If The Shoe Fits

Lord, what does he expect me to say? What do You expect?

Tad walked over to Jordan, ignoring Terri as he sat down. “Give Rochelle more time. And yourself, too. None of this is easy.”

Wow. Tad sounded like some counselor assigned by family court. All he was missing was a comb-over hairdo and a bad suit. It was nice of him to be here, but right now, I needed my friends from my Sassy Sistahood—Jordan’s sister Dana, who was off at a trade show with her new husband and my other dear friend, newly married, quite pregnant and two hours away. How dare my friends have lives of their own? Right now, I’d even take Austin, one of our newest members and someone I hadn’t quite clicked with yet.

I wanted anybody who’d understand how bad I wanted to see my granddaughter, but how scared I was to see her, too. I’d failed at being a parent, made a mess of my own life and now had a pink-clad monster, the local weatherman and a washed-out NBA player to deal with, none of whom had a clue how I really felt. And vice versa. No, for times like these, a girl needs God…and her girlfriends.

“Let’s go back and see about the baby. They said twenty minutes.” It was all I could think of to say. This was supposed to be about the kids, wasn’t it? And the baby? How it turned into some grown folks’ version of baby’s mama drama, I had no clue.

Jordan and Terri walked ahead of us to Shemika’s room, with the former giving Tad the look of an apprentice hoping for his master to fix the situation.

Tad had sense enough not to signal any hope. Instead, he picked up my purse from where I’d almost left it. “Here. You might need this, Grandma.” His smile and his tone were comforting.

I pushed my purse up on my shoulder and stared down at my now war-beaten shoes, shocked at how good they looked despite the stains.

“Thanks.” This let me know that I was totally out of control. My purse was like an extension of my body, always attached.

His gaze rested around my ankles as we started back to the room. “I’m glad you found your shoes. Gotta take care of those—”

“Don’t say it.” I sucked up half the oxygen in Illinois. Didn’t he know not to go there while my illegitimate grandchild was being born? Goodness. My feet had been through enough. My mind, too.

He smiled, the little-boy-with-a-secret grin again. “I won’t say it. I don’t have to.”

The baby, whose cry had filled the room not long before, now rested in a nurse’s arms, swaddled by enough baby blankets to almost double her size. We’d only been allowed a peek at her before, but this time, the nurse motioned for Jordan and me to approach. The little face, cocoa with a splash of milk, looked beautiful to me. A bed of thick curls framed the baby’s face.

Her face.

“A girl, right?” Jordan asked.

“Yes,” my son said, pointing to the card attached to the bed. “Girl. Seven pounds, eight ounces.”

Tad patted my hand as I moved closer to my grandchild and then to my son.

Jericho smiled but didn’t say anything more. Instead, he mopped Shemika’s brow. The furrows in his forehead worried me. Terri chattered on, pulling designer baby clothes from her bag in more shades of pink than I knew existed. I paused, listening to the deadly quiet that had rushed into the room.

“Should she still be bleeding?” my son whispered to me.

“No.” I tried not to get anxious, turning to the midwife for the look of reassurance. Instead, concerned eyes met mine. My toes balled up in my shoes. This couldn’t happen. Not again.

The midwife pushed her glasses up on her nose with a gloved wrist. “Shemika’s blood pressure rose significantly during the birth, almost to stroke levels. Her pressure is coming down, but not as quickly as I’d like. There’s also a blood-loss concern. My backup doctor will take over from here.”

Jordan, who’d somehow managed to hear over his girlfriend’s loud talking, gripped my arm. We’d never talked about what had happened to me after the birth of our son, but someone must have told him. Or perhaps he figured something must have happened for me to only have one child. That the woman he’d known back then could have been celibate all these years was probably his last guess.

As I started running through all the scenarios and how my son and I could split the care for Shemika and the baby, something told me to be still. I was.

The nurse took the sweet bundle from my arms. Terri reached out her hands, but the woman ignored her. “The baby is going to the nursery now to get cleaned up—”

“Can I come too?” Jordan interrupted the nurse. “I’d just like to make sure that she’s okay.” Terri gave me a contented look of victory, but the voice in my head remained.

What was that Scripture in Ephesians that Tracey liked to quote?

Having done all to stand…stand. Stay here.

“You can come on with us, Tad. I know all this can be a little overwhelming, especially for a single cat like you.” Jordan nodded for Tad to follow.

