“I need my little munchkin fix,” Julia said, rushing over to the stroller to pick up Aurora.
Kimani gave her a hug and Laura guided her into a seat at the table.
“Mommy, can I get a quesadilla?” Ruby asked.
“Is that okay, Mom?” Annabelle asked. “I’ll take her over to the Mexican place.”
“Sure.” Glory sent them off with one of her last five-dollar bills and turned back to the group.
“Where’ve you been, Glory?” Leo asked, his blue eyes wary.
“We’ve been worried about you.”
Their support and enthusiasm was like a cushion around her, saving her from untold injury. Trying to keep her voice from getting ragged with emotion, Glory told them about losing Winston and getting too sick to function.
“It’s a good thing you made it here. I wish you had told us,” Laura said, patting Glory’s shoulder.
“I wanted to,” Glory said, “but I didn’t know how to reach you without coming here, and I was too sick to go out.” Glory wasn’t sure of their address, and none of them had cell phones. Natalie had explained that cells were an unnecessary expense when they lived in the same house with the people who mattered to them.
“But you’re here now, and we can help you.”
Georgina nodded. “We take care of our sisters.”
“Thank you,” Glory said. “Though I’m not a sister, you’ve always been so kind to me.”
“You’re a sister of the heart; that’s as good as it gets,” Kimani said, pressing a palm to her chest.
“Have you eaten today?” Leo seemed genuinely concerned. “You seem a little shaky.”
“I haven’t been able to eat much since we heard. I’ve been sick.”
“Your heart was broken,” Laura said dramatically, making it all sound like a poorly acted play.
“Laura, go get her a protein shake from the fruit bar. And something solid. White rice from Bamboo Gardens,” Leo said, turning to Glory. “That should be gentle enough for you.”
A wave of exhaustion hit Glory as Laura hurried off; the journey here had taken it out of her, but she needed to stay focused. This was her only chance.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Leo asked.
She did. It was rough, but she hadn’t had a chance to tell anyone what had really happened. She told them about the phone call from the Alaska State Trooper. The unpleasant phone calls with Winston’s aunt and sisters to make arrangements for a funeral Glory would not be able to attend. She didn’t have the money or the nerve to put her babies on an expensive bus and haul them down to Roseville, especially after she heard the lack of welcome in Rosalee’s voice. “I guess we could find you and the girls a motel room on the interstate,” Winston’s aunt had told Glory. A motel room! Like Glory had money to burn. The two final checks mailed by his employer—a little more than six hundred dollars—would not last her and the girls a lifetime. And the sickness. She was used to overcoming obstacles, but this dizziness and achiness and nausea was too much.
“When our spirit is suffering, it manifests in our bodies,” Leo said. “You’ve had a traumatic loss. It will take time to recover. Time and love.”
“And we love you, Glory.” Kimani linked her fingers through Glory’s atop the table. “We want to help you. Can we help her, Leo?”
“Of course we can,” he said. “We have a place for you to live. We’ll keep you safe and protected and well fed. But you will have to work like the other sisters. We can get you a job at the hotel, cleaning rooms. It doesn’t pay much, but it will cover your room and board.”
“That would be wonderful.” Glory’s heart was singing. “And I’m happy to work. I don’t care what shift, as long as someone is around to watch my girls.”
“Oh, wow.” Leo tilted his head sympathetically. “Sorry, I thought you knew.”
“We can’t have children in the house.” Kimani squeezed her hand. “We’re not set up for it.”
Glory had heard of the policy before, but they had to make an exception for her girls. “They’re good kids. Ruby is polite and independent, and Aurora is a smart little thing. She’ll learn fast. And I know how to keep them both quiet.”
“They are good kids,” Laura said.
“Everyone here adores them,” Kimani agreed. “But the house wouldn’t be safe for them.”
“Please,” Glory begged, looking from Kimani to Leo. “Please. We won’t be any trouble. You’ll never know we’re there, and we won’t stay long. A few weeks, maybe a month . . . Just until I can get back on my feet.”
