"I was up, too," Charlotte said, reaching for her coffee. "She looked great, didnt she?"
"Thats because she sleeps through the night," Vicki pointed out. "And her clothes dont always have puke on them. "
Kate wanted to join in, but she couldnt. Her headache was killing her and she had this nagging sense that something was wrong. It was so acute that when Johnny left the party at just past one, shed almost pleaded with him to stay.
"Youre awfully quiet today," her mother pointed out when the last guest left.
"Marah didnt sleep again last night. "
"She never sleeps through the night, and why is that? Because—"
"I know. I know. I need to let her cry. " Kate tossed the last of the used paper plates into the trash. "I just cant. "
"I let you cry. It took three nights and you never woke up in the wee hours again. "
"But Im a genius. Clearly my daughter is not as bright. "
"No, Im the genius. Clearly my daughter is not as bright. " Mom looped an arm around Kates shoulder and led her to the sofa.
Side by side, they sat down. Kate leaned against her mother, who stroked her hair. The gentle, soothing motion transported her back a few decades. "Remember when I wanted to be an astronaut, and you said I was lucky because my generation could have it all? I could have three kids, a husband, and still go to the moon. What a bunch of bullshit that was. " She sighed. "Its hard to be a good mother. "
"Its hard to be good at anything. "
"Amen," Kate said. The truth was that she loved her daughter, ached sometimes with the intensity of that love, but the responsibility was overwhelming, and the pace of life exhausting.
"I know how tired you are. Itll get better. I promise. "
No sooner had her mother said the words than her father walked into the room. Hed spent most of the party hiding out in the family room, watching some sports team or another. "Wed best get a move on, Margie. I dont want to get stuck in traffic. Get Marah ready. "
Kate felt a flash of panic. Was she ready to be away from her daughter for a night? "I dont know, Mom. "
Her mother touched her hand gently. "Your father and I raised two kids, Katie. We can watch our granddaughter for a night. Go out with your husband. Kick up your heels and have some fun. Marah will be safe with us. "
Kate knew her mother was right, even knew it was a good thing to do. So why was her stomach clenched?
"You have a lifetime to be afraid," Dad said. "Thats what parenting is. Might as well embrace it, kiddo. "
Kate tried gamely to smile. "This is it, huh? How you guys felt all the time. "
"How we still feel," Dad said. Mom took her by the hand. "Lets go gather Marahs things. Johnnys going to be back in a couple of hours to pick you up. "
Kate packed Marahs clothes, making sure she had her pink blanket, her pacifiers, and her beloved Pooh bear. Then she gathered up the formula and bottles and tiny jars of strained fruit and vegetables, and wrote out a feeding and sleeping schedule that would have made an air traffic controller proud.
When she held Marah one last time and kissed her soft cheek, Kate had to hold back tears. It was ridiculous and embarrassing and inevitable, for it didnt matter that motherhood had kicked the hell out of her and ruined her confidence; it had also swamped her so with love that she was only half a person without her daughter.
Kate stood on the porch of her new beachfront Bainbridge Island house, with her hand tented across her eyes until long after the car had disappeared down the driveway.
Then, back inside, she wandered aimlessly for a few moments, not quite certain of how to be alone anymore.
She tried calling Tully again, left another message.
Finally she found herself in her closet, staring at her prepregnancy clothes, trying to figure out what she had that was sexy and grown-up and would fit her. Shed just finished packing when she heard the door downstairs open and close, heard her husbands footsteps on the hardwood floor.
She went down to meet him. "Where are we going, Mr. Ryan?"
"Youll see. " He took her hand and got her overnight bag and closed up the house. Out in his car, the radio was on. Loud, like the old days. Bruce Springsteen was singing, Hey, little girl, is your daddy home . . .
Kate laughed, feeling young again. They drove down to the ferry terminal and onto the waiting boat. Instead of sitting in their car for the passage, as they usually did, they bundled up in coats and hats and stood on the bow with the tourists. It was five oclock on this cold January evening, and the sky and Sound were a Monet of lavender and pink. In the distance, Seattle sparkled with a million lights.