A Wedding In the Family (11 page)

“H
ey, Mom! My teacher’s sister had her baby. A little girl!” Nathan said from the rear of the van where he and David sat on the ride home from school the next afternoon.

“Already? Isn’t it kind of early?”

“Yeah. Two months early,” he replied. “Mrs. Mitchell talked to us about babies that are born too soon. She called them ‘preemies.’”

“Uh-huh,” Angela responded. “Heather, please roll that window up. It’s freezing in here.” She switched on the heater. “So, Nathan, is the baby okay?”

“Yeah, I guess so, but she only weighs four pounds. That’s not much, Mrs. Mitchell says.”

“That’s very small. But that doesn’t mean she won’t make it. The baby will stay in the hospital until they’re sure it’s strong enough and well enough to go home.”

“So, I must have been really small like that when I was born,” Nathan remarked.

Angela raised her eyes to the rearview mirror to see her son’s face. Her heart sank. She’d known someday that they’d have this discussion. It was inevitable. But she hadn’t thought it would be today. At age 12.

“Mom, how much did I weigh?”

Angela took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d had a springtime wedding and a late summer baby. And Nathan could count to nine. “Hon, let’s talk about this later when we have time. We’re in a rush to drop David at John’s house. And I have a terrible headache.” Which was mostly true—she instantly had the beginnings of a migraine.

“But don’t you remember how much I weighed?”

“Eight pounds, even,” she responded. “We’ll finish this discussion later. David, get your stuff together. This is the street John lives on.”

After dropping her middle child at his friend’s house, she, Heather and Nathan rode home without much conversation. Angela frantically ran over in her aching head the way she wanted to explain things to Nathan. He was the most sensitive and tenderhearted of all her children, and his reaction would largely depend on how well she handled the explanation. At least that’s what she assumed.

Their van eased into the driveway and, almost before the ignition was shut off, the doors flew open.

“Heather, change into your jeans before you go outside to play. And wear a jacket”

The two children with book bags and lunch boxes climbed out of the vehicle to cut across the yard, running toward the back door. Angela dawdled behind, picking up her own books and purse slowly and deliberately.

How do you tell a young boy that he wasn’t born prematurely? That his parents married a little late? That his conception was the sole reason for their marriage? Angela leaned her pounding head against the door of the vehicle as she stood, stalling, there in the driveway. She’d been sorry for things she’d done, but never sorrier than she was now. But
she
knew it was time to be honest with Nathan.

“Oh, Lord, help me to say the right things…the right
way.
Please don’t let Nathan be hurt by this. It wouldn’t be fair for him to suffer because of our wrong choices. Please, please give me gentle words to answer my boy’s questions.”

She stood silently for a moment, thinking of her late husband. Up to this point, she couldn’t really say that she had needed his help with anything. He had never seemed to be around anyway for anything that had really mattered—throughout their entire marriage. “But Dan,” she spoke his name angrily, quietly, “you
should
be here for this.” She slammed the door to the van. “If he’s gonna hate me, he should hate you, too.” Then she walked towards the back door, the kids—and the truth.

“Mom, we’ve already had that talk. Why are you bringing it up now?” Nathan tossed his book bag on
the floor and sat down on his bed. “What are you tryin’ to say?”

Angela cringed, inwardly and outwardly, as she stepped inside Nathan’s room and pulled the door shut behind her. Then she began to explain the hard facts. “God has a plan for a man and a woman to marry and have children, creating families. But not everyone lives by the way God wants them to live. Not everyone waits until they are married to…have a child together. But you already know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, there are a couple of teenagers at my school who have babies. They’re not married. Do we have to talk about this, Mom? It’s kinda embarrassing.”

“Believe me, you have no idea how embarrassing this is, Nathan, because…I need you to know that your father and I…”

“Dad and you what? Had a baby when you were teenagers?” he asked with a laugh that Angela did not join in. He looked at her with a quizzical expression on his young face. Then, disbelief. “Mom?”

“We were both twenty when you were born,” she stated.

