Not My Daughter

Chapter 27

Dusk had fallen hours before, but Susan didn't have to check her watch to know the time. If it hadn't meant a late night for Lily, she would have waited to leave Zaganack until after the meeting. Though only part of her future would be determined there, it was an important part-and, in truth, she had no idea whether the turnout would be pro or con. The campaigning might backfire if recipients felt they were being strong-armed-because however you looked at it, the issues were incendiary. PREGNANCY PACT. PRINCIPAL'S DAUGHTER. BAD MOTHER.

People liked Susan; she truly believed that. But this wasn't a simple matter of like or dislike. The debate involved parenting styles, politics, even professional considerations, if allies were lost to the Perry & Cass meeting across town.

"Packed," said Abby, reading a text message. She was on Lily's left, her face lit by the glow of her phone. "The boardroom, the hall, Dr. Correlli's office. The stairs."

"Good turnout," said Rick, eyes leaving the highway only to shoot Susan an encouraging look.

She didn't reply. Packed meant nothing if the crowd believed she was a disgrace.

From behind, Lily said, "How do they decide who sits in the boardroom?"

"First come, first served," Abby explained, "but they have monitors to call on people in the other rooms. Mom insisted on that."

"She's a trooper," Susan said. "Her skipping the Perry and Cass meeting was an issue. Families usually attend."

"Your dad's upset she chose Town Hall?" Lily asked Abby.

"Not Dad. His cousin Rodney, who publishes the Gazette. He is angry at Mom for supporting Susan. His guy took the other side, so he feels personally insulted."

"How does your father feel?"

"I don't know," Abby said, but her eyes were on the phone. "This is from Stephie, who's inside the boardroom. Mrs. Dunn is saying that the meeting is about leadership. She says they're split about who should head the high school."

"Then it is a referendum on you, Mom," Lily said.

"We knew it was," Susan acknowledged, glancing back. Lily was gnawing her cuticle. She was nervous about the surgery, but she seemed to like having Abby there. Same, actually, with Robbie, who, for the sake of extra legroom, sat behind Susan. She'd had mixed feelings about his coming, but liked the way Lily was being supported.

"Here we go," said Abby. "The first speaker is Sue Meader."

Rick glanced questioningly at Susan. "Friend," she told him. "We've worked on projects together. She has five kids. She's totally sympathetic."

"She calls you masterful," Abby reported as the text appeared.

"So does my dad," Robbie put in. "He says you've done a great job handling all this."

"Does your mother agree?" Lily asked.

"Not yet," he said in a way that implied she would in time.

Susan hoped so. Things would be awkward once the baby was born if Annette Boone was still angry at Lily.

"John Hendricks," announced Abby, then added a low, "Disappointed."

"Disappointed in what?" Lily cried. "That his kids never made headlines? I mean, like, they are huge losers."

"He has a right to his opinion," Susan said.

"It's biased."

"That's what Mary Webber is arguing," Abby reported.

"And how will they decide this anyway?" Lily asked. "Take a vote? A show of hands at the end of the night? Thumbs up or thumbs down for Susan Tate?"

Susan smiled wryly. "Ideally, there will be so many yeas that the nays will shut their mouths and go away."

"Anne Williams," Abby called out. "Praising you, Susan. And Mom's saying to tell you women outnumber men two to one."

That was good, Susan thought. "Women may be more apt to support another woman." She paused. "Unless they're lousy moms and want to look good by making me look worse. Or unless the prevailing sentiment is against me, in which case they may jump on the bandwagon."

"Isn't that pact behavior?" Lily asked.

"More likely pack behavior," Rick called back. "They just follow the leader and go in a group."

"How is that different from a pact?"

"A pact is premeditated. The group agrees to it, and it usually involves something that's socially, morally, or legally forbidden. The group gives individual members the courage to act."

"Absolutely," said Abby. "People come together to support something they'd never support by themselves. Take Lily's singing group. Their vote was premeditated. They talked about doing it. They gave each other the courage to act. That was a pact. People we know make pacts every day."

Susan thought they were onto something, when Lily asked, "So why was it okay for them to do it and not okay for us?"

"Because yours involved pregnancy, and you're underage. That's unacceptable around here."

"Uh-oh," warned Abby in a back-to-the-meeting voice. "Emily Pettee. Bad."

