A Mother to Love. Gail Martin Gaymer
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she rolled her eyes.
“Remember, Angie, you’re thirty-three. Child bearing is—”
“Mom.” She tripped over her exasperation. “Let’s start with falling in love and getting married first. Okay?”
“But Connie said you’re dating someone.”
The lie bit her again. “I told her I was seeing someone. I didn’t say ‘dating.’”
“What’s the difference?”
Angie closed her eyes and drew in a lengthy breath. “Could we talk about this another time? I was at the nursery all day with Rick...for flowers for my garden, and—”
“Rick.” The sound of triumph flew through the phone. “So that’s his name. When can we meet him?”
“Not today. He’s gone, and I’m dirty from toting flower flats. How about if I talk with you tomor...another time. I can tell you more then.”
A puff of air traveled through the phone. “Finally, you’re willing to tell us about him. Okay, but don’t wait too long. Remember your age and—”
“Another time, Mom. I really have to take a shower. Love you.”
“Love you, sweetheart.”
She hit the end-call button before her mother could ask another question. Ignoring her dirty jeans, she plopped onto the sofa and eyed the carpet. She hated treating her mother that way, but Connie and their mom wouldn’t take no for an answer. Her mother still thought of her girls as teenagers, coming home after a date and facing a grilling session even though Connie was now a mom. Not that her mother didn’t trust them. She enjoyed hearing of their dates and made the reveries hers.
Angie pressed her back against the cushion, her mind knotted in her mother’s curiosity and Rema’s marriage struggle. She couldn’t help but think of the sweet elderly neighbor down the street, filled with more wisdom than anyone. His name had slipped her mind, but his comment had stuck with her—many neighbors were nice. That was what he’d said, and she was certain he would put Rema on that list.
She smacked the side of her head. Elwood. That was his name. He’d said to call him El, and she would since she needed a wise friend on Lilac Circle. Maybe she could steer Rema down the block to talk with him. Everyone needed a special friend, a confidant, and especially a wise one.
She had Rick. She always felt wonderful when he was around, whether at work or even home. It had happened on his first visit when he’d helped her move. Rick had become a gift, a great friend she hoped to have always. She trusted him more than she’d trusted any man. Really trusted him. She loved the warm feeling that spread through her when he was near. Tomorrow she’d see him again, and she would tell him about her crazy family who wouldn’t listen. Maybe he would have the wisdom to offer her a solution.
* * *
Rick eyed the blinking voice-mail notification light on his home phone and frowned. He rarely had calls on the line and often thought he should have it disconnected. He hit the first message and was struck by his ex-wife’s irate voice. “This is Glenda. Please call me now.”
His back stiffened with her command. The next message followed.
“Where are you? I need to talk with you. It’s important.”
It’s important. His stomach knotted at the concern in her voice, and he glanced behind him to make sure Carly was preoccupied brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed.
Another message plowed through the line. “Richard. If you’re upset with me for some reason, can you forget it and call me? Stop being silly and playing games. Call me now.”
He bristled, angry at himself for allowing her to tear him to shreds. She had his cell phone number, but she never used it. A fourth message began and when he heard her voice he covered the receiver until the call ended and deleted all of them, irritated that she’d accused him of being angry and playing games. He rarely got angry at anyone but himself. Why would she think he was playing games? She knew him well enough to know he wasn’t a game player. Far from it.
Rather than drag out the situation with more of her calls, he hit her number on his cell and listened to it ring. After the fourth ring, he expected it to go to voice mail. Not wanting to leave a message, he pulled the phone from his ear and moved his finger to the end-call button, but Glenda’s voice stopped him. “I’ve called and called, Rick. Why are you ignoring me?”
He pressed the phone to his ear. “What are you talking about, Glenda? I have a cell phone, and you know to call me on it. I’ve asked you more than once. I wasn’t home, so how would I know I have calls?”
“Where were you? Dragging my daughter around to—”
“Our daughter.” He cringed at the accusation. “Glenda, Carly belongs to both of us. We both love her beyond words.” He swallowed the burning bile in his throat. Again he glanced toward the doorway to make sure he was alone. “I was out, but you can be sure Carly is in good hands. In fact, she had a wonderful time. Would you like to talk with her and ask?”
“No. It’s too late now.”
His fingers ached from gripping the phone. He could do without the bitterness that continued to grow in their relationship. “What was important?”
“I had a wonderful event I wanted to share with Carly tonight, but you messed it up. It’s too late now, obviously. You could have returned my call.”
He shook his head. He knew better than to try to reason with her. She was unwilling to give an inch, not even to common sense. “Maybe you should plan these wonderful events when she’s with you. You know I have her some of the weekend.”
He clamped his teeth around the comments he longed to say. Having Carly every weekend would be perfect. Having her every day would be better. The old discussion seemed unending, and he could attract more bees with a spoonful of sugar than a cupful of vinegar.
“Glenda, let’s not argue over something that apparently is too late to fix.” He drew in a deep breath. “First, this is my time with Carly, which is very limited in comparison to your many days with her. I haven’t fought you on that, as you know, even though I would like to have her with me more. So when things happen ahead of time, we could trade weekends or add another weekend to her visit with me, but you can’t expect me to drop my plans at the last minute. Let’s be adult about this and—”
“I’m trying to be adult about this, Richard, but you don’t return my calls and, as you said, it’s pointless.”
His shoulders slumped with his useless attempt to resolve the problem. “You’re right. Whatever you say. It’s late, and I’ll say good-night. You’ll have Carly back after school on Monday. I’ll drop her clothes by the house on the way to the school. Sleep well.” Without waiting for an argument, he clicked the end-call button and dropped into a chair.
“Was that Mom?”
Carly’s voice shattered his attempt to hide the newest fiasco. He gave her a fleeting look and a faint nod.
“She’s upset again.” She sailed across the floor and climbed onto his lap. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
His heart melted. “Please don’t be sorry, sweetie. It’s not your fault. If Mom wants something, she knows to call my cell phone, but she forgets and—”
“She doesn’t forget.” Her head swung back and forth like a swinging door. “Mom does what she wants.”
He drew her into his arms and held her close without a word. A five-year-old had more wisdom than her parents at times. The situation broke his heart, and a stab of regret nailed him to the chair. Something had to be done, yet he felt helpless. How could he show Glenda that they needed better communication? Their arguments didn’t give Carly a sense of well-being. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“I know you do.” She