So she kissed Big Rick's cheek and took the chair beside Ellen. 'Thank you for coming,' she said softly. 'Lily will be touched.'
Ellen nodded. After a minute, she murmured, 'I had no idea.'
That Lily was pregnant? That the baby had problems? That Susan had nearly lost her job? 'Some things are hard to discuss,' Susan said. 'Did you fly up with Big Rick?'
Again Ellen nodded. 'I'm no traveler. He dragged me along.'
An unwilling companion, then? Or just a poor choice of words? It struck Susan that her mother might not know what to say to her, either.
'You must have landed last night.' It was a safe remark, but barely spoken when a man in scrubs approached, then went on past and into the hall. After a worried glance at the clock, Susan caught Rick's eye.
'Too soon,' he said softly.
She sat back, hugging her middle, and thought of Lily and the baby. She didn't try to talk to her mother. Rick was right; her focus should be on Lily. Needing to relax, she took out her knitting.
A few minutes later, Ellen did the same. She wasn't working with PC Wool, but with a glitzy novelty yarn.
'What're you making?' Susan asked.
'A scarf for Jack's Emily. She chose the yarn.'
The mention of the girl's name rubbed Susan the wrong way. 'Emily. Ahhh. Darling child.' Instantly remorseful, she remarked on the yarn, 'It's pretty.'
'No, it isn't,' Ellen murmured. 'It's tacky. And no pleasure to knit.'
'Why are you making it, then?'
'Because she asked.'
'You never made a scarf for me.'
'You never asked.'
'Maybe I was afraid I'd be refused.' Setting down her knitting, she rubbed her forehead. Her voice was a whisper, for Ellen's ears alone. 'This is unreal. My pregnant daughter is on the operating table while doctors try to save her baby, and I'm arguing with my mother, whom I have seen once in nearly eighteen years and never east of the Mississippi. This is blowing my mind.'
Ellen continued to knit her tacky yarn.
Susan glanced at the clock, then at Rick. 'Do you think something's wrong?'
'No. We're just impatient.'
Try superstitious. Susan was starting to wonder if her job had been spared to cushion the blow of losing the baby. Or losing Lily.
Desperate for comfort, she returned to her very beautiful, very artistic, very original PC Wool scarf.
'That's very pretty,' her mother said. 'It's one of the new colors, isn't it?'
'Yes. Robin At Dawn. We want to photograph finished pieces for the catalogue. I told you about that.'
'Yes,' Ellen said. Susan had knit another row, before her mother asked, 'Are those short rows?'
'Yes.'
'Interesting design.'
Susan passed her mother the pattern, but continued to knit. She focused on the stitches, focused on the rhythm, focused on turning at the gap. When Ellen returned the pattern, Susan tucked it back in her bag and kept on knitting. Knitting was familiar at a time when everything around her was strange.
At the ninety-minute point, she caught Rick's eye. Setting his laptop aside, he checked with the nurse, but returned moments later with no news. 'They're still in the OR.'
'Why so long?'
'They may have started late.'
'What if they found something they didn't expect?'
Rick touched a finger to her mouth. 'They won't,' he said and returned to his seat.
The good news was that between imagining possible complications-oh yes, the Web had given her every last one-and praying, Susan didn't dwell on her mother's unexpected presence. The bad news was that it was two hours before the doctor emerged. By that time, she was frantic.
But he was fully at ease. 'All's well,' he told her. 'Your daughter was frightened, so we spent a little while calming her. We gave her a tour of the OR and showed her the balloon we'd be inserting. She'll remember that part and be stronger for it. As for her little guy, his heart is beating good as gold. He'll do fine.'
A little while later, Susan was allowed back to wait with Lily until they could transfer her to a room. She would be staying overnight in the hospital for monitoring, though the fetal monitor was only part of it. If they discovered any kind of amniotic leak, Lily would be on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy.
The girl was sleeping off the sedative in little cat naps. Susan waited until she was more awake before telling her that Big Rick was there.
Her eyes lit. 'He came all this way for me?'
'He did. And he isn't alone. He brought your grandmother.'
Lily didn't respond at first. Then she frowned.
'Yup. Big Rick told her.'
'Is she angry?'
'She doesn't look it. She looks like she's not sure she's welcome here.'
'Is she?'
'Of course. She's my mother.'
'What do I say to her?'
Susan couldn't answer that. 'You're asking the wrong person. I just wanted you to know so you won't be as shocked as I was.'
Lily handled Ellen with aplomb. But Ellen wasn't her mother. Mother-daughter relationships had to be the most complex in the world, while grandmother-granddaughter ones were more forgiving, Susan decided. As wary as Lily had been of Ellen in Oklahoma, she was all smiles now. Relief surely played a part; with the surgery successfully done, Lily would have embraced Scrooge.
Abby, who held no past grudges and seemed honored to be part of an historic meeting, treated Ellen like a special guest. Susan might have resented it, if she hadn't been so grateful to have her mother occupied. And reinforcements arrived late that afternoon in the form of Kate, Sunny, and Pam, who had driven up on impulse.
Through it all, neither the baby nor Lily appeared any the worse for wear.
Susan didn't ask where Ellen was staying, but with Kate, Sunny, and Pam overnighting as well, there was a crowd in the coffee shop for breakfast the next morning and later in Lily's hospital room. Lily was sore at the points of incision, but there continued to be no other problems, and she was eager to be home.
By mid-afternoon, they were on the road, two SUVs loaded with people, flowers, and balloons. Susan kept looking back at Lily, who smiled every time. She kept thinking about the baby, whom she had seen on a sonogram again that morning and who was adorable, balloon and all. She kept thinking about Rick, who had watched that screen with the same vulnerable look as Lily-kept thinking about the follow-up tests and the doctor's appointments, but with optimism now-kept thinking about her school, her students.
And Ellen? She let that one ride.
A gentle snow began to fall shortly after they crossed into Maine, and though it remained light as they drove up the coast-the Penobscots had known what they were talking about when they named the town for its moderate weather-it accumulated enough to cover the January dirt. With night falling before six, they saw lights as they entered Zaganack. Main Street was largely Perry & Cass crimson, with the harbor lights more blue. Between the masts of diehard fishermen, festive colors outlining restaurants, and clusters of seagulls overnighting on the town dock, it was so picturesque, that if Susan hadn't already forgiven the town for doubting about her, she would have now.
And that was before they approached her little house, which was spattered with color well beyond sea green and teal. A rainbow of balloons was tied to the mailbox, a large WELCOME HOME SUSAN AND LILY banner hung between windows. More balloons flanked the door, a navy-and-yellow bouquet for Lily, a fuchsia one for Susan, and on the steps were a mound of foil-covered bundles, food from friends, left to chill in the snow. Two cars sat out front, disgorging a gaggle of girls the instant they turned into the driveway.