No surprise there, Susan thought.

"Why are people so hung up about mothering?" Lily asked.

"Because it's the most elemental job in the world."

"I'll be a good mother."

"I know you will, sweetheart."

"Caroline Moony," Abby read. "Raves."

And so it went. Abby gave them a running commentary on who said what, and they didn't need a pencil to keep score. For every voice saying Susan's e-mail had opened a dialogue, another said the dialogue was a distraction. For every voice saying Susan was the kind of mother the school needed, another was critical. It was too close to call, no landslide at all.

Susan feared she had miscalculated. She was thinking that if there was as much negative feeling as this, she did need to resign, when Lily said, "She's calling on the wrong people. I mean, if women outnumber men, there should be more women talking, right? And what about everyone at Perry and Cass? Your fans must be there. Was that meeting mandatory?" she asked Abby, but Abby was watching her phone.

"Listen to this," the girl said. "J.C. is out in the hall. She says the people there are upset. They're all Susan's people." Her thumbs flew. "I'm telling Mom. Someone stacked the deck. They must have paid nays to come early to fill up the boardroom."

"Would they do that?" Lily asked.

"Absolutely. Mom says the men are ruthless."

It was their last hurrah, Susan knew. They hadn't wanted her to be principal in the first place.

"Mr. Lombard," Abby announced. "He was just recognized by the chair. Who is he?"

"Chamber of Commerce," Susan said worriedly. "What's he saying?"

There was a flurry of texting. "He wants to hear from a faculty member."

Susan could guess which one. Pulling out her own phone, she passed it to Lily. "Who else is in that audience?"

"Taylor."

"Text her. Tell her to call my number. I want to hear this."

A minute later they had Evan Brewer on speakerphone. His voice was dim; Lily raised the volume. The quality wasn't great, but they could hear the words. "…is my superior," he was saying. "I respect what she's trying to do."

Neal's voice came then. "Is it what you did when you were head of school?"

"No. Her style differs from mine."

"As an administrator."

"And a parent. I set rules. My kids knew the penalty for breaking them. Would I have done the same thing as Ms. Tate? I don't know. My kids never made pacts."

"Low blow," Rick murmured.

"Lie," Susan said. "They uncovered a drug ring at his school. If that isn't a pact, tell me what is."

"Mom's furious," Abby related. "She's calling Dad."

But Evan continued. "Ms. Tate isn't alone. Parents today are more lax. Mothers are juggling lots of balls. Inevitably, one or two fall."

"Low blow," Rick muttered.

"Get that man away from the mike," Susan cried.

"Dad's phone is off," Abby reported at the same time that they heard a disturbance in the boardroom. It was a minute before they realized what was happening. "They're going after Mom for texting?" Abby asked in disbelief just as one voice rose above the drone.

"That is one of the problems we have!"

"Duncan Haith," Susan said, recognizing the voice.

"There's no respect, no decorum," he charged. "And when parents are the ones doing this, it's no wonder their children misbehave. We didn't have any of it in my day."

"Didn't you?" came a different voice, very Maine, very genteel. "Maybe we need to talk about that."

"Omigod," Abby whispered loudly. "It's my dad."

The murmurs from the phone suggested that others in the board room were as surprised as Abby. And Susan? She was nervous. Tanner had come from an important meeting of his own, but to hurt or help?

The background hum died. She imagined him standing at the foot of the long table, tall and lanky, his face unlined, his confidence clear.

"What's he doing?" Abby asked.

"I'm confused," Tanner began, sounding hesitant indeed. "This whole situation raises questions." He paused.

"Where's he going?" Abby whispered.

"I can't answer them, and this bothers me. I like answers. But the questions we've been asking around here are making me think about some things I hadn't considered."

"What is he saying?" Abby cried.

Susan shushed her gently.

"I always assumed I was a good parent," Tanner said. "Who of us doesn't? We do the best we can, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't." When he paused for a breath, the room remained still. "When it doesn't, do we suddenly become a bad parent?"

"With due respect, Mr. Perry," came Carl Morgan's gravelly voice, "we are not the principal of the high school."

"No. But we're CEOs of businesses, retired CFOs of the same, and the head of the Chamber of Commerce. We're members of the school board. We make decisions that affect a whole town of children."

"What are you saying?"

