Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
S avannah
“Momma!”
I sink to the floor, my arms opening wide. This little human with the big, cerulean blue eyes refreshes my soul like a cool drink of water. She leaps into my chest, and I pull her close. We meld into an embrace, my arms tightening around her slight frame. I snuggle against her until the top of her head fits into the hollow space at the base of my throat and in return,she presses harder against me. The smell and feel of her soothes me like nothing else in the world.
“I missed you so much, momma.”
“I missed you more, baby love.”
I never, ever get tired of this routine. In fact, I treasure it. Despite being away from her for only a few hours, our reunions are always filled with sweetness. My little Guiliana—called “Gigi” by those who love her—isn’t one to linger in sentiments. She quickly severs our embrace. Though she’s an old soul she’s also a bundle of energy like any other three-year-old.
Gigi pushes away and takes a moment to study me. She knows things, this little one, and sizes me up quickly.
“You not have a good night, Momma?”
“I’m good, baby. Just had my feathers ruffled a bit.”
She takes a second look, and when she feels confident that I’m okay, her smile widens.
“I got ‘choo.”
“You know how much I love you?”
Her head bobs. “A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.”
“Yes ma’am!”
“Guess what? I drew a pitchur, and took a walk, and danced to some music, and made puddin’ pops, and helped cook, and washed my hands, and drew a pitchur’ …”She swiftly changes topics.
“You’re repeating yourself, baby.”
Propping her hands on her hips, she issues a serious look. “I know dat, Momma. I wanted to see if youse payin’ attention.” She lifts her gaze to her babysitter. “Right, Ms. Cora? I was a good girl today, right?”
“Absolutely. You also helped me to make a cake. You licked the chocolate icing clean off the spoon.”
Gigi’s nose scrunches as she smiles. “I did, Momma, and the chocolate was weally good.”
“Chocolate, huh?” I feign surprise. “I’ll bet you liked that. After all, chocolate is your absolute favorite.”
Again, she throws her arms around my neck, displaying her affection. “It is! It’s so yummy—and you can have some cake, Momma! All you want!” She glances at Cora. “Momma can have some, Ms. Cora?”
“Yep. Momma can have some.”
Cora Brooks looks at my little one with love in her eyes. “ Ms. Cora”, as she’s affectionately known to Gigi, is in her late forties, but you’d never know it. Her toned figure and vibrant aura make her seem younger than her years. With fiery red hair and an infectious laugh, she puts me in mind of an actress in an old Elvis Presley movie. Ann Margaret and Cora could be sisters and the likeness had me doing a double take the first time I saw her.
I had strolled by her house with Gigi in tow, enjoying the reprieve that only comes when a teething child is fast asleep. The sweet scent of roses lured me toward her garden. It was in full bloom with flowers so big and fragrant that I smelled them before I saw them. I stopped, taking in the heady fragrance that cleared away remnants of Gigi’s earlier diaper blowout. Cora’s back was to me as she worked diligently in the flower bed. She paused when I complimented her work, and laughed off the praise, pushing damp, coppery strands from her forehead with the back of her gloved hand.
“I have no idea what I’m doing.” She confessed. “But I’ll take the compliment.”
She approached me. “May I?”
I nodded and she peeked in on a peaceful Gigi, gushing over my little girl’s perfection. Of course, I agreed with her, like any new mom would. After chatting for quite a while, I invited her to come visit us, and a few days later, Cora arrived on my doorstep with homemade biscotti and a bottle of wine.
“You looked like you needed a break when I saw you last.” I opened the door wide for her to enter while placing a finger to my lips in a silent message.
“The baby’s asleep.”
“Then, it’s a perfect time for wine.”
“I can’t,” I protested. “She’ll be up soon.
“You can. That’s why I’m here. I can help.”
I was a leary. After all, we’d just met, but after half of a glass Gigi woke up and true to her word, she helped me, rocking Gigi in her arms as I rinsed off some dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Our friendship grew deep roots, and three years later, I count Cora as close as family. It was she who encouraged me to get out of the house and when Sam offered me a spot to sing at Mad Dogs, she volunteered to babysit Gigi.
Not all family are blood ties.
Gigi lifts her hands and places them on my face. “Momma, you cheeks is red—and they’s hot.” Her brows crunch with concern.
“Your cheeks are red, sweet girl.” I correct her and press the back of my hand against my face.
“No, Momma. It’s youse cheeks. Not mine.” She pulls back, ignoring the grammar correction. A second later, she splays her fingers against me to test the temperature of my skin. “Is you sick?” She cocks her head to the side like a curious puppy, her eyes filled with concern.
“No, baby doll. I’m okay. Just tired.” I push against my knees to stand, and Gigi remains near me, slipping her hand into mine. “Good day today?” I ask Cora.
