Mom Over Miami Part 18

"On some level, yes, I do. And furthermore, I know he'll understand me now."

"Now?"

"Yes, when I go to sit beside him while he gets that MRI."

"He's...he's claustrophobic. That's the point of the story?"

"The point of the story, Hannah Banana, is you girls may have gotten some things from your daddy. Sadie her stubbornness and that sarcastic streak. And you, your independent spirit and that longing to sometimes fly away and leave your troubles behind."

Hannah folded her arms and tapped her double-knotted sneaker against the carpet backing. "You could have just told me those things outright."

"Yes, but I couldn't have made you understand why I have to go to be with your daddy to get him to take the tests he needs."

"Because his history makes him afraid of closed-in s.p.a.ces," she reiterated.

"Listen, child." A beaded earring clacked quietly as Phiz turned her head and pointed to her ear. "I'm saying that at some points in our lives we are all frightened children who need G.o.d's hands in human form. We need someone we love to remain steadfast beside us no matter what. To hold up the light to show the way."

Hannah shut her eyes and could almost hear her father calling out to the one person he had trusted all those years ago. "To remind us we are not alone."

"And to pray," Phiz whispered.

Hannah opened her eyes and sat up, suddenly aware she'd been leaning on her aunt's ample shoulder. She took one age-spotted hand in hers and met the loving, time-wizened gaze. "How long will you be gone?"

"Will it really matter to you?"

"Of course."

"Good." Phiz lumbered upward to her feet. "I'll leave today. And, Hannah Banana?"

Hannah felt all of five years old again, looking up at her aunt who was about to leave again. "What?"

"When you're ready, when you're really really ready for my help, you call out. I'll come back so fast it will make your head spin." ready for my help, you call out. I'll come back so fast it will make your head spin."

"Well, I'll just take that up with Hannah, if you don't mind." Cydney's voice echoed in the stairwell.

"I don't mind one bit, because I know she will definitely be on my side." Jacqui could not have been more than a footfall behind.

"That's not so hot a trick." Hannah staggered to her feet and gave the carpet one gigantic heave. "Everyday life makes my head spin, Aunt Phiz."

CHAPTER 13

Subject: Nacho Mama's House column To:

When you're tired and you can't sleep-you're probably at my house.

End of soccer season. Now there's an oxymoron if I ever heard one. Soccer season has no end. It just has brief pauses for the kids to regain their strength. Between indoor and outdoor leagues, and programs provided by the parks department, private clubs-not to mention the school team-a kid could literally play soccer any time but in his sleep.

And listening to the racket coming from my living room, some of them even try to play it then. In their sleep. Or should I say "alleged sleep." It's what they're supposed to be doing, according to the front of the invites we sent out. Come to an End of Soccer Season Sleepover.

Sleepover? Sleepover?

Want to talk oxymoron? I'll sit and hum quietly to myself while you insert your own moron joke about this new-to-motherhood mom who actually thought when a bunch of eight- and nine-year-old boys showed up at her house with sleeping bags that they intended to crawl in them and catch some Z's. Yeah, at a sleepover.

No. Nuh-uh. No way. No sleep. No over. At this point it doesn't feel like it will ever be over.

Other than that...

I'm just sitting here quietly counting my blessings-starting with chocolate and earplugs.

-From Nacho Mama's House column "'Ten little monkeys jumping on the bed.'" Hannah held her finger up and moved it up and down to demonstrate the rhyme for Tessa.

The baby's head bobbed slightly following along. She sucked her fist.

Teething.

"Let's look on the bright side, baby girl, at least you picked a night when I hadn't figured on getting any sleep anyway to cut your first tooth."

Cries of "Stilton's turn" and "Go for it, Stilton" rose from the front room sleepover encampment.

"I should go see about that." Hannah started to push up from the rocker.

"Gross!"

"Ee-uw!"

She fell back down into the seat and set it swaying back and forth again. "Maybe I'll hold off on that a while."

She pressed the pad of her thumb to her daughter's lower lip to steal a peek at her teething progress.

Tessa ground her pink gums together and made a cranky growling sound.

"I couldn't agree more." Hannah rubbed her knuckle over the milky white tooth bud just below the swollen surface.

Tessa nestled down deeper into her mother's arms and let out a shuddering breath.

Hannah kissed her daughter's temper-fit-dampened red curls and went on with the singsonged tale of monkeys misbehaving. "'Mama called the doctor and the doctor said-'"

"Hannah, tell those boys to quiet down. I had a long day at work."

She glared out the door of her daughter's room, imagining she had some kind of laser vision that would turn the corner and travel along the dark hallway through the keyhole and find her husband lying in the cozy, rumpled bed.

