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“I thought you met a man last fall,” Mama said, and Jill watched her closely. Daddy had mentioned that her memory wasn’t great while on the chemotherapy treatments. “Mike or Mickey or something.”
“It was Mike,” Jill said, her voice a touch cooler now. “We broke up, Mama. A few months ago. Remember I came over and you made me that chocolate mousse that soothes broken hearts?” She grinned at her mother, kidding though she did believe in the soothing power of all things chocolate.
“Oh, that’s right,” Mama said, some color coming back into her face now.
“Do you need something to eat, Mama? Maybe you should try having one of those shakes.” Since she had a hard time keeping food down, she’d been drinking shakes with all the essential vitamins and minerals and nutrients in them.
“I’m feeling like another bowl of that macaroni salad,” she said with a grin. “Did Haven take it all?”
“I don’t think she took any of it,” Jill said, grinning too. She retrieved the bowl from the fridge and didn’t bother with individual bowls. She got two spoons out of the silverware drawer and joined her mom at the table. “I did meet a new man, Mama. His name’s Slate.”
“Oh? Tell me about him.”
“Well…” Jill removed the aluminum foil from the large serving bowl and handed her mother a spoon. “He’s new to the ranch. He’s not really a cowboy, and he’s got a background in finance…or something.” In that moment, Jill realized how very little she knew about Slate. When they’d spoken in the past, he’d kept the conversation on her. Her family. Her time on the ranch. How she knew about honeybees.
“He’s helping Emma a little bit, and Ginger assigns him to whatever needs to be done around the ranch.” She scooped up a spoonful of mac salad and put it in her mouth.
“How are Emma and Ginger?”
“Mm.” Jill’s eyes widened as she chewed quickly. “Emma’s going to have a baby.”
“My, that’s wonderful.” Mama genuinely sounded like it was too. Jill had invited her parents to Hope Eternal Ranch several times over the years she’d lived and worked there, and they’d come for holiday meals, Sunday brunches, and big parties. They’d been there for Ginger’s wedding, as well as Emma’s. Mama hadn’t come for Jess’s, because she hadn’t been feeling well, and Jill pasted a smile on her face as she thought about the past few weeks since Mama’s diagnosis.
“Tell her congratulations from me. In fact.” Mama started to stand, and she waved away any help Jill might have given her. “I’ve got baby blankets and bibs in the closet here.”
Of course she did. Jill could only smile as her mother went down the hall and came back with a large, clear, plastic bin in her hands. She set it on the table and unlatched the lid. “She probably doesn’t know if it’s a boy or a girl.” Mama looked at Jill for confirmation.
“She hasn’t even told the whole ranch yet,” Jill said, remembering the administration weekly on Friday. Everyone in the room had been surprised and offered congratulations when Emma had told them why Slate was there. Only Jill and Ginger had known before then. “She’s not due until February.”
“Maybe I’ll wait then.” Mama placed the bundles she’d started to pull out of the bin back inside. “It’s nice to get a gender-specific set.”
Jill stood and looked down into the bin. “Mama,” she said when she saw how many baby blankets and bibs there were. “How many of these do you have?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I just make them when I find some cute fabric.” Mama looked up at her, hope shining on her face. “Besides, maybe you’ll have a lot of babies, and you’ll need them.”
Jill gaped at her mother and then looked at the bin again. “Mama, Kenna and I would have to have a dozen each to use this many blankets.”
“Oh, that’s not so unreasonable, is it?”
“Yes,” Jill said, starting to laugh. “It is, Mama. I’m thirty-three. I’m not going to have twelve babies in the next twelve years.” She shook her head and went back to the island and the peach pie recipe.
“Maybe Haven will have more children,” Mama mused.
“Mama,” Jill said, her tone sobering. “She won’t. She’s told you that already.”
“I know.” Mama sighed, and a measure of guilt punched Jill in the chest. Her mother did love her grandchildren, and as Jill started to drain the peaches and thicken the juice with the spices and the cornstarch, she imagined a world where her own mother didn’t get to see her get married. Where Mama wouldn’t be able to hold Jill’s children and fuss over them and tell them how wonderful and beautiful they were.
She could barely breathe by the time the sauce was thickened, and when she turned around to get the peaches, her mother stood right there. “Now, don’t you be worried about anything,” Mama said, her bright blue eyes shooting lasers the way Jill’s felt like hers did when she got angry.
Jill didn’t have to speak. She just grabbed onto her mother and held her tight while she tried to hold back the tears. She mostly achieved that, only letting out a few lungfuls of air that shook like the wind and one tear that slid down her face before she could wipe it away.
“I’m going to be around for a long time,” Mama said. “It’s only stage two, dear. I’m responding well to the chemotherapy. Before you know it, I’m going to be back on that tractor, mowing down the corn for the pigs.”
Jill laughed then, though it mostly sounded like a sob. “I know, Mama.” She stepped back and wiped her face. “I’m trying to get married and have grandbabies for you. I am.”
“Maybe this Slate fellow then,” Mama said with a kind smile.
Jill didn’t agree or disagree. She reached for the bowl of peaches and mixed them with the thickened, spiced juice. “We haven’t even really gone out yet. He’s just asked.”
