Family Love

She closed her hand over what she assumed was a check. She took it, but knew her husband would never allow her to use it. Even though a small amount would help immeasurably right now. Promising herself she would not even look at it, just toss it in the trash on the way out, she nodded and let him hug her.

She fetched her mother’s drink and a straw, and when she re-entered the room she found Kieran tucked into his grandmother’s side, the lower half of his face coated in chocolate. They were looking at an equestrian magazine, and Kieran was pointing out “horse” and “dog” to her delight.

Antony lolled on his grandpa’s lap, clutching empty Hershey’s Kiss wrappers and staring at his brother. She stood, taking it in, shocked to her toes that her mother would allow a sweaty, chocolaty little boy anywhere near her, much less snuggled up in her hospital bed.

As Lindsay approached, she noted that her mother’s monitor was blipping slower than it had been before. She set the soda can on the rolling table and leaned over to kiss Kieran’s messy cheek.

Her mother looked up at her, eyes full of tears. Lindsay had had enough for today, however. A loving mother-daughter reunion should be taken in stages, she figured. She’d done step one, and would come again tomorrow. Eventually, she’d bring Anton. Exhaustion stole over her, making her wish she could catch a nap before attempting the hot drive home to the even hotter house.

“Go

“Francis!” Kieran piped up. His middle name was Francesco, and Anton had taken to calling him Francis, which he loved.

“I know, sweetheart. Antony, hop down. Time to go home.”

He eyed her a second, as if deciding whether or not to toss a demand out there, and chose to go for it. “Ice cream.” His voice was a bit subdued. “Mama said ice cream if Antony was … ” His brow furrowed and he did look like such a miniature Anton at that second she couldn’t help but laugh. “… was a good example.” He enunciated it clearly, and not in his usual high-decibel volume, surprising her.

“You are a fine example,” her father said, setting the boy on the floor and patting his head. “I’ll make sure your Mama gets you ice cream, young man.”

“Oh, Lordy, Daddy. I don’t know if I can handle the two of them hopped up on ice cream on top of chocolate candy.”

“Lindsay,” her mother said. “Savor your children while they’re this little. It’s a precious time that not many mothers appreciate. I know I didn’t, and I so wish I had.”

“Okay, Mama,” Lindsay said, figuring Gloria must truly be facing the Pearly Gates if she was getting philosophical about child-rearing. Nellie had been the one who raised Lindsay and her brothers. They saw their mother at breakfast and before bed, and not much in between.

Lindsay rolled her eyes at Frank and JR on her way out. JR followed her, walking them down to the elevator and pointing out the quicker way to the parking garage. Before he left them, he pecked her cheek and gave her a one-armed hug.

“Daddy give you your share?” he asked, confusing her.

“My share of what? No, Antony do not push all the buttons. Come over here Kieran, Mama’s too tired to chase you around the elevator.” JR stood in the open door, blocking it. “What is it, JR? I’ve got to get these two home before I keel over.”

“Daddy gave you a check, right?”

“Yes, but I won’t—”

“Put it to good use, baby sister.” He waved as the door closed, cutting him off and making Kieran break into wails of terror. She picked him up and jiggled him, while still trying to keep Antony from pressing every button. He hit most of them anyway, so they got to stop, wait for the doors to open onto nothing, then close again a half dozen times.

Once she got the boys stuffed into the backseat under loud protest, she climbed behind the wheel and opened all the windows, not caring who heard the weeping and wailing of her sugar-buzzed children. She fished in her bag, found sippy cups she’d filled with water at the house, and gave them to the boys, which shut them up for a few minutes. Not the best of plans, since water went right through Antony, and he was determined never to wear a “baby” diaper again.

As her sons re-hydrated, Lindsay pulled the folded-over check from her skirt pocket and stared at it, then opened it.

It took her a solid ten seconds to absorb what she was seeing. The check was made out to her and her alone, and it was for the sum of one hundred thousand dollars.

Her vision narrowed as her throat seemed to close up. She rocked back and forth, barely noticing when Antony chucked his empty cup into the front and started kicking her seat.

She and Anton shared everything about their finances, up to and including details of both of his uncle’s kitchen table loans for the brewery and their house. She kept a neat and tidy budget notebook, writing down every pe

Air conditioning. She could afford to get the air conditioning fixed with a small portion of this windfall. At that moment, sitting in the scorching hot truck and anticipating another night spent panting in front of fans while the boys slept on cots in the bottom basement—the phrase they’d adopted for the very lowest level of their four-level home— where it was coolest, it was the only thing she could think of that would improve her life.

“Boys, we are stopping for ice cream,” she declared, putting the car in reverse and looking over her shoulder to see them both clapping in delight.

Chapter Thirteen

She woke the next morning to the sound of the ringing phone. Anton was already up, making coffee and entertaining the boys. Something in her knew, even before he appeared, looking somber and a little scruffy in their bedroom door. She sat, quilt held tight to her chest, her stomach flip-flopping and promising a fun day of early-pregnancy nausea.

“Lindsay, it’s …”

“My mother.”

“Yes, honey. I’m sorry. She passed about an hour ago, Frank says. They’ll need you to meet them at the funeral home at noon. I can come too, if you want.”

“No, it’ll only be meetings and arrangements. Stay here with the boys. You can do that, right?” She swung her feet to the floor and tried not to throw up, then gave up and pushed past Anton to the one bathroom in the hall.

Once she’d emptied her stomach, she got into the shower, noting the damn drain still ran so slow the water covered the tops of her feet if she stayed in there much longer than five minutes. She needed a plumber to clear all the drains in the house, but there never was money for it.

Money. She pressed her hands flat against the plastic liner, letting the water hit her directly in the face. She had money now. Lots of money. Problem was, how to get Anton to even consider accepting a pe

Leaving that worry for another day, but feeling lighter for knowing about the check-shaped safety net tucked in her wallet, she dried off, noting how her stomach already bulged, as if it had a sort of pregnancy memory.

Even though she’d always been slim-hipped, she’d carried two near-eight-pound babies and delivered them without much more than the usual pain and suffering. This third one would probably do her figure in for good, especially after she breastfed again.

She sighed and poked through her closet for something somber, decent, and clean to wear. When she entered the kitchen, her hair was up, makeup on, she wore stockings for the first time in months, and she felt less like ten miles of bad—pregnant—road.