"I love your daddy more than I could ever express, but honestly, Tessa, darling, sometimes he can be such a...a...a man."

Tessa's expression soured. She growled again.

"Uh-huh. You tell it like it is, girl."

"Hannah? Please! Are you going to handle this?"

Deal with it? Tempting. Very tempting to holler back her opinion of him yelling at her to yell at the boys to stop yelling so he could have quiet.

That or she could just resign herself to the inevitable and deal directly with the boys. Either way, voices would get raised with not much chance of reaching the desired result.

She clenched her jaw. She pressed the side of Tessa's head close, then covered the baby's delicate exposed ear with one hand.

Tessa drooled down the front of both her and Hannah's nightgowns.

Deep breath. Time to a.s.sert herself. "Let's show a little consideration, please."

There. Somebody in this house ought to respond to that that.

"Yes, ma'am," a blend of childish voices chimed back.

Not so much as a peep from Payt.

One shove of her foot set Hannah's rocking chair in motion again. "He had a long day. Did you hear that, Tessa?"

The baby snuggled close, and Hannah drew in the comforting scent of powder and warm baby's breath.

"Our day isn't over yet, is it? Not to mention that we know exactly how long his day was...and why." day isn't over yet, is it? Not to mention that we know exactly how long his day was...and why."

She shut her eyes....

"You're cool with that, aren't you, Hannah?" She could picture her husband standing by the front door to his office at precisely twenty-eight minutes past four.

She knew the time practically right down to the last tick of the second hand, because she'd worried that dragging Sam, Tessa and a tub of cleaning supplies into his office, even a few minutes before they locked the doors might embarra.s.s him in front of his patients.

"Um, I suppose-"

"See? She's cool with it." Dr. Briggs punched Payt in the arm. Hard.

Payt made a noise-not quite a laugh, not really a cough.

Dr. Briggs barked out a belly laugh. He was taller than Hannah had remembered him. Maybe he'd been sitting those times? But that didn't explain how she'd missed the jovial expression and soft white wavy hair. He looked like some moon-faced gentle giant straight out of a children's picture book.

It made it all the more difficult to hang on to her reservations about the man. Until he opened his mouth.

"Tell you what, Bartlett, you got yourself a real jewel there. If my second wife had understood the demands of a doctor's life the way Hannah does, maybe she'd still be my wife." He gave Dottie, the office manager, a wink as he pushed past her toward the door.

"If his wife had understood any more about that man's demands, she'd be his widow." Dottie raised both hands and made a choking motion in midair, then rolled her eyes.

Payt bent at the knees to put his face low enough to look up into Hannah's eyes. "You really okay with this?" he asked.

She heard: Do you really want to still be my wife? Do you really want to still be my wife?

"I...I understand, Payt." Dr. Briggs had made it clear she had no choice.

Listen to yourself! You're taking someone else's words and putting them in Payt's mouth. Don't turn every innocent comment into a club to beat yourself up with. You always a.s.sume the worst.

"That's not really an answer." Her husband stroked her cheek. His eyes searched hers, and for a moment she thought maybe he wanted her to tell him not to go.

That only made it harder for her. If she knew what he wanted her to say, she'd say it.

"Just tell me how you feel about this, okay?"

"I feel...silly. It's silly. Go." Don't go Don't go.

"Yeah?"

"Have fun." But not too much fun But not too much fun.

"But I feel so guilty leaving you here to do the cleaning."

"Why? I said I'd do it until you get the-" she glanced around to make sure no one else could hear "-the scapegoat issue settled. And seeing as how it's Heather's birthday-well, how could I object to you going to dinner to show your support?"

Really. How? She wished he would stand right there and tell her word for word how to object, what to say to not sound petty and small, to maintain her dignity and keep her husband at her side. She wished he would stand right there and tell her word for word how to object, what to say to not sound petty and small, to maintain her dignity and keep her husband at her side.

He slipped his name tag off his s.h.i.+rt pocket and tossed it onto Heather's desk with the clutter of birthday cards and icing-smeared napkins. "We would have done it at lunch, but these sales reps had something planned for her, and we couldn't just close up and take off."

"I know." She pulled a smile up from someplace in her being. "The demands of a doctor's life."

"Thanks for being so-"

Wishy-washy, she wanted to say. Instead she finished for him, "Understanding."

"I won't be too late." He kissed her temple.

"Maybe you already are," she murmured as she watched him breeze out the door to some restaurant where energetic waiters wrote their names on the tablecloth and peppered the snappy recitation of the specials with their own hyperhappy recommendations. "I could live on the double-stuffed crab cakes with mango salsa!"

Ugh.

Payt went off to double-stuff himself, while she had to stay and clean the staff restroom.

Cla.s.sic Cinderella syndrome. She'd had it all her life.