Showers in Season (22 page)

“What’s going on up there?” Rick asked.

“What did Mark do now?” Annie piped in, grinning with delight. “Has he already been thrown out of the Dodds’ homeschool?

“No, he hasn’t been thrown out,” Cathy bit out, “and please pick up your backpacks and take them to your rooms.”

“Well, hello and welcome home to you, too,” Annie said.

Cathy saw Steve through the open door, shaking his head. He had heard everything, and he did not seem amused.

“Don’t talk to me that way, Annie,” she bit out. “Just do what I say.”

Rick was at the refrigerator perusing the contents. “There’s nothing in this house to eat. There’s never anything.”

“Then you’re welcome to go to the grocery store for me,” Cathy said.

“Well, if you weren’t always so busy with that clothing drive.”

“Excuse me?” Cathy yelled. “Are you seriously telling me that I’m wasting my time collecting clothes for people who’ve lost everything they own?”

Rick shrugged. “No, all I’m trying to tell you is that there’s nothing to eat in this house.”

Cathy fought the urge to sit down and cry like a baby, but she knew that wasn’t going to accomplish anything. “Rick, take your things upstairs now. You, too, Annie.”

Annie got her backpack and slid the strap over her shoulder. “You know, Mom, I think it’s great that you’re doing this to help the Nicaraguans.”

She wondered what Annie was buttering her up for, and braced herself for the extended curfew question or an advance on her allowance. “Annie, I don’t know what you’re up to, but if you’re smart, you won’t pick now to ask for boots, clothes, later curfews, or money.”

As if the garage provided refuge from the madness inside, Cathy went back to the clothing table, letting the screen door bounce shut behind her.

Steve appeared to be lost in deep thought as he sorted the clothes by size.

“What?” Cathy asked, finally. “Just go ahead and say it.”

He turned to her, his eyes serious. “You’ve got to get a handle on those kids.”

She bit her lip and furiously hung a dress on a hanger.

“Now you’re mad at me,” he said.

“I’m not mad. I’m just a little worn down.”

“Well, I don’t blame you,” he said. “I’d be worn down, too.”

She started pushing the hangers furiously, one by one. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m doing the very best that I can. I know that’s hard to believe from your position with only one child. Tracy doesn’t have a disappointing relationship with another parent every other weekend, where she has no authority and no discipline at all. From your perspective it looks like I’m just being dragged along by a runaway train.” Her voice broke off and she choked back tears. “But let me tell you something. It’s not easy with three kids and no father to help. You don’t have any right to judge me.”

“Judge you?” Steve dropped the clothes he was folding. “Who’s judging you?”

“Everybody, okay? Brenda and Tory and you…and even my kids.” She covered her eyes with her hands and tried to stop crying. “Oh, great! This is about the worst dating rule I can break. Start crying because there’s not a father in the home, and then the date thinks that you’re building a case for marriage, as if he can come in like the knight in shining armor and fix all the problems!” She stopped, stunned that she had uttered the M word at all. “Well, I’m
not
looking for marriage, okay, Steve?” she lied. “This is not a buildup for any kind of relationship. I’m just telling you how I feel.”

His face had softened. “I know that, Cathy.”

“Because marriage is the last thing I’m looking for, you know. It’s completely out of the question. It wouldn’t last two months, not with my kids in the house and some guy who wanted authority in the home, especially if he had raised his differently. Hypothetically, I mean.”

Again, he nodded. “I know.”

“Do you?” she asked. “Well, how do you know, because I probably look like some wimpy little single mom who’s constantly on the prowl for somebody to rescue her. Well, I don’t need rescuing.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“And my kids don’t need rescuing. I can lay down consequences just like I’m supposed to. I can take care of them. I can change things.”

“Sure, you can.”

She was sobbing now, and her lips curled in an emotional sneer. “I don’t need any help from their father or from you or from anybody.”

The pronouncement seemed to shake him, and for a moment, he just stood staring down at her, as if he didn’t know whether to pull her into his arms or run for his life. She turned away from him, hating herself for losing control like this.

This was probably the end of them, she thought dismally. He’d never want to speak to her again. What was wrong with her? Didn’t she know better than to throw fits in front of Steve? To snap and scream and yell, then act like a dysfunctional, heartbroken dishrag?

“You haven’t broken any dating rules,” he whispered, stepping up behind her and setting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re just having a bad day. It’s okay. I understand.”

She drew in a deep breath and wiped her face with both hands. She didn’t want him to see her like this. “I need to go in,” she said. “I’ll just work on the clothes later. The pilot doesn’t need them loaded until tomorrow. I’ll get them ready.”

She hated dismissing him that way, but he accepted it and dropped his hands.

“So, when can I see you again?”

