Page 23 of Like the Season
“Mom and I’ve both worked here.” She offered a wan smile. “Even when I was technically too young, they knew our situation and felt sorry for us. They just paid Mom extra to add what I made. I used to pull shifts after school, and she’d come in after her first job to work, and then we’d ride home together when her shift ended. I’d either sit at an empty table or go curl up in the office to do my homework. Depended on how busy they were. They always make everything fresh and they’re really strict in the kitchen about cleanliness.”
Her smile faded. “When Mom died, the couple who owns it, they stepped in and had their lawyer file the emancipation paperwork and everything for me. Helped me arrange her funeral. They offered to let me live with them but they still had five kids living at home. Fortunately, their lawyer was good and smart and was able to finagle an immediate payout from the logging company’s insurance to get me by in exchange for not suing the pants off them.”
“Ah.”
More guilt to process, a fucking mountain of it, and here he was, chipping away at it with a damned grapefruit spoon. That’s what it felt like.
“I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty.”
“I know, but it sort of comes with the territory.” He set his menu aside and gently clasped her hands in his. “Move to Florida with us. I’m going to keep asking you until you say yes. You realize that, right?”
She made no move to pull away as she slowly nodded. “Maybe right before the baby’s born,” she said. “I need health insurance. I can save up enough to pay for COBRA after I quit. But I need to keep working. I can’t guarantee I’ll get another job before I have the baby. I need the money.”
“Make Dr. Dickus pay for it.”
“Yeah, he’s probably broke. I know he’s got an ex-wife and he drives a shitty car.” Her gaze met his. “I really don’t want to talk about him today.”
“You need to talktohim. Before your next work shift.”
“You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”
“No.”
She sighed and pulled out her phone, texting someone. “Let me find out when he’s on the schedule.”
“Good.”
She had her reply by the time the waitress had taken their orders. “My friend Jane looked up the schedule. He’s working Monday.”
“We could go find him today.”
“I’d rather not go to his apartment. Bad enough I had him in mine. Let’s keep it a neutral location. There’s a coffee shop across the street from the hospital where we can meet him on his lunch break.”
“Fair enough. Let’s arrange to do it Monday, then. Do you have his number?”
“Yeah.” She set her phone aside, facedown on the table. “I feel like I’ve disappointed Mom.”
“Why?”
“Because all she wanted was to see me do better than she did. Excel in school, get a decent job that would be a career that would take care of me. And all because the pill isn’t perfect, now I’m in the same position she was in.”
He reached for her hands again, holding them. “Not even close. You’re an adult, you have an education and a good job, and you have a father and hopefully soon a step-father who will have your back every step of the way. Let us in, let us help you.”
Her gaze dropped to their hands and he didn’t break the silence, waiting.
“What if I change my mind and decide to get an abortion?” she whispered.
He struggled to keep his heart from shattering as he carefully weighed his response. He didn’t understand how he could have shifted so hard on his feelings about children in such a short time, but then again, those opinions had always been predicated before in the fact that he hadn’t thought he had a child, much less a grandchild.
“Are you asking for my opinion, my permission, or my forgiveness?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m here for you, as much as you’ll let me be. If that’s your choice, and you need help, I’ll do what I can.”
“But it’s not what you want me to choose?”
“Please don’t make your decision based on me. I’m your father, but I don’t feel I have any right to place that kind of stress on you.”
