The Seventh Mother (11 page)

“M
rs. Bohner?” A nurse called my name and we followed her to an exam room.

“The doctor will be right with you,” she said.

“Thank you.” Brannon grinned at her and she beamed back at him.

After a few minutes, Dr. McLaren walked in and smiled at us.

“Well, it’s official. You’re pregnant. Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Doc!” Brannon shook his hand. “When is she due?”

“Mid-September, I’d say. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” I said.

“No morning sickness?”

“No, I feel pretty good.”

“Is this your first pregnancy?”

“Um, no. I had a baby, a boy. He died.”

“I’m so sorry.” Dr. McLaren put his hand on my shoulder. “Was he stillborn?”

“No, he lived five weeks. But he never was very strong and then he got a respiratory infection and . . . and he died.”

Dr. McLaren wrote something on my chart.

“Well, we’ll monitor you very carefully and do everything we can to make sure you have a healthy baby.”

“Thank you.”

“In the meantime, I want you to start taking prenatal vitamins, get plenty of rest, avoid stress, and eat a good, healthy diet.”

“Can I still have coffee?”

“Yes,” he said. “But not more than one cup a day unless it’s decaf. Decaf is okay.”

“What about work, Doc?” Brannon asked. “She works at the diner and is on her feet all day. I think she should quit and stay home, right?”

“That’s really up to Emma,” the doctor said. “If it starts to be too much, she should at least cut back her hours. But there’s no reason for her to quit if she doesn’t want to. The more active she stays, the healthier she and the baby will be.”

I smiled at Brannon. He’d been talking about me quitting my job ever since he found out I was pregnant. But I didn’t want to quit. I loved my job. I loved the people I worked with, I enjoyed the customers, and I certainly didn’t want to be stuck at home all the time.

“We’ll want you scheduled for monthly visits,” Dr. McLaren said. “Vickie will set that up for you. Do you have any other questions?”

“Well,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks redden. “Actually, I was wondering . . . I mean . . . is it still okay for us to . . .”

“Sex is fine,” he said, laughing. “As long as you feel like it, it’s fine. Some women have sex right up into the ninth month.”

“Okay, good.” I glanced up at Brannon. He wasn’t smiling like I thought he’d be. In fact, he looked angry.

“Okay.” Dr. McLaren shook my hand and then Brannon’s. “We’ll see you next month.”

Brannon didn’t say anything as I made my next appointment with the receptionist or as we walked out to the truck.

“Are you upset about something?” I finally asked.

He turned to me and his eyes were hard.

“I can’t believe you asked the doctor about . . . about sex,” he spat. “Good God, Emma. You’re pregnant. You’re a mother now, not a slut.”

I stared at him, feeling myself getting flushed.

“But I thought . . .”

“I know what you thought,” he spat. “You thought you’d just humiliate me in front of the doctor by acting like a whore.”

He revved the engine as I reached for the door handle. Before he could say anything else, I was out of the truck and walking away from him.

“Emma!” he yelled after me. “What the hell are you doing? Get back in the truck right now!”

I kept walking, my eyes blurring with tears. Behind me I heard the truck door slam and Brannon’s footsteps closing in on me. He grabbed my arm and turned me to face him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” I yelled. “What the hell is wrong with you? I am not a slut, Brannon. I am a wife who loves her husband and wants a real marriage with sex and the whole deal. And I will
not
be talked to like that. Not by you, not by anyone!”

His face reddened, his hands gripped my arms.

“Get back in the truck,” he hissed. “We don’t need to talk about this in public.”

I glanced around and saw Mrs. O’Hearn standing in the doorway of the flower shop, watching us.

“Let go of me,” I said softly. “You’re hurting my arms.”

He released his grip, took a deep breath, and stepped back. “Okay, look,” he said, “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t believe you would talk to the doctor like that. It’s not . . . proper to talk about sex with your OB. It’s . . . God, it’s almost obscene.”

