie doesn’t remember her daughter ever looking at her with the same affection as she’s showing Max.

  With Max’s help, Hannah and Birdie move the gifts up to the living room, piling them neatly in a corner. When Max announces she’s leaving, Hannah walks her to the stairs.

  “Thank you for the shower, Max. Whether you admit it, I know you helped plan it.”

  Max cups Hannah’s cheek. “You have very good friends on Palmetto Island.”

  After Max leaves, Hannah turns to face Birdie. “I’ve been working on a surprise for you. Wanna see it?”

  Taken aback, Birdie places a hand on her chest. “For me? Sure. What is it?”

  “I created a website for the bakery.” Hannah motions for Birdie to follow her into her bedroom where an iMac computer is set up in front of the window.

  “How did you get your old desk here?”

  “Sadie’s sons helped me. One of them has a truck.”

  “And the computer? That’s new.”

  “I bought it with money I made from selling my photographs. It’s hard to design websites on a laptop.”

  Hannah has been busy while Birdie was holed up in her room feeling sorry for herself.

  Hannah sits down at the desk and, with Birdie peering over her shoulder, scrolls through the pages of the website. The visually appealing graphics stand out on clean web pages.

  “Very nice, Hannah. I’m impressed. Can customers place orders online?”

  Hannah cranes her neck as she looks back at Birdie. “The site has that capability, but we should wait until you have a process in place for filling orders before implementing it.”

  Excitement flutters in her tummy. “That makes sense. We’ll need to think it through. I’d probably have to hire additional employees.”

  “By the way, I found a replacement for Jason. I think you’ll like Amanda. She’s a hard worker.”

  “I look forward to meeting her.” Birdie reaches for Hannah’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to deal with so much in my absence.”

  “I didn’t mind. But you’re back now, though, right?”

  “Right.” Birdie smiles and drops Hannah’s hand. When she turns away from the computer, her mouth falls open at the sight of Hannah’s crib. “How’d that get here?”

  Hannah walks over to the crib, running a hand across the rail
ing. “I brought it over from the warehouse when I picked up my desk. Why didn’t you ever mention it?”

  “I never thought about it.”

  “Really? Surely you saw it when you were cleaning out the attic, preparing for the move. Are you afraid I’ll get too comfortable and never leave Palmetto Island?”

  “What on earth would make you say that? The last thing I want is for you to move to California.”

  Hannah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m trying here, Hannah.”

  “And I never stopped trying, Mom. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make a life for this baby, and you’ve been trying to get me to give it away.”

  Hannah grabs the doorknob, opening the door a little wider, an invitation for Birdie to leave. “Look, Mom. I don’t want to upset you. Please don’t go hitting the bottle again. Let’s just stay out of each other’s way. As soon I get back on my feet after the baby comes, I’ll leave town, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

  Twelve

  Hannah thinks a lot about trust in the coming days. Even though she had a closer relationship with her father, her mother was the one who took care of her when she was sick and picked her up on time from school and her many extracurricular activities. Even when her mother had a few too many drinks at night, Birdie was always up early to feed Hannah a hearty breakfast before she left for school.

  When, exactly, did she stop trusting her mom? The question plagues Hannah’s thoughts. And the answer comes to her in a moment of clarity. When her father abandoned them. Hannah didn’t lose faith in her mom. Her father is the one she no longer trusts.

  Hannah studies Birdie as she works in the kitchen—her intense focus and serene expression as she rolls out pastries—and the way she interacts with customers. The patrons enjoy talking to her. How did Hannah not know her mother was so charming and witty? Because she doesn’t know Birdie, the person, at all. She only knows Birdie, the mom. Birdie, the parent who provided services for her. Her father was the parent who provided the fun.

  Hannah tries harder to get along with Birdie. And she senses Birdie trying harder, too. The last thing I want is for you to move to California. Is it possible Birdie really means it?

  Hannah thinks often about her conversation with Liza. I love being on the coast. Salt water runs through my veins. Hannah feels the same way. The inlet is the one constant in her life she can rely on. She can count on the tides to rise and fall every twelve hours. For the wildlife to reproduce and feed their offspring. For the marsh to change colors with the seasons—from green to yellow to brown.

  With Birdie back at work, Hannah gains time to focus her attention on web design. Redoing the florist website for Miss Allison is mundane work. But building a website from scratch to showcase Miss Jenny’s library of romance novels offers real gratification. Miss Jenny is thrilled with the outcome and recommends Hannah’s services to many of her author friends. And overnight, Hannah has more business than she can manage.

  As July transitions into August, Hannah becomes increasingly more uncomfortable. She feels like she’s carrying around a seven-pound watermelon. The baby presses on her bladder, and she has to pee every few minutes. Until now, she’s gotten by with wearing her stretched-out yoga pants and gym shorts with T-shirts, but when those garments no longer fit, she rifles through Birdie’s box of old maternity clothes for the least offensive garments.

  On Wednesday of the first week of August, Max and Hannah take Birdie to Shaggy’s to celebrate her birthday. They’ve no sooner been seated at a table on the deck when Max receives a call from her night desk clerk. “I have an emergency at the hotel,” she explains when she hangs up. “I’ll come back if I can, but don’t wait for me.”

  Hannah suspects a setup. Max wanted Hannah and Birdie to have dinner together alone. The weather is pleasant and the food delicious as always. They talk about the pros and cons of adding e-commerce to the bakery website while they eat.

  “Let’s give it a shot,” Birdie says. “Worst-case scenario, it ends up being too much for us to handle and we take it down.”

  “I’ll look into it tomorrow,” Hannah says.

