Not My Daughter

had been when proudly announcing her pregnancy. She was less quick to talk, less glib when she did, and, notably, less critical of Sunny. Approaching the end of her fourth month, she had her own sonogram next week. Suddenly, she was brooding over a list of possible problems, previously ignored.

Just punishment for having blithely become pregnant? Sunny had thought it for a while. But she was increasingly concerned about her daughter. Lately, Jessica was looking pale and drawn. And Sunny felt bad.

Shortly before dawn, she gave up on sleep and went down to the kitchen. Deciding that a special breakfast was the way to go, she began mixing batter for Belgian waffles. Both girls loved them; Sunny usually saved them for holidays. But Jessica needed fattening.

Pulling the waffle iron from her small-appliance bin, Sunny put it on the counter, fished a huller from her gadget drawer, and was heading to the refrigerator for strawberries when there was a knock at the door. There, to her horror, his nose pressed against the glass above the cafe curtain, was her father.

'Omigod,' she whispered. 'Not them, not now.'

But, of course, she couldn't ignore that face-or the fuzz of a hat to its right that would mark the top of her mother's head. When she didn't react quickly enough, one of them rang the bell. Twice.

Sunny opened the door in a flash. 'Do you know what time it is? It's barely seven, and it's Saturday morning. My family is sleeping. And anyway, how did you get here at this hour?' They lived twelve hours away by car. Usually, Sunny thought that was far enough, but not this time.

'We drove all night,' said Samson and gave her a peck on the cheek.

Delilah followed with a two-cheek peck. 'Hello, Sunshine. I can't tell you how psyched we were to see your light on. Your French press makes the best coffee.' She looked around.

But Sunny hadn't gotten to coffee yet. 'If you'd called to let me know you were coming, I'd have had it on.'

Her mother dismissed that with a short sputter. 'If we'd called first, you'd have said you were going away for the weekend. I'm actually surprised you didn't. After the article in People, I'd have thought you'd run off somewhere to hide.'

'Ah, yes,' Sunny said, recalling their last discussion. 'Timid, with a capital T.' She raised her chin. 'No, Mother. You're wrong. We're here.'

Delilah smiled and dropped her coat on a chair. 'Well, so are we.' She rubbed her hands together and spotted the iron. 'I love waffles.'

'That was quite some article, Sunshine,' said Samson, who had taken a banana from the basket and was peeling it. 'You should have warned us.' He tossed the peel in the sink, uncaring that it straddled the faucet. 'We were wallowing in oblivion when the calls started to come.'

'What calls?' Sunny asked, fearing for an instant that People would run a prequel that included Samson and Delilah, in which case Sunny would run off somewhere.

'Friends,' Delilah said with a chiding look, then glanced at the hall door and broke into a grin. 'Well, hello, Darcy. Did we wake you up? Come give us a hug.' She opened her arms.

Darcy, who had never been as enamored of her grandparents as Jessica, was cautiously complying when Jessica appeared.

'Hey,' the girl said from the door. 'I didn't know you guys were coming.'

Delilah's eyes lit up. 'Nor did we until dinner last night, but after going back and forth about all of the ink you folks have generated here, we knew we had to help.'

'Help?' Sunny asked. 'How?'

Her mother was suddenly looking smug, so much like Jessica that Sunny felt a tiny jolt.

'We think Jessica should come live with us,' Delilah announced, 'at least until after the baby is born. That way she'll be out of the limelight your friend Susan is generating.'

Not so long ago, Sunny might have accepted. Now she was just amused. 'Why would I let my daughter live with you?'

'It would be easier.'

'Easier?'

'Well, you clearly don't want her here.'

'Who said that?'

'Sunshine. Please. We all know that this pregnancy upsets you.'

So does a physical abnormality, Sunny mused, but Susan wasn't asking Lily to abort her baby. 'Y'know, Mother, I really am not as small-minded as you think. I can handle things.'

Samson wandered out of the kitchen, leaving Delilah to her skepticism. 'But pregnancy? Think about it, Sunshine. All those people staring at you? Talking behind your back? Wouldn't it be better if we just took Jessica home with us?'

Sunny didn't miss the ridicule and should have been hurt. But another emotion had come into play. The world could fault her for being angry enough to want to banish her daughter from their home. But Lily's problems and Susan's remarkably responsible response had been a wake-up call for Sunny. Thinking of Jessica now, she felt protective. Protective and possessive-this was the kind of mother she wanted to be.

Jessica hadn't moved toward her grandmother. Sunny took courage from that. Wouldn't it be better if we just took Jessica home with us? Delilah had asked. 'Actually, no,' Sunny answered. 'I want my daughter with me.'

'Why don't you discuss it with Dan?'

But here was another emotional shift. For nearly twenty years, Sunny's husband had held her responsible for having a mother like Delilah. But he had to move on, and she had to give him a push. 'I don't need to discuss it with Dan,' she said, never as sure of anything as she was of this.

Delilah looked hurt. 'Do you hate us that much?'

'No, Mother,' Sunny scolded, feeling an odd affection. 'I've never hated you. This has nothing to do with who you are, but with who I am. I'm Jessica's mother.' She moved closer to the girl. 'I want my daughter here.'

'She doesn't embarrass you?'

Inching closer still, Sunny said, 'No. I need her with me. She has friends who need her here, too.'

Jessica leaned into her just enough to say she agreed.

'But we traveled all this way to get her,' Delilah argued and looked around. 'Samson? Samson? Where are you?'

Samson was asleep on the living room sofa. He still had his coat on, but he had kicked off his boots. Not that, just then, Sunny cared. There were other things that mattered. Besides, she had the Bentley of vacuums in her broom closet right down the hall.

By late Saturday, Susan's little house was full. Kate and Will were there with Mary Kate and one of the twins; Sunny and Dan had driven over with Jess and Darcy. Sunny was cooking up a storm in the kitchen, and if she was occasionally frustrated not finding a little something she wanted-No lemon zester? Every kitchen needs a lemon zester!-Susan forgave her.

Likewise the mess in the bathroom, where Kate and five girls were playing with Kool-Aid-Great Bluedini, Blue Raspberry, Ice Blue Island Twist. The point was to dye skeins of yarn suitable for boys, and if Jess learned she was having a girl, they would repeat the exercise using Pink Lemonade.

The tub was a mess, which might have bothered Sunny if she hadn't known to steer clear. For Susan, it was a vote of confidence, friends saying that Lily's baby would be fine.

Buoyed, she was returning to the kitchen when the phone rang. 'I'm being pressured,' Phil said, his voice tense. 'You have to help me here. The school board wants to see you Wednesday night at six. Can you make it?'

'Of course,' Susan said. What choice did she have?

Actually, there was one. She thought about it long and hard through dinner in her busy house, but it wasn't until they were having coffee and dessert in the living room, kids mostly on the floor with the seating space full, that Rick said a soft, 'You're only half with us. What're you thinking?'

She met his gaze. 'Maybe I should resign.'

'You're not serious.'

'The board's going to ask me to. Phil might have, if he hadn't felt so bad about the baby, but if the board does it first, he's off the hook. Maybe I should keep my dignity and volunteer to leave.'