Elizabeth's Daughter (11 page)

  “Foster daughter? What do you mean, foster daughter?”

  “Just that.”

  “I don’t understand.” Tony’s expression was genuinely puzzled. Elizabeth had never seen him so confused.

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t comprehend, Tony.”

  Tony looked around and seemed, suddenly, to take everything in. Then he went through one of his chameleon changes. “But, Elizabeth, this is big news. This is great! I had no idea! If it’s what you want, then, wonderful. When you decide to go for something, nothing stops you, does it?”

  “I guess not,” Elizabeth said. “At least not when it come to the really big things.”

  Tony looked at Amy. “My goodness, she
is
a pretty little thing, isn’t she?”

  “Soups on,” Gail said, bringing a soup tureen into the dining room.

  “Gail’s very literal,” Elizabeth laughed. She turned to Tony. “Would you care to join us?”

  “Oh, no. I wouldn’t think of intruding any more than I already have.” He flashed his big screen smile at all three women. “I’m just happy to see you don’t have another
man,
Elizabeth.” He said it in a teasing tone, but Gail and Mrs. Vargas exchanged a look that Elizabeth read as, “who does he think he’s kidding?”

  “I’ll see you to the door,” Elizabeth said, relieved that he volunteered to leave.

  “No
–
no, no, no. I’ll let myself out. I’ll call you sometime this week-end, if you want.”

  “All right,” Elizabeth said.

  He reached out and lightly touched her cheek. “Motherhood looks good on you.” He turned and no one moved until they heard the door close behind him.

  “Okay!” Gail said. “Let’s eat!”

  Elizabeth put Amy in the new play pen and she and Mrs. Vargas sat at the dining room table, while Gail ran back and forth between the kitchen and the table.

  “I insist you join us,” Elizabeth said, trying to sound stern.

  “I will, I will, but don’t stand on ceremony. Go ahead and start.”

  “Not without you,” Elizabeth asserted.

  “Okay, I’m here.” Gail brought in a steaming bowl of green beans and tomatoes, put it down, then put herself down as well. She started passing the food around.

  “Boy, you’re right, he’s a looker. But a little odd, huh?” Gail said casually.

  “He’s just spoiled, I think,” Elizabeth answered. “You should see the way women fawn over him. Until the last few days I was no exception. But now I have more important concerns.” Elizabeth smiled and waved at Amy.

  “I’m glad to hear that that’s the way you have your priorities ordered,” Mrs. Vargas said. “I would hate to see a glitch so soon.”

  “No glitch!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Not even an aberration. My life is very uncomplicated, Mrs. Vargas.”

  After dinner Mrs. Vargas showed Elizabeth and Gail Amy’s physical therapy routines, then the three of them went upstairs and put Amy to bed in her crib in Elizabeth’s room. It was nearly eleven when Mrs. Vargas finally gathered her belongings to leave.

  “You have my telephone numbers,” she said, “don’t hesitate to call me. Otherwise, I’ll call you in a few days.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Vargas, thank you. We’ll talk soon,” Elizabeth said.

*   *

Elizabeth and Gail and Amy settled into a happy matriarchal routine.

  Elizabeth only worked one more week full-time, then she changed her schedule to every other week-end and the alternate Monday through Wednesday. She was surprised that Tony didn’t mind, in fact, he was altogether supportive of her new-found motherhood.

  Maybe, she thought, he’s more sensitive than he seems on the surface. And then she wondered why she thought of him as insensitive in the first place.
She decided it was because of his mood swings. He could switch from one mood to another too easily, even so, his moods seemed superficial, as if he was so preoccupied with his facade that whatever might be inside had never developed.

  Elizabeth recalled a cicada she had seen a few years ago. It had just emerged from its cocoon, glistening, perched on a branch. It had stretched its raw new legs and wings as if to say, “aren’t I pretty?’’ She had chuckled at its odd anthropomorphic behavior.

