A Sliver of Sun (8 page)

I recalled the two long, scary days Mama and Ginger and I had spent during the prison riot Ben had been involved in, worrying over whether he was gonna be okay, and fearing the worst. Mama had been terrified something might happen to him. No wonder! Not only would she have been stuck with Ginger and me—she’d been expecting
a baby
on top of it.

I propped my elbow on my desk to keep from falling out of my chair. Mama always said children were somethin’ special—a gift from God—but only for married folks. That you had no business having babies if you weren’t married. And it made me almost giddy to realize that I now had a perfectly good reason for thinking she shouldn’t be having this baby.

I looked over at Ginger. She was thumbing through
Huckleberry Finn
and still looking scared. I wanted to rush over there, drag her outta’ the room and spill the beans. But as soon as Mrs. Holloway finished handing out books, she moved right on to explaining what made a classic a classic, and there wasn’t any chance.

It wasn’t till we got on the bus that afternoon that Ginger and I were finally alone. She scooted in beside me, propped her knees against the green vinyl seat in front of us and hugged her backpack.

I was all ready to bust out with my news, but the pinched, pale look on her face made me hold off. “What’s goin’ on with you?” I asked. “You look all put out about something.”

She drew her shoulders up tight. “I don’t wanna be Angela’s partner. I don’t like her.”

“Why not? She’s a kick in the pants.”
“Not when you’re alone with her. She’s not very nice.”

“She say somethin’ mean?”

Ginger nodded. “When we were in reading groups.” She dropped her voice real low so I almost couldn’t hear it over the rumble of the bus. “She said I have to write
both
our book reports, or she’ll beat me up.”

I laughed before I could stop myself. “No way! You’re kiddin’ right?”

But Ginger didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile. She just gave a tight-lipped shake of her head.

“Aw, she’s just blowin’ wind,” I said. “You don’t have to listen to her.”

“But I think she’s serious, Piper Lee. She sounded real serious.”

“So tell Mrs. Holloway.”

“I can’t. She’ll give her detention or something, and Angela will know I tattled.”

The fear in Ginger’s voice threw me for a loop. It wasn’t like her to give in to threats. She sure never gave in to
my
threats anyhow. It seemed odd she’d be scared of Angela. But then again, Angela was a pretty big kid, and not afraid to shoot her mouth off to grownups either.

“So what are you gonna’ do?” I asked.

Ginger hugged her backpack closer. “Don’t know yet. I gotta think.”

“You could tell your daddy.”

“No. Promise you won’t either … or Mama for that matter.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Scout’s honor, Piper Lee?”

“Scout’s honor,” I said, which made me think of
To Kill a Mockingbird
, on account of the girl character named Scout. “Hey, that reminds me,” I added, “I thought of a new boy’s name for the kid. Boo Radley.”

A smile tugged at one corner of Ginger’s mouth. “Boo?”

“Yeah, it’s in that book Ramsay and I have to read.” I studied her face, ready to pounce if she teased me about Ramsay again.

“Boo Hutchings,” she said. “I kind of like it.
Huckleberry Finn
is about a boy from Missouri. Maybe we could call the baby Huckleberry.”

I grinned. “Maybe he’ll come out purple.”

“Daddy says most babies come out all red and ugly lookin, not like they show on TV.”

I sat back in my seat. I’d made the sudden decision to hold off sharing my big news about Mama. For one thing, it didn’t seem quite as big a deal as when it first occurred to me. And second, I thought it might be kind of fun to spring it on Mama when we were alone.

M
ama was taking sheets off the clothes line when Ginger and I hopped off the bus. A strong breeze billowed the sheets around her like a parachute.

“Hey, girls,” Mama called. “How was today?”

I took a quick glance at Ginger. “It was okay,” I said. “Did you have your appointment?”

“Sure did. Wanna see?”

“See what?” I asked.

Mama’s eyes danced. “The baby, that’s what. The doctor gave me a DVD of the ultrasound.”

My stomach took a dive.
Pictures?
I wanted to see pictures of the kid about as bad as I wanted a plateful of slimy okra.

“Come on in and get yourselves a snack,” Mama said, “then I’ll show you.”

Ginger bounded ahead, but I didn’t feel much like bounding. The thought of seeing the baby made me feel all funny and nervous, like I was in trouble for something.