Tanner was slow to respond, and still the room remained silent. "I'm not saying anything," he finally went on. "I can't, because, as I said, I don't know the answers. So I'm asking. Are any of us perfect? Have we never made mistakes? Have we never had the experience of doing everything right and still having something go wrong?"

Duncan Haith spoke up, his own accent thicker than Tanner's. "All good general questions, Mr. Perry, but let's be specific. This woman knew the pitfalls of having a baby at seventeen, and still she let her daughter do it."

"You didn't-" Lily began to protest, but Susan held up a silencing hand.

"And you, Mr. Haith?" Tanner asked gently. "If you knew the pitfalls of divorce, why would you let your daughter do it? Or you, Mr. Lombard? If you knew the pitfalls of drugs, how did two of your sons end up in rehab? Or you, Mr. Morgan? If you knew the pitfalls of estate planning, why is your wife's will being contested in court?"

"Whoa!" exclaimed Abby over the applause in the room.

"Yesss," Lily cried.

Robbie whistled.

"That is a personal attack," Carl Morgan charged.

"So is yours," Tanner replied with uncharacteristic passion. "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

"I," Carl stated, "don't live in a glass house."

"Then you're one of the few, Mr. Morgan. The rest of us aren't so perfect. We see some things and miss others. We try to be good parents, but who's to say that the next pact won't involve a child of ours?"

Neal Lombard's voice rose. "You can't be objective. Susan Tate is a family friend."

Tanner's voice turned thoughtful. "True. I know Susan. I know all the mothers involved, and I know the girls. They're good girls who made a bad choice. Have none of our kids made bad choices? So do we ostracize them? Or do we offer a hand in help. They won't shame this community unless we invite the shame to exist."

There was silence, then a burst from Carl. "Your father must be rolling over in his grave. Responsibility was his credo."

"It's mine, too," Tanner argued. "Anyone who knows me knows that. But if I'm a responsible person, I have to think responsibly. And when I do, I realize this discussion has grown too personal. The school board shouldn't be deciding who is or is not a good mother. This discussion should be limited to whether Ms. Tate is a good principal. I believe she is. Thank you. That's all I have to say."

The meeting adjourned soon after. Between excited calls and texts, the car buzzed as loudly as the boardroom had when Tanner finished speaking.

Pam phoned Susan. "He came through," she said with what sounded like utter relief.

But Susan knew better. "You were the one who got him thinking, Pam, and you got people to the meeting to hear him."

"The best was the look on Neal's face. I wish you'd been here to see it."

But she wasn't, and the reason why seemed to hit her at the same time as it did her friend. "We're rooting for you," Pam said quietly.

As they left the highway for the city streets, Susan needed all the help she could get. The pace here was light years removed from the pace in Zaganack. She was so not a city person, and thinking of the reason they'd come? Sobering.

Their hotel was adjacent to the hospital. They took two rooms, one for girls, one for guys. Had Robbie not come, Susan would have stayed with Rick. She was nervous, and he was steady.

But she had to settle for a hug.

It was before dawn when the wake-up call came. With the surgery scheduled for eight, Lily had to check in before seven. Susan had fully expected to walk her over alone, but none of the others wanted to be left behind.

For several minutes, they sat in the waiting room with other patients and their families. The occasional newspaper rustled; if there was talk, it was a murmur.

When the nurse who came for Lily waved Susan along, she went gratefully. Lily was frightened, her face pale, her eyes worried as each new person entered her cubicle. Susan held Lily's hand, whispered encouraging thoughts, answered questions asked of Lily when the girl was too tongue-tied to reply.

The doctor stopped by, as did the anesthesiologist, who inserted an IV for the medication that would sedate Lily during the procedure. She was wide awake, though, when they came to fetch her.

Leaning over, Susan tucked a last strand of hair into her cap. "They say once the medication starts you won't remember much, but I want you to tell me everything you do. Your son will want to know the details." She drew a heart in the outline of Lily's face. "He has an amazingly good mother."

Lily gave her a hug so tight that it hurt inside. Choked up, Susan watched them wheel the girl off.

So she was already feeling emotional when she returned to the waiting room. Between this day's surgery, last night's meeting, and all the days and nights of worry that had come before, her composure was nil. That may have explained why, when she approached Rick and saw the man and woman with him, she turned away.

