Page 20 of The Baby-whisperer and the Brute
I glanced over my shoulder, anxiety cramping my belly. “That’s very nice of you, but my period of postulancy begins in a month, and until then, my days will be very busy caring for Mother.”
“Is she sick?” Cinda asked with obvious concern.
“No. Not exactly. But she’s… she needs me. Thank you so much for the gift—I’ve got to go in now.”
Cinda still looked concerned. “Okay, but my invitation for lunch stands. Or just come on over for coffee or tea, anytime you want to chat. I like you, Angelina, and you might be surprised how much we have in common.”
That made me pause. “Really?”
Cinda nodded. “I spent a long time going about life, doing my duty,notfollowing my heart. It wasn’t until I looked inside myself to see what I really wanted that things started to change for me. I almost missed out on one of the best things in life by deciding to play it safe and preserve the status quo. Thankfully Alex—and a conveniently timed hurricane—changed my mind.”
Placing a gentle hand on my arm, she said, “Being there for your family is important. But there’s nothing wrong with having your own dreams as well. As Walt Disney said, ‘All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them.’”
I simply nodded and thanked Cinda once again for the gift and the invitation to get together, eager to open the former and knowing I’d never accept the latter.
And as I shut the door and walked through the house to find out what Mother needed, I reflected.
I’m not sure I even knowhowto dream.
Chapter Six
Serious Doubts
Angelina
For the next week I tried to regain my equilibrium.
Any time an image of Sullivan Reece’s face invaded my mind or a snatch of our brief conversation came back to me, I dug deep into my store of willpower and re-focused on the things thatwerepossible in my life.
When willpower failed me, I unearthed the little leather-bound book of prayers my mother had given me in childhood, reading the childish rhymes aloud over and over again, hoping their rhythm would impart a bit of peace.
That lasted for a week, at which point I began scheming to find a way to visit Cinda. I didn’t expect my new friend to have all the answers, but speaking to Cinda did seem to make things clearer, as if talking to her shined a light on some things I’d kept locked away in a dark corner of my own mind.
Now that I’d had a little taste of it, I wantedmorelight.
I wanted to examine those hidden artifacts a bit more closely. Things like a long-forgotten dream of becoming a dancer. Once I remembered it, I also had a snatch of another memory—mentioning it to Mother, who’d told me, “Good girls don’t dance.”
I’d put the aspiration out of my mind immediately. Now, for whatever reason, the memory was back, along with a new curiosity aboutwhyit would be so unacceptable for a good girl to dance.
And then there was my new dream of becoming a full-time teacher. I wanted to bounce these ideas off someone else—someone who would listen instead of covering my ideas with blanket condemnation the instant they were out of my mouth.
“I need to get out of the house,” I told Mother. “It’s a beautiful, sunny day. Let’s go for a walk on the Bluff Walk.”
“I don’t like walking. I certainly don’t want to be out with all those people,” my mother sneered, just as I’d known she would.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll just go alone. I need some exercise and fresh air.”
“I do mind. It’s not safe.”
“Mother.” I fought to keep my eyes from rolling up. “Look out the window. There’s a steady stream of people up and down the path. It’s broad daylight. Nothing will happen.”
Secretly I hoped that was not true. I was desperate for something to happen, though I wasn’t sure quite what.
“How long will you be gone?” Mother asked suspiciously.
“It takes about an hour to walk to the other end of the path, then another hour to return.”
“Be back in an hour,” she barked.
