Not My Daughter

sock-until she glanced at the handwritten notes nearby and realized that this was no sock. It was a baby sweater being knit cuff to cuff.

Feeling a chill, she left the room, but the image of the sweater stayed with her. The yarn was pink. Lily wanted a girl. There was something shockingly real about that.

Wondering if her mother had had the same trouble accepting Susan's pregnancy, and hoping they might talk about it, she picked up the phone and dialed. Creatures of habit, her parents would have had an afternoon dinner with her brother and his wife's family, and should be home again by now.

The phone rang four times. Seconds before the call would have gone to voice mail, someone answered, only to immediately hang up.

Susan was in the den when Lily came home. The girl seemed startled to see her. 'Are you okay?' she asked from the door.

Susan nodded. 'Just felt like sitting.'

'You don't usually do that.'

'No.' She was usually cleaning, knitting, or working out a solution for a student with a problem, a teacher with a problem, a daughter with a problem-plotting a solution or, at the very least, an approach to finding a solution. Tonight, she did nothing but sit. 'Everything okay with Mary Kate?'

'I guess. She tried to call Abby. We haven't talked with her much since what happened at school, but the open house was still going on, so she couldn't talk. I'm sorry we didn't go this year, Mom.'

'Would you have wanted to?' Susan asked in surprise.

'Maybe not. Emily's mom would have been there. I'm still pretty steamed about the Zaganotes.' She paused. 'But Pam's open house was always a fun time. You liked going.'

Susan nodded. 'I did.'

Lily looked sad. 'I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't realize people would react this way. I knew there'd be talk, and I was afraid the coach wouldn't want me on the volleyball team, but being banned from singing? Voted out? It's not like pregnancy is an STD.'

'Disease, no. Condition, yes-and just as unforgivable in some people's minds.'

'But they're wrong. It's the oldest condition in the world. Think Eve.'

'Was Eve in high school? Did she do field hockey or sing? Was her mom a prominent player in town? Times have changed, Lily. Life is complex.'

There was no argument, just a troubled look. Hating that-always-Susan patted the sofa.

Lily perched on the edge. 'Did Pam say not to come?' she asked.

'No. It was me. I didn't want to have to answer questions.'

'All you have to say is that I did this on my own.'

'Not that easy,' Susan said with a sad smile.

She was thinking that the sober look on her daughter's face meant she might be getting the point, when that look brightened. Putting a hand on her belly, Lily asked excitedly, 'Did you talk to me, Mom? You know, when I was a fetus?'

'I did,' Susan said. 'You were my partner in crime.'

'I talk to her all the time.'

'Her?'

'It's a her. I know it is.'

'I hope you're right. A he might have a tough time wearing that sweater you're knitting. It's a pretty cool sweater, though.'

'Isn't it? I'm adapting an adult pattern.'

'To infant size? That's quite a reduction.'

'Not as much as you'd think. The original pattern calls for light bulky. I'm using DK weight, so it's automatically smaller anyway. I'm doing a hat to match. Infants need hats even in summer.'

'They need lots of other things.'

'Will you make some?'

'I was thinking of diapers and crib sheets.'

'But will you knit for my baby?' Lily asked straight out. 'I want her to have things from you. Will you, Mom?'

'Eventually.'

'For her to have when she's born? Remember that reversible blanket you made for Mrs. Davidson's baby? I want one of those.'

'You could knit it yourself.'

'It wouldn't be the same. She'll keep that blanket forever. I want it from you.'

Susan couldn't commit to knitting for a baby she couldn't yet imagine coming, so she asked, 'Are those jeans getting tight?'

Lily slouched back on the sofa and raised her sweater. At first glance, her stomach was flat; at second glance, Susan saw a tiny swell.

Lily stroked the spot. 'She is three inches long now. And her intestines are starting to grow. I mean, they've been growing all along, but now they're coming back out of the umbilical cord.' Her eyes met Susan's. 'Three more weeks, and I'll know the sex for sure. I'll actually be able to see her.'

'She won't look like much.'

'She will. Four months is significant.' She grew cautious again. 'I may need a few clothes pretty soon. I mean, like, jeans. The blogs say to get a few pairs in the next size up, not maternity yet.' When Susan didn't reply, she said, 'I'll pay.'

'I pay for your clothes.'

'Not Sevens.'

'Right, because I don't believe in spending that much for a pair of jeans. If you want Sevens, sweetie, you're on your own.'

'I don't need Sevens.'

'That's wise. Are Mary Kate or Jess showing yet?'

'Jess no. Mary Kate a drop.'

But all three would be visibly pregnant before long. The thought of that gave Susan the willies. 'Lily, I have to tell Phil about the other two.'

Lily sat up fast. 'You can't! Not yet!'

'I told Sunny I'd wait until after Thanksgiving. He's one of the reasons I couldn't go to Pam's. But the longer I wait to tell him, the worse it'll be when I do.'

'You can't betray Mary Kate and Jess!'

'It's not a betrayal. It's telling someone who has a right to know. This is going to affect the school.'

'Mary Kate will let people know soon. Can't you wait a little longer? They'll hate me if you tell.' She jumped to her feet. 'If you were with me in this, you'd understand. But you're still angry because I didn't ask permission. When it came to the Zaganotes, you told me to move on. Well, look who can't move on now. Why is it so hard for you to accept this? Why is it so hard to be excited? This is our baby,' she cried and stormed from the room.

Susan didn't see it that way. The baby was Lily's, and the situation with Phil was growing acute. She was in a bind, balancing her role as mother against her role as principal.

Later, when Sunny called from Albany weeping, Susan just tried to console her. She didn't discuss telling Phil. It would have only upset her more.

Besides, at some point, the decision was Susan's alone.

At least, that was what she thought. She waited until Monday-why ruin Phil's holiday?-then learned that he was at a conference in Denver. The message on his answering machine referred emergency calls to his assistant, but this wasn't something to share with anyone else, Susan decided. Nor, in a sense, was it an emergency. It didn't become that until Thursday.