Not My Daughter Page 9

  "Lily's with me," Mary Kate said. "She's fine."

  "Why isn't she singing?"

  "The Zaganotes asked her to resign."

  "Resign." Susan caught Rick's eye.

  "Because she's pregnant."

  "Wait. Kristen Hannigan picked her up to drive her to the concert."

  "Kristen Hannigan picked her up to tell her the news. Lily made her drop her in town, then she called me."

  "Where are you now?"

  "Your house."

  "I'll be right there."

  Lily was huddled in the den, eyes red, tissues in her hand. Her bare feet were tucked under her, the black sweater and jeans replaced by purple sweats. Her hair was messed, a sign of the hasty change of clothes. When she saw Susan, her eyes welled, then grew wider when she saw Rick.

  "You came all this way to see the concert?" she cried, tears spilling. "That is so bad!"

  "I came to see you," said Rick and, leaning over, gave her a huge hug. "The concert was just an excuse." Drawing back, he brushed at her tears, but they continued to fall.

  "How could they do this to me, Mom?" she asked. "I worked for that spot. I earned it. I was at practice all day Sunday and no one said a word, but the whole time they must have been talking behind my back." Angrily, she wiped her cheeks with her palms. "I'll bet Emily Pettee started it. Her mom is a bitch."

  "Lily."

  "She is. She acts like she's our censor. She has a thing against any song whose lyrics are at all suggestive, so forget doing Amy Wine-house or even the Dixie Chicks. She's always around before concerts making sure that every little last bra strap is hidden. I know she's behind this."

  "It doesn't matter--"

  "It does, Mom. I love singing."

  Susan knew that, and her heart broke. Kneeling, she took Lily's hand. "It doesn't matter who started it," she finished quietly. "If the girls voted, it's done."

  "But how could they do this to me? I've worked with them since freshman year. What about 'esprit de corps'?"

  "Babies change things," Susan tried to explain as gently as she could, but Lily wasn't finished.

  "I won't be showing until way after the holidays--but no, they thought this would make for a 'smoother' transition. Like they're so pure? They are not, Mom. Jennifer Corbin makes the rounds of the football team, Laura Kirk is with a different guy every month. And Emily? She had an abortion last summer, only they called it a procedure to correct a gynecological problem."

  "Procedure?" Rick asked with a snort. "And her mom's the ring leader? Sounds like self-righteous indignation on the part of someone who's guilty as hell but doesn't want the world to know."

  "I should tell the world about Emily," Lily declared.

  "And be self-righteously indignant yourself?" Susan asked. "I don't think so."

  "Emily did have an abortion."

  "She isn't pregnant now, and that's the issue."

  Lily pulled her hand free. "So we're back at that--my being pregnant now and your not wanting this baby. Confess. You don't."

  "Want you pregnant now? I don't. But you are. I'm trying to accept it--just like you have to accept that the other girls don't consider pregnancy to be part of the Zaganotes' image. You have reasons for doing what you did, and if this is one of the consequences, you have to accept it."

  Lily started crying again. "Why?"

  "Because that's how it is." Susan sighed. "What alternative do you have, sweetheart? Yes, the girls are wrong, but if you tell them that, they'll resent it. Tell people about Emily--or Jen or Laura--and it'll be even worse. Isn't it better to preserve your own dignity?"

  "Hey," said Mary Kate from behind them.

  Susan had forgotten the other girl was there and looked back to see her edging toward the door.

  "Don't leave!" Lily cried. "I need you to help me here!"

  But Mary Kate kept going. "Your mom's right. If they don't want you, you shouldn't want them. Your dad wants to visit with you now, and I don't want to hear all this. I hear it all the time at home."

  "You're a coward!"

  "Actually, yes," said the girl and disappeared in a puff of riotous hair.

  Brooding, Lily folded herself into the corner of the sofa. "Why do friends run out on you when you need them the most?"

  "Mary Kate isn't running out on you," Rick reasoned. He was sitting sideways on the sofa with an arm along its back. "She's giving us time." He touched her hair. "I do want to visit with you. You wouldn't say much on the phone. I still don't know the name of the guy."

