“Did you have a good nap?” Teddi asked as she emerged from the bottom of the stairs.
Mamie stared at her over the basket of lettuce she’d brought in from the garden. “Nap? Oh, dear Lord, I didn’t sleep, child! How could I sleep?”
She led the way into the kitchen and started water running into the sink to wash the lettuce. “I made some iced tea; I thought we could have some before we get supper started. Sit down, Teddi, so we can talk.”
There were two tall frosty glasses on the table, and a plate of sugar cookies. Another glass, empty, acknowledged the third presence in the house now. When Dora showed up, she would know she’d been expected.
Teddi sank into a chair and took a sip of the tea as Mamie whisked the greens through the water and set them to drain in a colander before she joined Teddi at the table.
“I can hardly form a coherent thought,” Mamie said, “before another one pushes it out. I don’t know if you can imagine . . .” She pushed back a wisp of hair and sighed. She was obviously very tired, yet there was an undercurrent of excitement, too. “I knew Ned and Leah weren’t planning to have a family, even before Ned got hurt in that car wreck. Now with all the reconstructive surgery he’s having, the expense will be another reason why they can’t afford a family. And they’re both too career-oriented, anyway. But I’d hoped Ricky might eventually give me grandchildren. And then, when they called to tell me he’d been on that plane. . . . That was one of the things I thought about, you know. Not only that Ricky was . . . gone, but that there would never be any grandchildren.”
She sipped at her tea and reached for a cookie, which she didn’t eat but left lying on a napkin, picking at the edges of it so that it crumbled.
If I ever have any kids, Teddi reflected, they won’t have any grandparents. Maybe Mamie would fill in for them.
“And now,” Mamie said, “this. Dora. It’s almost a miracle, isn’t it? Not only do I have another daughter-in-law, but she’s pregnant. I suppose I should tell Ned, but he has so many problems right now, maybe it’s better to wait.” She sat, clearly pondering an uncertain future.
Teddi cleared her throat. “It seems funny Ricky didn’t let you know he’d gotten married and that they were expecting a baby.”
“Oh, that’s disappointing, yes. But he was never a very good writer. When he went to camp, when he was nine or ten, the only postcard I got was the one they made him write. And the time he got banged up in that motorcycle accident just after he went to San Diego, when he was hospitalized for five days, he didn’t have anyone let me know. And even the good things . . . Ricky didn’t always communicate. Did I ever tell you about the trophy he won his last year in high school? For academic excellence! And he never mentioned it! I found it in his room after graduation. Of course, if I hadn’t been sick the night of the ceremony, I’d have been there when they presented it to him, I suppose. I felt so bad that I missed his graduation, especially since his father was no longer alive to go. But I was down with the flu.”
Mamie laughed a little, fondly, remembering her younger son. “I thought all the possibilities were gone, Teddi, and now I’m going to have a grandson. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Dutifully, Teddi nodded, glad that Mamie seemed happy, happier than she had been.
“I wonder if he’ll look like Ricky? He was such a pretty baby. Big dark eyes and always plenty of hair, even when he was born.”
“Is Dora still sleeping? She must have been very tired.”
“She was dead to the world when I peeked in on her a few minutes ago. She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?”
Again Teddi murmured assent. A part of her was alert for any sound from the bedroom that had, until a few hours ago, been hers.
“I’m sorry we had to move you upstairs,” Mamie said. “Was it an awful mess up there?”
“Not too bad. I got the bed up and the dust off things. I don’t have anywhere to put my clothes, though, when I move them.”
“Why don’t you take that clothes rack out of the laundry room? We can get by without it. Maybe we can find a dresser at a garage sale; everybody’s having them right now. Keep your eyes open and let me know if you see anything.”
That suggested that Dora moving in didn’t necessarily mean that Teddi would have to find somewhere else to go. Teddi relaxed, but only fractionally. The situation was still too tense. Who knew what Mamie might think when she’d had time to consider all the possibilities?
Teddi had no family anywhere except three elderly aunts she scarcely knew, living hundreds of miles away in Utah. If she left Mamie’s, it meant going to an unknown foster home.
