Free A Theory of Relativity by Jacquelyn Mitchard Page A

like individual crystals, each perfectly formed. “Nana!” she screamed, gasping.
    “Yes, darling girl,” Diane shifted Keefer so that her head was facing Ray, over Diane’s shoulder, but Keefer fought, with her considerable strength, kicking Diane in the stomach as hard as she could with her boxy little sandaled feet.
    “Nana!”
    “Oh Diane, I’m so sorry, I think she means me,” Lorraine whispered, making to take the baby.
    “She’ll be fine, let’s get going,” said Big Ray.
    “Do you need her diaper bag?” Nora held the bag out wordlessly.
    Diane refused the offer with a toss of her blond head, turning to Keefer.
    “Shall we get this little missy here an ice cream cone?” Diane asked. The baby had writhed until her torso was nearly at a level with Diane’s knees. She was sweating and reaching out both hands to Lorraine.
    “Maybe we can bring her over later,” Mark suggested.

    Theory[001-112] 6/5/01 11:58 AM Page 49
    A Theory of Relativity
    49
    “Nana!” Keefer sobbed. “Dory!”
    “She’s saying, ‘Gordie,’ ” Lorraine explained, trying to master her voice.
    Diane capped the baby’s churning overheated head with one hand.
    “It’s okay, Keefer Kathryn. Nana is here. It’s Grandma Diane. Keefer.
    Keefer.”
    Both McKennas were sweating, though the room was cool.
    “Keefer Kathryn, let’s go see Brooksie!”
    “Maybe if you just called her Keefer . . .” Mark suggested. “They . . .
    we never used her middle name.”
    “Though it’s a lovely name,” Lorraine put in, “a lovely old-fashioned name.”
    “My mother’s name,” Diane said. “We kind of pushed for her to be named Kathryn, so she could be called Kitty, like mother . . . but it was sweet how they picked Keefer . . .”
    “It’s kind of after Georgia, in a sense,” Mark said. “When he was a baby, Gordon couldn’t say her name, so he used her middle name . . .”
    “I know the story,” Diane said. “Sweet.” Ray said evenly, “Let’s get a move on, Mother. Come on, kiddo.”
    “Okay, Keefer,” Lorraine bent to lay her cheek on the baby’s cheek, trying to ignore Keefer’s distraught attempt to grab at her shoulders, her collar, to climb off Diane like an anguished monkey. “Kiss me, so you don’t miss me, Keefer. You’ll come right home soon.” To Diane, she said, “I’m sorry, Diane. You can appreciate how hard this is . . .” But Keefer’s screams redoubled as the Nyes, each supporting whatever appendage of her little body they could grab, hurried down the walk. Bob and Mary Dwors, the old couple who lived next door, stood up from their rosebushes to watch helplessly, exchanging shrugs with Lorraine and Mark.
    “I know she’ll be okay,” Nora said, from the kitchen, because no one else had the strength to speak. They had forgotten Nora was there, but Lorraine suddenly smelled coffee brewing. Nora would consume coffee in hell, Lorraine thought. “I just hate to see her have to go through this. It’s like she thinks she’s being taken away from us forever.” Mark slammed the door. “I cannot for the life of me figure out why I feel the way I do about Diane.”

    Theory[001-112] 6/5/01 11:58 AM Page 50
    50
    JACQUELYN MITCHARD
    “Why did she say it was worse for them than for us . . . I mean, for you?” Nora held a mug out to Mark.
    “For us,” Mark patted his sister’s arm, and Lorraine could feel her sister-in-law’s involuntary start of satisfaction. It made her generous.
    “Mark, she’s just lost her only son,” Lorraine said. “She’s not a bad person. She’s just not used to bad things.”
    “I don’t think she’s a bad person,” Mark said, watching Diane lurch into the backseat with Keefer. “I just think she always gets what she wants. And Ray did, too.”
    The room seemed to empty of all sound. Mark’s good opinion of almost everyone verged on the fatuous. Even the most sluggish clock-watcher at Medi-Sun was “a good kid.” Alone among the brass, Mark had urged