Finding Bluefield by Elan Branehama

over each other to help you out with that.”
    “I can’t have a baby,” Barbara said.
    “I don’t mean now. After you’re done with your residency and have a practice going. You take a little time off and then go back to work because I know how you love your work. I’ll stay home with the kids. I’m going to be a great mom.”
    “Let’s first see if you’re really pregnant,” Barbara said.
    “I am.” Nicky yawned. “Let’s go back to bed. I need my sleep. It’s tiring being pregnant.”

    *

    The next morning, Nicky overslept and had to rush to work. Barbara was already gone.
    “Damn,” Lucinda said when Nicky came into the kitchen.
    “I’m not that late,” Nicky said, tying her apron.
    “Stella says you went to DC.”
    “Oh, that.”
    “Went to listen to a bunch of niggers and kikes,” Stella added. She was filling napkin holders. “Tommy saw you.” Stella’s boyfriend stopped by the diner regularly when Stella was working.
    Lucinda followed Nicky into the kitchen. “Is that why you needed the days off?”
    “What’d he do, write down everyone’s name?” Nicky said.
    “What’d you go for?” Lucinda asked.
    “I went to see,” Nicky said, tying back her hair.
    “What’re you going to see when King and that Malcolm get niggers all crazy and worked up so they forget their place?” Stella said.
    Lucinda turned to Nicky. “Just be careful, Nicky. People like you here. Hell, I like you here.”
    “If you’re done now,” Nicky said, steadying herself, “I’ve got work to do.”
    Nicky was surprised by her surprise. Of course people would care. Of course people would talk. She placed a cigarette between her lips, turned the burner on, and leaned over the flame. Quickly, she pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, threw it down on the floor, and squashed it under her cowboy boot. She went into the bathroom and locked the door. With both her hands on her stomach, she took some deep breaths. I can do this, she told herself several times. I can.

Chapter Three
     
    1964

    The walk across the parking lot was enough to tire Nicky. She grabbed hold of the screen door handle and took a deep breath before entering the Bluefield Diner. The breakfast crowd had thinned, and preparation for lunch was underway. Nicky had made a habit of passing by once a week since she stopped working. Cooking had become both difficult and dangerous, and Lucinda was worried something might happen to the baby or Nicky. Her job, Lucinda promised, would be there for her after the baby.
    Lucinda stepped out from behind the counter. “Let me see you, girl,” she said, taking Nicky’s hand. “You look like you’re about to have that baby any second. How are you feeling?”
    “I’m ready. This is not fun anymore.”
    Nicky moved to a booth where she lowered herself onto the bench.
    “Selma,” Lucinda called, “bring us some coffee and some of that crumb cake.” She turned back to Nicky.
    “Just some coffee,” Nicky said. She pressed out her cigarette. “I don’t have any room left for food.”
    “How much longer?”
    “Couple of weeks.
    Selma placed the coffee and cake on the table.
    “Have you decided on names?” Lucinda said.
    “Still thinking.” Nicky tried some cake and wondered how much longer she could keep going over the same routine with Lucinda. Did she miss the place that much?
    “Then Lucinda isn’t out yet?”
    “I don’t want you to be disappointed, but I wouldn’t count on it,” Nicky said. “Anyway, I keep telling you, I think it’s a boy.” Nicky was going to go with either Paul or Paula. Folks would recognize the tribute to her father, and they would feel like they knew her baby. Paul Stewart. Paula Stewart. We know that name. We know you and your mama. We knew your grandma and grandpa. You’re from these parts. You belong here. You’re one of us.
    “When you going to tell me who the father is?”
    “When I want to tell the whole world,” Nicky said.
    “You never told