Sisters in the Wind(68)

“Hmm, I’ll try to go,” I replied in a deeper and I hoped older voice. “Perhaps I’ll ask Enid for a ride. Oh, what did I do with her phone number?” I laughed as if I misplaced phone numbers as a routine.

“Enid Johnston?” the quilt club lady asked.

“Yes, from the quilt show in Bay City.” I was afraid of giving any details in case the lady knew Enid.

“Well, I don’t have Enid’s cell phone number, but I have her landline on our club phone tree. Would that work?”

“Yes, yes.” I fussed with the pages of my book. “Let me find my address book so I won’t lose her number again.”

I waited until the evening the quilting club met to call Enid Johnston’s home telephone. Heart racing and my stomach churning like from the Bridget era of highly processed dinner entrées, I nearly threw up between rings.

“Hello?” The connection was spotty from the hammock grove, but it was the only place where I could be alone.

“Emily? Is it you?”

“Yes…” She was hesitant.

“Emily, it’s Lucy from Hoppy Farm. Please don’t hang up.”

“Oh, hi. Why would I hang up? You’re the first person from there to call me. I thought everyone forgot me.” She sounded delighted.

“No, Emily. We miss you. Diego tried finding you.” I swallowed a gulp of air that went down like a horse pill. “Did he … find you?”

“No. I haven’t seen him since the night I went into labor with Leaf. Oh, Lucy. He’s such a good baby. I’m glad I kept him. Missus said it was okay to change my mind, but I haven’t.”

“Is that why you didn’t call Diego? He was worried sick about you.”

“Everything with the baby happened so fast. Then I was so tired. The first few weeks were a blur, honestly. All I did was feed the baby and try to sleep when he slept. If it weren’t for my aunt, I don’t know what I would’ve done. She’s been so helpful. Leaf turned one a month ago.”

“I know,” I said. “It was my birthday too.”

“Oh yeah. I remember now.” I heard static on the phone that sounded like a sigh. “I don’t know, Lucy. After a while, the farm and everybody felt far away. I liked Diego, but he was so over-the-top. Like, super romantic. It just didn’t feel real, like he wouldn’t fit in my new life, the one with Leaf.”

“But he went looking for you a month ago,” I said.

“Yeah, Missus told me and my aunt to be on the lookout. Diego ran away to find me?” Emily giggled. “See? That’s over-the-top. Why not call, like you did!”

“No one had your number,” I pointed out.

“Missus checks in with me every so often.”

“Missus knew how to reach you this entire time?” I didn’t understand why she hadn’t let Diego know.

“Yeah,” Emily said. “She used to call every week, but now maybe once a month.”

I’d mull over that information later. For now, I’d realized I hadn’t asked Emily about herself.

“Are you okay, Emily? I’m sorry I didn’t ask right away.”

“I’m really good. My aunt Enid has been sober two years now. She works at Delta College and goes to church and AA and belongs to a quilting club. She helped me get my GED and wants me to try a class at Delta this fall. But I don’t know. I’m not smart like you.”

“You’re smart,” I reassured her. “My dad was a single dad when he finished college. He said he was a better student after I came along. He didn’t have time for distractions and temptations.”

A baby cried in the background.

“Just a minute, Leaf,” Emily called out. To me, she said, “It was good talking with you, Lucy. Please keep in touch.”

“I will,” I promised.

“If you don’t mind me saying, you seem really concerned about Diego.”

“It’s just that he was so worried about you.”

“He’s a good person. It was nice being treated so special by him. He’ll make a great boyfriend and all that someday. But I’m good with how things are now. You can tell him when he gets back to the farm. I’ll tell him if he shows up here.” Baby Leaf’s cries grew louder with impatience. “Sorry, Lucy. I gotta go.”

The instant before the line went dead, I heard Emily call out, “Yes, baby. Mommy’s coming.”

I stood next to the double hammock that Diego and Emily shared a year ago. She was a mom now.

Yes, baby. Mommy’s coming.

Emily sounded like a mom. A real mom.

A familiar voice echoed a beat later.

Some women should never become mothers.



* * *



I made progress on my library project. More titles inventoried and categorized. And another folded note slid into a book. Again, handwritten in pencil.

I said yes mostly to get her to stop bugging me.

I don’t want to tell her I changed my mind until I’m in the hospital and there are nurses to hear me.

It doesn’t make sense. I need money to raise a baby, but she will pay me only if I give it up. Why isn’t she trying to help me keep the baby?

I think she will make me leave if I bring the baby back to the farm.