Building a Family Read online

  So we’re attracted to each other, I get that. But starting something now makes no sense. My mom’s sick. Neither of us has a good record when it comes to romance. I guess we were just weak for a moment.

  When the elevator door opened, she forced herself to enter. She must stop herself from remembering, savoring their kiss. It couldn’t happen again.

  Chapter Nine

  Eleanor’s stomach had tied itself in so many knots she was nauseated. Swishing a lamb’s wool duster, she wandered around Mavis’s spotless house trying to fool herself that she was dusting—not dreading her mother’s homecoming. She listened for the sound of her parents’ car. Mavis and Dad were bringing Delia home from the hospital after her diabetic training. Was her mother still in denial? Would she still be angry, still refuse to do what she must to stay healthy?

  Car doors slammed outside; Eleanor braced herself. She hadn’t been able to visit the hospital yesterday because she had to appear in court on several cases. But that excuse should please her mother, right?

  Eleanor moved to the kitchen just as Delia stalked up the three steps into the room. “Hi, Mother. How are you?”

  Delia went to the refrigerator and set something that looked like a prescription bag inside. “I’m fine.”

  John entered the kitchen. “She went through her training.”

  “Of course I did,” Delia snapped. “I have diabetes. I have accepted it. But we don’t need to talk about it.”

  Mavis stepped into the kitchen. “And we don’t need to snap at each other about it, either.”

  An edgy silence followed this statement. Delia stared at the floor.

  Frozen in place, Eleanor could only admire Mavis’s bravery in the face of her mother’s nasty mood.

  “I just don’t want everybody treating me like an invalid. I’ll deal with this,” Delia stated, sitting down at the kitchen table and shading her eyes with her hand. A gesture of fatigue?

  “I’m glad,” Eleanor said with sincerity. She sat down at the table near her mother. “But it was a shock.” And the sensations she’d experienced when she’d heard the diagnosis repeated, shaking her again. Mother, you could have died.

  “Yes, it was,” Mavis spoke up, forestalling Delia, who appeared ready to take umbrage at Eleanor’s words. “I’m still reeling.”

  Delia cast Mavis a poisonous look.

  And that was the last straw for Eleanor.

  “Why do you always have to act like this?” Eleanor snapped. “As if life were a battle you had to win?”

  Delia stared at her.

  “Why can’t anything ever be easy with you?” Eleanor realized all the words she’d stored up for years were bursting through now. “You always have an agenda—like bringing a cooler to Sunday dinner at the Becks’. Why do you always assume that anyone without PhD after their name is beneath you?”

  Delia looked nonplussed.

  “Why do I have to be the quintessential professional woman to please you?” Eleanor shook with the strength of her emotions. “I’m beginning the adoption process. Why do I have to be afraid that you’ll say something that might hurt any child I adopt? Why isn’t anything I do ever enough to satisfy you? Why don’t you love me?”

  Trembling, Eleanor paused to take a breath and found she couldn’t say another word. Her stomach knots had constricted even tighter. She nearly pressed her hand to her midsection to stop the pain. The already-strained silence tautened.

  Delia stared at Eleanor as if she’d never seen her before.

  Eleanor burst into tears and covered her face with her hands. She heard Delia get up and leave. From the corner of her eye, she noted Mavis following her mother, who was evidently heading to her room.

  “I have to go,” Eleanor said to her father, rising and wiping her face with her hands. “I’m expected at the Habitat site.”

  She rushed from the house, ignoring her father’s half-heard words. She couldn’t handle any more right now. Why did I lose control like that?

  Not many minutes later, she parked at the curb near the Paxtons’ future house. The emotional outburst had left her little energy and prone to tears. But I’m expected.

  The tent Pete had borrowed from the school district shielded the shell. Pete along with other volunteers, lounged around, obviously finishing lunch. Kevan sat beside Pete, eating a sandwich. Her stomach growled, but she would miss a meal. Anyway, how could she eat with her stomach clenched?

  She walked up to Pete and sat down. When several of the women volunteers shared conspiratorial-matchmaking glances, she realized she should have chosen to sit beside someone else. But if she moved now that would give the interested parties even more to talk and wonder about. “How’s it going, Pete?”

