Fly Away Home (21 page)

Anelle, Jo and Kholeka all accepted her invitation. Anelle wanted to know about Sipho and Mandla: what language they spoke to Monica, how she helped preserve their cultural identity, any problems they'd had at school with other children, whether they ever talked about their mother. Monica answered as best she could, all the while thinking that it was a pointless conversation if Anelle's husband wouldn't agree to adopt nonwhite children. Over dessert of fresh pears and ice cream, she came to a heart-sinking realization. Anelle planned to follow her example and do it alone.

“You're not going to leave your husband, are you?” Monica asked.

Anelle put down her spoon and looked her in the eye. “If you can do it by yourself, so can I.”

Monica glanced at Kholeka, then at Jo for assistance. When neither reacted, Monica understood the depth of desperation in these three women. One was prepared to leave her husband so she could adopt children, and the others didn't see a problem with that. Monica knew Zak was right; she was depressed. But she had never considered anything as drastic as what Anelle proposed and Kholeka and Jo tacitly supported.

Anelle was prepared to give up her husband and the life she had known for years for what Monica already had. How could Monica have been so blind? She had what other women dreamed of: two adopted sons and a husband who loved her and her boys as much as he loved his own daughter. And yet Monica had taken her family for granted, and lately even neglected them. God had blessed her, and she had believed He didn't care about her. Tears filled her eyes.

“What did I say?” asked Anelle in a panicked voice.

“Thank you,” said Monica.

“For what?”

“For making me realize what a fool I've been.” She looked at Kholeka and then Jo. “You all have.” Then she turned back to Anelle. “Don't leave your husband. You can work it out. The two of you should come to Lady Helen for a weekend. Spend time with my family. My son Sipho is still in the United States, but if anyone can bring your husband round, it will be my boy Mandla. He's quite the little actor.”

Anelle looked uncertain. She had worked up the courage to tell strangers of a tentative plan she had probably been wrestling with for many months, but now Monica was advising her not to follow through on it.

Jo shrugged. “It's worth a try. You can still leave your husband later, if you feel you have to, Anelle.”

“She won't have to,” said Monica emphatically. “Mandla will make sure of that. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I'm going to turn in for the night. Tomorrow I want to be on the road early so I can go to church with my family.” She handed one of her business cards to each of them. “My family and I will be happy to welcome you to our home anytime you want to come to Lady Helen.”

Anelle started to cry. “I'll miss you,” she said.

Kholeka put an arm around Anelle's shoulder. “What did you learn today about how to manage stress?”

Anelle began to breathe deeply.

“That's right,” said Kholeka. “In and out.”

“I mean it about bringing your husband to see us, Anelle,” said Monica. Then she looked at Kholeka and Jo. “Let's all stay in touch.”

Z
ak, Yolanda and Mandla were having breakfast in the garden when Monica arrived home.

“What are you doing back so early?” asked Zak, rising to greet her.

“I didn't want to miss going to church with you,” she responded, kissing him on the cheek. She felt guilty when she saw the surprise on his face. It had been so long since she'd been affectionate with him. “What's for breakfast?”

“French toast,” said Mandla. “Yolanda made it.”

“I'm sure it's delicious,” Monica exclaimed.

Mandla looked at her quizzically. He was not used to seeing her so cheerful.

During breakfast, Monica felt Zak's eyes on her and knew that as soon as the meal was finished, he would corner her for a private talk. Their chance came when it was time to do the dishes and the children quickly disappeared.

“I think it might be time for us to have
the
talk,” he said. “You seem ready.”

To her surprise, Monica felt a sob catch in her throat. “Oh, Zak, I'm sorry for what I said to you in Los Angeles.”

He put his arms around her. “I'm sorry, too, if I haven't been as supportive as you needed me to be.”

“I know you want another baby as much as I do,” cried Monica, burying her face in his chest.

“Are you ready to try again?” he asked softly.

She pulled away so that she could look at his face. “I think we've given it our best shot,” she said quietly. “But if you want to continue trying, then I will go along with your wishes.”

Zak wiped the tears from her cheeks, then sighed. “Are you sure you'd be okay about giving up now? I don't want you to regret it years down the line when it's too late.”

“I'm blessed to have Sipho and Mandla and to be a stepmother to Yolanda.”

“They're great children.”

“I've finally decided what I should have known all along. The boys are all the babies I need.” She began to cry again.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I'll need some time to grieve, because it's the end of my dream of having a baby, but I know this is the right decision.”

Zak handed her a tissue and she blew her nose. He took her face in his hands. “I've missed you, Monica—and I don't mean this weekend, I mean these past months.” He kissed her gently.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too.”

“Are the dishes done?” Mandla stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Strange how that happens, isn't it?” said Zak.

“I was going to help,” said Mandla with a smile.

“We knew that, didn't we, Monica?”

She pinched Mandla's cheeks. “Of course we did.”

 

That morning at church, with the cries of the migratory birds coming in through the open windows from the lagoon, Monica asked God to forgive her for losing faith in Him. Reverend van Tonder, although he could not have known it, chose the perfect scripture for her: the story of the prodigal son.

 

The family took a walk together on the beach after lunch. Monica did not tell Zak how she had flung herself into the ocean, fully clothed, after learning that Jacqueline was pregnant. She did not mention Jacqueline at all, not only because she didn't want to think about Zak's ex-wife having a baby, but because Monica didn't know if Zak had told Yolanda about it yet.