I stared at him for a long minute and then sighed. “Brannon, I think Dr. McLaren knows we have sex. I mean, I am pregnant.”

He smiled a little then and ran his hand over his eyes. “I know that. It just doesn’t sound very ladylike, in your condition.”

“My condition is pregnancy, honey. Not leprosy.”

He reached for me again, this time more gently, and pulled me into a hug.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just old-fashioned about some things. Will you get back in the truck now?”

I kissed him and smiled. “Yes, I will get in the truck, but only if you promise to take me to lunch. I’m starving.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said. “What do you want to eat?”

“Pizza,” I said firmly. “I believe I would kill for a mushroom-and-jalapeño pizza.”

That afternoon, we told Jenny about the baby.

“No way!” she yelled, hopping from one foot to the other. “For real? You’re really having a baby?”

“Yep, we are,” Brannon said. “In September you’ll be a big sister.”

“Is it a boy or a girl?” she asked.

“We don’t know yet,” I said. “The doctor said he’ll do an ultrasound at four months, but even then we might not be able to tell. So . . . it will be a surprise.”

“I hope it’s a girl!” she said. “I really want a little sister.”

“Well, we can’t promise you that,” Brannon said, laughing. “But whether it’s a boy or a girl, you will be a big sister.”

“What are you going to name it?”

Brannon looked at me and I looked at him. We hadn’t even talked about names yet.

“I don’t know,” I said. “To be honest, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Well, I think we should name her Mia,” Jenny said. “Mia or Sasha, those are my favorites.”

Brannon laughed, shaking his head.

“Hold your horses there, ma’am. We don’t even know if it’s a girl. And I’m sure as hell not naming my son Mia or Sasha.”

“Well, obviously not if it’s a boy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If it’s a boy, we should call him Isaac.”

I laughed, watching the two of them. They were both so excited they were almost giddy. I rested my hands on my flat belly.
This is your family, baby,
I thought.
And we already love you so much
.

“Hey, you,” Brannon said. “Are you okay?”

I nodded even as tears dripped down my face.

“I’m just really happy.”

“Me too, babe,” he said.

“And me!” Jenny yelled. “I’m happy, too! Can I call Lashaundra and tell her about the baby?”

“Sure,” Brannon said. “I think that’s okay, isn’t it?”

He turned to me.

“It’s fine,” I said.

And it was. A lot of women don’t tell people they’re pregnant until after the first trimester. But I knew this baby would be healthy. Our baby would be strong and happy and loved more than any child in the world.

“W
hat about Seth?” Lashaundra had been listing baby names for the last half hour while we ate lunch.

“I like it,” I said. “Are you going to eat your pickle?”

She shook her head, forked the pickle, and dropped it onto my plate.

“Or maybe Wesley. No, not Wesley. How about Cameron?”

I laughed. “I don’t think my dad would go for Cameron. He likes names like Bill and Paul, you know, old-fashioned, boring names.”

“What about Emma? What kind of names does she like?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Emma hasn’t said any names she likes.”

“My mom has already started knitting a blanket for the baby. It’s green and white. Then if the baby is a boy she’ll trim it in blue, and if it’s a girl she’ll trim it in pink.”

“Your mom knows how to do a lot of stuff, doesn’t she? I mean, she bakes and she decorates cakes and she knits. You’re really lucky.”

Lashaundra grinned and dipped her last french fry in a small puddle of ketchup.

“She’s okay,” she said. “She’s teaching me to knit. Maybe she’ll teach you, too.”

We stood up to take our trays to the counter, when a big boy walked right into Lashaundra. Her tray crashed to the floor. Everyone stopped talking to stare.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Lashaundra said.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going? And while you’re at it, why don’t you just go back to Africa where you belong, jungle monkey?”

Several people around us laughed and the boy grinned at them.

I recognized him now, the same boy I’d seen on my first day of school, the one with the saggy pants. Now he was dancing around like a monkey in front of Lashaundra. I stared in disbelief as she drew back her fist and slammed it into his stomach.