  “How’s your mom?” Pete asked, ignoring her question.

  “She went through diabetic training and has accepted that she has diabetes.” Sort of.

  He nodded. “It’s a tough pill to swallow.”

  “Yeah, Pete was telling me about her,” Kevan said. “Sorry to hear it.”

  Eleanor nodded to Kevan and smiled. Some of the words she’d thrown at her mother echoed in her mind. I shouldn’t have said all that. I’m sorry, Lord.

  Then she noticed that Pete was studying her. “It will get easier,” she said, for something to say.

  “Right.” He swiveled to look at the shell. “I think we can get the roof sheeted today. And the walls are about done. We might as well—”

  The arrival of her dad’s red hybrid at the curb caught not only her attention but Pete’s. He broke off and rose. “Hey! John!”

  Her father had changed into work clothes, his favorite faded T-shirt and jeans. “Thought I could use some fresh air and exercise. What are we doing today?”

  Seeing her dad rocked Eleanor. Fresh tears smarted her eyes. She blinked fast and sucked in air. What’s wrong with me? Why am I so emotional today?

  As Pete introduced Kevan to John, he glanced back and forth as if he were picking up on the unseen tension between father and daughter.

  “Glad to have all the help we can get,” Eleanor managed to say. Had her father come to scold her? Or for some other reason he wasn’t saying? Was there more to her mother’s condition than she had been told? “Dad, Pete tells me we’re working on sheeting the roof.”

  “Yeah,” Pete agreed. “How are you on ladders?”

  “Frankly, I prefer to stay on the ground, if possible,” John replied.

  Kevan laughed out loud.

  “You can work with my crew laying subfloor.” Luis loped into sight from the back of the tent. “I’m not much for working on ladders, either.”

  Eleanor wondered where Colby could be, but didn’t want to ask. Maybe he had to work at Dairy Queen today.

  “Good deal. How about you, Ellie?” her dad asked.

  She wondered why he’d started using her childhood nickname. Perhaps because Cassie called her Miss Ellie? “I can do that.” She opened her toolbox at her feet and drew out her nail gun. “Have nail gun. Will lay floor.”

  The volunteers began gathering up the trash from their lunches, stowing it away and moving back to their work stations. Eleanor and her dad followed Luis and began laying the subflooring sheets over the floor joists and nailing them down.

  Her father hovered near her as if waiting for something from her. But what? She realized she was grinding her teeth. She tried to shake off her tension. Without effect.

  Several minutes passed before Eleanor decided to tackle her dad head on. “I didn’t mean to say all that,” she muttered near his ear in between nail blasts. “You know, at Mavis’s.”

  “Maybe it was time you did.”

  She glanced at her father, surprised.

  A deep crease separated his eyebrows. In contrast to the repetitive hand work they were doing, he looked intense.

  “I’m just so tired,” she said, timing her words to the beat of her nail gun, “of not living up to her unrelenting standards. I don’t think I can even try anymore.”


  Her father grunted. “She demands just as much from herself.”

  “That’s her business. She doesn’t have the right to put it on me.”

  Her father nodded, not looking her way.

  Eleanor wished her father hadn’t come. She hadn’t wanted to deal with this here and now. However, just as it had happened in Mavis’s kitchen, she couldn’t stop herself. “I have a right to my own life.”

  What had changed her ability to keep all her feelings undercover? Was it the adoption? This thought struck the mark dead on. The catalyst was the adoption. The possibility of becoming a mother herself had prompted her to address the poor relationship with her own mother. Her residual tension tightened a notch.

  “If she does anything to hurt the child I may adopt—” Eleanor shook inside as she said this “—I don’t know if our relationship will survive.”

  “She won’t do anything to hurt any child you adopt,” he said as if confident that his words were true. He looked into her eyes.

  “Why does she always have to act like she does?” Eleanor asked. “Like she’s superior to women like Kerry Ann? Like I can’t be anything but a lawyer?”

