Chapter 15
Chapter 15
T he next week several things happened. The first was that Poppy realized she could no longer fake it in her old clothes. She had already moved her bra to the last clasp and cut slits in several pairs of underwear. On Monday when she woke at three AM, groggy and disoriented, the bra wouldn’t even stay on the last clasp. She had to safety pin it and hope and pray it didn’t pop open and jab her. The dresses, too, were incredibly tight, causing her cleavage to pop over the top way too aggressively for a small town baker. Much as she didn’t want to, she would have to break into her savings and buy some maternity clothes.
The second thing to happen, later that same morning, was that she received a text from George.
I miss you, P, he wrote, and that was all.
I miss you, too, she replied. She waited for more, but nothing came. She wanted to text him back, to go over the letter she’d written him, the one apologizing for things she couldn’t articulate, simply a vague sense of guilt at having hurt him. But that wouldn’t help. George apparently needed time and space. Even her moving away to Texas wasn’t enough for him to yet recover, telling her the wound had gone even deeper than she knew. She sniffed and blinked back a few tears. Her emotions had evened out in the last couple of weeks, and she wouldn’t be sucked back onto the rollercoaster or give in to yet another crying jag.
The third thing that happened came in the form of a new customer to the bakery. By now Poppy began to familiarize herself with the regulars. In addition to those who came every day for their morning muffin or doughnut or sweet roll, there were a few who put in larger orders for a pan of rolls, an entire pie or cake, a dozen donuts. Those she didn’t see as often as the daily set, but she could still mostly recognize them and remember many of their names. When a new woman strode purposefully to the counter, Poppy was certain she had never seen her before.
“May I help you?” she asked with a cheerful smile.
“I’m Waverly Bishop, Sully’s mother,” the woman threw out the words like a challenge, and Poppy accepted them the same way, her eyes rounding with something like terror. She hadn’t met Sully’s family yet. He hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had she. She wasn’t certain they knew about the baby. The look on his mother’s face said yes. “Maybe we could have a conversation outside.”
Poppy nodded and slipped wordlessly from behind the counter. Sully’s mother took her arm, almost but not quite frog marching her out of the diner and around the corner to the alley where she let her go. They both leaned against the wall, seemingly both in need of support.
“You look different than I imagined,” the older woman began. “Sweeter and more innocent, less like…” she trailed off.
“A scheming harlot?” Poppy guessed.
Waverly snorted a laugh. “Yes. I had it in my head that you tricked my innocent boy, trapped him in a pregnancy. But that’s not true, is it?”
“We’re in it together,” Poppy said. “But I don’t want anything from Sully, more than for him to be a good dad to the baby.”
“He will be,” Waverly declared. “He’s a good man.”
“The best,” Poppy agreed.
Waverly tipped her head. “Are you in love with him?”
“No, but I love him, if that makes sense. We’re trying hard to be good friends, to do this together with as little collateral damage as possible.”
“I suppose that will have to do,” Waverly said, resting her head on the wall. “This is not how I wanted my first grandchild brought into the world. I thought there’d be a wedding first.”
“Me too,” Poppy admitted. “I thought I’d be older than twenty four.”
“I was only twenty when I had Sully. It was hard, and I was married. Motherhood has a way of changing you, of exposing every last drop of selfishness and rooting it out. You’ll realize you’re stronger than you ever knew and weaker, too.” She sighed. “I’m probably not helping, but I intend to. If you’ll let me.” She added the last part meekly, hopefully.
“I would love that, really. I never lived near my grandparents. I dearly want better for this baby.”
“Oh, gosh, it’s really real,” Waverly said, dashing at her eyes.
“It really is, and it’s about to get serious because I’m not going to be able to hide it for much longer.”
“Do you have maternity clothes?”
Poppy shook her head. “I don’t have a car, and nowhere in town sells them. I was going to try and order some things off the internet when I get off work.”
Waverly’s eyes narrowed and hardened. “Don’t do that. You need to go shopping like a normal woman and try things on.”
“I don’t know how that would be possible,” Poppy said.
