Page 94 of No Kind of Hero
First, though, they had to get through today.
Beth had gone for a run this morning, even though she’d had to wear Yak Trax on her shoes to keep from sliding on the snowy sidewalk. The exercise had helped, but she’d still need all her serenity. Evan had left for the gym an hour earlier. And Beth was waiting for April.
April came twice a month, always on a Saturday. She didn’t take Gracie away. She seemed scared to, and Beth supposed that was natural after what had happened. That certainly made Evan breathe easier. They’d worked out a system after the first awkward visit that had helped. Evan left, and Beth stayed. She sat on the floor with April and Gracie. Gracie would play with her toys, April would watch her wistfully, and Beth would ask gentle questions and let April talk.
Every visit left her drained. April filled her with pity and made her wish for a magic wand to fix her life. She wished April would go away, and she was so sorry for her, too. The conflict was exhausting, but being here was a thing she could do, so she did it.
Now, the doorbell rang, Henry got to his feet fast. He’d been lying next to Gracie and submitting to her piling her stuffed animals on top of him, but now, he ran toward the door and barked. Beth took a breath, told Gracie, “That’s your mom. Let’s go say hi,” picked her up, and went to do it.
“Hi,” April said as she came inside looking tinier than ever in a puffy blue jacket. “Hi, Gracie. Do you want to give me a kiss?” She didn’t take Gracie out of Beth’s arms, though. She leaned in and kissed her daughter’s cheek, then took off the jacket and hung it on the hook before she held up the flat box in her hand. Pink ballerinas on the wrapping paper, and a big pink bow. “I brought a birthday present for her.”
“Well, she has one for you, too,” Beth said, going for the calm cheerfulness that helped her get through these visits. “Want to show your mama your surprise, Gracie-girl? Let’s do it.”
She set Gracie down, holding her hands, and then let her go, moved a few yards away, and said, “Can you walk? Are you a big girl? Come on, Henry,” she urged the dog. “Come help me tell her.” And Henry trotted over, wagged his tail, and uttered a joyous bark in Gracie’s direction. Helping.
The baby, who almost wasn’t a baby anymore, smiled like a flower blooming. Her hair was in a topknot today, fastened with a yellow bow that matched the flowered overalls Evan had bought her a couple weeks ago, as always trying to pretend that he’d just happened to think of it. And she was wearing her new tennis shoes, too, the ones with the rubber toe caps. Her big-girl shoes.
“Come on, baby girl,” Beth coaxed. She held out her arms. “Show your mama how you walk.”
One step, two, and then Gracie got her confidence and rushed forward with that unsteady baby gait that tugged at your heart. Laughing all the way, until she fell into Beth’s arms and Beth lifted her high overhead, swooped her down to the tune of her chuckles, smiled at April, and said, “What do you think? Who’s a big girl?”
April had tears in her eyes, but she was laughing, too. “Oh. That’s so good. Thank you.”
Beth looked down at Gracie. “Your mama brought you a present. Let’s sit on the couch and open it. Good times.” She let April help the baby with the box, but Gracie ripped open the white tissue paper inside all by herself.
“Oh,” Beth said. “That’s beautiful.”
April said shyly, “I thought . . . maybe she could wear it tomorrow. Do you think? I thought, maybe for Christmas, too.”
The dress was purple velvet with a full skirt and a white lace collar, and April had tucked a pair of white tights in amongst the tissue paper. “It’s perfect,” Beth said. She gave April a hug, because how much would it hurt not to be with your baby on her first birthday? To miss her second Christmas and think about the first one, when she’d been three days old and brand-new? To wonder what might have been?
April wiped the tears away from under her eyes and said, “I need to . . . tell you something. Ask you something.”
“Go ahead.” All Beth’s happier feelings disappeared just like that. Here it came. What she and Evan had expected and dreaded all this time while April had been growing stronger, had moved out of the shelter and into an apartment with a roommate, had found a job as a waitress, and had found her feet.
She wanted more visitation. And that wasn’t just a bad thing. It was a good thing, too, because it meant Gracie would grow up knowing her mother.
“Could we . . .” April said. “Is your mom home?”
“Mymom?”All right,thiswasn’t what she’d expected.
“I want to talk to her. And to you. To both of you. Your mom’s so smart, and I need to know. I need to be sure.”
“All . . . all right. Hang on.” Beth put Gracie down on the floor, next to her shape-sorting ball and next to Henry. “I’ll go call her right now.”
She went into the kitchen to do it. Fortunately, her mother picked up. “Hello, Elizabeth. How are you?”
“I’m not sure,” Beth said. “I need you to come over. Right now. April’s here, and she wants to talk to you. I think it’s important.”
“On my way.” Her mom hung up, and Beth had to smile a little despite her pounding heart. There was nothing her mother loved more than being needed.
“On my way” was what she’d meant, too, because Michelle was walking in the door less than ten minutes later. Red sweater, skinny black jeans showing off her still-perfect figure, coordinated earrings. And a great big hug for Gracie and one for April, too.
“Don’t you look better,” Michelle told April. “Don’t you look strong.” She sat down beside her, picked up her hand, squeezed it, and said, “Tell me.”
April wobbled, but she went ahead. A bit like Gracie walked. Unsteadily, but with determination. “I think,” she said, “that I should let Gracie go.” Her blue eyes filled with tears, but she kept going. “I want to think I’m doing what’s best for her, but I can’t tell. I don’t feel like I can take her. I don’t feel like I can keep her. She’s turning one, and I can’t come to her party, because I can’t . . . handle it. She has people who love her, and I . . . I think I need to let her . . . go.”
The last word was a whisper, and Michelle said, “Oh, honey,” pulled her into her arms, and held her as April cried.
