What Family Means Part 10

His mug clanked on the floor next to his feet as he set it down. Then he took her mug out of her hands and set it next to his. He traced his finger along her face. "I can't do this if I don't know you're in it all the way, sweetheart."

"Will, of course I am! But it's not just about us. It never has been."

"It is now, Deb. And it can be when we go back. We're adults, and we have our own life to live."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It is is simple, when you get down to it." simple, when you get down to it."

"How-"

Her words were swallowed by Will's mouth as it covered hers. This kiss caught her a bit off guard. But it was as delicious as all the others had ever been. Even more so.

Everything in their past had been leading to this moment. She knew that now, as the intensity of their embrace deepened with each kiss, each caress. He pressed her back, until he was lying half across her on the sofa. Their kisses grew longer, and their breath quickened to match her crazy pulse.

Will lifted his head and looked into her eyes. She saw all the love and devotion he'd always had for her, and now could give to her with no restraint.

"I love you, Debra, and I'm going to prove it to you for the rest of our lives. If you let me."

"Oh, Will..."

CHAPTER TEN.

Present Day Buffalo, New York HI, ANGE,As expected, I have little time to myself. Work is rewarding and challenging. It was awkward when I left since we both had a lot of pressure. Can we talk? I can call when I get a lull in the O.R.J.

Angie closed her laptop and stood up from her kitchen table. All these weeks she'd checked her e-mail every day, sometimes obsessively so. She'd longed for a message, any kind of news from Jesse.

Her morning sickness was a normal part of pregnancy for sure, but her anxiety over his well-being added to her stomach's bilious behavior.

The crabapple tree outside the kitchen window waved its gnarled branches in the strong wind. It was hard to imagine the pretty pink blossoms that would cover it come spring.

Spring-she'd be in her second trimester by then. Jesse deserved more from her. Maybe Mom was right; she should tell him sooner rather than later.

She looked at her watch. Her shift started in an hour.

As the new head meteorologist at the NOAA station, she alternated her day and night shifts so she'd get to know the entire staff and see how they worked. So far she was very impressed with how advanced their weather-predicting capabilities were.

Many television stations simply reported the weather as they received it from the nearest NOAA, with little or no interpretation by their own meteorologists. Due to the constant flux of Western New York's meteorological patterns, the station was heavily relied upon.

Her colleagues in San Francisco would be envious of her new position-and the challenges of lake-effect weather. They had to wait years between El Nino weather patterns.

She felt the relaxation in her facial muscles as her frown turned into a reluctant smile. She had her own El Nino, or La Nina, going on. Her e-mail alert chimed.

Hi, Ange,I don't feel right about how we parted. I know we both said it was for the best, that we'd hit a wall. But I can't imagine life without you, Ange. And this isn't just because I'm over here, away from all the creature comforts of the U.S.A.Can I call you?I have to talk to you.Ciao, Bella, Jesse So she was "Bella" again. He hadn't used that term of endearment the last time they spoke.

Jesse started calling her Bella after their trip to Tuscany last summer. They'd rented a villa for two weeks. It all blurred together in her mind-a collage of colorful meals, sunflower fields, medieval art and making love as the sun or moon rose.

It was a second honeymoon as far as Angie was concerned. That constant glow of contentment with each other, and the security that their love could last.

That it would would last. last.

She sighed and went into the kitchen for some ginger tea. She and Jesse had gone through the holidays as always-visiting each other's families at Thanksgiving and Christmas and then spending New Year's Eve together in San Francisco.

They cherished what had become an annual tradition-curling up in front of their condo's fireplace with a spread of cheeses, sausages and a bottle of red wine. Most often it was wine they'd chosen on a day trip to Napa or Sonoma, but this year it had been a bottle they'd brought back from Italy. A wonderful Barolo they'd enjoyed in Piedmont.

She hadn't known she was pregnant at the time. But she'd only sipped at one gla.s.s, leaning against Jesse and forgetting for one night that the distance between them had been widening over the past few months.

She should've tried to talk to him then, before it was too late. To let him know how badly she wanted the position in Buffalo. And that she'd researched jobs for him, and-serendipitously-the top hospital in Western New York was looking for a chief of neurosurgery.

Jesse's dream job.

But she'd said nothing.

A week later it was too late. Jesse was on a plane to Iraq for an indeterminate length of time and she was left to make her own decision. Jesse knew she was coming to Buffalo but thought it was just to check out the job, a.s.suming she probably wouldn't take it. Even though he insisted he was willing to accept a temporary position in neurosurgery in Buffalo after his return from Iraq, Angie knew he didn't expect her to make such a permanent change on her own. Pregnant or not.

With a feeling of recrimination she fought back her tears. These weren't hormonal tears. She should've told Jesse how she felt about the job on New Year's Eve.

But she'd just realized she'd missed her period by a week, something she'd never done. Motherhood was thrust upon her, and while she knew without a doubt that she'd have the baby and raise it alone if need be, she'd hoped and prayed that Jesse would change his mind about a family.

She never told him she was pregnant. Didn't want him to worry about her or carry any anger with him into such a hostile environment.

She was headed east on I-80 by the end of January. She lucked out with the weather and made it to Kansas ahead of a huge winter storm system. She'd had to wait it out in Kansas City for a few nights, but then continued to Buffalo without further delays.

So here she was. Back home, but it didn't feel like home. Not without Jesse.

She picked up the phone.