“I do. You’d better get back in there, looks like a line’s forming,” Waverly said, glancing at the front of the diner.
“Oh, right,” Poppy said, snapping to attention. “I’m sorry this has been shocking and difficult for you.”
“Please don’t apologize to me. I’m really looking forward to getting to know you better, and regardless of how it came about, we are thrilled, thrilled about the baby. You call if you need anything, even if it’s for me to tell my son to get his act together.”
“Will do,” Poppy said. She smiled and, impulsively, hugged Waverly who returned it fiercely a second before letting go. Someday Poppy would have to tell her own mother the news, and she hoped the reaction would be a hug like that one.
Later, Poppy received a text from Sully.
My mom says I’m to take you shopping. Let’s grab dinner. Five OK?
Five works, but you don’t have to.
Tell that to my mom. I must be the only Ranger in Texas whose Mommy shows up to tell him to take his baby mama shopping or else.
So sweet when you call me your baby mama. Not creepy or demeaning at all.
Glad we agree. XO.
He collected her from her house at five, waking her from a nap. She rose at three in the morning now and, though she wasn’t as tired as she was during the beginning of the pregnancy, her new hours took a toll. By the time her day was said and done, she put in twelve hours, taking off only Sunday to rest.
“Want to hear something ironic?” she asked when Sully greeted her at her door.
“As long as it’s not being sung by Alanis Morissette, yes,” he agreed.
“I left New York to try and find a better job, and I’m putting in more hours here for less money and no benefits,” she said.
“Oh,” he drawled, not sure how to respond.
“However, I have greater autonomy here, and I like it. It’s fun to be the boss, to decide what to make each day. I think maybe I was born to be an entrepreneur.”
“Miss Independent,” he said.
“Exactly. And the rent is blessedly cheap and,” she paused and regarded him, “can you believe there’s going to be an and?”
“It had better be me,” he said.
“It’s not. It’s about space and relaxation. Unlike New York, I can sit in my own living room. I can walk around in a complete state of undress.”
“Why don’t you have me over more often?” he asked, and she laughed.
“Stop it, I’m trying to say good things about life here in Texas, looking for that silver lining.”
“Am I not silver?” he asked.
“The silverest,” she assured him. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”
“I’m not used to hearing that from you,” he said.
“Get used to it because I have a lot of lost time to make up for. Food and I have made up in a major way, and I feel it has a lot of reparations to make up for, so where are we going?”
“Um…” he said, stalling until he could think of something. Unlike her, he put almost no thought into future meals. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Tex-Mex, the best Tex-Mex on the planet. Something with lots of spices.”
“Um…” he drawled again. “Let’s see, hmm.”
Poppy sighed and texted her brother-in-law, asking his advice. While not as much of a foodie as she was, he still somehow usually knew the best places. He replied a minute later with the name of a restaurant.
“Oh, right, I forgot about that place. It is good. Let’s go because at the mention of food I’m now starved as well.”
“Aw, I feel so sorry for you, being hungry these five minutes. It must be hard, almost like growing a human or something,” she said.
“This bitterness does not suit you, Poppisandra,” he said, picking her up with one arm and carrying her to his truck.
“You’d better enjoy this while it lasts because now that I’m able to eat again, it’s not going to be possible much longer.”
“You can carry me then,” he said, and she laughed. He set her in the truck, leaned in to plant a kiss on her belly, and closed the door.
“Sully, you’re so adorable,” Poppy declared when he slid behind the wheel.
He gave her a look. “What’s got you so lovey dovey?”
“It might be because I’m being flooded with oxytocin, the bonding hormone that makes me want to reach out and connect with others. Or it might be because I’m so excited to eat food again I can’t stand it.” She squeezed his leg. “I can’t wait to eat. You have no idea.”
“I’m beginning to,” he said, covering her hand and giving it a squeeze.
“Promise me you won’t feel differently about me after you see how much I can put away,” she pled.
“Poppy, at this point, I don’t think there’s a thing in the world that could make me feel differently about you,” he said, and then he started his truck and headed for food.