28
Grace
After leaving Neva’s room, I roamed the hallways in search of a coffee machine. As I passed the nursery, I couldn’t resist having a peek. Fathers and grandparents lined the halls, pointing at their babies from behind glass. I felt a stab of sadness. The father of my granddaughter wasn’t doing that. He probably didn’t even know about her yet.
I was about to turn into the waiting room opposite the nursery when I noticed Patrick among those peering at the babies. I sidled up behind him and touched his shoulder.
“Grace,” he said. “Hello again.”
“Are you going in?” I asked.
“No. Just doing the rounds. I’d better get back.” He lifted his bag over his head so it hung across his torso. I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it. “Congratulations. You have a beautiful daughter.”
At first, I assumed he’d meant to say “granddaughter.” But after I thought about it a little, I wasn’t so sure. He was clearly in love with my daughter. And though Neva was much harder to read than Patrick, she obviously loved him too. I felt an overwhelming urge to grab Patrick and frog-march him into her room. I’d force them to admit how they felt about each other, and they’d all live happily ever after. But I resisted. It was their lives. They’d have to figure it out for themselves.
I watched until Patrick disappeared from sight. Then, while I waited for the coffees, I texted Robert.
Mommy and baby reunited. All is well. G x
After we’d gotten the all clear that Neva and the baby were okay, I’d sent him to Neva’s apartment to get her some things and then to Walmart to get Onesies and sleep suits for the baby. Those little instructions were the most communication we’d had in days. Weeks. It made me sad. We had just become grandparents. More than anything, I wanted to share it with him. I stared at my phone, debating whether to call him, but ultimately, I decided not to. I dropped my phone back in my purse and grabbed the coffees.
Mom was in the family lounge, which was empty apart from a young woman who was reading a tatty picture book to a toddler. Mom turned the pages of the magazine in her lap while staring out the window. She rose to her feet when I entered. “How is she?”
“Still resting,” I said, handing her the coffee.
She sat again. “And the baby?”
“Precious.” I sat beside her and we both sipped our coffees. “More precious than you can possibly imagine. Neva’s calling the baby’s father now, to tell him about her.”
Mom raised her eyebrows, but I just shrugged. I didn’t have the strength to go into it now. But when her eyes lingered on my face, I saw that she wasn’t asking for information. She was contemplating speaking herself.
“What is it, Mom?”
“I’m just thinking … perhaps I should follow the bravery of my granddaughter and admit some truths myself.”
“Truths?” I laughed. “When have you not told the truth?”
I expected her to smile, but her face remained straight.
“Mom?”
“Grace,” she said. “This is going to be a lot to take in. But there are some things you need to know about your father.” She took a deep, raspy breath. “And about your mother.”