  Her dad stretched to his full height as if working out kinks in his back. “Your mother’s mother was a difficult woman. You’ve heard of smother love, haven’t you?”

  Eleanor stilled. No one had ever spoken to her about her mother’s family.

  “Well, when we married at the end of high school, that was what your mother escaped. Your grandmother was set against Delia going to college, despite the scholarships she’d won with her academic excellence. Your grandmother wanted her to stay home, marry a man she’d chosen for Delia and start having grandchildren for her.”

  Unmoved, Eleanor listened but without any sympathy.

  “I’m sorry,” John continued, “that she can’t relax when it comes to you—”

  “Why is she letting her bad relationship with her mother ruin her relationship with me?” Eleanor heard her voice rising, but couldn’t keep it low. “Why is she letting her past ruin our present? And future?”

  Eleanor bent and began nailing furiously, not wanting to talk anymore. Her grandmother had died before she was born. Why was her mother letting Eleanor’s grandmother dictate her life and Eleanor’s? It doesn’t make sense. Why would someone let their past wreck their present?

  Near the end of the day, Pete looked down and saw his mom appear with Cassie and Nicky in tow. Kerry Ann carried a large, gallon-size thermos, and so did Nicky, although he had to use two hands to hold it a few inches from the high, uncut grass. Cassie carried a stack of plastic glasses and sugar packets in a clear bag. Pete wondered what mission his mother was on now.

  “We wanted to see how the house is doing. And thought some of you might like a glass of fresh iced tea,” Kerry Ann announced.

  Pete, along with the other volunteers, put away their tools, moved away from their jobs and accepted the glasses of tea Kerry Ann poured from the thermoses. Everyone found a spot on the new subfloor or grass and sat down. Again, Pete wondered what his mother had up her short sleeve.

  Though Pete gravitated to Cassie and Kerry Ann, he kept track of Eleanor and her dad. From his vantage point on the roof, he’d observed them speaking. Their body language had expressed discord and unhappiness. Eleanor was upset, and he’d heard enough to stir his own thoughts.

  He knew he had no right to stick his nose in her business. But after holding her in his arms at the hospital and comforting her, how could he just act like nothing had happened? Even now, he couldn’t forget her soft form within his arms and her tears wetting his shoulder. Her mom’s illness had almost taken her down.

  “Anybody going to the Fourth of July carnival on Saturday?” Kerry Ann asked.

  “I am!” Cassie called out, waving her hand and jumping up and down.

  “Me, too!” Nicky yelled.

  Pete found himself grinning. Kids brought such zest to everything, every occasion. “Oh, I think I’ll stay home and read a book,” he teased.

  “Daddy!” Cassie scolded. “You hafta come to the carnival.”

  Nicky grinned, showing that he hadn’t been taken in by his dad’s teasing. “Cassie, maybe you should stay home and keep Dad company,” Nicky said, kidding his sister.

  Cassie propped her hands on her hips and glared at her brother. “Don’t be stupid.”

  Pete held up his hand. “Okay, okay, you persuaded me. I’ll go to the carnival.”

  “You come, too,” Cassie said, taking Eleanor’s hand. “Then it’ll be more fun.”

  Pete saw that his daughter’s words had brought moisture to Eleanor’s eyes. Her tears moved him, and her effort to hide them drew his support. “Yes, Eleanor, you need to come,” Pete said.

  “I think that sounds like fun, Cassie,” Eleanor said.

  “It sure does,” John agreed. “I wouldn’t miss it. I love carnivals.”

  Cassie hurried over to him and climbed onto his knee. Eleanor gazed somberly at the two of them.

  Pete wished he could do something for her. She did so much for others. She deserved the best, not trouble.

  “The carnival will do us all good,” he said, ignoring the impulse to pull Eleanor under his arm and ask her to tell him what was bothering her.

  Late in the evening, at the Fourth of July carnival, Eleanor walked beside Pete, Nicky on his other side. Cassie strolled with them, too, holding John’s hand. Eleanor wished she could relax and enjoy herself, but she’d glimpsed her social worker, Ms. Green, and the woman had definitely eyed her. Why?