Tad shook his head. “I’ll stay here.” None of that “if it’s all the same to you,” or “if you don’t mind” stuff, just, “I’ll stay here.”

Already walking behind the bassinet, Jordan waved. “Suit yourself, man.” He turned to Shemika. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Grandpa’s on the job.”

It was a sorry attempt to lighten the mood, but it was much needed, even if it only lasted a few seconds. As soon as the baby was out of the door, things went downhill quickly.

“Prep the O.R. She’s bleeding out.”

“Lord, we ask that You stop this blood, in Jesus’ name…”

Those voices, first the doctor’s and then Tad’s were the last I remembered hearing. From there, I was back in an icy recovery room, waking to the sensation of my insides on fire. No one was in the room but a nurse who looked as if she’d rather be somewhere, anywhere else. Her voice, though, was much kinder than her appearance when I asked about the baby.

“He’s fine,” she’d said in a soft tone. “There won’t be any more, though. Babies, I mean. You had some problems. The doctor will come and talk to you about it later. Just be thankful that you got one.”

She wasn’t the last person to tell me that and the doctor never came to explain. But now, here in Shemika’s hospital room, all the pain and regret came back to me. I gripped my waist and doubled over.

“Are you all right, Grandma?” one of the nurses asked as they moved Shemika from the bed to a stretcher.

I could hear Tad still praying under his breath. “I’m fine, just a little shaken.”

Jericho, who had said nothing in the past few minutes, squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry, Mom. I never knew it was like this.”

My fingers trembled. I didn’t know if he was sorry for what was happening to Shemika or for what had happened to me. Either way, I wasn’t the one he needed to be concerned about. “Go with her, son. Go on.”

He nodded and disappeared down the hall. I fumbled for my purse as the room emptied, leaving Tad and I alone. I grabbed for my phone but dropped it.

Tad picked it up. “Who do you need to call—Mother Holloway?”

I nodded. Shemika’s grandmother hadn’t wanted to come to the birth, but now I needed to let her know what was going on. Most likely she wouldn’t take the news any better than I was.

As he pressed the buttons from memory, Tad moved his lips silently.

I was too tired to make out the words. “What are you saying?”

“Still praying. There’s always a chance—Hello? Mother Holloway—”

The stretcher crashed back through the door on the way to the operating room, with the whole cast following. Tad and I scurried out of the way. Shemika looked sedated or seriously asleep. Jericho was crying.

“She’s stable, Mom. They were prepping her for surgery and…” He buried his face in his hands.

Tad grabbed him around the neck and hugged. “Mother Holloway? It’s me, Thaddeus from the church. This morning’s lesson? I enjoyed that, too. Yes, ma’am. Look, I just wanted to tell you that your great-grandbaby has arrived. A girl.”

He covered the phone with his mouth and leaned in to my son. “What’s the baby’s name?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Just tell her we don’t know—”

“Moriah.” Shemika’s voice was barely more than a breath, but we all heard it.

“Moriah,” Tad repeated into the phone. He laughed, then nodded. “Yes, it is a good name. I pray she’ll live a mountain life.”

“Me, too,” I whispered into the folds of Tad’s shirtsleeve as he held me up, too. “Live tall, little one. Live tall.”

Chapter four

Shalomsistah: You okay, Rochelle? I haven’t seen you on the list for a few days. Dana told me to check if you disappeared for too long.

I stared at my computer monitor with tired eyes. It was Austin, one of the newer members on the devotional list and Dana’s new best friend, on the other side of the computer. Usually, the list was a lifeline, both to the Lord and to my friends. Lately though, I’d come unplugged, both from the Internet and from my relationship with God.

After this memorable day—Moriah’s birth, Terri’s presence and Tad’s chin—I definitely needed to talk, but I wasn’t sure if Austin was the person to sing my blues to. I’d prayed about my attitude toward her and tried to figure it out, but still something about her just didn’t sit right. Perhaps the fact that, without trying, she’d taken my place in Dana’s life was the cause for my misgivings.

Sassysistah1: Shemika had the baby.

Shalomsistah: CONGRATULATIONS!

I stiffened. This was one of the things about her that got on my nerves. Austin had always been too perky, even when she’d just been the evening anchorwoman, a stranger on the news. At least Tad knew how to turn off his TV persona…most of the time anyway.

Sassysistah1: Thanks. I guess.

There’s a lot going on.

Shalomsistah: Want to talk about it? I know you don’t eat sugar, but I’ve got lots of chicken soup. My mother-in-law thinks it can bring world peace.