They drank their tea, each of them deep in her own thoughts, and then they worked together to fix supper. Mamie thanked her with a smile for getting out the extra chops. They scrubbed potatoes for baking, made a salad, and Mamie sent Teddi out to pull up a few baby carrots for steaming.
Teddi was setting the table—in the dining room, as for a special occasion—when Dora finally showed up. They heard her go into the bathroom first, and then she came padding out in her stocking feet, red marks of sleep still on one side of her face.
“I hope you had a good nap,” Teddi said uncertainly.
“Oh, wonderful. If I hadn’t had to go to the bathroom, I probably would still be asleep,” Dora confessed. “Now I’m feeling hungry.”
“It’ll be about twenty minutes, I think. The meat and potatoes are in the oven.”
“It sure smells good. Will it be okay if I sit in the living room and watch TV?”
“Sure. Help yourself.”
Teddi went back to the kitchen for napkins. “She’s up now,” she said.
Mamie had her head in the refrigerator. “Good. I hope she’s feeling better. Do you think we should have cottage cheese, too? Maybe with pineapple stirred into it?”
They had never, since Teddi had been here, had their cottage cheese jazzed up with pineapple.
They took their places a short time later, with Dora across from Teddi, and Mamie in her customary chair at the end of the table. The aroma drifting up from the chop platter was mouthwatering.
Dora smiled. “Oh, this looks so good!”
Mamie nodded. “Let’s bless it, and then we’ll dig in.”
Obediently, Dora put her hands in her lap and bowed her head. But Teddi had the feeling the girl wasn’t used to saying grace.
Mamie didn’t settle for the usual brief blessing, either. Instead she added, “And thank you, God, for sending Dora to us, and for the child she will soon have. May she deliver it safely, and have a healthy baby. In Jesus’ name, we ask. Amen.”
Being pregnant must make an expectant mother extra hungry, Teddy thought as Dora loaded her plate and dug into her food. At one point she asked, “You only have the two bedrooms, then? Aside from the one nobody used, in the attic? Somehow, I pictured you living in a larger house.”
“That’s right. Rick and Ned always shared the room you’re in now, so we never needed a third bedroom.”
Teddi felt a twinge of something she couldn’t quite identify. Already it was Dora’s room, though she herself had not yet moved out of it.
Dora cleaned her plate, then hesitated. “Does anyone want that last chop? I must seem an awful pig, but eating for two seems to do that to me.”
“By all means,” Mamie told her, handing over the platter, “finish it off.”
Teddi hadn’t wanted it, but for some reason she felt slightly uncomfortable about Dora finishing off two chops. It wasn’t as if two helpings of meat were out of line; in the very old days, when her mom was cooking their meals, her dad often had extra helpings.
In the later stages of Gloria Stuart’s illness, many of their meals had consisted of toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, or take-out Chinese or chicken on better days. By that time her mother wasn’t interested in either eating or anyone else’s nutrition. It had been a joy to eat at Mamie’s table, where fruits and vegetables and even the chicken had all been home-cooked.
Dora picked up the chop bone in her fingers to gnaw off the last of the meat, then daintily used her napkin. “That was terrific, Mamie. Ricky always said you were a fabulous cook. He wasn’t exaggerating.”
Mamie smiled her pleasure. “Why don’t you go in the front room and relax now, Dora. Teddi and I will clear away.”
As soon as they were finished in the kitchen, Teddi suggested that she use this opportunity to get as much of her stuff out of the downstairs bedroom as she could.
“Good idea,” Mamie said, patting her shoulder. “Dora may want to go to bed early.”
Teddi was about ready to go to bed, too, by the time she’d run up and down the stairs a dozen times. She lugged the hanging rack up from the laundry room and put her underclothes and T-shirts into paper bags for the time being. Luckily she didn’t have all that much to move; she had had new clothes over the past year or so only when she completely outgrew the old ones.
Before what she planned as her final trip for the evening, Teddi went toward the living room to say good night, only to find herself in the middle of a conversation.
“When is the baby due, Dora?” Mamie was asking.
“Within the next week or two, I think. I’d expected to be able to make more preparations for him, but what with losing Ricky . . . well, I didn’t get very far.”