Rick was quickly at her elbow, guiding her down the hall until she stopped, stared at him, and asked weakly, "What was that?"

"My dad and your mom."

"How?"

"I told Dad on Wednesday. I never dreamed he'd show up, much less with Ellen. I'm as surprised as you are."

"She knows?"

"Looks it."

"Did she want to come? Or did he force her?"

"Maybe a little of both. All I know is she looked terrified walking in here just now."

Susan was terrified herself. "I haven't had a decent conversation with her in years. What am I supposed to say now? I saw her last month and didn't tell her Lily was pregnant. I've talked with her on the phone since, and didn't tell her. Do I apologize? Do I try to explain? What am I supposed to do with her?"

"Nothing," Rick said. "My dad brought Ellen, so she's his responsibility. Your only responsibility is Lily."

That sounded all well and good. But Ellen was her mother.

Of all the times Susan would have died for her mother's support, this wasn't one. She didn't want Ellen making her feel like a lousy mother-didn't want to spend one second wondering what Ellen thought about Lily's pregnancy. And as for Ellen's relationship with Big Rick, Susan could not have cared less.

Rick took her hand. "C'mon. Let's go get coffee. They won't be starting the surgery for a while. It'll be close to an hour before we hear anything."

They went to the coffee shop and split a doughnut, wandered through the lobby, explored the gift shop. When they ran out of places to go, Rick took her back upstairs.

Susan was prepared to see her mother this time. Still, she felt a jolt opening that door and meeting Ellen's eyes. The woman looked well-hair more silver than not, but stylishly combed, black slacks, peach sweater. The fact that she looked frightened was some consolation to Susan, who was frightened herself.

But she was, after all, a big girl now.

So she kissed Big Rick's cheek and took the chair beside Ellen. "Thank you for coming," she said softly. "Lily will be touched."

Ellen nodded. After a minute, she murmured, "I had no idea."

That Lily was pregnant? That the baby had problems? That Susan had nearly lost her job? "Some things are hard to discuss," Susan said. "Did you fly up with Big Rick?"

Again Ellen nodded. "I'm no traveler. He dragged me along."

An unwilling companion, then? Or just a poor choice of words? It struck Susan that her mother might not know what to say to her, either.

"You must have landed last night." It was a safe remark, but barely spoken when a man in scrubs approached, then went on past and into the hall. After a worried glance at the clock, Susan caught Rick's eye.

"Too soon," he said softly.

She sat back, hugging her middle, and thought of Lily and the baby. She didn't try to talk to her mother. Rick was right; her focus should be on Lily. Needing to relax, she took out her knitting.

A few minutes later, Ellen did the same. She wasn't working with PC Wool, but with a glitzy novelty yarn.

"What're you making?" Susan asked.

"A scarf for Jack's Emily. She chose the yarn."

The mention of the girl's name rubbed Susan the wrong way. "Emily. Ahhh. Darling child." Instantly remorseful, she remarked on the yarn, "It's pretty."

"No, it isn't," Ellen murmured. "It's tacky. And no pleasure to knit."

"Why are you making it, then?"

"Because she asked."

"You never made a scarf for me."

"You never asked."

"Maybe I was afraid I'd be refused." Setting down her knitting, she rubbed her forehead. Her voice was a whisper, for Ellen's ears alone. "This is unreal. My pregnant daughter is on the operating table while doctors try to save her baby, and I'm arguing with my mother, whom I have seen once in nearly eighteen years and never east of the Mississippi. This is blowing my mind."

Ellen continued to knit her tacky yarn.

Susan glanced at the clock, then at Rick. "Do you think something's wrong?"

"No. We're just impatient."

Try superstitious. Susan was starting to wonder if her job had been spared to cushion the blow of losing the baby. Or losing Lily.

Desperate for comfort, she returned to her very beautiful, very artistic, very original PC Wool scarf.

"That's very pretty," her mother said. "It's one of the new colors, isn't it?"

"Yes. Robin At Dawn. We want to photograph finished pieces for the catalogue. I told you about that."

"Yes," Ellen said. Susan had knit another row, before her mother asked, "Are those short rows?"

"Yes."

"Interesting design."

Susan passed her mother the pattern, but continued to knit. She focused on the stitches, focused on the rhythm, focused on turning at the gap. When Ellen returned the pattern, Susan tucked it back in her bag and kept on knitting. Knitting was familiar at a time when everything around her was strange.