  That’s how Tony seemed, as though he felt everyone should find him attractive, while not knowing himself if he was. And, although she told herself this trait should make him unattractive to her, it only endeared him. His facade was bravado, but underneath he was fragile and unsure. She had an urge to protect him.

Chapter XIII

Elizabeth looked up from her desk at work to see Peter jogging by the office in green and white shorts and a green T-shirt. He peered into the dark office, she waved and he turned around, came in, and jogged up to her desk. By then Elizabeth was giggling. Boy, she thought, Peter makes me feel warm inside.

  “What’ve you been doing?” They asked in tandem, then they both burst into giggles.

  “You go first,” Elizabeth said, catching her breath.

  “No, you!” Peter grabbed a chair and straddled it backwards, tipping the back until it rested against Elizabeth’s desk, balanced. “I haven’t seen you in here for so long, I thought you quit.”

  “No, but a lot’s been happening.” Elizabeth moved a stack of papers aside, the better to see Peter.

  “Don’t stop now,” Peter urged.

  “Well, the big news is that I started working part time because I became a foster parent.”

  “You’re kidding!” Peter sat his chair upright.

  Elizabeth beamed. “No, I’m not. And I have the most beautiful little girl in the world living with me. I also have a nanny, Gail.” Elizabeth almost launched into Gail’s admiration of Peter, but she decided to hold off.

  “Amazing, Elizabeth. Wow! You’re really something!” Peter tilted his chair against her desk again. Elizabeth liked that, it felt cozier. “So! When do I get to meet the ‘family’?”

  “Any time, of course.
Me casa es su casa.”

 
“That’s true,” Peter observed. They both laughed again.

  “Why don’t you come over for dinner Friday night? Gail and I’ll cook up a feast... we love excuses to do that.”

   “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  “By the way,” Elizabeth asked, “do you like fans?”

  “Fans?”

  “Yes. Of yours. Of your books.”

  “It sort of depends,” Peter said cautiously.

  “On?”

  “Some fans are... kind of far gone.”

  “What if they’re not far gone. What if they’re right here, intelligent, and well-read?”

  “Then they’re my favorite type of person.”

  “In that case, be prepared.” Elizabeth gave Peter a stagy cryptic look.

  “Oh-oh... what do you mean?”

  “Suspense is the better part of anticipation.” Elizabeth said, and Peter could not coerce her to say more.

*   *

Gail and Amy were playing splashy bath when Elizabeth came home that evening. “Guess who’s coming to dinner Friday night,” Elizabeth asked, rolling up her sleeves and joining in the play.

  “Ahm, Tony,” Gail guessed. “What do you think baby?” Gail said in a squeeky-toy voice to Amy. “Is Tony coming to dinner Friday?”

  “Na-na-na!” Amy said, slapping both plump little hands down on the water.

  How is it possible that everything Amy does is unusually winsome? Elizabeth wondered while the surge of adoration waving through her chest calmed.

  “Well, she’s right! It’s not Tony. It’s Peter.”

  “Peter?” Gail turned away from the bathtub and faced Elizabeth. “Here? For dinner? Just like that?”

  “Here!” Elizabeth said. “Just like that!”

  “What should I wear?” Gail asked. “Do you think I could ask him to sign one of his books for me?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Gail’s got a crush on Peter!” she said to Amy, wrapping a big fluffy towel around her. She sat on the bathroom floor beside Gail and dried Amy.

  “I do!” Gail said. “I don’t care who knows it! It’s a simple fact!”

   “Do you want me to ask him to bring a couple of his books?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I have everything he’s ever written. I’d love for him to sign my beloved and dog-eared copy of
After the Year before the Millennium
.”

  “If anything ever touched an authors heart,” Elizabeth observed, “I suppose showing him a copy of one of his books that’s the adult equivalent of a teddy bear would do it.”

  Elizabeth kissed Amy and fussed with her pretty black curls while Gail put her leg brace back on. Amy took the attention quietly, wearing a sober expression.

