Shelley Galloway

The Good Mother


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no problem. The girls say ‘Hey.’ Jenna’s already drawn you two pictures. I’ll pop them in the mail soon.” Then, remembering how much John hated the fancy dinners he always had to attend on his business trips, she added, “I hope you remembered to pack some peanut butter. ’Bye.”

      With that, she turned off the light and pulled the sheets up to her chin. As she closed her eyes, so many thoughts filled her mind. Her past, her present.

      The lack of dreams about a future, except for the ones that focused solely on the girls.

      And, strangely, her mother’s sunny optimism for romance.

      “MOMMA, GRANDMA SAYS I gotta eat egg sandwiches,” Jenna announced from the foot of Evie’s bed the next morning. “I hate eggs.”

      Evie opened one eye to see just how upset her daughter was. A pouty lip meant not too much. Blotchy cheeks meant a real crisis was at hand and tears were on the way.

      Jenna was holding Neena for dear life and balancing a tilting egg-sandwich-laden plate in the other. As Evie expected, Jenna’s cheeks were red enough to make another woman think she needed sunscreen. Uh-oh.

      “Oh, Jen.” Evie rolled over and held out her arms. “Put the plate down and come give me a hug.”

      Jenna put down the plate and scooted forward, pink puppy dog pajamas riding up her calves as she slipped under the covers.

      Evie cuddled her close, loving the coconut shampoo scent in her daughter’s hair and the faint fragrance of hot chocolate surrounding her. When Jenna visibly relaxed, Evie said, “Now, what’s going on?”

      Big gray eyes, full of worry and belligerence, stared back at her. “Grandma doesn’t want me just eating Cheerios. She said I get eggs.”

      “And you said—”

      “I don’t like eggs. I hate eggs! But she didn’t listen.” Jenna shifted to glare at the egg sandwich on the floor. “That’s when she handed me that.”

      Evie sat up, eyeing the plate. Ugh. She’d always hated eggs, too. “And that’s when you decided to get some help.”

      “Yep. I won’t eat it, Momma. I won’t.”

      “You don’t have to.”

      “Really?”

      “Really. I know you don’t like eggs. I don’t like them, either. Cheerios are fine. What’s Missy doing?”

      “Playing with Grandpa, but he says he can’t stay much longer cause he’s gonna go play golf.”

      “Boy, I better get up.” Glancing at the clock, Evie did a double take. Nine! When was the last time she’d slept so late?

      Jenna pulled back the covers and hopped out, Evie following more slowly. “I hope Grandma made coffee,” she muttered under her breath.

      “I hope Grandma made me cereal,” Jenna said with the exact same intonation as she led the way upstairs.

      Evie threw on a robe, picked up the offending plate and followed. Sure enough, her mother was at the stove, making still more egg sandwiches. “Hey, Mom.”

      “Jenna shouldn’t have woken you up.” Looking around, Jan said, “Where’s your plate, young lady?”

      Jenna scooted onto the chair. “Momma said I can have Cheerios.”

      Jan put her spatula down and pivoted to the kitchen table. “Jenna, you watch your mouth. Evie, tell her—”

      “Mom, Jenna won’t eat eggs. I thought you knew that.”

      “But—”

      “She won’t. Ever. Let her have some cereal and a banana. It’s good for her.”

      “What about you?”

      “I’ll eat something, soon,” Evie said, getting a mug and pouring a generous amount of coffee and cream into it.

      With a flick of her wrist, Evie watched her mother turn off the burner and pull out a giant box of Cheerios. “Feed your daughter,” she said, thrusting the box at her with a sharp look. “Then feed yourself something. Anything.”

      “Oh, Jan. Leave Evie and Jenna alone,” her dad said as he rose from the couch. “Nothing wrong with Cheerios.”

      “Morning, Daddy.”

      “Morning, sunshine,” Mike said, propping Missy on his hip and taking a seat across from Jenna. “How’d you sleep?”

      Evie leaned close and kissed Missy on the forehead. “Great.”

      A knock sounded at the door, then it opened slowly, revealing August in a faded blue golf shirt, khaki shorts and a worn leather belt. “Hello?”

      Mike smiled brightly. “Hey, August, come on in. Want something to eat?”

      August eyed the kitchen counter. “Got any egg sandwiches?”

      Mike winked at Evie. “You bet. Jan, can you make August some breakfast?”

      As they all expected, Jan bustled back in and hurried to get August a plate. Mike laughed.

      Finally, August turned to her. “How are you this morning, Evie?”

      She’d just rolled out of bed. She’d barely had a cup of coffee. Her daughter was pouty and her mother was ticked at her. “I’m…good. You?”

      “Me?” August looked her over, for some reason making her feel pretty and attractive instead of in need of a hot shower…and well, a makeover. A slow smile lit his eyes. “I’m perfect,” he drawled.

      For a split second, Evie felt perfect, too.

      Chapter Five

      “Watch your toes!” Evie cried to Missy as the toddler pulled herself up onto a big rock and scrunched her tiny toes in the powder-soft sand next to Evie’s towel and umbrella on the edge of Cascade Beach. “The sand’s hot!”

      “Hop,” Missy mumbled, squishing her toes again in the sand before plopping down on her bottom.

      Evie rolled to one side and watched her baby girl giggle as she scooped up a handful of sand and looked at it in her palm before letting it flow through her fingers. “Oh, Missy. You bring me joy.”

      “She’d bring anyone joy,” Tanya said from her left. “Missy is such a sweetheart.”

      Evie couldn’t deny it. From the moment Missy had been born, she was Jenna’s polar opposite. Easygoing, sleepy at night, happy with life. Evie could only imagine what life would have been like with two Jennas. Most likely, she’d have white hair and be talking with a stutter. “I’m lucky.”

      “You are that. You have two adorable girls while I’m still trying to find Mr. Right.”

      Thinking about John, Evie now knew there was a whole lot more to people than labels. “‘Mr. Right’ isn’t as easy to find as you might think. Actually, ‘Mr. Right’ might not even exist.”

      Tanya’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose not. But, still…”

      “But still…I know.” Evie knew what Tanya meant. It would be nice to find someone who was as good as his first impression. Someone who lived up to expectations.

      As Tanya stretched out her legs on the beach towel, she smiled at Missy and her handful of sand. “She’s so adorable, she makes me want to have a baby.”

      “Be careful what you wish for. Missy’s a good girl, but she had me up for almost two days straight when she was getting her front teeth. You may like sleeping.”

      “I hadn’t thought about that.”

      “I have a feeling there’s a lot about raising a kid that you might not have thought about,” Evie said with a smile.