“This meant a lot to me, Coral. It meant a lot to this family.”
Coral watched the yellow button and did not move. Her breath stuttered in and out, and her heart pounded in a lopsided rhythm; she was still afraid of what was coming. If she wasn’t Augusta’s daughter, who was she? This was worse than she had ever imagined. Why had Monica asked her about Odell Dibb? She hated people. Mama had always taught her to ignore what people said.
“One night, it was a Sunday. It was December, and Althea had a holiday program at school the next day. She was so excited, I had a hard time getting any of the kids to bed. And I was just sitting in that chair, missing Ray and feeling sorry for myself. Those were dark times. I heard a knock on the door. I almost didn’t answer it. But when I did, it was Mr. Dibb. He was standing there, crying. He didn’t say anything. I asked him to come in, but he shook his head.”
Coral was afraid of what was coming. But she couldn’t stop listening.
“Mr. Dibb said, ‘Augusta, I need your help.’
‘“Sure, Mr. Dibb. I would do anything for you. You know that.’
‘“This is a little bit more.’
‘“Please come in.’
“He shook his head. Then he turned and went back to his car. I thought he was going to leave, but he opened the door, and lifted out a baby basket.
“And that baby was you.”
Coral started to cry then. She cried so hard, she got the hiccups, and then her head hurt, so Augusta did not say any more. She slept in Augusta’s bed that night, for the first time since she could remember, and in the morning, at breakfast, her mama told her what else she knew.
Del hadn’t said whose baby it was. He told Augusta that he would never be able to tell her anything about the child. That was not negotiable. But he had money. He had money to raise her, and to send her to college, and he would take care of everything legally too.
“I don’t know where else to go,” he had told her. “I know I can’t ask you this, but I don’t have anyone else.”
“Why did you say yes, Mama?” Coral asked. “You had three babies.”
“Well, I thought about saying no. I had said I would do anything for him, but I don’t think that did include taking on a child.”
Coral closed her eyes. What if Mama had said no? Where would she be? What would have happened to her?
“Mr. Dibb was awfully broken up. And you started to fuss. So I picked you up, because he was too upset. You were a pretty little baby, and you had on a pink silk nightie. I still have it, upstairs in the closet. You were real small; smaller than my babies. But it was the way you looked at me, straight into my eyes. I’ll never forget it.
“I fell in love with you. Right there. My mind had been racing, thinking how I was going to tell him it wasn’t possible, that I couldn’t take another child. How could I explain another child? How could he ask me for this, with all I’d been through?
“And I knew he meant it, that he wasn’t going to tell me who you were. And who was your mama? Where was she?
“But I also knew that he wouldn’t have brought you to me if there was anyone else to take you. And I could see you were mixed. I knew what that meant.
“So I just looked at you, this tiny little girl in a pink silk nightie, and I knew you were meant to be mine. Whatever happened, you were my fourth baby. God works in strange ways, and you came to me after Ray Senior died, but you were our baby, sure as Ada and Ray Junior and Althea.
“So I said yes.”
That was all Augusta said that morning, but the next day, Coral asked her, “Odell Dibb never came to see me?”
“No.” Augusta’s eyes filled. “He never came to see you.”
“Do you know who my mother is?”
“No. I tried to figure it out. Las Vegas wasn’t very big in 1960. Our community was tight. I couldn’t think of any woman who was pregnant, who had lost her baby. We were living all the way over here then, but I asked around in the ’Side, people at work. I had to be careful.”
“What did people say to you about me?”
“They didn’t say nothing. I introduced the kids to you the next morning. Althea was all broke up, because she had to leave for school, but I told her she had to go and the baby would be there when she got home. I just kept everything real normal. Just didn’t let anyone ask me anything.
“I brought you to church. Folks said, ‘Who’s that baby you got?’ And I said, ‘This is my daughter Coral.’ And nothing else. And I don’t know what they thought. Maybe they just thought I was a big woman and they’d missed something. Maybe they figured it wasn’t their business.
“But that’s one thing I learned from Ray Senior. You don’t owe an explanation to anybody but the Lord, and most people will stop asking if you act like you won’t be telling.”
“Do you think she’s alive?”
Coral couldn’t bring herself to say “my mother,” but Augusta knew what she meant.
“I don’t know. I have wondered and wondered. I think he must have known her somewhere else. Mr. Dibb traveled a lot. You could have been born anywhere.”
“You mean, you think he just put me in the car and took me away? When I was born?”
“I don’t know, baby girl.”
Augusta hesitated. Coral waited.
“You weren’t brand new.”
“What?”
“You were new, you still had some cord, but it was all shriveled up. Getting ready to fall off.”
“How old was I?”
“Well, I figured you were about a week old. But when your birth certificate came, it listed the Thursday before. So maybe you were just three, four days old.”
“Where was I before?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he take care of me?”
Her mom looked down. “I think your mama did.”
It might have been the way Augusta’s voice dropped, but Coral suddenly felt as if she might cry.
“You wouldn’t take a bottle. You cried so much.”
“So?”
“So I think you were nursed. I think your mama nursed you those days.”
Augusta was silent then, and Coral was too. She didn’t want to imagine her mother, herself: newborn. She didn’t know how to imagine them. Couldn’t get any picture in her mind at all.
Suddenly Coral stood up.
“My birth certificate. What does it say?”
Augusta pursed her lips.
“It says I’m your mother. It says you were born at this house.”
“But Mama, that’s my birth certificate. It has to say who I am.”
“Yes.”
“That’s wrong, Mama. I’m a person. Someone just can’t make up my birth certificate.”
“I know, baby girl. I know.”