Of their own volition, it seemed, her fingers dialed her mom's number.

"h.e.l.lo?"

Angie sighed with relief that Debra was home.

"Hey, Mom." Her voice broke on "Mom."

"What's wrong, sugar? Are your hormones driving you nuts?"

"Yeah, but it's more than that."

Debra was silent. Angie pictured her mother drawing invisible doodles on the table in front of her, as she did whenever her friends called with a problem.

Angie dove in. "Mom, I'm not whining. I'm an adult and I'm not the first woman in history to find herself pregnant at an unexpected time." She looked at her countertop, the hardwood floor. "I just thought that Jesse, well, that he'd, oh, c.r.a.p. I thought I'd change him."

"You mean that he'd decide on his own that he wanted kids?"

Angie shoved down her twinge of guilt. "Something like that, yes."

"Angie, what has he said? That he absolutely never never wants children?" Her mom's voice was gentle, not judging. wants children?" Her mom's voice was gentle, not judging.

It was Angie's turn to be silent.

"Angie? Are you still there?"

"Yes, Mom. He still wasn't ready to discuss it before he left. That's why I didn't tell him."

Debra's intake of breath echoed through the receiver. "What were you thinking?" The old judgmental Mom was back.

"I didn't want him to feel trapped."

"You wanted him on your terms. Period."

"What's so wrong with that? That I want the father of my child to stay with me and be part of our family?"

"There's never been any question in my mind that Jesse loves you and wants to be with you, Angie. He had such a rough time as a kid, from what you've told me, that it's no wonder he wasn't prepared to commit to children. Not right away."

Angie didn't say anything.

She heard rhythmic clicking over the phone. Mom must have resumed her knitting. "You didn't have any problem with this before."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't knocked up before." Angie knew Debra hated harsh talk.

"Excuse me, but you're carrying my grandchild. Don't refer to yourself as 'knocked up.'"

"Sorry I bothered you, Mom. I just needed to vent, I suppose."

"You're not bothering me." The clicking ceased. "I'm here for you, Angie. But I also respect that this is your life."

Angie couldn't find words to respond. Her mother had never said anything remotely akin to suggesting any of the kids were capable of leading their own lives. Since when had Debra Bradley learned about emotional boundaries?

"Uh, thanks, Mom."

"Anytime, sugar. Just try to stay off the pity pot, okay?"

"Yeah."

"When do you go back to work?"

"Later this evening."

"You're not used to having extra time on your hands. You haven't had a chance to make friends yet, and what have you done besides work?"

"Not much." She enjoyed her own knitting and crocheting, but hadn't found much incentive to pick it up again.

"Do something nice for yourself. Tell you what, why don't I book us in at La Spa and we'll spend an afternoon together?"

"I don't know how much of it I could enjoy right now, Mom."

"I get it. We don't want you to throw up during a ma.s.sage." Debra's husky laugh made Angie smile. "Okay, honey. Just get out of that apartment and do something. something."

"All right. Thanks, Mom. Bye."

"Bye."

Angie set the portable phone down and sipped her tea. It was lukewarm now but still soothed her gag-p.r.o.ne throat. She ran her finger around the rim of the hand-thrown mug.

It wasn't fair to drag Mom into all her life's snarls. She'd tied her own knots; she'd untie them, too.

Present Day Buffalo, New York Debra THE OLD BROWN SWEATER felt rough against my fingers. I'd made two of them for the boys when they were six and playing soccer.

I'd only managed to save this one. I didn't know where the other one went.

The acrylic-wool blend wasn't anything I'd use today, but it served its purpose for two boys in the Buffalo winter. The soccer ball motif on the front had been difficult but "anything for the kids" had been my motto.

Will wasn't wrong about that.

I brought the sweater to my face and breathed in its scent. Past the lavender oil I used to protect the sweaters from moths, I caught a whiff of Blair and Brian when I was the only woman in their lives, other than their grandmas. I remembered slush dragged into the house on rubber boots, cold skin after soccer practice in the rain.

The constant observation of the other kids' parents, especially the mothers.

At times I missed having young boys in the house but I didn't miss the intrusion of other people's opinions....

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Present Day Buffalo, New York Debra I PUT THE BROWN sweater to the side, into the pile of items I might use in my exhibit. I certainly had enough to fill an entire showroom. But I wanted this to be more than another open-portfolio type of show. I wanted to tie my work and art in with history. sweater to the side, into the pile of items I might use in my exhibit. I certainly had enough to fill an entire showroom. But I wanted this to be more than another open-portfolio type of show. I wanted to tie my work and art in with history.

I recalled Shirley's words. "You of all people have something to sc.r.a.pbook about."

The thought of displaying personal things I'd made, not just the public weavings and tapestries, in the art exhibit, made me feel vulnerable to the criticism of others. What if the reviewers and the public didn't understand my motives? I wanted to show how real life, ordinary life, continues even when national and international situations are globe-altering.

The baby and toddler clothes I knitted for Angie during the Watergate hearings.

The things I knitted for Will when we were in high school and college, when the civil rights movement brought racial violence I'd never known about. When I understood that civil rights wasn't just about some black people on television. It was about Will and me and all of us.

I'd loved Will since I first saw him on the bus. Since he took me under his arm and watched out for me, all through elementary and middle school. Even after we stopped seeing each other in high school I still loved him.

The pain of losing my best friend, Will, was almost worse than thinking I'd lost his love completely.