She breathed out a laugh and turned to look at him. “You have got to be kidding.”

“No, I’m not,” he said. “Are you still coming for Thanksgiving?”

She almost laughed. “Are you crazy? You really want me to bring my kids to your house to be with your mom and dad for Thanksgiving?”

“Yes,” he said, “I told you I did.”

“Still, after all this?”

“Yes,” he said. “They’re looking forward to it.
I’m
looking forward to it.”

She wiped her face with her fingertips. “Well, I guess so then. Might as well hammer a few more nails in my coffin.”

He grinned slightly. “Cathy, you and I are okay. Okay?” He bent down and pulled her into a hug, and she sucked in a sob. “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered.

The words warmed her, but they seemed like a wobbly promise built on nothing more than sand. She wondered if things ever really could be all right again. Suddenly, she wanted to drive to Knoxville to lash out at her ex-husband, beat her fists against his chest and kick him in the shin and tell him how destructive his actions had been in their family, how torn her children were, how his absence in the home had turned them into different children than they might have been. She wanted to tell him that no one else would ever be able to take his place in their eyes, not in a real way, not even if Steve stepped in. But he wasn’t here, and he didn’t really care, anyway.

But Steve was, holding her and whispering that it was going to be all right. And she wanted to believe it. He kissed her forehead, then bent down and kissed her lips. Warm comfort seeped through her anxious, angry heart.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, then went to his truck.

As he drove off, she stood staring after him, perplexed that he would even give her the time of day when things were so complicated. She couldn’t imagine that their relationship was worth it to him.

Sooner or later, he would see things as they really were. And then they would be history.

Barry was late for supper again. Though it didn’t surprise Tory, it made her angry. She told herself she was angry for the children, who missed their dad and didn’t understand why he was behaving this way. She paced the kitchen back and forth, back and forth, ready to lambaste him the minute he came in. When she finally gave up, she fed the kids, and fought the headache bearing down on her.

After supper, she got Brittany and Spencer busy making Thanksgiving turkeys out of construction paper, and set about to clean the dishes. As she scrubbed spaghetti off of the plates and table, a vengeful thought came to her mind. The children had a right to know about their little sister. They had a right to understand why their mother’s stomach was getting bigger, and they had a right to pray for the sibling who needed their prayers.

She stopped scrubbing and regarded the two children at the kitchen counter, elbow deep in glue. Spencer had made fangs for his turkey, and Brittany was trying to convince him that
turkeys had no teeth. They were innocent, she thought. Completely innocent of the fact that children were born imperfect, that there were “options” in the world, that parents ever stopped loving each other. Should she burden them with this?

And how much longer could she keep it from them? She knew Brittany’s teacher would start questioning her about her growing stomach soon. She hadn’t forgotten the comment she’d made to her about being pregnant just a few weeks ago. She was sure the teacher hadn’t forgotten, either. She didn’t want her children to overhear teachers or neighbors talking about her condition.

No, they had a right to know. And since Barry wasn’t here to consult, she had to go with her own feelings. Both Sylvia and Brenda had warned her not to tell them without Barry’s blessing, but they both had husbands who came home for supper, who slept next to them in bed, who loved all of their children like fathers should.

“You can’t put a hat on a turkey!” Spencer was saying. “Turkeys don’t wear hats.”

“That’s a pilgrim hat,” Brittany threw back. “Thanksgiving turkeys wear pilgrim hats.”

“They do not. Do they, Mommy?”

“Hey, if yours can have teeth,” Brittany said, “then mine can wear a hat.”

Tory bit her lip as tears pushed into her eyes. How should she say it? Should she sit them down and break it like important news, or just throw it out with matter-of-fact nonchalance? Should she tell them there was something wrong with this baby?

No, she thought. That was more than a mother could break to her children alone. Tonight she could only tell them there was going to
be
a baby.

“Mommy!” Spencer insisted, and she turned to look at him. “They don’t wear hats,
do
they?”

She tried to smile. “We can pretend they do. Britty, why don’t you help Spencer make an Indian headdress to put on his?”

“Okay,” Brittany said, grabbing more construction paper.

“No,” Spencer said. “I don’t want an Indian. I want it to be a Titan. I want it to be a football helmet.”

“
Mommy!
” Brittany cried, indignant. “Turkeys can’t wear football helmets! I’m not gonna help him with that.”

“All right,” Tory said. “Then make another turkey with the Indian headdress, and Spencer can do the football helmet himself. Can’t you, Spencer?”

“That’s gonna be the stupidest looking turkey anybody ever saw,” Brittany declared.

But Tory’s idea seemed to please Spencer as he got the scissors and began cutting. “I like stupid turkeys. I
want
mine to be stupid. I’m gonna make a whole herd of ‘em.”

