Part 10 (2/2)

”How is Lorraine?”

”Oh-h.e.l.lo,” Clara said, as if she couldn't dredge up his name. ”I was in a daze, I'm sorry. The children are here. I don't know how they'll-” She stopped.

”Children's defences are strong,” he said, to help her. ”The world consoles them.”

Those were not the words he'd meant to say, and not very useful.

”They like their bunk beds,” Clara said, smiling.

What a soft cheek she had. The children must love her. He was very pleased that he had helped with those beds. As he went off to the second floor he felt happier than he had in days. Her deep blue sweater or jacket, whatever it was, he loved that indigo hue. He stayed an extra half hour with Joe Kane-his oldest and least likeable paris.h.i.+oner, and Candy Vincent's uncle.

Left alone, but less alone than she had been, Clara bought apples and cookies and went back up, glad to have given them some privacy. They weren't her family; she had shoved her oar in enough. But when she got upstairs they were all delighted to see her. Well, of course. She was always glad to see that Mrs. Zenko had a dish in her hands at the door. It was nothing to sneeze at, bringing the food.

Lorraine looked up from the magazine she was reading with Dolly. ”Celebrity Babes, Celebrity Babies,” she said, grinning with her slightly disarranged teeth, her very attractive smile. Dolly lay beside her; Trevor sat on Darwin's lap with his new shoes up on the bed, and Pearce was fast asleep at his mother's feet, bordered by two pillows and the bowed shape of her calves under the sheet. His mouth was open above his tilted chin, his arms raised above his head as if, at last, he could surrender to sleep.

”No celebrity baby is as nice as ours, eh, Dolly?”

Dolly's forehead rubbed against her mother's shoulder.

Clara could have cried, for how at home they all were, how much at ease, how everything she'd worked for had been useless. They would never be happy with her. Nothing but their own mother would do.

Lorraine said, ”Pull up a chair, Clary. The kids said they would beg you to go get fried chicken for supper, but I said no, no, you're eating good now, I can see how healthy you are.”

Trying to make her more comfortable, and that should not be her job.

”I notice you didn't bring Mom Pell,” Lorraine said, making Thank G.o.d eyes at Clara.

”If she'd of come, we'd of been late,” Dolly said.

Trevor said, ”Waddle, waddle, waddle.”

n.o.body else laughed, so Clara didn't either. But she looked in Darwin's direction and saw that he had pulled his hat right down over his whole face, and was leaning back on the windowsill, in some silent spasm of laughter. Lorraine's eyes were bright as black jet; but her skin was looking much paler than it had that morning. Clara sobered.

”The nurses reminded me that we shouldn't stay too long,” she said, being the bad guy.

But Lorraine seemed glad she'd said it. ”Yeah, you guys have to go get supper on your own, mine will be arriving soon and you'll eat it all if you're still here. And I need to keep my strength up.”

Trevor and Dolly were easy to dislodge-they'd had a solid hour to lounge around. The room was almost boring again. Their mother was there, still there. They had been refreshed.

Darwin stood up, taller than she'd remembered. ”Come on, you kids,” he said, as if he was a stern man. ”I'll walk you to the car.”

Trevor and Dolly kissed Lorraine and went after Darwin to the door. ”We'll take the stairs, get some exercise,” he told Clara, giving her time to pry Pearce away. Giving Lorraine peace to be pried apart in.

After they were gone Lorraine s.h.i.+fted her feet under the sheet, her long legs. ”Do you think you can take him without waking him?”

”No,” Clara said. ”Not a chance.” She sat on the bed and began the long process of easing her hand under the sleeping boy.

”Thanks,” Lorraine said, sitting up straighter. ”I needed to see them, I should have asked for them before.”

”It went very well. n.o.body seemed to be upset.”

”Nope. Except me.”

”Is it bad?”

Lorraine stared at her, the bright eyes subdued. Black pearls, not jet, now.

”I have a feeling like a big hand,” she said. ”On a long arm, a hand coming from inside me, reaching around inside...”

Clara stayed listening.

Lorraine shook her head. ”I can't say what it's like.”

They sat silent.

”Well, the kids'll be down at the car by now. You'd better get going.”

”I can go, because Darwin will be back up in a few minutes. You won't be alone.”

”Yeah, isn't that the greatest?” Lorraine lit up again. ”When we were little, we shared a room-I used to tell him stories at night. Now he tells me.”

Clara slid her forearm under Pearce and picked him up, willing him to stay asleep. He did. She folded him up against her chest, and his fist came to rest on her neck.

”See you tomorrow. Do you want the children again tomorrow?”

Lorraine's face was dulled, quiet. ”I'm sleepy,” she said, not answering.

When Clara was almost out the door, Lorraine said, ”Not tomorrow. But soon.”

Darwin came home before the children went to bed, Lorraine asleep already. He had brought Timbits, a.s.sorted. The jelly ones, the tiny perfect jelly doughnuts, made Clara cry. Because they were so perfect and Lorraine was dying. She had salt in her mouth and powdery, dissolving sweetness.

Dolly climbed on Darwin's lap, and then Trevor, and they both had a good time crying, but it would not last. Like the pleasure of doughnuts only lasts for a second. Icing sugar is like cocaine must be, Clara imagined. Lighter than air, filmier than dust, frail delight. Even if there were fifty she might keep eating them, she thought, weakly happy to see the children dusted with sugar, little puffs of strawberry jam spilling out, bright inside the cus.h.i.+on of sweet.

”My mother used to make doughnuts,” she said to Darwin. She laughed to hear herself telling this, a sweet memory of her mother. ”She made orange doughnuts, bubbles of dough with orange peel in them, and she iced them with orange icing!”

Remembering the orange doughnuts made her happy, and then of course sad, and the smell of the oil cooking in the kitchen, and how short a time the pleasure of the doughnuts lasts, but how long the oil smell lingers...

Clara shook her head as if she had been drinking, or was too tired to drive; she slapped her cheek to wake herself up. The children were staring at her. ”What?” she asked. Darwin stared too, even Mrs. Pell. ”There's nothing wrong! I'm just-”

She laid her head down on the kitchen table and sobbed. What a relief to cry out loud.

In the bedroom she could hear Pearce starting to cry. Now look what she'd done. She cried some more. Mrs. Pell lumbered up and went off to the bedroom.

Waddle, waddle, waddle, Clara thought, and a doughnut of laughter came bubbling up into her mouth and out, and she laughed at the children and Darwin still watching her. She leaned back in her chair, feeling much better. She was pretty sure that Mrs. Pell wasn't giving Pearce more Benadryl.

”I think I'm a little over-tired,” she said. She couldn't keep a straight face, her mouth had to go up or down. ”You never get a whole night's sleep, you know.”

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