When Yolanda and Mandla went down to the water's edge, Monica asked him if he had.

“I didn't want to tell her in front of Mandla, so I was waiting till you got back.”

“Have you spoken to Jacqueline again?”

Zak nodded. “I don't think she has any intention of coming back. She'll make all the excuses she can think of until the baby…” He paused to check the effect his words might be having.

“It's okay, Zak.”

“And then it will be the end of Yolanda's school year and Jacqueline will try and persuade her to go to university in Australia.”

“Do you want me to take Mandla for a walk?”

“Please.” Zak sighed.

“There was something Ella used to call the ‘Ella Nkhoma Shake and Bake,'” Monica told him. “It was her expression for trying to put a positive spin on something.”

“I don't see how I could in this case. Jacqueline lied and now she's prepared to live without Yolanda for a while.”

“Yes, but having Yolanda full-time has been a dream of
yours
since the divorce.”

A smile appeared on Zak's face. “You're right. If I present it to her like that, the blow might not be as bad.”

Mandla was always eager to go farther than usual on the beach, but he wanted to know why Yolanda and Zak weren't accompanying them on their walk. Monica told him what Yolanda was about to learn.

“Yolanda's mother is too old to have a baby,” he said.

“Not really.”

“Well, then why can't you have one?”

“Some people just can't.” She stopped and took his hand. “But I have two wonderful boys. You and your brother are all I need.”

He squinted at her in the bright sun. “Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.”

He resumed walking, and for a second she was disappointed that he hadn't done something dramatic like throw his arms around her and tell her that he loved her. Then she noticed the tiny smile at the corners of his mouth and realized he hadn't pulled his hand away from her. She took this as a sign that at long last they had returned to normal.

At the golf resort, they stopped and sat down on the sand.

“Why is Mama Dlamini working here now?” Mandla thumbed in the direction of the hotel.

“I wish she wasn't, but Francina says it's a chance of a lifetime.”

Mandla thought for a while. “Like I had in Hollywood.”

So things were not quite yet normal between them.

“I'm sorry you were disappointed about not staying,” she said.

He nodded. “Sipho wouldn't want to live there. He'd miss his birds and animals and snakes and whales.” Mandla gave an exaggerated shiver. “So when can I go to Cape Town to audition for a movie?”

Monica told him that she would look into it first thing the next morning.

“And I suppose I'd better do what that director said—go for acting lessons.”

“I'll find out about those, too. What about losing your South African accent?”

“I've been trying.”

“So I've noticed.”

“But it's too hard to keep up. And there's no point if I'm not moving to Hollywood.”

Monica had to suppress a smile at the serious tone with which he said this, as though it had indeed been a possibility.

“I
like
the way you talk,” she told him.

Mandla rested his head on her shoulder. “Of course you do. You're my mother.”

Monica saw a dive boat bobbing on the water about two hundred yards offshore. It was probably James, her friend Kitty's husband, with a group of tourists.

“Is Yolanda going to stay with us for good?” asked Mandla.

“I hope so. But it won't be for good, because next year she'll be going away to university.”

“Do you think I can go away to university? To America?”

“I suppose so. If we can afford it. Or maybe you'll win a scholarship.”

“Don't forget to find out about the acting lessons tomorrow.”

Monica assured him that she wouldn't forget. Ever since he was little, she had predicted that he would leave the nest first. Sipho had beaten him to it, but Sipho would return; when Mandla went, it would be for good.

Monica stood up and shook the sand from her skirt. She didn't want to think about that now, when she was just getting her family back on track.

“I hope Yolanda will be happy to stay with us,” said Mandla.

“Me, too, Mandla. Me, too.”

When they returned to the others, Yolanda was crying. Monica indicated to Zak that she and Mandla could turn around again and leave, but he put up his hand for her to stay. Monica went to Yolanda and laid her arm across her shoulders.

“Dad says he wants me to live with you,” said Yolanda, sniffing.

“We both do,” said Monica.

“My mom—” Yolanda began to cry again.

Monica pulled her closer. “Don't cry. It will all work out. You'll see.”

Monica thought about how these words, which she had once despised hearing from well-meaning friends, had turned out to be true for her life. She had decided to give up her wish for a baby, yet had gained a daughter—at least until Yolanda went away to university. One mother had given her the boys, another had lent her Yolanda. Monica thought of Anelle, Kholeka and Jo, who were still at the workshop, and prayed that they, too, would be blessed with children, their own or those born to others.

 

After Mandla and Yolanda had gone to sleep that night, and Zak was in the living room, reading the latest issue of a medical journal, Monica went into the bathroom, gathered up her ovulation predictor kits, pregnancy tests, basal temperature thermometer and unused ovulation charts. She put them in a plastic shopping bag, which she set down next to the front door for Zak to take to the hospital the following day. Someone else might need them; she no longer did.

When she awoke the next morning, she told herself it was Monday, not day eight of her cycle. Never again would she count off days on her calendar unless it was to show Mandla how many there were till his birthday or Christmas, or until his grandparents arrived.

Shirley had told them at the workshop to look after their bodies, and today would be the start. From now on she would eat well, exercise more, breathe fresh air outdoors whenever she could, and control her anxiety. It was time for her to take back her life.