  "Why does it matter?" the girl said with just enough attitude to be mocking Susan. "It's done."

  But Rick wasn't. "He's the father of your baby, and that baby is for life. Who he is matters to me because I'm your dad, and I care about you. I want anyone who touches you to be a decent person--okay, I know you were the instigator, but please tell me, at least, that you had real feelings for him."

  Her eyes slipped away. "I did."

  "Does he live here in town?"

  "Yes."

  "Is he a classmate?"

  She leaned back, eyes on the ceiling. "If I were to tell, what would you do? Hit him up for money?" She turned to look at Rick. "He hasn't got it. Neither do his parents."

  "The issue isn't money."

  "Then marriage?" She looked at Susan. "You guys didn't marry. Why's this different?"

  "Have I mentioned marriage?" Susan asked. She had stepped back, wanting to give Rick time with Lily. But the decision not to marry hadn't been his.

  "You're thinking it."

  "I am not." She would never want her daughter rushing into a marriage that might be bad. "And your situation is different from ours. I didn't plan to get pregnant. But once I was, Rick was the first person I told."

  "And look what happened," Lily argued. "It caused so much trouble that his parents had to leave town."

  "That's not why my parents moved," Rick said quietly.

  "Then why?"

  "Because ..." He paused, frowned. "Because it was time. My sister was already gone, and I was on my way. There was nothing to keep them around. But at least they knew the score, and that made it easier--which is where I'm heading with this, Lily. You've put your mom in a lousy position. The more she knows, the better she'll be able to deal with it. Besides--trust me--the guy would want to know."

  "Did you?"

  "I did not want your mother to be pregnant. But given that she was, yes, I wanted to know. You're half mine."

  "But you didn't marry her, because Mom didn't want to get married." Her voice rose. "Well, maybe I wanted it. Maybe I wanted a full-time father. Maybe those visits back to your parents were too scary, because I didn't know them, and I really didn't know you, and Mom wasn't there. Maybe it would have been better for me if you had married her," she said, building up steam. "But no, Mom wanted you to have a career. Rick wants to be the world traveler everyone knows and admires--and we all want what Rick wants, don't we." It wasn't a question. "Well, what about what I want? What's so awful about my setting my heart on something? Why can't everyone want what Lily wants for a change?"

  Realizing what she'd said, Lily looked shocked. In a flash, she got off the sofa and ran from the room.

  When Susan started to follow, Rick said, "Let her go."

  "She has no right to criticize you."

  "She does." He was sitting forward now, elbows on his knees. "I haven't been here for her. Maybe I didn't think enough about what she wanted."

  "She's just upset, Rick. She's never said those things before. I should talk with her. She shouldn't be alone."

  "Do you think she is?" Rick asked, and, of course, he was right. Alone was a relative concept. Lily would either be phoning, texting, or skyping.

  Settling beside him on the sofa, Susan took his hand. "You should have told her the truth. Your parents moved away because of my dad."

  "They didn't have to. They chose to. My mom's sister was in San Diego. They always wanted to retire there." He laced his fingers through hers.<
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  "Only your father didn't retire. He worked for years afterward. No, Rick, it was my dad's fault. He took his anger out on your dad. They'd been best buddies, and suddenly the friendship was ruined."

  "Well, it was an improbable friendship anyway, my dad the mail carrier, yours the mayor." He grew pensive. "When it was good, though, it was good. I was with them on some of those fishing trips. They could talk. It was like they were brothers, totally different from each other but with a really strong bond between them. I never figured out what it was."

  "It was the brother thing," Susan said. Rick shot her a puzzled glance. "I had an uncle," she explained. "I never knew him. He died young. But my father adored him. They used to fish."

  "No kidding?"

  "Big Rick took his place."

  "The brother thing?"

  "My father's reaction must have been over the top because he had unrealistic expectations of your dad."