I had to smile at that. Mrs. Shapiro, so meticulous when she came in to select her shoes each season, certainly believed in the power of chicken soup. In truth, her matzo-ball variety had put the whammy on more than one of my colds and her words always warmed my heart. These days, I showcased the designs of other people’s shoes more than I made my own—except for Mrs. Shapiro.

“Shoes of peace,” she’d say. “Just like the name on the door, just like you. You make them with your own hands, with your heart.” Those words and the baskets filled with chicken soup, tea and vitamins always made me feel better. Stronger. Sometimes I forgot that Austin had married Mrs. Shapiro’s son. The girl couldn’t be all bad.

Sassysistah1: It’s hot outside, but soup sounds good. I’d come over there, but I’m too tired to drive.

Shalomsistah: Not a problem. I’m there.

Sassysistah1: Knock hard. I’ll probably be asleep.

Shalomsistah: Got it.

Sassysistah1: Wait! Do you remember where I live?

Shalomsistah is not signed on.

Hmm…Austin must have remembered the directions or she would have asked. I couldn’t muster the strength to get up and look for her number. I needed to go and dig my Bible out of the trash in the other room. Someone had actually dared to throw it away. Jordan maybe? I needed to fall on my face in prayer, but I didn’t. I pulled away from the computer to the creak of my bones.

The plan had been to come home from the hospital, change my clothes and rush right back, even though everyone advised against it. Especially Terri. I’m convinced she was stalking outside the hospital or something, but what did I know? Not much or I wouldn’t be trying to figure out how to be a single grandmother. As if being a single mother wasn’t job enough.

Shooting off a round of tangled prayers, I stretched my hands upward. Weariness poured down my legs, past my ankles and straight into my toes. With a thump, I dropped to the couch, the one that was just for decoration. It was time for that thing to earn its keep. As I sank back into it, my feet arched as if by their own will. I wiggled my toes, but it didn’t help. What I needed now was the foot washing I’d run from this morning.

Life is funny like that. What I try to outrun one minute, I needed the next. In truth, I could use a lot more from Tad than a soak in his kitty-litter container—a generous look or one of his steady prayers would do me just fine about now. Even when things had got bad after Shemika’s birth, the man hadn’t even flinched. He just stood there tall and strong, speaking loud and clear—

“We ask Lord, that this blood would stop, in the name of Jesus…”

When the room blurred into a rush of nurses and the smell of fear, there Tad was, rooted to the floor like a tree, his pecan skin glowing with sweat. The blood didn’t stop then, but the atmosphere did, and so did my attitude. This wasn’t my life all over again. No matter what happened, God was in control. Too bad Tad hadn’t been there the day I delivered Jericho. The outcome might have been the same, but maybe my heart wouldn’t have…

The doorbell sliced through my musings. I took a deep breath and hobbled for the door.

Behind it was Austin’s smiling face and two armfuls of low-carb goodies—almonds, teriyaki steak jerky, a veggie tray, some of Mrs. Shapiro’s chicken soup minus the matzo balls and a jug of diet V8 Splash. The tropical kind.

I hugged her inside. “Dana’s been telling you all my secrets, I see.”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’m just observant. It’s the reporter in me.”

We both laughed and put the spread on the table. She pulled two cold Diet Cokes from her purse and plopped onto the couch beside me. “We’ll get to that stuff later. Tell me about the birth.”

“It was something,” I said, sounding more like Jordan than I was comfortable with. My fingers gripped the cold drink while my lips refused to recount Moriah’s story. At least not yet. I looked back at the table, wondering which item would loosen my lips. Being on the receiving end of a girlfriend gift pack seemed strange. I’d been doing similar things for Dana and Tracey for years. I was used to it, being the one who gave, who smoothed things over. Having someone do it for me? Well, I didn’t know how to take it exactly. I sipped my pop anyway. Mine was vanilla, hers was lime.

It tasted wonderful. Much better than that bitter coffee, better than the story I had to tell. “This is good. And you got lime. Is it your favorite?”

Austin shook her head. “I don’t usually drink diet. This wasn’t about me though, so I just went along.” Her smile lit up the room like a candle.

“Sounds like a practice I should try.” I put my can on a coaster, suddenly deciding against my usual speech about being careful not to spill anything. If we made a mess, I could have it cleaned later. For once, I just didn’t care.

