Page 34 of Letters to Lily

She smirked at me. “What?”

“You couldn’t wait until she was standing with us, and ask it quietly?”

“Come on, loosen up Sash. We’re in the baby store. Where better to ask these questions?”

“Yes,” my mother answered as she joined us. “You need bottles and a pump if you’re going to try it.”

“What do you mean try it?” I asked.

“Well, I attempted to breastfeed with you, but my milk never came in. I felt like a failure at first, but it happens to more women than you’d think. Besides, you did just fine with formula.” My mom waved off the concerned look on my face. “Prepare for either option, and don’t be disappointed if the breastfeeding doesn’t work out. I don’t see why it wouldn’t though. I don’t think that type of thing is hereditary, but you could also ask Dr. Marsh about it at your next visit.”

I agreed with a nod of my head and started picking out bottles that claimed to be friendly for breastfeeding. “These nipples are supposed to be close to the real thing?” I questioned while looking down at my own chest as if my nipples would reveal themselves for comparison. “I’m not so sure they used someone like me for the model.”

Kristin and my mom both threw their heads back and laughed hysterically, as did the woman at the end of the aisle. “I said the same thing when I was pregnant with my first one and shopping for the baby stuff,” the stranger piped up. “Just go with whatever feels right, buy the bare minimum, and add to the stockpile later when you figure out what works for you and your baby. That goes for pretty much everything.”

“Actually,” my mom added while nodding her head in agreement, “That’s pretty sound advice.”

We checked out and had things hauled to Jared’s truck for us. Luckily, my mom suggested we take that instead of my car for just this reason. I don’t know where I thought I was going to put boxes full of a crib, stroller, and car seats, but at least my mom was on top of things. I wondered if I would ever be half the mom that mine had been for me. She didn’t choose to be a single parent either. The job had been thrust upon her with my father’s untimely death, and she had done a fabulous job, even as she grieved his loss. I never felt unloved, not for a single minute growing up. I only hoped that I’d be able to offer my daughter the same life.

Once we were back at my house, my mom shocked the ever-loving crap out of me. “Oh, guess who I saw at the bank the other day?”

“The teller?” Kristin piped up with her smartass remark.

“Funny,” my mom huffed out. “No, I saw Helen there.” No last name needed. I turned widened eyes on my mom, willing her to finish her story, but she just stood there staring back. “What?”

“Are you going to finish that statement?” I asked.

“That was it. I saw her. There was nothing more to it, and I don’t think she even noticed me. She was pulling away as I pulled in.”

“Oh,” Kristin laughed. “Like mother, like daughter, I bet.”

“What does that mean?” My mother asked.

“Your daughter has been complaining to me for months that she keeps seeing Kaden Miller rolling through town in a silver Jeep. She found out today that it’s not him, but probably the same thing happened to you. You just thought you saw Helen.”

“No, it was Helen. She was driving her old BMW still with that same silly bumper sticker stuck in the back window.”

“Don’t let the muggles get you down,” I whispered.

“That would be the one.”

“Oh my God! You really saw her?” It was both a question and a statement.

“Of course, I did. That’s what I said.”

“Mom?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you chase her down? Jesus, you mean to tell me you saw her pulling out of the bank and you just drove in, parked, and did your business?”

“No, I went to the drive-up teller.”

“Mom!” I yelled at her.

“What?” She yelled back again.

“Why in the hell didn’t you follow her?”

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