  The waiter clears their dinner plates and brings two slices of turtle pie. “Courtesy of Max,” he says as he lights a candle in Birdie’s pie. Other waitstaff gather around and sing “Happy Birthday” to a blushing Birdie.

  Hannah catches her mom eyeing a glass of wine on a nearby table. “Is it hard not drinking?”

  “You have no idea. But I hope you never have to find out.” Birdie sets her fork down next to the half-eaten slice of pie. “I had so much time to think while I was hiding out in my room, but it wasn’t until I came back to work that the fog lifted, and I was able to see things clearer. You asked me recently if your father was the reason I started drinking. For the longest time, I blamed my unhappiness and subsequent drinking problem on him. But the truth is, I have no one to blame but myself.”

  Hannah leans in, as close as the baby will allow. “You don’t have to tell me all this, Mom. I know it must be hard to talk about.”

  Birdie shakes her head. “I need to say it. Make no mistake, Hannah, I willingly gave up nursing to be a stay-at-home mom for you. Those were the happiest years of my life, and I would do it all over again given the choice. But as you got older, you needed me less and less. My days lost their purpose, and I became lonely, and I started drinking. I should’ve taken responsibility for my own life instead of relying on you and your father to provide my happiness. I’m only human. I make mistakes. But I am trying.”

  Hannah nods. “I can see that.”

  Birdie’s lips turn up in a soft smile. “And I can see you are too.”

  Hannah straightens in her chair. “I have my weekly appointment with Dr. Pendleton late tomorrow afternoon. If Sadie and Amanda will close the bakery, maybe you can come with me.”

  Birdie doesn’t hesitate. “I would absolutely love that.”

  The sound of her grandchild’s heart beating takes Birdie’s breath away. She heard this sound often as an ER nurse, but never coming from inside her daughter’s womb. How could she have encouraged her daughter to have an abortion? To put her baby up for adoption?

  “Strong heartbeat,” Dr. Pendleton says and moves on to the pelvic examination. “The baby has dropped, you’re fully effaced, and three centimeters dilated. You could go into labor at any time.”

  Hannah’s olive eyes grow wide. “But I’m not due for another week.”

  Pendleton removes her surgical gloves. “And it may be another week before this baby’s ready to come. But I highly doubt it.”

  After the appointment, mother and daughter walk in silence out to the car. “What’re you thinking?” Birdie asks as she drives out of the parking lot.

  “That I’m not ready for this.”

  Birdie glances over at her. “Few women are ever ready to become mothers for the first time.”

  “I’m emotionally ready. But I haven’t finished preparing.” Hannah shifts her gaze from the window to Birdie. “I’ve written all my thank-you notes, but I haven’t gone through my shower gifts or washed any of the baby clothes. The baby book talks about nesting. But I haven’t experienced that urge.” Her expression is horror stricken. “Is there something wrong with me? Am I maternally flawed?”

  Birdie pats Hannah’s thigh. “Not at all. You’re just unsettled, uncertain of where you’ll be living.”

  Hannah furrows her brow. “You mean, because I don’t have my own apartment?”

  “Because you’re moving to California.” Birdie parks the car behind the bakery but leaves the engine and air conditioner running. She repositions her body toward Hannah. “Are you sure this move is what you really want?”

  Hannah pauses for a long time before she answers. “Honestly, no. But I already accepted the job. They gave me a signing bonus.”

  “I have some money stashed away. I can—”

  “No! That’s not it. I haven’t spent a dime of the b
onus. I can give it back. Are you sure you want me to stay here?”

  “More than anything. I owe you an apology, sweetheart. I was wrong in encouraging you to put the baby up for adoption. Won’t you please consider staying on Palmetto Island?”

  “I’m not sure, Mom. I have to think about it.” Hannah gets out of the car and hurries inside.

  Birdie throws the car in reverse and speeds down the alley to Ocean Avenue. She’s trying so hard, but nothing she’s doing is working. She’s going to lose her daughter. She waits for traffic to clear to take a left toward the liquor store. Don’t do it, Birdie. Don’t go down that path again. You will lose Hannah for sure. Before she changes her mind, she makes a right instead. As she drives over the causeway to the beach, she rolls down her window, inhaling the salty air. She’s made so many mistakes, been wrong about so many things, but she’s going to survive. She heard her grandchild’s heartbeat today. Hannah’s flesh and blood. Birdie’s flesh and blood. All is right with the world. If she has to move out to California to be near Hannah, so be it.

  She makes a U-turn and drives back over the causeway, stopping in at the seafood market on her way home.

  Hannah greets her at the top of the stairs. “Where’d you go?” she asks in an accusatory tone.

  “To get some soft-shell crabs for our dinner.” Birdie holds up the shopping bag as evidence.

  “Yum. I’m going through the baby shower gifts. Wanna help?”

  “Sure! Let me put these in the fridge, and I’ll be right there.”

  Hannah and Birdie spend the evening getting Hannah’s room ready for the baby. It’s after nine o’clock before they work on dinner. Birdie sautés the soft-shells while Hannah chops up cabbage for coleslaw and butters chunks of warmed cornbread.

  They take their dinner on trays up to the apartment and sit by the window watching lightning crack off in the distance as they eat. “Looks like a storm’s coming,” Hannah says.

  “According to the weather report, it’s supposed to storm all night.” Birdie drags a crab claw through her puddle of tartar sauce and pops it in her mouth. “I have a confession to make. When I left here this afternoon, I was headed to the liquor store. But the thought of losing you for good made me go the other way. If you’re determined to go to California, I’ll sell the bakery and come with you. I want to help raise your baby. More than anything, I want to be a part of his or her life.”