Page 46 of Cooper

“Would you tell me if he hurt her?”

“I don’t want him hitting the baby, so yes, I would tell you.”

That’s new.

Normally, she makes excuses about how it’s our culture, and how a slap here or there never hurt anyone. The fact that she’s suddenly worried about the baby makes me suspicious, but there’s nothing I can do from here.

I really do need to make a trip home.

I just don’t know how to find the time.

“Give her my love,” I say finally.

“And Femke is still thinking about the military.” Mama sounds pained. “Now I will lose another daughter.”

“Mama, you haven’t lost me. I’m here, but my job keeps me busy. I’m just working and making money so I can help you and Papa and Grandmama.”

“And when will you find a man? You are twenty-six now. Soon you will be too old for babies.”

I roll my eyes since she can’t see it.

I have her on speakerphone, and though we’re speaking Limaji, I know Casey can understand enough to clap a hand over her mouth to hold back her laughter.

“Tell her about Ryan,” she mouths.

I shake my head.

No way am I telling her I have an American boyfriend.

That would go over like a ton of bricks.

“I don’t know if I want babies,” I say instead.

Oops.

My mother is even more disappointed about that, and there’s another diatribe about how she never had a son so us girls need to produce them now.

I let her ramble and then manage to distract her with a promise to come visit soon, before we hang up. I lean back against the cushions of the couch and close my eyes.

“Why are mothers so hard?” I murmur.

Casey drops onto the couch next to me. “I guess they’re all different. Mine isn’t like that at all. She was needy after my dad died, but I needed her too, so we leaned on each other during a rough time. Then she came out the other side and started dating her now husband, Matt, and she has a full, satisfying life. I don’t think all women her age have that.”

“My parents are younger, in their late forties, but they fight a lot. They were never in love—it was an arranged, practical marriage—and their life is hard. They have no security because without the money I send, they would either freeze or starve in the winter. They do okay in summer, but in winter, they struggle, and I think it bothers my father that he can’t support his family. So he drinks and argues with her. In turn, she’s bitter about the way her life turned out, but instead of wanting something more, somethingbetterfor her daughters, she feels like this is our lot in life as women.”

“And she doesn’t appreciate what you do for them?”

“She does when the money hits their account, but now that summer is coming and Papa has work and they can get by on their own, she resents me because the money I send makes my father feel bad. It’s a never-ending cycle of guilt and frustration and anger. That’s why I rarely go home. Which also makes me feel guilty.”

“No respect for that whole I’m-an-elite-bodyguard-who-protects-the-king situation?” she asks in a wry voice.

“Not even a little. You know how it is in the small communities.”

She nods. “Maybe we’ll send Erik up there at some point. You can be on that detail and see if it makes any difference.”

“I won’t hold my breath, but it will be nice to see my sisters.”

“The only advice I can give you is to be true to yourself. Respect your parents, love them, continue to support them since you’re able to, but don’t let them steal your happiness. You’ve had enough heartache. Focus on the good.”

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