Mama scooped up the laundry basket and trailed behind us. She waited while Ginger and I slathered some of Miss Claudia’s plum jelly on Graham crackers and then motioned us to the living room. I nibbled a cracker while she slipped the DVD into the player and turned it on. A grainy gray and black picture filled the screen.

I leaned forward and squinted. That wasn’t a baby. It was a big blob of pancake batter. “What in the world are we lookin’ at?”

Mama knelt beside the TV and traced her finger around the middle of the blob. “Right here,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “Now look close. See, here’s the back, and here’s its head, and here’s …”

“Oh, wait,” Ginger squealed, “now I see. There’s a foot, right?”

Mama beamed. “Yes, I’m pretty sure that’s a foot. Can you see it, Piper Lee?”

I about gagged on my cracker, because even though I didn’t want to admit it, I
did
see. And I couldn’t look away from the fuzzy, whitish outline of a baby. “I think so,” I said.

“There it is,” Mama said. “Your first glimpse of your little brother … or sister. And I got to hear the heartbeat too.”

“What’s it sound like?” Ginger asked.

“Oh, a baby’s heart beats real rapid, a lot faster than ours.” Mama made a loose fist and started opening and closing it real fast. “It makes a
hush-hush, hush-hush
, kind of sound.”

“Do me and Piper Lee get to be there when you have it?”

Mama’s eyebrows peaked. “You mean at the hospital?”

“No, I mean in the room.”

I stared at her in horror. It was the craziest idea I’d ever heard. Who’d want to see something as disgusting and gross as that?

Even Mama seemed a little caught off guard by the question. “Uh, I’m not so sure you’d want to be there, honey. It’s not all nice and pretty like they show on TV.”

“Is Daddy gonna be in there?”

“Yep. He’ll be my labor coach.”

“What’s a labor coach?” I asked. “Sounds like a sports team or something.”

“It’s kind of like a support person—someone to hold your hand, maybe rub your back, help you breathe.”

“Help you breathe?” Ginger and I both echoed.

Mama laughed. “When you take birthing classes they teach you how to use breathing techniques to help with labor pains. Your coach helps you focus on what you learned is all.” She took the DVD out and turned the TV off. “Okay, enough of that for now. Tell me about school.”

“Nothin’ much to tell,” I said, thankful for the change of subject. “Mrs. Holloway is making us read the classics.”

“Classics, hmm?”

“I have to read
To Kill a Mockingbird
. Ginger’s is different.”

“
Huckleberry Finn,”
Ginger said, quickly. Then she stuffed a big ol’ bite of Graham cracker in her mouth.

“Oh,” Mama said, but she was looking down at the DVD in her hands, like her mind wasn’t really on the classics.

Ginger swallowed her mouthful a minute later and announced she was going out to jump on the trampoline. I started to follow, but then let her pass on ahead and turned back. Mama slipped the DVD into its paper case. It irked me to see how careful she handled it, like it was so important, when it was really nothing more than some dumb blurry pictures.

“Hey, guess what?” I said.

She glanced up with a smile. “Hmm?”

“I figured somethin’ out today.”

“Oh, yeah, what’d you figure?”

“That you were already pregnant when you married Ben.”

Mama froze—one hand in the air and her mouth in a big O. Then the very next second her cheeks turned as red as a fire truck. “Oh, Piper Lee,” she said.

I crossed my arms. “It’s true, huh?”

She rolled her eyes and rubbed at her cheeks like she was trying to rub some of the fire from them. “Yes, it’s … true. I just didn’t expect you to figure it out quite this soon, is all.”

“Thought you said it was wrong for unmarried folks to have babies.”

“I did … I mean, I do … I do think it’s wrong. But sometimes accidents happen, and we
are
married now.”
I smiled. “So this baby’s nothin’ but an accident.”

Mama gave me a hard look. “Lots of things in life are unplanned, and some of them turn out to be pretty wonderful. Don’t you forget that, Piper Lee.”

We glared at each other for several heartbeats before disappointment snuck in and wrapped itself around me like one of those sheets on the clothesline. I wondered why I’d thought figuring out about Mama not being married was such a big deal—it’s not like it changed anything. It sure didn’t make the baby go away. Nothing could do that. Unexpected tears filled my eyes.