Nathan studied his mother’s face as he sat without speaking on his narrow twin bed. “So, why do I need to know that?”

Angela raised the back of her hand to her mouth briefly, considering her choice of words before she replied. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you weren’t a premature baby. Your dad and I married in
March, and you were born the last day of August.” She watched his thoughtful expression change to one of realization. She hated sharing this truth with him even more than she had imagined she would at least a million times over the past twelve years.

“So you and Dad got married because you were going to have a baby? You decided you wanted to have me even before you were married?”

Angela took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well kind of—but not exactly.” Would she ever have anything more difficult to explain to her boy in all of her life? She gave a soft smile as she brushed some of his dark hair back from where it lay upon his forehead. Clear blue eyes, the color of her own, stared at her in continued question. “I always knew I wanted to have a son. There’s no doubt I would have had you. It’s just that…I really hadn’t thought it would happen so soon.”

“But it did? And that’s why you married Dad?”

“That’s why we married so young, before we had really gotten to know each other well enough to know if we belonged together—if we could make a marriage work.” There. She’d said it. As awful as it was, it was out in the open now for Nathan. The way it needed to be.

Nathan looked down at his book bag and kicked it absentmindedly with his foot “You didn’t want to have me.”

“That’s not true.” Angela sat down beside him on the bed and put her arm around him. But he stood up, shrugging off her gesture of affection and walking to
the child’s school desk in the corner. Angela’s heart ached for him. “I love you, Nathan. I would have had you whether or not your father married me. There was never a question about that.
Never.
”

“But you and Dad weren’t happy together. You probably wouldn’t have been married if it hadn’t been for me.” His frown made him look younger, sadder—and brought tears to his mother’s eyes.

“You’re not to blame for any problems Dad and I had. We created our own problems. You were the one blessing we started out with, and I would marry him all over again to have you…and your brother and sister.” Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and her arms ached with wanting to hold her son. “I didn’t want to tell you this until you were much older—”

“I wish you’d
never
told me,” he muttered as he sat down on his desk chair.

Angela took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I had to give you an answer about being a preemie. And I don’t want to lie to you—not about anything.”

“You’d have been just like one of the high school girls I talked about. A girl with a baby. Me.”

“I was older than those girls. I was in college. But, yes, I’d have been a single parent if your father hadn’t married me.” She paused. “Nathan, I’ve always loved you, but I was young and scared. Your dad and I—neither one of us would have given you up for any reason.” She blinked and tears trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her fingers and stood up.

Nathan lowered his gaze to his tennis shoes.
“Could you leave me alone for a while?” he asked in a sharp voice that Angela normally would have responded to with a warning about disrespect. But today she just walked toward the door and opened it slowly. This afternoon she didn’t particularly feel she’d earned his respect enough to defend it.

“If you want to talk—”

“I don’t,” he answered quietly, glancing over at her through eyes brimming with angry tears.

She nodded her head and left him alone, closing the door behind her. Retreating to her own bedroom, she knelt beside her bed to pray. “My help comes from You, Lord. I’ve read that in the Psalms so many times,” she began, “and today I’m asking for that help. I told Nathan the truth. It was the right thing to do. Now, help him accept this news in a way that is not too hurtful to him. Help him to know I love him, Dan loved him…we wouldn’t want to
not
have him. Psalm 109:22 says, ‘For I am poor and needy, and my heart is wounded within me.’ That’s true for my son and for me today. Bring some peace out of this situation for us. I’ve been closer to Nathan than to any of my kids. Don’t let his knowledge of my mistakes hurt our relationship in any lasting way. Please, Lord.”

She stood up, wiped her eyes and nose on a tissue, and headed toward the back door to check on Heather, whom she found in-line skating on the driveway. It was late afternoon by then, and she had planned to go to Adam’s home for dinner with him after dropping off the kids at her parents’ home. If she could
discuss this with Adam, she knew she’d feel better. Then again, she’d be telling things that she’d rather not tell. As for Nathan, she would give him some time alone to think things through. She poured herself a cup of water and placed it in the microwave. Reaching for the tea bags, she noticed the dirty dishes piled in the sink and the basket of laundry that needed to be folded sitting on the floor in the corner.

