“You lost the baby,” her mother said, as if that was what mattered.
“Yes,” Jude said quietly, remembering. She’d been young and in love, and honestly, for most of her life, she’d been afraid of motherhood, afraid that she would discover in herself some genetic anomaly that had been passed down from Caroline. She and Miles had gotten pregnant accidentally—too soon, when they weren’t ready—and Jude had discovered from the inception how profoundly she could love. The very idea of motherhood had transformed her.
“You have always loved your children too much. You care too much about making them happy.”
Parenting advice from her mother. Perfect. Jude smiled thinly. “It’s impossible to love your children too much. Although I wouldn’t really expect you to understand that.”
Her mother flinched. “Judith, why is it that you give that girl from the trailer park the benefit of every doubt, and you give me none?”
“Lexi—and you certainly know her name by now—has been like a part of this family for the past three years. She has never disappointed me.”
“And I have.”
Jude didn’t answer. What was the point? Instead, she stood up. “How about we have lunch now?”
Her mother rose. “That would be nice.”
They spent the rest of the appointed time—exactly two hours, from twelve to two, talking about things that didn’t matter. When it was over, Mother kissed Jude perfunctorily on the cheek and went to the entry, where she paused. “Good-bye, Judith. Today was lovely. Thank you.”
“Good-bye, Mother.”
Jude stared through the open door at her mother’s slim figure, walking fast through the garden, not bothering to look at any of it. As hard as she tried to feel nothing, Jude experienced the free-form depression that always accompanied these lunches. Why was it that she couldn’t quite stop wanting her mother’s love? The Mercedes came to life with a throaty purr and drove slowly up the driveway.
On the entry table, a cordless phone lay next to a glass bowl filled with floating roses. Jude picked it up and punched in her best friend’s number.
“Hello?”
“Molly. Thank God,” Jude said, leaning against the wall. Suddenly, she was exhausted. “The wicked witch was just here.”
“Your mother? Is it Wednesday?”
“Who else?”
“You want a drink?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“Twenty minutes. Dockside?”
“See you there.”
*
On Friday, after school, they went shopping for dresses. Jude was ridiculously pleased about the whole thing. She knew it was just a dance, nothing earth-shattering, but it was Mia’s first real date, and Jude was eager to make the whole experience perfect for her daughter. To that end, she’d set up manicures and pedicures for both of them—and Lexi, of course—and an evening of shopping at the mall.
She heard her bedroom door open and she turned. Miles stood in the doorway. He leaned against the doorjamb, wearing a pair of well-worn Levi’s and an Aerosmith T-shirt. In the pale autumn light, he looked ruggedly handsome. A gray stubble had grown out during the day, giving his face a sculpted look. “I come home from work early and you’re leaving?”
Smiling, she went to him, let him take her in his arms. “Why is it, Dr. Farraday, that you don’t shave and your hair starts going gray and you manage to look more handsome, but if I forget makeup for one day, people mistake me for Grandma Moses?”
“They only call you that behind your back.”
“Very funny.”
He touched her jawline, a featherlight caress. “You’re beautiful, Jude, and you know it. It’s why things go your way.”
It was true for both of them. Miles had been golden from childhood. Good-looking and brilliant, with a ready smile, he seduced people without even trying. His nickname at the hospital was Doc Hollywood.