Immediately, two teachers came running. One put her arms around Lashaundra, the other grabbed at the boy’s arm to keep him from hitting her back.

“Both of you, to the office right now!” one of the teachers yelled.

“It wasn’t Lashaundra’s fault!” I said. “He was being really mean to her.”

The teacher holding Lashaundra turned to me and said, “You come along, too. We’ll let the principal figure this out.”

I followed them down the long hallway to the principal’s office, my stomach clenching, my palms sweating. I had only been at school a couple weeks and I was already in trouble. Daddy would be so disappointed in me.

The principal looked up as we entered his office.

“These two were fighting in the lunchroom,” the teacher holding the boy’s arm said.

“Jasper Rigby,” the principal said, looking over his glasses at the boy. “This is the fourth time this year you’ve been in my office for fighting.”

“She hit me!” the boy yelled. “I didn’t hit her.”

“Only because I stopped you,” the teacher said.

The principal looked at Lashaundra. “And what is your name, young lady?”

“Lashaundra Johnson, sir,” she said.

“Did you hit Mr. Rigby?”

“Yes I did, sir. But he deserved it.”

“Okay, why don’t you-all sit down and tell me what happened.”

The two teachers who had brought us to the office left, and Lashaundra and I sat down. I reached over to hold her hand. Jasper stood staring at the principal, sneering.

“Mr. Rigby, I asked you to sit down.” The principal stared right back at him until Jasper finally sat down with a thud.

“Now, Miss Johnson, tell me what happened.”

“She hit me!” Jasper yelled again.

“I asked Miss Johnson to talk. You’ll get your turn to talk next.”

Jasper sighed loudly.

“He ran right into me and made me drop my tray,” Lashaundra said. “Then he called me a jungle monkey and told me I should go back to Africa.”

“Is that true?” The principal turned to Jasper.

“She’s the one who ran into me,” he said. “And she’s the one who hit me.”

“Did you call her a jungle monkey?”

Jasper didn’t reply. He just kept sneering.

The principal sighed now and shook his head. Then he looked at me.

“And why are you here?” he asked.

“The teacher told me to come with her,” I said. “And he did call Lashaundra a jungle monkey.” I nodded at the boy as he glared at me. “And he was scratching his belly and acting like a monkey and everything.”

“Mr. Rigby,” the principal said, turning toward the boy, “you will apologize to Miss Johnson immediately.”

Jasper sat in silence, staring hard at the principal, and then at Lashaundra and me.

“I asked you to apologize,” the principal repeated, his voice low.

Still Jasper said nothing.

Finally, the principal took a deep breath and turned back to Lashaundra.

“Miss Johnson, I appreciate that Mr. Rigby insulted you. He was very wrong to do that. But hitting is never an appropriate response. I will be calling your parents to tell them what you’ve done, and I think you will need to stay after school today in detention.”

“Yes, sir.” Lashaundra’s voice was soft.

“You two go back to your classes,” he said.

We rose and Jasper got up, too.

“Not you, Mr. Rigby. We’re not finished here.”

When I told Daddy and Emma what had happened, Emma’s eyes grew wide.

“Is Lashaundra okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “But I’ll bet she’s in trouble at home.”

Daddy shook his head. “Well, he sure had it coming, didn’t he? Frankly, I’m glad Lashaundra punched him. He deserved it.”

He laughed and shook his head again. “Imagine, little Lashaundra punching out a bully. Good for her!”

“Did you say the boy’s last name is Rigby?” Emma asked.

I nodded. “Jasper Rigby.”

“I’ll bet he’s Damon Rigby’s son. He’s a bully just like his father.”

“Who’s Damon Rigby?” Daddy asked.

“He’s a jerk who comes into the diner sometimes. He’s always yelling at his wife, just humiliating her every chance he gets. And he’s a bigot, too. You should see the way he looks at Angel when he sees her.”