Mama sighed. She stepped over and put her arms around me. “It’s gonna be okay. This is all gonna work out fine, you’ll see.”

I sniffled and wiped at my eyes. “Mama, don’t you ever wish things were like they used to be? When it was just you and me?”

She looked off into the air for a minute, like she was giving careful thought how to answer. Then she shook her head. “Honey, I know that right now this might be hard for you to understand, but it’s really tough to be a single parent. It can be lonely and scary and sometimes it feels so overwhelming to be responsible for everything. But now, you and I are part of a real family again—the way it’s s’posed to be. And I don’t feel lonely or scared with Ben around. Does that make sense?”

“But I do,” I said. “I feel lonely sometimes, ’cause you and I never do anything together anymore. Ginger’s always around. And just when I start trying to get used to all the changes, you go and throw another one at me.”

Mama pulled me to her and gave me a tight squeeze. “I know that’s how it must feel. I’m sorry, Piper Lee. I really don’t mean to keep throwing changes at you, honest. This baby was just … well, like I said, it just happened is all. It’ll be a big change for me too, y’know?”

Just then we heard the rumble of Ben’s truck in the driveway, and Mama stepped back and glanced at her watch. “Goodness, four-thirty all ready. Guess I better start thinking about supper.”

“Mama, is it true you might quit your job?”

She pursed her lips and gave a little shrug. “Depends on who you ask.”

“But do you want to?”

“Mmm. Yes and no. I mean, it would make more sense once the baby comes. But I’m not sure we can afford for me to quit.”

“Ben says we can.”

There was the heavy step of his boots on the porch, and Mama winked at me and put a finger to her lips. “Got any homework?”

“Nah, think I’ll just read my book.”

“Okay. And I promise to come up with some things for just you and me to do once-in-a-while, all righty?”

I sighed. Once-in-a-while didn’t sound like anything too often. “Okay,” I said.

The screen door screeched open, and Mama slipped out to the kitchen. “Hey, guy.”

“Hey, now,” Ben said, “you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen all day.”

With Ginger out on the trampoline, it was nice and quiet in the bedroom. I pulled
Mockingbird
out of my backpack and lay down on the lower bunk. I hadn’t made it past page fifteen, and though I didn’t care much for the history of Maycomb County, I did like Scout. She was only eight years old, but she was smart and curious and didn’t let her big brother boss her around much. She’d also lost her mama, like I’d lost Daddy, so it seemed we had some things in common.

I read five pages before I was interrupted by Ben’s deep chuckle coming from the living room. I closed my eyes and just listened for a minute, on account of how much I liked the sound of it. I wished
I
could do something to make him laugh like that. Then Mama joined in with her little-girl giggle—the one she saved just for him. I set my book aside and peeked out of the bedroom. Mama and Ben were crouched in front of the TV looking at the ultrasound pictures. Mama was drawing her finger in outline just like she had for us, and Ben had a goofy grin on his face.

I couldn’t help but notice how happy they both seemed, and I wondered if they’d lied about the baby being an accident and a surprise. Maybe they’d wanted it all along. Maybe they’d even
planned
it. It would be Mama’s and Ben’s alone—a part of both of them together—something Ginger and I never could be. But at least Ginger was a Hutchings. I’d always be a DeLuna. Ben had no reason to ever think of me as his daughter.

T
he next morning when Mrs. Holloway put us in reading groups, I kept half an eye on Angela and Ginger. Our little groups were scattered around the room in odd spots. Ramsay and I were up against a wall near the craft table where the big paper cutter sat. But Ginger and Angela were on a square of carpet partly hidden behind a stack of science textbooks.

I could barely see Ginger, but I could see Angela just fine. She kept her copy of
Huckleberry Finn
opened on her lap, but I never saw her looking at it much except for when our teacher happened to be nearby. Most of the time she gawked around with a smug look, or picked at loose threads of carpet. Every so often she’d duck her head toward Ginger and mouth some words.

“It’s your turn,” Ramsay said, sounding a little embarrassed.

“Huh?”

“It’s your turn to read. How come you’re always looking around?”

“I dunno,” I said. “How come you’re always late for school?”

He lowered his head, and I wished I hadn’t lashed out at him like that.

“It’s my mom,” he said. “She’s not real organized. She always promises to get us here on time but she never does.”