dress up the baby. I have an image to maintain after all.”
“And once you’re completely perfect, then what will you do?”
My shoulders dropped with my sigh. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about that for a while now, and I can’t seem to come up with anything to get all fired up about. Other than my family. I really want to have another baby soon.”
“I can’t see that husband of yours being ready for that. He wasn’t particularly ready for baby number one.”
“I know, but it’s not like he’s had to do anything.” My brow creased. “I’ve taken care of little Will, and Billy’s been able to pursue his dreams as much as he wants.”
Mama’s lips tightened with concern, and I studied her white hair, smooth and beautiful. “That’s what worries me,” she said.
“I think you’re just in a worrying sort of mood right now.” I smiled, hoping to put her mind at ease. “Get out to the sunshine and dry air. It’ll improve your health.”
“I want to hear from you regularly, and I intend to make frequent return trips home.”
“You’d better!”
“And if my only child has any needs, she’d better let me know.”
“I’m not in the habit of not asking for what I want,” I teased.
So Mama left for Sedona, and it only took one visit for her to realize she wanted to stay there. After a few return trips, she started talking about selling the old home and making Arizona her permanent residence, but I convinced her to wait. I have an idea of my own for filling the old family place. At least until my house on Hammond Island is built.
Nov. 1, 19--
With Mama out of town, I took the opportunity to go through her old things, boxes and pictures, to see if there was anything I could help her sort and save. She’d had such a hard time losing Daddy, I wasn’t sure this part would be easy for her.
I started in the upstairs study. This old house had more rooms than a family of three ever needed, but it always felt homey to me. It was located right in downtown Fairview, surrounded by roses and a black wrought-iron fence, and it practically shouted that we were important members of the community.
Looking through the old pictures, I giggled at how old-fashioned my parents were. Since Daddy was a surgeon, they’d had me very late in life, at least by the standards of their day. If Mama hadn’t been so adamant about having children, they might not’ve had me at all. She was past forty when I was born, pre-menopausal and considered high-risk for a pregnancy. All her other friends had children who were in middle school by the time I came along, so I didn’t have a lot of childhood friends. But I was beautiful.
In some of the old photographs of me I looked like an antique doll with my white hair tied in a huge bow and my solemn little face. I wasn’t a loud or active child, but I don’t remember being unhappy. With older parents, I learned quickly to be seen and not heard. Daddy in particular didn’t like a lot of racket when he got home in the evenings or early mornings.
I kept finding pictures and old documents, and every time I saw my little face, I remembered how lonely I was back then. Not sad, but seriously in need of a playmate. Mama had her social obligations, and I was expected to keep quiet and look pretty for all of them. I found one picture of me, and my long blonde hair was conspicuously short. It was cute in a little pixie style that I don’t think I ever wore again after it grew out.
The cut was the result of an unfortunate incident involving a piece of bubble gum. A kindly old man gave it to me at the bank, and I’d hidden it. I knew Mama would never let me have it for fear of cavities, so I sneaked it at nap time and then fell asleep with it in my mouth. It turned into the biggest rat’s nest in my hair. Mama screamed and called Daddy to come home at once. He, of course, thought something more serious had happened and was angry at both of us when he arrived.
I
“And once you’re completely perfect, then what will you do?”
My shoulders dropped with my sigh. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about that for a while now, and I can’t seem to come up with anything to get all fired up about. Other than my family. I really want to have another baby soon.”
“I can’t see that husband of yours being ready for that. He wasn’t particularly ready for baby number one.”
“I know, but it’s not like he’s had to do anything.” My brow creased. “I’ve taken care of little Will, and Billy’s been able to pursue his dreams as much as he wants.”
Mama’s lips tightened with concern, and I studied her white hair, smooth and beautiful. “That’s what worries me,” she said.
“I think you’re just in a worrying sort of mood right now.” I smiled, hoping to put her mind at ease. “Get out to the sunshine and dry air. It’ll improve your health.”
“I want to hear from you regularly, and I intend to make frequent return trips home.”
“You’d better!”
“And if my only child has any needs, she’d better let me know.”
“I’m not in the habit of not asking for what I want,” I teased.
So Mama left for Sedona, and it only took one visit for her to realize she wanted to stay there. After a few return trips, she started talking about selling the old home and making Arizona her permanent residence, but I convinced her to wait. I have an idea of my own for filling the old family place. At least until my house on Hammond Island is built.
Nov. 1, 19--
With Mama out of town, I took the opportunity to go through her old things, boxes and pictures, to see if there was anything I could help her sort and save. She’d had such a hard time losing Daddy, I wasn’t sure this part would be easy for her.
I started in the upstairs study. This old house had more rooms than a family of three ever needed, but it always felt homey to me. It was located right in downtown Fairview, surrounded by roses and a black wrought-iron fence, and it practically shouted that we were important members of the community.
Looking through the old pictures, I giggled at how old-fashioned my parents were. Since Daddy was a surgeon, they’d had me very late in life, at least by the standards of their day. If Mama hadn’t been so adamant about having children, they might not’ve had me at all. She was past forty when I was born, pre-menopausal and considered high-risk for a pregnancy. All her other friends had children who were in middle school by the time I came along, so I didn’t have a lot of childhood friends. But I was beautiful.
In some of the old photographs of me I looked like an antique doll with my white hair tied in a huge bow and my solemn little face. I wasn’t a loud or active child, but I don’t remember being unhappy. With older parents, I learned quickly to be seen and not heard. Daddy in particular didn’t like a lot of racket when he got home in the evenings or early mornings.
I kept finding pictures and old documents, and every time I saw my little face, I remembered how lonely I was back then. Not sad, but seriously in need of a playmate. Mama had her social obligations, and I was expected to keep quiet and look pretty for all of them. I found one picture of me, and my long blonde hair was conspicuously short. It was cute in a little pixie style that I don’t think I ever wore again after it grew out.
The cut was the result of an unfortunate incident involving a piece of bubble gum. A kindly old man gave it to me at the bank, and I’d hidden it. I knew Mama would never let me have it for fear of cavities, so I sneaked it at nap time and then fell asleep with it in my mouth. It turned into the biggest rat’s nest in my hair. Mama screamed and called Daddy to come home at once. He, of course, thought something more serious had happened and was angry at both of us when he arrived.
I
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