Carefully, I folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. The morning sun had begun to filter through the kitchen curtains, falling onto the counter tops and the small table, where I sat too astounded to think or speak, even in this empty room.
Oh, God. So this nun thought I was wonderful to take this little boy into my home. I laid my head on the kitchen table, as guilt rushed over me.
Yeah, I’m wonderful. I’m so wonderful I could vomit.
"Mommy?"
It was Andrew. What if the situation was a little different, and it had been Andrew I had been forced to give up? I would want someone to care for him as this nun was now caring for P.J. If any member of my family, even my spouse if I were dead, were able to provide for Andrew, I would want them to. I would want them to take Andy into their homes and love him like I had been unable to.
It was clear in my mind now: I had to bring P.J. here to the States. I had to bring P.J. home.
"Mommy, why are you crying?"
I stood and drew my son to me. "Andy, what would you say to having a little brother?"
"Are you crying because you’re going to have a baby?"
"No honey, I'm not going to have a baby." I steered him to the dinette. "Sit down, honey. I want to tell you a story."
*****
I wrote back to Sister Michael Mary later that same day, telling her of Paul's death and my own decision to bring the boy here where he really belonged. The children were thrilled about having a little brother, particularly one who was already big enough to play with. As Andrew told Lillian, "Not just a tiny one who cries and messes in his diapers all the time. This is a real boy."
Marcus hadn't planned on coming over that night, but soon after dinner the telephone rang. Andrew jumped to answer it.
"Hello, Mr. Marcus." The excitement that had filled his voice all day suddenly disappeared. "Yeah, she's here. Did you want to talk to her?" He was very somber for a moment. I gestured to the food in my mouth and indicated I needed a little time to chew and swallow.
"Mom's got her mouth full. I'll talk to you for a minute, I guess, if you want." The boy's eyes narrowed. "Did you know we're going to have baby?"
I snatched the receiver from him, gulping down my food. "Marcus, hi! Hello!"
"What is he talking about, Kay?"
"Hey, at least he's talking to you."
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"You're not pregnant are you?"
"God, no!" I had to laugh, but Marcus didn't share the humor. Another uncomfortable silence hung between us.
"You've decided about the major's boy, haven’t you?"
"Yes, I have."
He didn't respond.
"Marcus, I need to talk to you face to face about this. I have to show you this letter and P.J.'s picture."
"Kay, you know how I feel about you."
"And I love you, too. But this little boy needs a home."
"This is what you really want?"
"This is what I really want."
He sighed. "You shouldn't have told the kids so soon. I'm sure that there are piles of paperwork to be done. It might take years."
"Paul had paternity tests done before he died, and most of the paperwork to get him an American birth certificate was already completed when the accident occurred. Once Paul is listed on his birth certificate, he’s already considered an American citizen. Half of what we need to do is done."
"God, I hate organized people."
"Please come by. We need to talk about this."
"I can't. One of our copy editors called in sick, and I'm working on some stuff at home tonight, that post-modern artist who lectured at the college yesterday. We got a bunch of great photos, and Jess wants a feature."
"Tomorrow, then? I want you to see this letter I got today."
"I'll try."
"Okay." I hung up. The gap between us was widening. Could I stand it, if the distance grew even more after my decision? I brushed my hand across my eyes to erase those thoughts, and turned to finish my meal. Well, if he had problems with the whole thing, they were exactly that–his problems. I didn't want to lose him, but bringing P.J. home was something I knew I had to do.
* * *
It was a cold Saturday in March; Mother and I had spent the afternoon wandering the Jubilant Falls Mall with the children as a last-resort means to entertain them. The city had been blanketed with six inches of late winter snow, closing everything from the Literacy Center to the city's public and private schools. We had all been prisoner to the white stuff, and an afternoon at the mall had seemed to be an excellent escape. Mother had enjoyed her afternoon with the children, and for once our conversation was relaxed and easy. Until now.
Pulling the Mercedes into her cavernous garage, Mother spoke to the children before she answered me. "Novella will have hot chocolate and pastry for good little boys and girls. Take all the goodies Grandma bought you into the house, and we'll be right in."