Her heart ached to return to Nathan’s room, to put her arms around him and cry with him if that’s what he needed. But he was not the little boy he used to be. He was nearly a teenager, and, too soon for Angela’s liking, he would be a man. She’d concentrate on the housework that demanded her attention now, and give Nathan the privacy he wanted. She wasn’t sure if it was the Lord prompting her in that direction, or if it was her own cowardice that kept her from looking him in the eyes right now.

“Mom!” Heather called as she flew in the back door. “I’m hungry. Can I have a snack before dinner with Grandma and Grandpa?”

“Yes,” she answered, smiling at her out-of-breath daughter. She pulled a box of graham crackers from the cupboard. “How’s the skating going?” She handed a few to the little girl whom she knew from photos was the image of herself at that age—dark, braided hair, sparkling blue eyes, full of life and energy.

“It’s going okay. I’m glad for the knee pads, though. Otherwise, I’d be sore!” Heather pulled her sweater off and tossed it onto the back of a chair.
“Where’s Nathan? He should go outside. It’s nice out.”

“He’s in his room,” Angela replied. “He’ll be out when he’s ready to do something.” And if he wasn’t, Angela would go in after him. They were due at her parents’ home in about an hour, and she needed to see Adam tonight more than she’d ever needed to see him before—to ask him if she’d said the right things in telling Nathan the truth about his conception. She had, hadn’t she?

In thinking of how the Lord would have wanted her to handle it, the truth seemed to be the only option she had. But she didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of needing Adam’s opinion on this important manner. Decisions had been made throughout her marriage without the help of a man. She’d learned long ago not to rely on Dan’s support, and it bothered her now to need someone else’s input. Specifically, Adam’s.

“Nathan? Honey, are you okay?” Angela rapped her knuckles lightly against the bedroom door. “It’s almost time to leave for Grandma and Grand—”

The door pulled open abruptly, cutting off her sentence, and Nathan stepped into the hallway, book bag over his shoulder. “I’m ready,” he said without meeting her gaze.

Angela nodded. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder, and he did not shrink from her touch. “If you’d rather stay home tonight—so we could talk—I would gladly do that.”

“Nope,” he answered as he adjusted the strap on
the bag hanging off one shoulder. “Grandpa would be disappointed. If I’m there, he has an excuse to play video games all evening.” And he smiled a little.

Angela nodded again, and smiled in response. She wondered how long it might be before he’d want to have another “real” conversation with her. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Nathan said and turned to grab his jacket from the coat rack in the hall. “Let’s get goin’.”

“All right,” Angela replied. “Heather, you ready?”

“Coming, Mom.” Her daughter came around the corner with her book bag in one hand and the latest children’s video in the other.

“You’re not watching that tonight,” Nathan informed her before heading out the door. “We’re going to hook up the video games after dinner. You know Grandpa and I like to play…” The argument between the kids probably continued after the front door shut and they headed for the van. Angela returned to the coat rack for her own jacket before joining them in the garage. Then they set off in the van for her parents’ home, where they were to stay until 9:00. She would pick them up after dinner with Adam.

Adam.
She sighed. She could certainly use an encouraging word from him.

Dropping the kids off at Ed and Grace Granston’s house took a little longer than she’d planned, so she headed directly to Adam’s home when she left. The
errands she had meant to take care of—getting cash from an A.T.M. and buying soda pop for the kids—would have to wait until another time.

She had asked Nathan, again, before leaving him with her parents, if he wanted to talk with her alone for a while, or even just go out with her for a burger and a milk shake. But he steadfastly refused. Maybe he was still too angry with her for that right now. She assumed that was it, and she didn’t want to force the issue. That might make matters even more awkward between mother and son. Still, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she should have stayed with Nathan this evening. Or rather, that she shouldn’t be going to Adam’s house. But she had no idea why, or where the feelings came from.