Tory wiped her hands on a dish towel, got a bar stool, and pulled it around the counter. She sat down, facing her children. “I’ve got to talk to you guys.”

Spencer couldn’t look up from his cutting. “Wait a minute. I have to do my helmet.”

“No, I can’t wait.” She touched Spencer’s hand, stopping him. “Just look up at me for a minute and listen. I need to tell you something. Both of you.” They both stopped what they were doing and looked up at her. Brittany had Elmer’s glue on her chin, and Spencer had it drying on his hands.

“Have you noticed that Mommy’s getting a little tummy?” she asked them both.

Spencer grinned and started cutting again. “Yeah, you’re as big as a cow.”

She would have been hurt if she didn’t know that Spencer’s teacher muttered that every time she looked into the mirror.

“You’re not fat, Mommy,” Brittany said. “My teacher thinks you have a eating-us-order. I heard her tell Sarah’s mom that.”

Heat rushed to Tory’s face. Had her child’s teacher been gossiping that she had an eating disorder? She would have to have a talk with her tomorrow.

“I am getting a little bit of a tummy,” she said, standing up so the children could see. She pressed her shirt against her stomach
to show her belly. “But there’s a reason for that. There’s something
in
my tummy. Do you know what it is?”

Spencer’s hand flew up. “Bucket chicken from the park!” he cried, without being called on.

Tory grinned. “No, Spence. Something a lot more exciting.”

Brittany’s eyes got big. “Kevin Holiday’s mom has a baby in her tummy.” She caught her breath and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you have a baby?” she asked in a reverent voice.

Tory smiled. “Yep, a little baby.”

The children’s eyebrows shot up, and Spencer dropped the scissors.

“What do you think about that?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with moisture.

“Can we get it out now?” Spencer asked.

Tory laughed. “No, honey, it’s going to be a few more months. It’s not ready yet. Mommy’s going to need a lot of help from you. You’re going to be the big sister, okay, Britty? And, Spence, you’re going to be the big brother. This is why I’ve been sick so much.”

“Does Daddy know?” Brittany asked.

Tory hesitated. “Yeah, he knows.”

She heard the garage door opening, and realized she couldn’t have timed this worse if she’d tried. Barry was home, and the children were full of the news of the pregnancy. They would attack him with it before he even got in the door. He would be livid.

She was almost sorry for what she had done.

“Daddy’s home!” Spencer said, jumping down from his stool. Spencer turned a bad cartwheel and came to his feet with his arms in the air. “Daddy’s home and we’re gonna have a baby,” he sang.

“Not right now, dummy,” Brittany said. Spencer turned another lopsided cartwheel. “Soon, though, huh, Mommy?”

“In a few months,” she said again. “Spencer, don’t do cartwheels in the house.”

The door opened and Barry stepped inside. “Daddy! Daddy!” Brittany cried. “Mommy told us!”

“We’re gonna have a baby!” Spencer cried. “Not now, but in a few months.”

Tory turned back to the sink. She didn’t want to see Barry’s face. She heard the silence, and that was enough. He dropped his briefcase loudly on a chair.

She made herself look up at him. He was gaping at her, furious, while the children pulled on him and danced around him. “Daddy, see Mommy’s tummy? It’s a baby!”

He ignored the children and glowered at Tory. “You didn’t.”

“They had a right to know.”

“I had a right to be consulted,” he flung back.

“I would have consulted you,” she returned, “but you’re never here. And it’s starting to get obvious.”

He jerked his jacket off and stormed back to the bedroom.

The children were suddenly silent. “Is Daddy mad?” Brittany whispered.

“No, honey.”

“He acts mad,” Spencer said, climbing back up on his stool. “Maybe he doesn’t like babies.”

“He loves babies,” she said. “He loved you when you were a baby.”

They both got very quiet and looked in the direction their dad had gone, then brought their big, pensive eyes back to her stomach. Tory fought the urge to cry. For the first time since she’d considered telling them, she realized that she may have hurt them more than she’d helped them. Now they were aware that their father was angry about the baby. There were no explanations she could give them, nothing that would make sense to them. She had made matters worse.

In moments, Barry came back out of the bedroom wearing jeans and sneakers and an untucked golf shirt. He moved swiftly toward the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Out.”

“Out? When will you be home?”

“When you’re in bed,” he said.

“Barry, we need to talk!”

“I have nothing to say to you,” he said through his teeth. “You defied me in front of my children. You’ve gotten them involved and it’s only going to hurt them, Tory. I have nothing more to say to you tonight.” Grabbing his keys, he slammed out of the house.

Tory only looked down at the stunned children, wishing with all her heart that she could protect them from this madness.