"I understand that Andrew put on quite a performance recently."
"What do you mean?"
"At the Emmett House Inn, about a month ago." Gazing into the rear-view mirror, Mother patted her perfectly coiffed hair.
"Oh, God. How did you find out that? No don't tell me. I don't want to hear it."
"Ellen Nussey was there with Ed and Lovey McNair. She saw the whole thing."
"I told Marcus I didn't think it was the best place to take the kids." We stepped from the car and into the kitchen. Andrew and Lillian sat at the breakfast bar, where Novella took all her meals, their legs swinging from the high stools and their upper lips masked in chocolate and whipped-cream mustaches. I stopped quickly to wipe their faces. Mother breezed past us, dropping her packages, purse, and coat on the dining room table.
"Kay, Novella will take care of them," she said, as she pulled off her gloves. "Come in here."
"I fink Gamma mad at you, Mommy." Lillian nodded her head knowingly at me.
"What else is new?"
"Honey, how about some more whip cream in that cocoa?" Novella interjected. "Go ahead, Miss Kay. I got it under control here."
I followed Mother, as she pushed through the dining room double doors into the living room and swung around to face me.
"Alright, go ahead. Take your best shot," I crossed my arms defensively. "Tell me why my children behaved so badly and how it all reflects on your standing in the community."
"If they weren't so traumatized over meeting their mother's lover, I suppose they might have behaved a little better."
"What?"
"From what Ellen and Lovey told me—"
"Now, there are a couple of real reliable sources. You're going to jump on me on the basis of what two old hens say they saw a month ago in a restaurant? It must not have been so horrible that they had to wait thirty days to tell you."
"That's not important. What matters is what kind of garbage are you subjecting my grandchildren to?"
"I don't think there's anybody in this whole world who knows how to get to me the way you do, Mother," I said. I took a seat on the couch, trying to contain my indignation as I leafed through a magazine. "The whole thing was Marcus's idea, and it ended badly. Okay? Can you stop trying to run my life now?"
"Why do you think it was appropriate to go along with this little scheme of his?"
"Because he wanted to meet my children, Mother. I’ve been very careful about them seeing him."
"As careful as you were about keeping your wedding vows, I see."
I struggled to keep my composure. "Mother, I'm going to say this just once. You have held me responsible for everything that went wrong in my marriage to Paul, and it's not fair. I'm tired of your judging every move I make, and I'm tired of you trying to control my life."
"Don't you talk down to me!" Mother shot back. "Paul Armstrong was the best thing that ever happened to you, Kay, and you ruined the whole thing with your tawdry little affair with that horrible reporter!"
"That horrible reporter is the best thing that ever happened to me," I corrected her. "I'll have you know Major Wonderful couldn't stay faithful to me if his life depended on it!"
"I find that hard to believe."
I took a deep breath to calm myself down. "Mother, this may be hard for you to believe, but it's true. Paul had an affair with a Korean woman just before Lillian was born." I walked into the dining room and pulled P.J.'s photograph from my purse. "Look at this!" I shoved the snapshot of the green-eyed, Korean toddler in front of her face. "You can't tell me this child is anything but Paul Armstrong's son."
Mother's jaw dropped. "I don't believe it."
"It's true. That's the reason he went back to Korea without me."
"Well, at least he didn't flaunt it in front of the whole town, like you have." Mother recovered her composure.
"He didn't have to flaunt his conquests. Everyone in the squadron knew about them. I just know that he had more than one."
"At least you don't have to bring that little half-breed here to Jubilant Falls."
"Would you want your grandchild living in an orphanage?"
"That's not my grandchild."
"He’s Paul’s son, so that makes him my stepson, and if I adopt him like I want to, he’ll be just as much a grandson to you as Andrew is."
"You can't be serious." Mother rolled her eyes.
"I can." I slipped P.J.'s picture back into my purse.
