Part 29 (2/2)
”Yeah.”
”Want to know something amazing?” Hugh asked, and what he had learned spilled right out. ”My grandfather was half black.”
David's face went blank.
Hugh sputtered. ”Yeah, I feel the same way. I just found out. This is the first time I've said it aloud.”
David frowned. ”Say it again.”
”My grandfather was half black.”
”Which grandfather?” David asked, like it was a joke. Was it the business mogul, or the amba.s.sador to Iceland? Hugh could hear him thinking.
”A lawyer my father's mother apparently fell for one summer on the Vineyard.”
David was another minute realizing Hugh was serious. Then he was suddenly livid. ”You b.a.s.t.a.r.d.”
”Not me. My father.”
”After what you put Dana through? So you're liars, the lot of you, pa.s.sing for white? Taking every advantage you could all your life. Parading as holier-than-thou, when you were hiding the fact that you were of mixed race.”
Hugh didn't argue this time. He figured he had it coming, figured that he had to let David get it out of his system if they had a prayer of being friends again.
”What do you mean, you just found out?” David asked.
Hugh told him about the sickle-cell tests and his subsequent confrontation with Eaton.
”And he really didn't know?” David asked. ”Do you believe that?”
Hugh thought for a minute. ”Yeah. I do. I saw his face. I can fault him for not checking it out sooner, but he didn't fake that surprise.” He didn't go into Eaton's horror at the thought of his book. It wasn't a flattering picture.
David searched Hugh's face a minute longer, seeming to be waiting for him to laugh and take it all back. But there was nothing to take back. This was for real.
David's eyes lost their anger. He ran a hand over his bald head. ”That's actually pretty funny, y'know? Your dad must be in shock. Speaking of shock, I told Susan about Ali's dolls. She flipped out at first, but as soon as she calmed down, she reverted to form. She says I'm imagining things, and that I'm just trying to upset her, and that I've spoiled Ali so she doesn't want to leave.” He glanced at Lizzie. ”Want me to watch the baby while you go to the hospital?”
”I'll wait to hear from Dana.” He held David's gaze. ”Thanks, though. I appreciate the offer.”
”About the other,” David said, more quietly now, ”it isn't the end of the world.”
”No, but it sure changes my view of the world.”
”That could be a good thing.”
”Maybe. I haven't gotten that far yet. I only got the news a couple of hours ago.”
”I'm glad you told me.”
”So am I.”
David glanced again at Lizzie. ”Do you know what to do when she cries?”
”I've never fed her before, but we'll manage. If she's hungry enough, she'll eat, right?”
That was the theory. In practice, it was harder. He couldn't find the bottle warmer and, when Lizzie began to cry, had to go to Plan B, which entailed heating the pre-bottled formula in a pan of water on the stove. Unfortunately, the books hadn't warned against overheating the milk. He stood the bottle in the refrigerator for a minute, then, when Lizzie's cries accelerated, in the freezer. He finally took a second bottle, heated it briefly, and screwed on a nipple.
Apparently, Lizzie didn't like that nipple. She continued rooting around for the real thing and grew frantic when she couldn't find it. She finally tried the bottle, promptly gagged, and started crying again.
He checked the discarded package and saw that the nipples were medium flow for bigger babies. Rummaging around in the cabinet, he found a slow-flow package, wrestled one out, and snapped it on the bottle again. When Lizzie continued to fight him, he took a calming breath and tried soothing words. That helped.
Then the phone rang. Lacking a third hand, he tried holding Lizzie and the bottle with a single hand so that he could pick up the receiver, but she started crying again. He propped her safely between pillows on the sofa and held the bottle in her mouth, but even with his arm outstretched, he couldn't grab the phone. When he figured there was only one ring left before it went to voicemail, he took the bottle out of her mouth and lunged for the phone. He was glad he did. It was Dana.
”Hey,” he said, ”hold on a sec.” He picked up Lizzie, quieted her with the bottle, then clamped the phone between shoulder and ear. ”How is she?”
”They say she's stable. Why was Lizzie crying?”
”I took the bottle out of her mouth so I could get the phone. What does 'stable' mean?”
”She's breathing on her own, and her heart is okay. The problem is on her right side. They're doing tests to find out the cause.”
”What can I do?”
”Stay there with Lizzie. Tara's coming here with a pump. She'll bring you my milk.”
”Lizzie seems to be taking the formula okay.”
”But I'm ready to burst. And anyway, I need to learn how to do this. Gram will be a while going home, if she does go home.”
”She'll go home, Dee. Don't even consider the alternative.”
Brokenly, Dana said, ”If they find the cause of the problem, it'll either be surgery or medicine. They don't know if she'll ever regain full mobility.”
”If they don't know, it means that she might.”
”She'll never be the same, Hugh.”
The words touched him. ”I'm coming to think that's what life is about, a chronological chain made up of links of change. Each new one aims the whole in a slightly different direction.”
”But I want to go back.”
”Chains don't have the flexibility to make one-eighties.”
”She's my grandmother. She's all I have of the past. She's been my mother. That's a special role.”
”Yes,” he said, suddenly thinking of Eaton. Eaton had been close to his mother. Hugh remembered when the woman died. Eaton had grieved for months.
”I'd better go. I'll call when I know more.”
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