Free Mom's the Word by Marilynn Griffith Page B

down-to-the-minute checking and just-in-case plans.
    Even then, many of Dyanne’s contacts worked on what her grandfather had called “colored people time,” an entirely different construct than the European concept of planning down to the last second. Dyanne’s grandfather had explained that the African sense of timelessness was the one thing that couldn’t be beaten out of them. What some thought was laziness was a virtue of watching people over clocks. “The sun, moon and stars told us what we needed to know. And our bellies of course. When you’re hungry, it’s time to eat.”
    Right.
    Unfortunately, publishing—or the rest of the world for that matter—didn’t run by sundial. To compensate, Fallon traveled with pop-up tables (“Someone is using the table now, but if you come back at four…”), extra books (“We ordered them, but they didn’t come in”), media contacts (“They did a press release, but nobody called…”) and all that was just for the regular stores. Once they hit the “chitlin circuit” as Fallon called the drive to the black bookstores, lodges, gymnasiums, historically black colleges and now more than before, churches, it would be Dealing with Divas 101 time. The thought of it all made her tired, but excited, too.
    Neal was kissing her elbows now, totally erasing her train of thought. She let out a contented sigh of her own. Maybe this was enough, the two of them. Maybe this wasn’t the time to have a baby. What would she do with a kid the next time Fallon showed up needing a month—or two—of attention?
    Trust Me.
    It wasn’t a voice or anything flaky like the experiences her father talked about, but the words were impressed on her mind, overflowing Dyanne’s heart. All she could think of was how hard she’d prayed for her parents to stay together, for her mother to keep the baby boys she’d miscarried again and again, each time taking her mother farther from them into her own little world.
    Though Dyanne couldn’t deny that God had been good to her, the one time she’d needed Him, truly trusted Him, He hadn’t come through. She couldn’t make that mistake again. Her father had spent the past few years trying to teach her about God, but the first lesson he’d taught her about Him still held true—the only person a woman can trust completely is herself.
    As if he’d read her thoughts, Neal’s hands and lips stopped moving. “You really want this, don’t you? This baby?”
    Dyanne nodded slowly, surprised at the vulnerability in his voice. For months, she’d tried to get her husband here. Who’d have thought that Fallon Gray would be what brought him around? Never one to miss an opportunity, Dyanne reached over and clicked on the light.
    Neal shielded his eyes. “What are you doing?”
    Dyanne tiptoed to her briefcase and produced her master-piece—the baby proposal.
    Speechless, her husband flipped through the pages of flow charts, family cost predictions and couldn’t believe what he saw.
    â€œYou got an endorsement from the doctor who wrote all those baby care books? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
    She wasn’t kidding. Mr. Chaise—Steve—had snapped up the doctor in a five-book deal last summer and Dyanne had spent over an hour talking to him about children. He’d made a few quotes in the conversation and when she’d asked later, he’d given her permission to share them with her husband, although he said he didn’t recommend it. Now, watching the look on her husband’s face, she wondered if he hadn’t been right. “Just read it. I did a lot of research. It’s all there.”
    He slammed the folder shut just as he reached the best visual in the whole thing. “It’s not all here, Dyanne. This is a business proposal. Babies come from love. I wanted to believe