“Jasper is the boy we saw that first day of school,” I said. “The one with the saggy pants.”

“Well, I’m kind of sorry Lashaundra crossed him. You stay out of his way, okay? It sounds like he’s a bully just like his father, and the farther away you are from him the better.” Emma put her hand on mine.

“Okay.” She didn’t really have to tell me that. I already knew I wanted nothing to do with Jasper Rigby.

“E
mma, that’s wonderful, honey! When are you due?” Resa hugged me tightly.

“The middle of September,” I said.

“Is Brannon just over the moon?”

I laughed. “He’s pretty excited. So is Jenny.”

“I bet they are.” She pulled back to look me up and down. “Are you feeling okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine. No morning sickness or anything yet.”

“Let’s hope the Good Lord keeps it that way,” she said. “I puked my guts out when I was pregnant, every single time. I even ended up in the emergency room with Justine. I was so sick they had to give me one of them IV drips. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

“So far, I’m good,” I repeated.

“Well, if you’ve got any questions, honey, you just ask. I been through it four times, so I guess that makes me a pro. Who’s your doctor?”

“Dr. McLaren.”

“He’s good.” She nodded. “Real nice.”

Harlan emerged from the kitchen.

“You gonna keep working for a while?”

“Sure,” I said. “I feel good; I like my job. There’s no reason to quit.”

“All right,” he said. “But if you get tired, you take a break. No arguments.” He raised his hand as I opened my mouth. “You get tired, you sit down. You got that?”

“Yes, sir!” I saluted him like a soldier would a drill sergeant.

He shook his head and walked back into the kitchen.

“Have ya’ll thought about names yet?” Resa asked as she filled a saltshaker on a table.

“Not really. We just found out a couple weeks ago.”

“Naming is the fun part. I had all kinds of names I liked when I was pregnant. I liked Caroline and Lorelei and Madelyn for girls. But Earl didn’t like any of them. He’s kind of particular about the naming.”

I smiled. Resa’s husband was a quiet, easygoing man with a soft voice and a gentle grin. I couldn’t imagine him being particular about much of anything.

“When you’re ready,” she continued, “the mission store has lots of maternity clothes, real good prices. I got most everything there. St. Vincent’s, you know it? It’s on Central. Oh, and Fabulous Finds has good stuff, too. I’ll take you sometime if we ever get a day off together.”

“Thanks, Resa.”

“Like I said, I’ve done it four times. You got questions, you just ask.”

“Um . . . actually,” I stammered, feeling myself start to blush. “When you were pregnant, did you and Earl . . . did you, I mean . . .”

“Did we what?” She looked confused.

“Did you still have sex?” It came out almost in a whisper.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, laughing. “We had sex right up till the day Sam was born. In fact, I think that’s what finally started my labor. I was past due with him.”

“So, Earl still wanted to?”

“Honey, Earl always wants to. I think I could weigh eight hundred pounds and be on a respirator, and he’d still want to jump my bones.”

She paused and then asked, “Don’t Brannon want to?”

“Not since he found out I was pregnant,” I said, my cheeks burning. “It’s like he’s afraid he’ll hurt the baby.”

“Some men are like that, I guess. Not my Earl, of course. Lord knows there’s been times I wish he would lay off, but he’s always ready to go. But some men don’t like sex when their wives are pregnant.”

She reached for another saltshaker and laughed again.

“What you need, darlin’, is a BOB.”

I stared at her, not understanding.

“A battery-operated boyfriend,” she said, grinning at my red cheeks. “It don’t talk back, it just hums.”

My eyes widened and I knew I looked like an idiot.

“Brannon would kill me if I came home with a . . . a vibrator.”

“Not if he don’t know,” she said, moving to another table. “Sometimes a girl’s got to take care of her own self, if you know what I mean.”

I shook my head. In a million years I could not imagine myself walking into one of those kinds of stores and buying a vibrator.