“We don’t want you for a short stay,” Leo said. “We’re not a halfway house. We’re a family, dedicated to each other. If you join us, we want it to be because you’re committed, too.”
“I am committed.” Tears stung her eyes, and she hated the whimper in her voice. “I do want to stay. I need you in the worst way.” The kind faces watching her were too much to bear; she let out a sob and covered her face with her hands.
It was too much, coming so close to being saved and then being set adrift again. She tried to muffle the sound of her crying with her hands as she sensed something shifting around her.
“I’m sorry, Glory.” Leo’s voice was close, his hand rubbing her back. “I thought you understood that joining us is a way of starting over. We sever all ties with the outside world and create a new life, a good life.”
When she looked up, the sisters were heading toward the food vendors and she was alone with Leo.
“I want to start over, I really do, and my children won’t hold me back. Can’t you help me out? Can you bend the rules, just this once?”
He shook his head. “The truth is, your kids would be better off in an environment that’s designed for them. You wouldn’t send an old man to kindergarten, right? And you wouldn’t send a five-year-old to work at a job. We’re talking about the welfare of your kids. You love your daughters. I can see that.”
“I do.”
“Is there anyone who can take them for you? Someone who’s good with kids. This would be the best time to make a switch, when the children are young and flexible.”
“I tried my mother. She said no.” And maybe it was lucky. Katherine had been petty and mean when Glory was growing up.
“No one else? No aunts or sisters?”
Glory shook her head. It was useless. They would have to go back to Ellen’s and hang on in the apartment until the police came to evict them.
“I do know of a place you can take your kids. One of our sisters had a baby, and she left it at a hospital. There’s a law, I think it’s called Safe Haven, and you can leave an infant at a firehouse or hospital, no questions asked.”
She sniffed, wiping her eyes with some stiff brown napkins from the table. “And what do they do with the babies?”
“They find them a safe home. With loving parents.” He sighed. “I don’t know about you, but that’s a better upbringing than most of our sisters had.”
The sisters’ stories had reminded her of the cruelty in the world. There were the extreme cases, like Georgina’s husband, who had left her chained to a bed for a week. And the more apathetic predators like Annabelle’s string of foster parents. Sometimes people were simply not fit to be parents.
While others were made for the role. Cheerful, kind women like Miss Mandy. If only Glory could be that way. If only. But she wasn’t that patient or organized.
“I know what to do,” she said, scanning the food court for her girls. There they were, at a distant table, Ruby finishing her meal while Julia played patty-cake with Aurora. “I need to get my kids, but I’ll be back.” She looked up at him, her gentle hero. “Will you still be here?”
He gave a nod, his blue eyes holding her, bolstering her. “We’ll wait. I’ll always be here for you, Glory.”
* * *
Afterward, as Glory hurried back to the mall through a rain that smelled of wet cement and chalky soil, she thought of how good this would be for her girls. Ruby woul
d never have to know the tragic circumstances of her father’s death, and she would have a bright future ahead. Miss Mandy had thought she was developmentally ahead of her class, so she would have no trouble switching to a new school. Aurora was so young, she would adjust easily to another mother’s loving care.
Leo had been right; the timing was perfect. The switch had to be made now, while they were young and able to bounce back. He was right, despite the voice that wailed deep inside her like a repeating siren telling her to go back. Go back. Go back.
This didn’t feel completely right. When she misjudged a curb and flew to one knee, smacking her hands on the pavement to stop the fall, she wondered if it was a sign to go back.
Gathering herself, she caught her breath and looked around. No one had come rushing to help her. No one cared.
But Leo and the sisters, they would pick her up and protect her.
Everyone needed someone to watch over them. Right now that was the most powerful gift she could give to her daughters.
PART 2
THE SHAPE OF TEA LEAVES
CHAPTER 17
Twelve Years Later
Polynomials are your friends, Ruby had texted to her friends, trying to help them with the algebra homework. When you’re factoring them, just look for the “a,b” and you’re home free. She had even gone over the first three homework problems with Delilah Thorn, who hated asking questions in class and counted on Ruby to explain things to her. Algebra wasn’t hard for Ruby. She got it.
