How to Bake a Perfect Life - Barbara O'Neal [54]
“Mom, I know all this. I’ve been reading and studying, and I know it will be hard. That’s why I asked you here—I need your help.”
My grandmother reached out a hand. “Please sit down, sweetheart. Listen a minute.”
I flopped onto the chair.
“You have to go to school. You know that’s true. The world is changing, and a woman needs a way to support herself. Men are not all that reliable, frankly, and you need a way to take care of yourself. You need a good education.”
“I agree. That’s why—”
“And you need a chance to ripen yourself, grow up, find out who you are, before you start trying to guide another person.”
“I have you guys, a really good family. She’ll have four mothers, not just one.”
“Three. I will not do this.” My mother stood up and stormed out of the kitchen.
“Lily, come sit down,” Poppy said.
But it all went downhill from there. My grandmother turned on Poppy, blaming her for the decision, and I shouted that Poppy was on their side, and Adelaide shouted that not everyone was as screwed up as Poppy, which made Poppy furious, and Nancy reached for her and pulled her back when it seemed like she might hit my grandmother.
That was when I grabbed the umbrella and bolted out the front door. “I’m getting out of here. You’re all crazy.”
“Ramona! Get back here!” my mother screamed from the yard as I took off.
But I ignored her.
I walked along the red dirt road with the umbrella over my head, hoping that it wouldn’t start to lightning, because I would have to go back. And if I would do something as stupid as walk in the rain with a lightning rod of an umbrella over my head, maybe they were right, anyway.
It was very quiet. The fields stretched for empty miles in every direction, rolling fields of grass that had gone a pale yellow in the summer heat. Behind the fields rose the mountains, their lower half dark blue and furry-looking, the top half buried in the pillow clouds. A bird sat on a fence post, whistling. It looked lonely.
I walked and walked. The air tasted like rain. I knew I should go back, but I didn’t want them to talk me into anything. I needed to decide for myself. It was my life. Either way, something was lost. Either way, something was won. I needed to figure out which was the best answer for me.
A car came along the road behind me, and when I looked back, I saw an old Mercedes, the kind with little fins on the taillights. It slowed as it approached, and I frowned, looking steadfastly ahead. What if it was that creepy guy from town?
Beside me, a calm, honeyed voice said, “Where you headed, my friend?”
Jonah! I turned, brushing bangs out of my eyes. “I don’t know.” I sagged. “Away from my mother.”
“Hop in. We can have a cup of hot chocolate at the truck stop.”
I desperately wanted to, but things were bad enough today without me getting in trouble. And I had to think of the baby. “Sorry, I can’t. My mother is mad enough already. Thanks, though.”
“Your aunt called me.” One elbow hung out of the car and his hair was tied back with a leather string, which seemed sexy somehow. “She said you were pretty upset and might need a friend to talk to.”
“Oh.” I still didn’t move right away. It might be kind of overwhelming to be in a closed car with him. But Poppy was right: I needed somebody impartial to talk to, and he had the most patient eyes I’d ever seen. “Okay.”
I walked around the car and got in just as it started to rain in heavy splotches, so big they made a fat sound as they hit the roof. The car was old but still beautiful, and instinctively I touched the dash. “Is this wood? I never saw a car with a wooden dash before.”
He nodded. “She’s a beauty. My first car, and I haven’t had a reason to get another one. I fixed her up myself.”
“Cool.”
Cocooned in the car with the windshield wipers slapping back and forth, the rain pounding, the gravel crunching beneath the tires, I felt myself relax. The