“If you ladies have some time on your hands, how about opening shop?” Harlan’s voice made me jump. I looked back just in time to see him disappear into the kitchen.

“Oh my God,” I said. “Do you think he heard us?”

Resa laughed as she unlocked the restaurant’s front door.

“Don’t worry, Emma. It’ll take more than a vibrator to embarrass old Harlan. Trust me, honey, he’s heard it all before.”

When school was over, Jenny and Lashaundra came to the diner. Angel was working at the bakery now, so they often came in to have a snack and do their homework.

“Ya’ll want some pie?” Resa asked.

“No, thank you,” Lashaundra said, smiling up at her.

“Yes, please!” Jenny said.

“How about some cocoa, then?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Those girls are so polite,” Resa said as she passed me. “You and Angel are good mamas.”

“I can’t take much credit,” I said. “Brannon’s the one who raised Jenny.”

“Well, he’s done a fine job. My kids think they’re doing you a favor to say please or thank you.”

I laughed. Resa’s four children were all well mannered, if a little bit rowdy. When they came into the diner, it was like a hurricane of noise and motion.

I picked up plates from a table and pocketed the tip, then headed for the kitchen when I heard the chimes on the door. Glancing back, I saw three boys enter. One of them looked familiar.

“What do you have to do to get service around here?” one of the boys, the biggest one, shouted as they all sat down at a booth.

“Hold your horses!” Resa called back. “I’ll be right with you.”

I put the plates into the dishwasher, picked up an order, and walked back to the front of the diner. The three boys were sitting in a booth toward the front.

“Hey, Emma,” Jenny hissed at me as I passed the table where she sat with Lashaundra. “That’s Jasper Rigby, the one who called Lashaundra a jungle monkey.”

I eyed the boys at the table, wishing I could ask them to leave.

“Just be quiet and stay out of his way,” I said softly.

Jenny nodded and dropped her eyes to the social studies book in front of her. Lashaundra turned in the booth to look at the boys.

“Hey, it’s the jungle monkey!”

The biggest boy rose from his seat and began walking toward the table where the girls were sitting. I stepped in front of him.

“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll take your order,” I said, forcing my voice to remain flat.

“I’m not sitting in any restaurant that serves niggers.” The boy stared past me at Lashaundra and Jenny.

“Jasper Rigby, that’s enough out of you!” Resa stood behind me, her hands on her hips. “You sit back down and behave yourself or I will call your mother.”

Jasper rolled his eyes at her and stood still for a long minute. Then he turned abruptly and walked back to the table where his friends sat.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Nothing but niggers and nigger lovers in here.”

The two boys in the booth rose and they all left, slamming the door behind them.

“Are you okay?” I asked, walking back toward the girls.

Jenny nodded. Lashaundra sat in silence, her fists gripped into two tight balls.

“Don’t you worry, honey.” Resa put her hand on Lashaundra’s shoulder. “He’ll get what’s coming to him. Bullies always do.”

Jenny’s eyes were wide as she watched Lashaundra’s face. Lashaundra said nothing for a minute, then looked up at Resa and said, “I’ve heard worse.”

“He’s a pig, just like his daddy,” Resa said. “He’s not even worth your time.”

Both girls nodded.

“My dad said he was glad you hit Jasper,” Jenny said. “He said Jasper had it coming.”

Lashaundra smiled then. “My daddy said he was proud of me, too. But boy, Mama was mad.”

“Just try to steer clear of him and his friends,” I said. The sheer hatred on Jasper’s face as he stared at the girls had shaken me.

“Don’t worry, Emma.” Lashaundra gazed up at me, her dark brown eyes wide and clear. “I won’t let him bother Jenny.”

Just before we closed that evening, the front door slammed open so hard the windows rattled.

“Resa Lane McCoy!” Damon Rigby yelled as he stalked into the restaurant. “I want to talk to you.”

“Hey, Damon. Do you want some coffee?” Resa’s voice was calm.