  Rick considered that. "And here I always thought that was about your father being a public person in a small town and needing to make a statement. But hey"--he tightened his hold of her hand--"either way, my father let him do it. He could have stood up. He could have fought. That's what he should have done."

  Susan studied his face. "You think so?"

  "Absolutely. He might have talked some sense into your father. Instead, he caved--just walked away, and he lost a helluva lot more than just one friendship. I swear, he's afraid to come here to see Lily because he thinks that John Tate will find out. So his relationship with Lily is limited. She can visit him, but he can't visit her. He wouldn't even when Mom was alive. No, he should have fought. Lily's his only grandchild. He should have been more supportive."

  "I never wanted his money."

  "Not with money. With time. With attention." He sat back and rested his head on the sofa, his eyes still on hers. "He was on the right side."

  "So is Lily when it comes to singing, but I told her not to fight. Should she?"

  "Ideally, yes. But you nailed it. If she calls out the girls for voting her out, she alienates them further, in which case being back in the group wouldn't be fun." He closed his eyes.

  "So she loses either way?"

  He was quiet for a minute. "Maybe she wins either way. She'll have enough on her plate in a few months, and she sure doesn't need those girls."

  "Okay. But she did earn her spot--and it was something I wanted her to have. I can't sing, but she has a beautiful voice."

  "She didn't get it from me."

  "It's from my mom, who has never even heard her sing."

  "Her loss," Rick murmured tiredly and kissed her hand.

  She settled against him. "Actually, it's ours, Lily's and mine. I thought it was bad when she was little and we had no relationship with my parents, but it gets worse every year. She's grown into such a talented young woman. She deserves to have adoring grandparents."

  Rick's breathing was a little too even. Tipping her head back, Susan saw that he was asleep, and, for a few minutes, she watched. Finally, she closed her own eyes to better enjoy the beat of his heart.

  They slept like that for three hours. Susan was the one who finally woke. Nudging him gently, she got him up to the guest bedroom, but he didn't stay there long. She was barely in her own bed when he stole in and closed the door.

  There was nothing sleepy about him then. Whispering her name, he stroked her hair, her breasts, her belly. His hunger was contagious. For those precious minutes, she couldn't get enough--couldn't give enough--and when her body erupted, she cried aloud at the pleasure of it.

  She would have woken Lily, had he not covered her mouth. He had become good at that over the years. He saw to taking care, both of Lily's sensibility and Susan's fertility--particularly gratifying now, Susan thought in the seconds before she fell asleep in his arms. If this mother and daughter were pregnant and unmarried?

  Susan couldn't begin to imagine the havoc of that.

  Chapter 9

  Rick offered to stay, but Susan sent him on to spend Thanksgiving with his father, who would otherwise have been alone.

  Susan and Lily would not be. They were spending the holiday at Kate's, as they had for more than a dozen years. It was one of the few places where their host, at least, knew all their secrets.

  Kate loved Thanksgiving--loved the cooking, the smells, the packed dining room, the noise. She loved inviting holiday orphans who had nowhere else to go. At the last minute there were always an extra two or three guests.

  This year there were six, all invited weeks earlier, which should have been fine. Only Kate wasn't wild about the two extra card tables sticking into the hall or the folding chairs that didn't match. She had been awake late the night before setting up with the girls, but she didn't like the way the plates looked--too many different ones--so she was rearranging them again at dawn.

  Things just weren't right this year. She ran out of butter making the stuffing, and with everyone else still in bed and the turkey needing to be put in the oven ASAP, she dashed to the convenience store herself, which was all well and good, except that since it was the only shop open, she paid nearly twice what she would have had she bought enough at the supermarket, and that irked her.

  Back home again, she drafted Will to help with the turkey, which was huge, and when the kids straggled in and began rummaging for breakfast, she had to reach around them, wait for them to move, or actually move them herself.

  "That can wait two minutes," she told Mike as he stretched toward the cereal cabinet over her head. "Lissie, your father's helping me here," she complained when her daughter nudged Will aside so that she could get into the fridge. And when Sara weaseled in to peel an orange at the sink, Kate tore off a paper towel with a flourish and pressed it at her. "I'm trying to work here. Can you not see this?"