But now the numerals and variables seemed indecipherable as she stared at her open book on the kitchen island. She pretended to be working while Dad emptied a bag of greens into a bowl and tossed in some cherry tomatoes. From what she’d seen, dinner was going to be weird, but no one really cared if Dad made a grass salad and burned the pizza. They were all sick over the news.
She pressed the sharp edge of her polka-dot notebook under the nail of her thumb, worrying it there so that the pain alternately stabbed and abated, a tidal surge of sensation. Better that than the raw pain of Aurora’s jagged sobs from the bedroom, or the sad resolve in Mom’s eyes, or the awkward beatbox sounds Dad made as he moved about the kitchen.
“I wanted to talk to you alone,” Mom had said, taking a seat on the stool beside Ruby. It was strange enough for Mom to be home from work when Ruby got out of school, let alone changed from her work clothes into jeans, thick socks, and a fleece jacket. But for Mom to sit down in the afternoon, when there was a dinner to be prepared and mail to sort through . . . Ruby had known something was wrong. “You’re a lot more stoic than your sister,” Mom went on, “but I know you’ve got a huge heart under that façade. I wanted to give you a chance to ask questions. Dad and I just met with the doctor and found out I have breast cancer.”
After hearing the word “cancer,” Ruby had struggled to process the details. Head down, she had let the curtain of crimped curls fall over one eye, trying to hide her fear while Mom had put her usual positive spin on news.
A silver lining! They’d caught it early. She had the best doctors in Portland. The prognosis was good. They’d moved up her surgery date to November, after they celebrated Diwali, but before Thanksgiving. Mom’s mother, Rima, would come stay with them while she was recovering. Mom kept saying how fortunate she was, having a supportive family and great medical coverage.
Ruby didn’t think she was lucky at all, getting cancer after she ate healthy, mostly fruits and vegetables and a few Indian dishes with meat, and went to Zumba classes and walked all the time with Dad. Tamarind McCullum was in better shape than most of the moms in West Green. Strong and tall and more beautiful than any of the stars of the Bollywood films that Ruby had seen at Nani Rima’s house. Ruby had to work with a flatiron to make her rippling hair as silky and straight as her mom’s. Which made sense, since Ruby was adopted and didn’t have the same genetics. Ruby and Aurora knew the facts of their births, and yet Aurora often whined about how much she wished she were a real McCullum, half-Indian so she could look more like Mom, and with the lithe athleticism from Dad’s side of the family. Aurora acted as if their parents could magically rearrange her genes to match theirs and hand it over in a box with a bow for Christmas. Plus Aurora was too self-centered to see that it bugged Mom, who always insisted that the girls were real McCullums. Aurora could be such a brat.
“Is there anything you want to ask me about?” Mom had said. Her dark eyes had been round as quarters, her tone thick with encouragement that rang false to Ruby. She could feel Mom’s fear radiating like a sunburn beneath her clothes. And if Mom was scared, how was Ruby supposed to feel?
“Are you going to need chemo?” Ruby had asked. It was a fake question meant to replace the bazillion questions she couldn’t ask. Like, What if you’re not okay, Mom? What if you can’t beat the cancer? What will happen to Aurora and me? Sure, there was Dad, with his Men’s Wearhouse “dress casual” shirts and slacks, his cool squint when he stared at the computer screen, his goofy attempts to make his daughters smile. He was good for a father, but he didn’t really know what was going on in the house or in their lives.
“I might need chemo after the surgery,” Mom had said.
“That’s down the road a bit. Right now I’m going to focus on the surgery, okay? Any other questions?”
Ruby shook her head. She didn’t think she could talk anymore without her voice cracking, and she didn’t want to fall apart now, in front of Mom. The least she could do was pretend that everything would be all right.