“How could I have a bad day with this perfect angel,” Cora answers, and Gigi’s expression brightens like the sun. “She’s always a good girl for me, Savi. No trouble at all. Her vocabulary is really expanding. Today she informed me that the pudding was scrumptious .” Gigi’s ears perk up.
Cora always knows how to send me an unspoken message. While I fret over things like correcting my child’s grammar, she makes a comment that turns my focus to something positive I’ve done. Gigi does have a big vocabulary for someone her age, but I didn’t linger with a lot of baby talk when teaching Gigi how to speak.
I look down at my baby’s face. She’s glowing with pride. “You’re such an intelligent little girl, you know that? I hook my hands under her arms and smoothly glide her onto my hip. “You are absolutely, positively, the best little girl in the whole wide world,” I say as I nuzzle her, planting tickling kisses on her neck until she giggles.
“I don’t know what we’d do without Ms. Cora.”
Cora joins our love huddle. “And you won’t ever find out. You’re my girls! I love you—especially this little munchkin.” Cora lovingly caresses Gigi’s silky, blonde curls. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”
You’ve had Gigi all day. That’s the last thing you should worry about.”
“Stop. It isn’t a big deal. Gigi’s already eaten. I made beef stew and rolls, and Gigi helped. It was good. All I have to do is warm it up.”
Gigi glides her fingers into my hand. “I did, Momma. It’s yummy.”
The two of them have already made my decision for me, it seems. I give her hand a slight squeeze. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble—but I’ll do the cleanup.”
“And I’ll have a puddin’ pop, ‘k Momma?”
I nod and Gigi goes over to Cora. She takes her hand and pulls her toward the kitchen. “C’mon.”
Cora obeys and glances over her shoulder while dragging behind Gigi. “Go lay down on the sofa. You look tired. I’ll get you when it’s ready.
“I don’t ne?—”
“A fifteen-minute power nap,” she insists.
I can’t resist but watch as they vanish down the hallway. With just a few steps I’m near the sofa and lower myself down. I’m drained. Seeing Ian churned up all sorts of emotions, as did the standing ovation, and the overstuffed, flowery-print cushions are calling to me.
I stretch out and pull a crocheted afghan from the back to cover me. “Just a power nap,” I mutter to myself, just before closing my eyes.
* * *
“Momma ...”
“Momma.”
“MOMMA!”
My eyes pop wide. I’m instantly awakened by the jolting tone of my daughter’s call. My hands fly protectively to my chest to protect my racing heart.
“Gigi! Don’t do that!” My words soar on anxious wings.
“Do what, Momma?” Gigi’s scrunched expression begs an explanation. With her hand on her hip, she waits for an answer. “Whatsamatter?”
“You called me like there’s an emergency.” I draw myself to an upright position.
Gigi's mouth pinches. “Oh, nufing’s a ‘ergency. It’s just—DINNER’S WEADY!” She throws her arms up in the air as she bounces up and down.
I roll my eyes and wrestle with uncooperative limbs. It takes a minute before I finally stand and Gigi bolts out of the room. In my groggy state, I battle to synchronize my rapid heartbeat and unwilling body.
“You commin’ Momma?” Gigi pokes her head around the corner of the doorway.
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Okay but youse foods getting’ cold.” She pauses, then gives me a very serious look. “You know, Momma, youse gotta eat. They’s children starvin’ for food like ‘dis.”
I freeze as Gigi echoes something my mother used to say. I don’t believe I’ve ever uttered that sentiment to her. Maybe she learned it from Cora. Nonetheless, she sounded just like my mother. She would have loved her granddaughter.
Gigi sails back to me, taking me from a melancholy path.
“I telled you dinner’s weady, Momma.”
“Yes, you did.”
“But youse not weady.”
“Yes, I am.”
Her expression brightens. “Okay! Let’s go!” She grabs my hand and tugs on my arm.
“I have to wash my hands.”
She nods. “Okay.”
“You go ahead to the kitchen. I’ll be right there.”
Ugh. I catch my reflection in the mirror after flipping on the light switch. Mascara’s left smudges beneath my eyes. I rub at the dark crescents and then wash my hands. A quick fluff of my hair and I drift back a few years to note the difference in my appearance. I used to look so fresh. Now, I’ve got a few wrinkles at the corners of my eyes, and I look like I could use a vacation. The girl I was back then is no more. She was quite the dreamer and I’m so much more a realist. Because, that night, everything changed.
I shake off the introspection and head to the kitchen.
“Did you get a little rest?” Cora places a bowl of soup in front of me.
“I did. I think power naps have become my new way of operating.”
“Why? Are you having trouble sleeping?” Cora’s tone is one of concern.
I shrug. “I haven’t slept well since my parents died.”
“Death robs you of a lot of things,” she says, with a sad tone. She places a comforting hand on mine.