  "Mom needs coffee," said Mike.

  "Mom needs a bigger kitchen," said Kate, then yelped, "Not in there!" as her son headed for the dining room. "Everything is set."

  "I'm just trying to clear out the kitchen. Where do you want me?"

  Kate pointed him toward a stool at the counter, though there was barely an inch of free space, what with the bowl of yams that would soon be a casserole, boxes of crackers for the guacamole, and platters of cookies and cakes. "Hold that dish in your hand, Michael Mello, and not another word, please. Will, this kitchen is too small," she told her husband as he put the turkey in the oven.

  He straightened, smiled. "What happened to cozy?"

  "I don't know. What did? Cozy is cute. This isn't cute."

  He put an arm around her and gave her a squeeze--just enough of a reminder of what she had that was pretty darn good. Then Mary Kate wandered in and reached for the milk, an innocent gesture, but enough to remind Kate that things would be less good with a new baby coming. A new baby would make the kitchen smaller and the dining room more crowded. They were bursting at the seams already. How long before an explosion?

  Seams ... dreams ... same difference, she thought and, feeling slightly frantic, began rummaging through the papers stuck into cookbooks crammed above the stove for the recipe Sunny had given her for a chocolate pecan pie.

  Sunny knew her mother-in-law's kitchen inside and out, with good reason. She had been the one to set it up when, after years of renting, her in-laws had bought the town house they had dreamed about. Dan helped with the down payment; Sunny helped with the decor. Though in their late sixties, Martha and Hank were still both working and perfectly capable of managing their daily lives, but Sunny liked helping them out. Her mother-in-law had come to count on her for advice on what to wear to local events, where to vacation in March, whether to take vitamin D supplements, and Sunny was flattered. She saw this as a validation that she was worthy of being consulted, proof that she was Normal with that capital N.

  Normal was definitely the way to go. Immersing herself in what she did best, she had baked every evening that week, then loaded the back of her car with all of the makings for Thanksgiving dinner
not only for her own four and Martha and Hank, but for Dan's brother and his family and two elderly aunts. By noon on Thursday, Martha's kitchen was smelling of roasted turkey, mulled cider, and squash bisque. Ceramic bowls were neatly lined on the counter awaiting the soup; matching mugs awaited the cider. Serving dishes, stacked now, would hold the turkey fixings. And the dining room table was a sight to behold.

  Everything went off like clockwork. The turkey reached the right temperature at the right time and carved like a dream, while the asparagus, yams, and onions were cooked to perfection. Dan poured the drinks; Hank said the blessing; Sunny ladled bisque from a Perry & Cass tureen. There was a brief silence, followed by a chorus of yums and mmms.

  "You've outdone yourself, Sunny," said Martha. "This is delicious."

  Sunny basked in the praise. And it kept coming through the main course, right up to the desserts. That was when Jessica, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation, rapped her knife against her glass and stood.

  "I have an announcement to make," she said. Sunny stared at her in horror, but if Jessica felt the stare, she paid no attention. "The family is growing," she announced. "We'll have another member next Thanksgiving."

  Martha gasped. "You're engaged?"

  Jessica shook her head.

  "Well, that's good," her grandmother remarked. "You're far too young." She turned excitedly to Sunny and Dan. "You're having another baby?"

  Sunny might have nodded, if Jessica hadn't quickly said, "Not Mom. Me."

  "You?"

  "Jessica," Sunny warned. Someone asked if it was true, and she said, "No--"

  "Yes," Jessica declared.

  "Dan," Sunny pleaded, but anything he might have said was lost in a flurry of questions. Deciding that her daughter was positively hateful, Sunny grabbed an empty pie plate, fled to the kitchen, and began washing pans, but snippets of conversation rose above the clank and splash. She was scrubbing the roaster with a furious force when her mother-in-law joined her at the sink.

  "She's only seventeen, Sunny. Do you think she's old enough to have a child?"