Mom had given her a big hug and told Ruby how proud she was to have two smart, caring daughters. “Don’t be afraid to talk to me about this anytime you want. I love you,” Mom had said. That made Ruby’s mouth pucker.
“Love you, too.”
“Now. I’m counting on you to calm your sister down after she hears the news. I’m afraid she’s going to freak out.”
“She’s such a drama queen.”
“Your sister is fire, and you are ice. Someday you will come to appreciate each other.”
Ruby didn’t think so, but she didn’t argue with her mom. After another hug she turned back to stare at her algebra homework while the family drama unfurled. Aurora blew in the side door, yelling, “Mom? I told you I needed new soccer cleats.”
“What’s that?” Mom headed toward the laundry room as Aurora held up a muddy cleat with the toe flapping open. Mom laughed out loud. “Oops.”
“I told you! It opened up halfway through practice and I had to sit out because Coach Kazz was afraid I would trip.” Aurora disappeared again to strip off her dirty clothes.
“Sorry about that!” Mom called after her. Ruby thought Mom was way too nice to Aurora. “I guess there’s a shopping trip in your future.”
“Tonight?”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
“But I need them for practice tomorrow night. What’s for dinner?” Aurora asked, reappearing in her Under Armour shorts and top.
Dad came in behind her, carrying a grocery bag. “I told you, I’m making a homemade pizza. I got the dough at the store.”
“Are you putting vegetables on?” Aurora lamented.
“Only on half. Your half will be pepperoni. It’s gonna be great.” Dad’s enthusiasm only highlighted the weirdness of the day. He was trying too hard. Beatboxing something about rolling in dough, Dad washed his hands and got started.
Mom followed Aurora back to her bedroom while Ruby stayed in her spot at the kitchen counter, pretending to do homework that was probably not going to get done tonight with this crushing news and the fear stabbing through her chest. She allowed herself a dark fantasy of failure. What would happen if she showed up to class without her homework done? It made her tremble inside to think of getting an F on anything. When you were a straight A student, people didn’t understand how close you came to falling off a cliff every time you made a mistake. Fighting failure was a daily battle.
“Oven preheated,” Dad said aloud. “We are ready to load the pizza.” H
e opened the oven door and stole a sliver of cheese before gripping the pizza tray.
Ruby could feel the blast of heat from where she sat behind the island. “You should use an oven mitt.”
“I got this, honey.” He slid the tray in, flinching as one hand nearly grazed the side of the oven.
“Oh my God, Mom, no!” Aurora’s voice seeped down the hall, followed by the sounds of her sobs.
“You know, Rubes, I’m proud of you for keeping your cool,” Dad said. “Mom’s going to be fine, and Aurora will pull herself together, too. She’s just got a different way of processing things.”
“I can’t!” Aurora’s wail from down the hall underlined Dad’s point. “I just can’t, Mom!”
“Honey, wait. Let’s talk about this.” Mom’s voice was elevated now.
“That’s what I’m doing!” Aurora whined.
“I wish she would shut up,” Ruby muttered to her father. “She always makes everything about her.”
“It’s annoying, I know, but it’s her way of venting.”
“I’m going to finish in my room . . . where she’s not venting.” Ruby gathered her books just as Aurora stormed into the room, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Mommy is sick!” Aurora whined. “What’s the matter with you guys? Am I the only one who cares about this?”
“Of course we care.” Dad came out from behind the counter and put his hands on Aurora’s shoulders, as if she were a rising bubble he needed to push back to earth. “We share your concern, Rory. We’re all worried about your mom, but we’re going to do our best to support her and nurse her back to health when she needs us.”
“But it’s awful!” Tears glimmered in her eyes as Mom appeared in the hallway. “Cancer! It’s so scary. My friend’s mother had cancer. Gia’s mother. I think it was breast cancer, too. She died.”
“Would you shut up?” Ruby couldn’t believe her sister would say that.
“I’m the only one here who’s talking about it, while you guys sweep everything under the rug.” Aurora pressed a hand to her chest, as if she were miming heartbreak. “What’s wrong with you?”
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