“Did you kick my boy out of here today?” Damon stopped directly in front of Resa, his red, angry face just inches from hers. He reeked of alcohol and tobacco.

“No, Damon. I did not kick Jasper out. I just asked him to sit down and behave himself.”

Damon stared at her, breathing heavily. Then he looked pointedly at the booth where Jenny and Lashaundra sat, watching him with wide eyes.

“Well, he ain’t coming back in here no more, and neither is anyone else in this town that’s got any sense. Not while you keep encouraging
that
.”

He pointed at Lashaundra and Jenny.

“You talking about the cocoa, Damon?” Resa asked with a smile set firmly on her face. “Because lots of folks hereabouts like Harlan’s cocoa just fine.”

“I’m talking about race mixing, and you know it, you stupid bitch!”

“That’s enough, Damon.” Harlan stood at the back of the restaurant, slowly removing his white apron. “We don’t need no trouble in here.”

“I ain’t the one with trouble,” Damon shouted. “You are!”

“Go on home now,” Harlan said, his voice soft but steely.

“You’ve had too much to drink. Go home before I call the sheriff to come get you.”

Damon’s nostrils flared as he ran a hand through his thinning hair. After a long, tense standoff, he turned and stalked out the door, slamming it hard behind him.

Resa locked the door behind him.

“I better call Shirley and warn her,” she said. “He’s in a bad way.”

“Should we call the police?” I asked.

Harlan sighed and began clearing dishes from a table.

“Won’t do no good,” he said. “He’ll go home and sleep it off. Just steer clear of him.”

I nodded.

“Thanks, Harlan.”

He gave me half a smile and returned to the kitchen.

“Come on, girls,” I said. “Help me clear this place up and we can go home.”

I dropped Lashaundra off at the apartment Michael and Angel had rented. Michael waved from the doorway as we drove away.

“Why is Mr. Rigby so mean?” Jenny asked.

“I don’t know, honey. Some people are just born that way, I guess.”

“Should we tell Daddy about it?”

I thought for a minute before answering.

“I guess we should,” I said. “He’ll probably find out from Mr. Johnson tomorrow anyway.”

Brannon turned off the television as we walked into the house.

“There are my favorite girls,” he said. “How was school today?”

“Okay,” Jenny said.

“Just okay?”

“School was okay,” Jenny said. “But after school wasn’t.”

“What happened?” Brannon looked from Jenny to me as Jenny began telling him about the scenes with Jasper and then Damon Rigby. Brannon’s face grew darker by the minute. He rose and began pacing the living room.

When Jenny finished talking, Brannon stood quietly, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“Don’t worry, Jenny,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of it.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I’m going to let Damon Rigby and his thug of a son know that they can’t talk to you or about you like that.”

“Harlan and Resa said we should just stay out of Damon’s way,” I said, touching his arm.

He pulled his arm away and spun to face me.

“No one talks to my little girl like that,” he yelled, his face red.

He stormed out of the house and a minute later we heard the truck’s motor roar to life.

“Where’s he going?” Jenny asked, her voice trembling.

“Probably just to cool off,” I said, hoping she would believe me.

“What if Mr. Rigby shoots him?”

“I’m sure that’s not going to happen.”

But my stomach was churning, just like hers probably was.

“Come on,” I said, holding my hand out to her. “Let’s get ready for bed. Your dad is probably just driving around for a while to cool off.”

Long after Jenny had gone to bed I sat in the living room, waiting for Brannon to come home. Finally, just after two in the morning, I heard his truck in the driveway.

He came in quietly, locking the door behind him.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Why are you still up? You should be in bed. You’re sleeping for two now, remember?”

“I was worried,” I said. “Where have you been?”

“I drove around,” he said. “I needed to clear my head.”

“I was afraid you were going to Damon Rigby’s,” I said. “I was so afraid he might hurt you or . . . or something.”

“I’m fine.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me against his chest. “Don’t worry about me, babe. I’m just fine.”