Part 32 (1/2)
He was furious. ”I'll make a call.”
Dana took back her hand. ”You will not.”
”But you wanted those jobs.”
She sat straighter. ”I've changed my mind. I have a new baby and a grandmother who's not up to running the yarn shop. That shop is as close to a family business as I'll ever have.”
”It's not the work itself,” Hugh argued. ”It's the principle.” He studied his hands. It was a while before he said, ”What can I do?”
”Nothing. I don't want those jobs.”
”I don't want those friends,” he countered. ”If they reject me because my grandfather was part black, that's their choice.” He took a quick breath. ”But what do I do about the rest? The being part black part. Am I supposed to change? Act differently?”
”No,” she scolded, but with a smile that tugged at his gut. ”You're still you. You're the product of forty years of a certain upbringing. You can't change that. What changes is what you do with it.”
”Like what?”
”I don't know.”
”I need help here, Dee.”
She seemed almost amused. ”If I didn't know what to do when it was me, how can I know what to tell you to do now that it's you?”
Down the hall, a door opened. Ellie Jo's surgeon walked toward them.
Ellie Jo was going to live. The doctors didn't yet know whether she would regain full use of her right side, but they had removed the blockage that had caused the stroke and were confident that medication would minimize the chance of another.
Dana was weak with relief. She wanted to see her grandmother, but was told that she would be in the recovery room until the next morning and, even then, would likely be too groggy to know if Dana was there.
It made no sense to stay now. It was after one in the morning. With any luck, Dana could be home in time to feed Lizzie. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were full, and even aside from the physical relief, she wanted the emotional comfort the baby gave.
When they pulled up to the house, they were startled to see Eaton's car in the driveway behind Dorothy's.
Dana's first response was a comforting thought. This is how it's supposed to be. Then she remembered the past days' events, and didn't know what to think.
Hugh hadn't moved. He had turned off the engine, but remained in his seat with both hands on the wheel. ”I'm too tired for this,” he said.
”He's probably asleep with your mom.”
”Christ, I hope so,” he muttered, and opened his door.
Eaton was asleep, but not with Dorothy. He was neatly arranged on the family room sofa, arms and ankles crossed, loafers side by side on the floor. The television was on, the volume low.
Hugh turned it off, then went for the lights. ”I'm leaving him here,” he whispered.
”We can't,” Dana whispered back. ”He won't sleep well here.”
Hugh leveled her a look. ”Do I care?”
Eaton stirred and opened his eyes. Visibly startled to see where he was, he took in Hugh and sat up. ”I must have fallen asleep.”
”Go on up with Mom,” Hugh said.
Eaton looked at Dana. ”How's your grandmother?”
Dana didn't know if he was just being polite. His face said he did care. It held some of the vulnerability she had seen earlier in Hugh.
In Hugh, it had been rea.s.suring. In Eaton, it was oddly disconcerting.
Unsure what to make of that, Dana listened to the rea.s.suring sound of the sea. Be kind, her mother whispered in its wake. So she said, ”The operation went well. We'll know more tomorrow.” She turned to Hugh and added, ”I'm going up to feed Lizzie.”
Hugh envied her the excuse. Too tired to come up with one himself, he told Eaton, ”I'm going to bed. Turn out the lights.” He started out of the room.
”Wait, Hugh. I want to talk.”
”It's late, Dad.”
”Please.”
Hugh stood at the door a moment. Then he turned, walked to the armchair, and sat. He didn't say anything. He wasn't the one who wanted to talk.
”I saw the baby,” Eaton said. ”She's beautiful.”
”Her color hasn't changed. That doesn't help the situation.”
”Hugh.” His father's voice was faint. ”I didn't know. I should have. But I didn't.”
”Is that what you came to say?”
”Actually,” Eaton rose from the sofa and went to the French doors. The instant he opened them, the sound of the ocean grew louder. ”Actually, I came here to tell your mother.”
Hugh looked up. ”What did she say?”
”Nothing. I didn't tell her.”
”Why not?”
Eaton was quiet. He closed the French doors. With the ocean muted again, his own silence was marked. Finally, he said, ”I don't know.”
”It won't get any easier.”
”Maybe I'll become more comfortable with it.”
”The longer you wait, the worse it'll be with Mom. You can say you didn't know before, but now you do. You have to tell her.”
Eaton didn't reply.