At the ninety-minute point, she caught Rick's eye. Setting his laptop aside, he checked with the nurse, but returned moments later with no news. "They're still in the OR."

"Why so long?"

"They may have started late."

"What if they found something they didn't expect?"

Rick touched a finger to her mouth. "They won't," he said and returned to his seat.

The good news was that between imagining possible complications-oh yes, the Web had given her every last one-and praying, Susan didn't dwell on her mother's unexpected presence. The bad news was that it was two hours before the doctor emerged. By that time, she was frantic.

But he was fully at ease. "All's well," he told her. "Your daughter was frightened, so we spent a little while calming her. We gave her a tour of the OR and showed her the balloon we'd be inserting. She'll remember that part and be stronger for it. As for her little guy, his heart is beating good as gold. He'll do fine."

A little while later, Susan was allowed back to wait with Lily until they could transfer her to a room. She would be staying overnight in the hospital for monitoring, though the fetal monitor was only part of it. If they discovered any kind of amniotic leak, Lily would be on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy.

The girl was sleeping off the sedative in little cat naps. Susan waited until she was more awake before telling her that Big Rick was there.

Her eyes lit. "He came all this way for me?"

"He did. And he isn't alone. He brought your grandmother."

Lily didn't respond at first. Then she frowned. "Your mother?" When Susan nodded, she cried weakly, "She knows I'm pregnant?"

"Yup. Big Rick told her."

"Is she angry?"

"She doesn't look it. She looks like she's not sure she's welcome here."

"Is she?"

"Of course. She's my mother."

"What do I say to her?"

Susan couldn't answer that. "You're asking the wrong person. I just wanted you to know so you won't be as shocked as I was."

Lily handled Ellen with aplomb. But Ellen wasn't her mother. Mother-daughter relationships had to be the most complex in the world, while grandmother-granddaughter ones were more forgiving, Susan decided. As wary as Lily had been of Ellen in Oklahoma, she was all smiles now. Relief surely played a part; with the surgery successfully done, Lily would have embraced Scrooge.

Abby, who held no past grudges and seemed honored to be part of an historic meeting, treated Ellen like a special guest. Susan might have resented it, if she hadn't been so grateful to have her mother occupied. And reinforcements arrived late that afternoon in the form of Kate, Sunny, and Pam, who had driven up on impulse.

Through it all, neither the baby nor Lily appeared any the worse for wear.

Susan didn't ask where Ellen was staying, but with Kate, Sunny, and Pam overnighting as well, there was a crowd in the coffee shop for breakfast the next morning and later in Lily's hospital room. Lily was sore at the points of incision, but there continued to be no other problems, and she was eager to be home.

By mid-afternoon, they were on the road, two SUVs loaded with people, flowers, and balloons. Susan kept looking back at Lily, who smiled every time. She kept thinking about the baby, whom she had seen on a sonogram again that morning and who was adorable, balloon and all. She kept thinking about Rick, who had watched that screen with the same vulnerable look as Lily-kept thinking about the follow-up tests and the doctor's appointments, but with optimism now-kept thinking about her school, her students.

And Ellen? She let that one ride.

A gentle snow began to fall shortly after they crossed into Maine, and though it remained light as they drove up the coast-the Penobscots had known what they were talking about when they named the town for its moderate weather-it accumulated enough to cover the January dirt. With night falling before six, they saw lights as they entered Zaganack. Main Street was largely Perry & Cass crimson, with the harbor lights more blue. Between the masts of diehard fishermen, festive colors outlining restaurants, and clusters of seagulls overnighting on the town dock, it was so picturesque, that if Susan hadn't already forgiven the town for doubting about her, she would have now.

And that was before they approached her little house, which was spattered with color well beyond sea green and teal. A rainbow of balloons was tied to the mailbox, a large WELCOME HOME SUSAN AND LILY banner hung between windows. More balloons flanked the door, a navy-and-yellow bouquet for Lily, a fuchsia one for Susan, and on the steps were a mound of foil-covered bundles, food from friends, left to chill in the snow. Two cars sat out front, disgorging a gaggle of girls the instant they turned into the driveway.

If Susan had wanted her mother to see that she and Lily had a rich life with friends who loved them, she couldn't have asked for a better homecoming.