Teddi, unnoticed in the doorway, thought, But Ricky only died two weeks ago. Why had she waited until she was a month from giving birth before she did anything? Didn’t people usually start making or buying baby clothes sooner than this?
“I don’t have anything left from the boys, of course,” Mamie said. “I gave everything away years ago. We’ll have to start looking. What do you have?”
“Nothing, really. Not even diapers. I’d hoped to use disposable ones; they’re so much easier, aren’t they? And of course I don’t have a crib.”
“We’ll be watching garage sales to find a dresser for Teddi,” Mamie told her. “Maybe we can find a used crib, too.”
“We were going to buy everything new, seeing that Danny would be our first.” Dora sounded wistful.
Mamie laughed. “I don’t think we had a thing new when Ned and Ricky were born. Except for handmade gifts the church ladies brought us. The lucky thing about babies is that they don’t know the difference between new and used.”
“I guess that’s true, isn’t it? Well, in the long run, I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t have much bought for the baby. I couldn’t possibly have carried it here with me on the bus, could I?”
“Where did you come from, dear?” Mamie asked, and Teddi hovered, waiting for the answer.
“Where did you last hear from Ricky?” Dora asked.
“Oh, the letter was mailed in San Diego, I think. Is that where you were?”
“Yes. We had an apartment there. I wouldn’t have come to you so quickly except that the rent was up on the first of the month, and I didn’t really feel I could afford to pay it for another month. We didn’t have much of anything in the bank, so I didn’t want to waste any of it. I can see now that I’ve been a shock to you. I should have written, but I couldn’t find your address in any of Ricky’s things. I just knew the town. I looked you up in the phone book when I got off the bus and I started to call, but then I thought it would be better just to come, as long as I was nearly here. I’m sorry if that turned out to be poor judgment.”
“Well, it’s turned out all right. Ricky was working, wasn’t he?” There was a note of concern in Mamie’s voice. “He wrote to me quite a while ago that he’d gotten a job with a computer firm.”
“Yes, he did, but they laid him off. He got another job, but not until he’d been out of work for about two months, so we got behind. It’s hard to save when the work isn’t steady, and you’re newly married and need to furnish a whole apartment.”
“How well I remember, even though it was almost thirty years ago! Even the price of a set of salt-and-pepper shakers was more than we could manage the first few weeks. If it hadn’t been for garage sales and thrift shops, I don’t know how we’d have managed.” Mamie didn’t make it sound as if it had been a hardship, though. She and her husband had been very happy in spite of being poor in their early years; she had told Teddi many stories about it.
If it had been me seeking refuge with a mother-in-law I didn’t know, who didn’t realize I even existed, I certainly would have contacted her before I came here, to be sure I was welcome.
Teddi bit her lip. Was she being petty simply because her own security was threatened? Mamie didn’t really owe her anything, the way she did Dora.
Dora’s words cut through her musings. “If Ricky had worked another month, we’d have had insurance to pay for this baby. I did go to the doctor in San Diego. As it is, I’ll probably have to have it at home to be able to afford it.”
That made Teddi straighten her spine. Have the baby here, in her room?
“Oh, my. Well, that is a complication,” Mamie admitted. “It would probably be a good idea to apply for DSHS for the both of you, while there’s still time to get the paperwork done.”
Dora’s words were soft, so that Teddi could barely hear them. “Ricky never wanted us to take charity. He couldn’t bear the idea of being on welfare, not just because he was proud, but because of how difficult all that paperwork is. And you have to keep verifying everything, proving you’re eligible and all that.”
“But you could easily do that,” Mamie protested. “After all, your husband just died and you’re all alone. Surely they’d help you.”
“It’s hard to ask strangers for help,” Dora murmured.
But she didn’t hesitate to come here, to Mamie, and Mamie is a stranger.
But legally Dora’s mother-in-law, Teddi amended, trying to be fair.
Mamie spoke with unaccustomed firmness. “It would be foolish not to get proper medical care because of squeamishness over accepting charity. You can prove you were married to my son, can’t you?”