  The sound of music from the carnival rides, the metallic pinging from the shooting range and the combined fragrances of popcorn and cotton candy filled the air. Twilight had nearly given way to darkness.

  In the crush of people, they’d met the Paxtons, including Dex. The Paxtons had joined Delia, Mavis, Kerry Ann and Harry, who had all settled on their lawn chairs in the part of the large park that fronted the small lake. They were waiting for the fireworks to be set off on the lakeshore. They would start soon.

  Eleanor hadn’t missed that Dex had made sure that he sat beside Mavis and that he leaned in close, speaking only to her. Her aunt’s low laughter burst out once again.

  “I’d like to go on the Ferris wheel,” John said. “How about you kids, want to sit with me?”

  Cassie and Nicky yelled their approval. The carnival atmosphere had obviously “intoxicated” them.

  Eleanor, on the other hand, had withdrawn from all the noise and gaiety. So many times, she’d had to stop herself from taking Pete’s hand. Pete had somehow become her focus. Was she thinking of how he’d comforted her at the hospital? She couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting toward his profile no matter how hard she tried. The emotional upheaval that had started with her mother fainting at the Beck farm had not ebbed, but intensified.

  Ms. Green walked past them with what must be her own family. She waved, but she still gave Eleanor “the eye.” This did not help Eleanor’s mood. Wasn’t a prospective adoptive parent allowed to go out with friends? Her own words earlier this summer to Pete about how the adoption must take first place now replayed in her mind, mocking her. She’d just said that to have an excuse for halting any change in their relationship. Did she still feel that way?

  John led them to the short line for the tall blue-and-white Ferris wheel. Soon, they were giving their tickets to the carnival worker and boarding the swaying carriages. John, with Cassie and Nicky on either side of him, entered first. Then in the next carriage, Pete waved Eleanor in first. As she sat down with a bump, the carriage swayed, and Pete landed next to her with a laugh.

  She tried to smile but found it difficult to curve her worry-stiffened mouth upward. The loading of all the carriages ended in a few more minutes, and then they were riding upward. Eleanor felt her stomach lurch at the motion.

  “What’s wrong?” To be heard over the loud music, Pete spoke directly into her ear.

  She looked at
him, knowing she should smile and say, “Nothing!” Instead she grasped his large, comforting hand. “I don’t know,” she responded into his ear. “I just feel off-kilter.”

  “Is it your mom’s diagnosis?”

  She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”

  He nodded and squeezed her hand.

  On the second ascent, she leaned closer, unable to forgo the comfort she knew he’d give her. And Pete would keep whatever she said to himself. She could count on that. “I think I’m worried that my mom will be cold to any child I adopt.” She couldn’t go on. She pressed her lips together.

  Pete looked thoughtful. “I don’t understand your mom. She is an unusual woman.”

  Eleanor nearly snorted. “My mother always has to get in everyone’s face. I was so embarrassed when she brought that cooler to your mom’s Sunday dinner.”

  “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. You didn’t bring the cooler.”

  “I know, but I can’t help how I feel,” Eleanor said as the raucous carnival music swelled.

  He looked as if he were digesting this. “I guess,” he said finally, “I don’t think that you need to worry. I mean your parents retired to Arizona, right? It’s not like they live with you. And nobody’s family is perfect.”

  His final sentence comforted her. Before she could say more, the fireworks started. The Ferris wheel turned out to be a great place to view them, even though the carriages swayed and moved up and then down. And the operator appeared to be lengthening the ride. She glanced down—no one was waiting in line, anyway.

  Eleanor let herself relax. Sometime in the midst of the fireworks, Pete’s arm went around her shoulders. She rested her neck back on his arm, drawing in her first deep breath in many hours. She let herself sink into the moment—the brilliant colors bursting nearly overhead, the booming-pounding of the firework explosions, the rocking, rising and lowering of the Ferris wheel carriage, the handsome, caring man so near.

  She sighed. And turned toward Pete. Her nose bumped his. She smiled and adjusted. Then she was kissing him and he was kissing her. In front of God and everybody.