"Oh, for God's sake, Kay, have you lost all common sense? You have no money to support your two children, three if you count this, this—" Mother waved her hand, dismissively. "—this little bastard. And then you take up with this nobody, who is such a loser even your own children can sense it!"
"Mother, why do you hate him so much? He may not have money or any of those connections you think are so important, but he's a good, decent man. I don't know what our plans are for the future, but I know that this relationship will work. Just tell me what it is you don't like about him."
She was silent for a moment. "That's not important."
"Yes, it is!"
"Kay, you don't know how destructive this man is!"
"Oh please! Now you're getting melodramatic!"
"No I'm not. If there was anything I could do to end this little romance of yours, I would." There was an eerie fire in Mother's eyes. "I’d do anything, I’d pay anything to see that man wiped off the face of this earth."
"And I wouldn't put it past you, either. So maybe it would be better if we just didn't speak at all." I walked into the living room and began to gather my belongings together. "Andrew! Lillian! We're leaving!"
"No, Kay, please!"
"Sorry Mother, I'm closing the door. This time, for good."
* * *
That door stayed closed, for nearly two weeks. There was no way I was going to let that old woman run my life any longer. I was my own person, and she didn't have any right to say anything to me.
Then one evening, the phone rang. I pulled away from Marcus and the mindless detective show we were watching and stepped into the foyer.
"Miss Kay?" it was Novella.
"Novella! Is everything okay? Are you and mother all right?"
"Well, I'm fine, Miss Kay, but it's your mother."
"What is it? Is she sick?"
"She's sick only from not seeing you and those children."
"Oh, for Christ sake, Novella. What are you trying to do? Mend fences?"
"Now, now Miss Kay, you can't take her so seriously."
"I have to take her seriously when she says she'll break up Marcus and me if it's the last thing she does. She wants to run my life, Novella! You, of all people, should know how she is!"
"Miss Kay, please," she cajoled. "Just one afternoon with her. I'll fix a nice tea for both of you. All you have to do is bury the hatchet. You don't have to spend every waking moment with her. You don't have to agree with the way she lives her life. She just loves you and them children so much, and it's just broke her heart to not see you and your family."
"I'm not ready to bury the hatchet with that woman."
Novella took a deep breath and came at me again from another direction. "When Major Paul died after Christmas, didn't you feel like you had something left to say to him? Didn't you want to tell him you loved him one more time, or apologize for something mean you once said?"
"If only you knew all I wanted to say to that man," I said softly.
"See? That's what I mean, Miss Kay. Supposing Miz James dies tomorrow. You know for a fact at her age it could happen. Do you want to live the rest of your life knowing you had the chance to patch things up, and you didn't take it?"
She had me there.
"Alright," I said. "You make the arrangements. I'll be there."
"How 'bout tomorrow afternoon at four o'clock?"
"Why do I feel I've just been conned?"
"You won't regret it, Miss Kay. I swear you won't."
I hung up the phone and sat back down next to Marcus.
"Who was that?" he asked.
"Novella."
"This late? I hope everything is fine at Marian's castle keep?" He drew me next to him and kissed the top of my head. It had been a tender, though tentative, evening. He seemed to be making some headway with the kids, and as long as I didn't bring up P.J. we seemed to be back on an even keel.
"Yes. She wants mother and me to patch things up, so we're having tea tomorrow."
"What brought that on?"
"The old ‘what if she dies tomorrow and you two never made up?’ speech."
"I see." Marcus held me close. "What if I died tomorrow?"
"Why are you asking that?"
"Death, or the threat of death, seems to be a big motivator for you right now. You want to bring Paul's kid back to the States, you're going to make up with Maid Marian. What would you do, if I suddenly bought the farm?"
I thought for a moment. "The same thing I regret right now, turning down your proposal eight years ago. I should have married you then."
"What if I asked you right now. Would you turn me down again?"
"Would you accept P.J. into the family?"
He was silent.
"I see."
The wall between us went back up. Bored by the television and disgusted with Marcus, I eventually fell asleep. When I woke up a few hours later, I was alone. The gap between us had become a chasm. Long, deep and unending, it threatened to engulf us as much as it separated us.