Dora moistened her lips. “Oh, yes. I have our marriage certificate. I’ll get it and show it to you.”
She brushed past Teddi in the doorway to get her purse and handed a folded paper to Mamie. Teddi caught only a glimpse of the document as Mamie looked at it, then handed it back. “Fine,” Mamie said. “We’ll take this and any other papers you have when we go to the social services office. I don’t know if there’s ordinarily a waiting period to get help when coming from another state, but surely the fact that you’re my daughter-in-law will make a difference when you had nowhere else to go.”
Dora put the certificate away, looking dubious. “My husband said . . . I’m not sure he’d want me to go on welfare.”
“Let’s talk to someone who knows more about such things than we do,” Mamie told her. She glanced at Teddi. “Was there something special you wanted, dear?”
“I’ll take one more load up with me,” Teddi said, “and then I think I’ll go to bed.”
“Good idea. I guess we’re all tired,” Mamie said. “It’s been an emotional day, and that can wear anyone out.”
“It’s certainly worn me out,” Dora affirmed. “I think I’ll wait until tomorrow to unpack my things.”
Teddi followed Dora into the downstairs bedroom, feeling very awkward. It was as if she were already intruding on the other girl’s territory.
She scooped a book off the night table and some odds and ends off the top of the dresser. Then she reached up to take down the small picture of a woodsy scene, one that her mother had painted many years earlier, before Teddi was born. It was the only picture she had taken with her from the house when she left it.
“Oh,” Dora said disappointedly, “are you going to take that? I really like it, and it’ll leave a mark if you take it down.”
“No, it won’t,” Teddi said. “It hasn’t been up there long enough to have left a spot on the wallpaper.”
“But it’s so uplifting, don’t you think, to be able to see it from the bed that way? I enjoyed it before I fell asleep.”
Teddi hesitated, then drew back her hand. Under the circumstances, how could she begrudge the girl such a small thing?
She gathered up a few more articles and, without a further word, left the room. She didn’t trust herself to say so much as “good night.”
Mamie, who was in the hallway when she came out, ruffled her hair in a tender gesture. “Sleep well, Teddi. We’ll have lots to do tomorrow, hitting those garage sales. Good night, Dora.”
In the attic bedroom, so alien, so barren, Teddi dumped everything on the floor for lack of a better place, and turned to the open window. In spite of her scrubbing efforts, the place retained a slightly musty smell.
There was a light in the room directly opposite hers, in the old house. The blue carpeting gave it a luxurious air. Teddi wondered which members of the family were going to sleep there.
And then she saw him, the boy, Jason. He was hauling bedding past the window, until he suddenly noticed her.
He stopped. Teddi was self-conscious, as if she’d been deliberately caught peeking, her hands still on the raised frame of the window.
Jason tossed his bedding off to the side and threw open his own window.
“Hi,” he called.
“Hi,” Teddi responded.
“Are you the girl who used to live here?”
“Yes.”
“The real estate lady told us you’d moved next door. I’m Jason Temple.”
“Teddi Stuart.”
“Glad to meet you. Maybe you can give us some basic information in the next few days. Like, where’s the library?”
Teddi felt some of the tension go out of her as she laughed. “The library is pretty basic. It’s two blocks down that way, then turn right for—”
“Why don’t you show me?” Jason suggested. “Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”
“If I’m not busy with Mamie going to garage sales,” Teddi accepted, with a slight fluttering of her pulse. “We have to look for some things tomorrow.”
“Any chance you’d like company?” Jason asked. “We have to look for a few things, too. Like some lamps. We had mostly overhead fixtures in the old place, and we need lamps.”
“Sure. I’ll ask Mamie and let you know.”
“Great. See you tomorrow, then.”
“Right.” There were no shades up here, so Teddi turned off her own light before she got undressed. There was plenty of illumination from the streetlight out front.
For a few moments she had forgotten what Dora’s sudden appearance might mean to her own future. For a few moments she’d had something to look forward to, showing a new guy in town where the library was and searching out the garage and yard sales.
It was only when she slid into the unfamiliar bed that she recalled how her life had changed yet again. She wasn’t sure the change was going to be for the better.