Free Darren Effect by Libby Creelman Page B

those birds?” Heather’s mother asked, looking at the feeder. “Lovely, aren’t they?”
    â€œJuncos.”
    â€œI didn’t know you were a hiker. Did you join a club?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre those your crutches? What’s the verdict on your feet?”
    â€œMom.”
    â€œOh, no. You’re not crippled, are you?” her mother joked.
    â€œMom, listen — ”
    â€œActually, I have a little speech.” Her mother laughed self-consciously and moved closer to the bed, gesturing with the unlit cigarette. “Let me just say one thing and then I’ll go outside and smoke this. I did understand, honey. And I
do
understand. I wasn’t taking sides. If I took sides, it would be your side.”
    â€œI know, Mom.”
    â€œI just didn’t want you to feel endless sorrow. You always knew how I felt about that man. Sitting on the fence, the way he did.”
    â€œI’m pregnant, Mom.”
    Her mother straightened. She studied Heather’s bathrobe more carefully.
    â€œYou’re showing, too.”
    Heather nodded.
    â€œWell.”
    They stared at each other a while, Heather trying to look apologetic, though she didn’t really know how she felt. The window of opportunity for terminating the pregnancy had passed, though she had never made a conscious decision to keep the baby. In fact, she didn’t think she did want the baby.
    â€œSo what
is
the verdict on your feet?” her mother asked at last.
    â€œThat I’m lucky.”
    Her mother laughed and took a seat on the bed. She let her shoes drop from her feet. They thudded — one, two — on the hardwood floor. Heather relaxed.
    â€œI’ll have to think about this.”
    â€œI thought so.”
    â€œI’ll have to get used to the idea.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIt’s his?”
    â€œThat’s a fair guess.”
    â€œWho else knows?”
    â€œOnly you, Mom.” The conversation was predictable and soothing. “And my doctor.”
    â€œMandy?”
    â€œWell. I had to tell Mandy.”
    â€œHow are you feeling?”
    â€œA little tired. But pretty good. A breeze so far.”
    Her mother didn’t smile. “Everything is as it should be? On schedule?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI wonder if you have a pack of cards anywhere in this place?”
    *
    They played rummy 500 or crib and outside winter gave way to spring. At least once a visit, her mother told her to stand so she could see how far along she was getting. Other than that, Heather did her best to avoid any discussion of her condition.
    One day Heather told her mother the story of Suse Hayes.
    â€œThey say she went cow hunting, Mom. Does that make sense to you?”
    Her mother had just dealt and was moving her cards around in her hands. “What? Cow hunting? Why not?”
    â€œCows don’t run wild.”
    â€œThey did at one time. Occasionally one wouldn’t come home, I guess, so they had to go find it. What is it with you and Mandy and cows? She’s asking me the same questions. Is this a movie you two saw?”
    â€œI just told you. Mandy and I saw a memorial cross in the woods.”
    Her mother put her cards down on her lap. “Can I just say one thing?”
    â€œIf you criticize, you leave. That’s the rule.”
    â€œYes, the rule, I know.” She raised her cards again. “One of the rules. Your discard.”
    Heather laughed. “I don’t have that many rules.”
    â€œDon’t smoke. Don’t criticize — though who distinguishes criticism from comment, I don’t know. Don’t ask any personal questions.”
    â€œThat’s not true.”
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œThen how do you know so much about my life?”
    It had been years since Heather had seen her mother in slacks, though she could remember her wearing them every day, and in summer, a pair of white shorts. Now she wore one of