How to Bake a Perfect Life - Barbara O'Neal [114]
I don’t know what time it is when the ringing of the phone jolts me from sleep. Bolting upright, I grab it off the nightstand and croak, “Hello?”
“Were you sleeping, Mom? I’m so sorry. Usually you’re up by now.”
“It’s a long story. Let me grab my robe and I can talk.” I mouth “Sofia” to Jonah and wave him down to sleep. Feeling slightly self-conscious—but not as much as I might have imagined—I pad across the room and grab my robe, then slip out of the room and into the kitchen. “Sorry, honey.” My voice is craggy, but there’s nothing I can do about it. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.”
“You were whispering. Do you have someone there? Is it the sweater guy?”
“Sofia! No!” Then I realize it’s silly to lie. “Um. Yes.”
“Mom!” Her voice is genuinely excited. “You’re so cute! You have to tell me all about him.”
“I promise I will. But not, uh, right now.”
“Why aren’t you baking yet? It’s four.”
“Had to close for a couple days,” I say as lightly as I can. “Hot-water issues. That’s enough about me. Tell me how you are, what’s going on. How’s Oscar? How are the Braxton Hicks?”
“Oh, Mom,” she says, letting go. “This is so hard.” And then I do the part of mom work that is easy: I listen while she pours out her story. She’s terrified and lost and hopeful and in love with her broken husband. She’s worried about her baby and about Katie and about being alone during the birth.
At least I can offer some good news. “I know you didn’t want Poppy and Nancy, but what about having Gram come to stay with you? She really wants to be there, hold your hand.”
“I wish it could be you.”
“You have no idea how many times I’ve tried to work that out, but it just isn’t possible. Not if I’m going to have a livelihood.”
“I know. I do know, honestly. And it would be great to have Gram. I need somebody. I’m really lonely.”
“I’m so sorry. I wish I could spare you all of this.”
She takes a breath and I can see her in my mind’s eye, squaring her shoulders. “How’s Katie? She sounds so happy! I’ve never known her to be this way. You’re such a good mother.”
“Oh, it’s not me she loves. It’s your grandmother. They have this whole flower thing going. To tell you the truth, she’s pretty sad about Lily leaving to be with you.”
“Then have her stay with Katie. I’m a grown-up. I’ll be okay.”
“Even adults need help, sweetie. I’m here for Katie. She’ll be fine.” I lower my voice. “We actually celebrated her first period today. How exciting is that?”
Sofia bursts into tears.
“Honey! What’s wrong?”
“I’m just so glad she’s with you. Imagine, Mom, how that would have been in that crack house she was living in. I’m so grateful. Thank you.”
“She’s wonderful, Sofia, and she’s been a big help to me.” Merlin has come into the kitchen and sits down in front of me, one paw on my foot. “I think her dog needs to go outside, as a matter of fact. He’s sitting here staring at me.”
“I should let you go, anyway. I have to go sleep for a while. I’m a basket case, as you can tell.”
I chuckle. “Sleep will help. And this is a very emotional period anyway, even if you didn’t have all this stuff going on.”
“Have Gram give me a call when she knows when she’s getting in. I’ll make arrangements for her. And tell her that I am so grateful that she’s coming.”
“I will.” We hang up and I sit for a minute in the quiet kitchen, worrying about my baby, so many miles away, alone and lonely, wanting her mother with her. Is there any way to make that happen? Could someone fill in for me?
But even if I could get coverage for the bakery, it feels wrong to create any more upheaval for Katie. She might be irritated at Lily, but the simple cornerstones of normality are so important for her healing—the flowers, regular mealtimes, her dog, her bedroom. She is thriving, like a plant in the right soil, and it feels like my job to be a fence around her.
Merlin lifts his foot and taps my toes lightly. “Sorry,” I say with a chuckle. “You need to go outside. I forgot.”
But when I stand up, he jumps up and heads for the attic, not the stairs to go to the yard.