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“I’m notsure this is a good idea.” Christy sat in the driver seat with a two-handed, white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
“Well, good idea or not, we’re here, so we might as well see it through.” They were back at the big farm where Logan worked, and Sharon cradled the still warm casserole in her lap with nervous fingers. “You made them this dish like a good country neighbor. It was sweet of you, and all we’re doing is dropping it off. It’s a nice thing to do. So let’s go do the nice thing. It’s on them if they don’t accept it.”
“I know.” Christy took a couple deep, fast breaths like she was getting ready to dive underwater. “Let’s just do it fast. God, Shar, what if my boy answers? What if I’m about to see him? What if I don’t recognize him? What if—”
“Okay, time to get out of the car. Quick, before you talk yourself into a nuthouse.” Sharon had her door open and was out of the car before she finished talking. She headed for the house without giving Christy a chance to stall with more talk. Christy had no choice but to follow or get left behind.
Sharon mounted the steps with Christy hot on her heels and was about to knock when she finally noticed there was someone curled up in the porch swing.
“Oh, hey,” Sharon said, uncomfortable at the thought that she’d been watched all this time. “We didn’t see you there. Do you remember us? We met a couple months ago? Outside your—well, on the sidewalk, downtown.”
The woman who sat solemn-eyed and silent wrapped in a downy comforter looked nothing like the vivacious and laughing woman she met not too long ago. Her skin was as pale as the blanket she was wrapped in, and there was a dejection in her expression that had tears biting at the backs of Sharon’s eyes.
Andie didn’t speak; she just nodded then looked away as if they weren’t still standing in front of her holding a big pan of food.
“Andie?” Christy used her wounded animal voice on her, and Sharon looked at her quizzically, wondering what she was up to. “Andie honey? You’re not here alone, are you? Here, can I sit next to you for a spell? We brought you something to eat. Baked potato casserole. It’s my signature dish; everybody loves it. It’s got everything in there you’d ever imagine putting on a spud and then some.” As she chattered on, Christy sat gingerly next to Andie and subtly began to fuss. She tucked the blanket more securely around her, brushed a lock of hair away from her face, and then rubbed soothingly along the curl of the other woman’s back. “You’re not here alone, are you?”
“No, we wouldn’t leave her alone.”
A woman walked out the front door with a sketchpad under one arm and two cups of coffee in her hands. “Here you go, sweetie. It’s hot and sweet enough to rot your teeth. Drink up.” But Andie only took the cup and cradled it in her hands, forgotten the moment her eyes swung back to the horizon.
Sharon didn’t know what else to do, so she thrust the dish at the newcomer. “Here, we made this. Well, Christy made it. I can’t cook for shit. It’s potatoes. They’re good.”
“Thanks. This smells delicious. Andie? You want a scoop?” She lifted the cover and waved the pan temptingly under Andie’s chin. Then she sighed heavily when the only response was a small shake of her head.
“You haven’t eaten since yesterday at the hospital. You’re gonna lose your curves if you keep this up. I’m going to set this right here where you can smell it and see all that melted cheese and crumbled bacon. I got ten bucks that says you’ll be scarfing it in under an hour.” Then she did just that. She plopped the steaming pan on the table right in front of Andie, and Sharon hoped the trick worked; the shadowed eyes and hollowed out cheeks were hauntingly sad.
“I’m Kiki, by the way. Who are you?”
“Oh hi. Sorry, my name’s Sharon, and this is Christy—”
“I’m Logan’s mom,” Christy cut in. She stepped forward with her shoulders back, head high, and a look on her face like she was expecting a punch. Sharon reached out and brushed her fingers on the back of Christy’s hand in support. When her fingers were caught and engulfed in a cool, firm grasp, Sharon tried to keep her expression solemn, but inwardly, she was elated. Doing couple things like holding hands in front of others was rare for them. Not that Christy ever objected—it was Sharon who was the more reserved of the two, so every time Christy responded so readily and with such easy openness, Sharon fell just a little more in love with her.
“Oh shit. Hi. Nice to meet you.” Kiki’s eyes were huge as they bounced from one to the other of them. “Andie told me she ran into you guys. I guess I shoulda put two and two together, but I’m a little distracted,” she told them, gesturing toward where Andie continued to sit and gaze off into nothingness.
“Logan is out in the big orchard today, supervising the harvest. He oughta be back this way for lunch in about twenty minutes or so. You’re welcome to wait, if you want.”
“That’d be great. Thank you.” Sharon smiled warmly at Kiki, liking the easygoing hippie vibe she exuded.
“So, are you two planning on staying in the area?” Kiki asked, taking a seat next to Andie and plopping her sketchpad onto her lap.
“Yeah,” Christy answered, her eyes scanning the orchard in the distance as if willing her son to come striding out of the trees. “With Momma so sick, we had to come now. But we were talking about coming even before we realized Momma was so bad.”
“We’re going to open a dance studio.” Sharon knew she sounded like an overhyped infomercial every time the subject came up, but she was too elated to care. “It’s been a dream of ours for about the last two years now. We can’t be wearing rhinestone bikinis on the Vegas strip forever. So, at first, we started pipe-dreaming about renting a spot and teaching little kids. Then, as time went by, the pipe-dreaming sorta morphed into actual planning, and then her momma needed us, so that put our plans into motion.” Sharon knew she was oversharing, but she did that a lot whenever the studio came up. “We’re gonna convert the barn. We don’t even have to find a spot to rent now; the barn is perfect. Still in good shape and everything. Just needs some dance floors, mirrors, a good sound system for the music, and we’ll have our own studio.”
“It sounds wonderful. When do you think you’ll be up and running?” Kiki came across as genuinely interested, even though she opened her pad and started drawing as they’d spoken.
“Well, the floors are going in next week after the insulation of the new drywall gets finished. Once that’s done, we have to install the interior touches and sound system. That’ll put us out for at least an additional week or two. We’re hoping, fingers crossed, the first of next month, but we have to wait and see how the floors go first. If a studio doesn’t have good floors, it’s dead in the water, even if you’re only teaching toddlers.”
Sharon was so caught up in their plans she didn’t notice the tall and handsome young man approaching the porch until he was at the steps. He was unmistakably Christy’s. Her breath caught on a gasp of surprise. If Christy were to put on a short, dark wig and dress in drag, she’d look exactly like the young man standing in front of her. She had never really paid much attention to hereditary looks in people before. This young man was so obviously her lover’s child that it stopped the breath in her lungs and cleared every thought from her head save one: Christy.
“Hello, Logan.” Christy’s voice sounded softer than Sharon had ever heard it. She spoke with a calm that Sharon was sure she couldn’t feel. “I hope you don’t mind too much that we came by. I-I’m ah… I’m your mom.”
Sharon was watching the boy closely and saw his slight flinch at the word mom, and she felt Christy react to that as if she’d taken a hit. But she kept speaking in her soft and soothing tones, even as she once again slipped her fingers into Sharon’s and clung for support. Emotions big and small clogged Sharon’s throat as she gladly clung back and tried to channel strength into her lover.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to see me. I know this isn’t fair to you at all. I know I left and that it was wrong and that you have every right to h-h-hate me. You don’t owe me anything. Not even a chance to explain.” Try as she might to stay calm, her voice was cracking, and tears filled her over-bright eyes. But Logan wasn’t objecting—as they’d both anticipated. All things considered, he was being a lot more receptive than either of them hoped for. He wasn’t turning his back on them or shouting—and they’d role-played every hurled insult and accusation they could think of to prepare for this too.