  “Now I know what ‘this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you’ really means,” Elizabeth said softly to Gail.

  Gail nodded.  Then the two of them put a cute little rabbits and kittens print playsuit on Amy.

  “There’s our baby, There’s our little girl!” Gail said. “You want to play in your play pen, Pussy Willow?”

  “Pay-pay-pu,” Amy imitated.

  Elizabeth and Gail laughed, while Elizabeth picked up Amy and the three of them went downstairs.

  “I suppose I should be sort of embarrassed about how little I know of Peter as a writer,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yes you should!” Gail agreed. “But I’m glad you know Peter as a person. He has a following, and we’re always sort of surmising what he’s like. Do you want to read one of his books?”

  “Well, sure.”

  Gail started toward her room.

  “I mean, not right now, but eventually. When Amy isn’t taking so much of my attention. Anyway, wouldn’t it seem sort of funny if I just happened to read one of his books a day or two before he comes over for dinner?”

  Gail shook her head. “What’s strange is that you’d just about have to go out of your way to have not read Peter by now. I know you like to read, the house is full of books. And Peter’s books are in the library and on the shelves of every new or used bookstore. I’d say you’re afraid of something.”

  “Am I afraid?” Elizabeth asked Amy in a falsetto.

  “Bingo!” Gail exclaimed. “You’re afraid to read Peter. You’re afraid you might not understand it, or something like that. Hey! As long as you don’t read him, you don’t have to be responsible for what you don’t know.”

  “Interesting extrapolation, my dear Watson, but inaccurate. I hesitate to read him because... because I have such a huge respect for him now, and science fiction and westerns are not my thing, and I’m afraid, you know, that I’ll
lose
....”

  “Oh!” Gail nodded, insight dawning, “I was wrong, for once.”

  “Yup,” Elizabeth agreed.

  “But,” Gail defended, “the reason he has such a cult following is because he doesn’t write genre hack at all. He’s witty and droll. And he invents wonderful things. You should at least read some of his science fiction.
After the Year Before the Millennium
is great. Did he tell you that five of his science fiction novels are being anthologized using his real name?”

  “No. He doesn’t talk to me about his work.”

  “Well, no wonder!” Gail got up and went into the kitchen, Elizabeth, carrying Amy, trailed after her.

  “Geez, Gail, are you his agent or his public relations person?”

  “I’d be either, happily.”

  Elizabeth looked deep into Amy’s dark blue eyes, “you’ve convinced me. I’ll read him. But I still reserve the right to my own opinion.”

  Gail was digging around in the freezer. “Well, of course!” her muted voice agreed.

  “You can’t blame me for thinking that he might be writing at a level of escapism that I wasn’t interested in escaping to. But now, from the sublime to the ridiculous, what are we going to feed this illustrious, this renown author?”

  Elizabeth pulled the play pen to the kitchen table and put Amy down among her toys. Then, while Gail made dinner, Elizabeth scratched out menu plans for the upcoming dinner which included oat bran dinner rolls Gail made from scratch and Gail’s fabulous strawberry mousse for dessert.

  Elizabeth found herself looking very much forward to Friday night, surprised at how entirely different the feeling was from the one she had whenever she was about to go out with Tony. It was the first time she consciously realized that when she went out with Tony, she was nervous and ill-at-ease.

  What does that say about me, she wondered. Here’s Peter, a world famous author and I feel shy, but I’m really looking forward to it. Then there’s Tony, a less-than-mediocre real estate salesman, and I feel like a mouse trapped in a tiger cage when I go out with him.

  On the other hand, she continued the argument with herself, even if I’m physically platonic with both Peter and Tony, my relationship with Tony is psychologically romantic. It’s not really Tony who makes me nervous, she reasoned. It’s this whole in-love-with-love thing.

  She wasn’t the only one looking forward to Friday night, Gail was like a teenager before going to a concert of a rock-hero. Elizabeth loved seeing the usually unflappable Gail all aflutter.