Austin took a coaster without being reminded and rested her can on it. She smiled at me, but made none of the usual chitchat or self-deprecating jokes that Dana provided. Not even any of Tracey’s goofy music and movie trivia that had nothing to do with anything. She just sat there sipping, ready to listen. This was a lot to get used to.

“Well, I’ll try and make this short,” I said.

“That’s your call. I’ve got four hours. The husband is fed, kissed and napping in front of ESPN. Pre-season games. He even has snackage. I left a note, but he’ll realize I’ve been gone after I walk back in the door.”

I made what must have been a horrible face. “Four hours? Please. I don’t talk to anybody that long. Not even God.”

Austin took another sip of her pop and curled her feet beneath her. “You’d be surprised.”

Five hours later, I was surprised…and full. I talked about everything from Jordan to the foot washing to the birth. I’d cried and eaten and cried some more. With Austin past due to be home, we were getting to the good part.

I stared at the clock in horror. “Oh my goodness. You need to go. I’m so sorry—”

She waved me off. “Double overtime. I called him in the bathroom. He thought I was in the other room on the computer. I will go soon, but we’re okay. What I need to know is, are you okay? You keep talking about everybody else and your concerns for them, but what about you? It’s okay to feel something just for yourself, you know.”

Was it okay? The thought stunned me. “Haven’t I been talking about me all this time?”

“No. You’ve been talking about your son, your granddaughter, your son’s father, Tad, the church…Before I go, I need to hear what’s really going on. With you.” She paused. “If you want to go there, that is.”

My defenses sprang up. My walls. How dare this little skinny blond girl come here and try to tell me to get real about something! What did she know about it?

A lot, from the look in her eyes. From the patient quietness she’d blessed me with the past few hours. No wonder Dana rambled on about her so much. She had a deep, just-what-you-need faith.

Sistah faith.

My true feelings quaked inside me, shook my shoulders. Before I knew it I was crying again and half shouting. “How could my baby have a baby now? What did I do wrong? I prayed, took him to church, went without a man. How could God let this happen?”

I was up off the couch now, pacing the room. Austin didn’t say a word. She just got up and walked beside me. Poor thing. She’d opened the floodgates now.

“And Tad. Talking about some beautiful feet. All these years I’ve been standing here dying, trying to serve God only to have people look down on me because I didn’t have a husband, and now this fool wants to try and be good to me?”

She took my hand, laced my fingers. I didn’t pull away.

“There was so much more I wanted, but I was trying to do the right things. But it didn’t work, none of it. Jordan is back and instead of fixing everything, he’s messed it all up. Him and his silly girlfriend. I don’t even know that I want him anymore, but he should have tried harder, done more than just propose to some heifer he barely knows—”

“Yeah.” Austin finally spoke.

We stopped walking and I tried to breathe. I guess it was time for her to rein me in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say all of that,” I said.

She shrugged. “It’s okay. You needed to. Everybody needs to bleed. That’s what friends are for. The thing is making sure the wound is clean after. It’s the infection that can kill you.”

This time I took her hand. We walked to the couch, the one unused until today and knelt there together. I bowed my head.

“Let’s pray,” Austin whispered.

“Mom, I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

I stared at my son through bleary eyes, spotting his face across his daughter’s crib. Moriah, my sweet pea of a granddaughter, had been crying nonstop for thirty minutes. It was four in the morning. “Actually, this is the easy part. They sleep a lot at the beginning.” My arms extended to take her from him.

Jericho swiped at his chin. “This is a lot of sleep?”

Moriah snuggled into my robe, no doubt looking for milk I didn’t have. “This baby does well. You kept me up most of the night until you were five years old. If it wasn’t for Dana, I don’t know how—”

“I’m sorry.” He dropped into the rocking chair I’d brought down from the attic, the one I’d rocked him in. It was still functional, but as creaky as his voice.

“Don’t be. This is what it’s all about. There were great moments, too. Being a parent is the most difficult and the most rewarding job I’ve ever had. The shop, my faith, most of who I am—it’s all somehow tied to making a better life for you.”

He scrubbed his eyes. “But it could have been easier if Dad had been there, huh?”

I paced to the door and back again. “I try not to think in could-haves, honey, but yes, I suppose it might have been easier with your father around, but then again, maybe not.”

With a final wail, Moriah went limp against me.

“Finally,” I whispered, starting toward the crib.

My son held out his hand, shook his head. “I’ll walk her a little more. Until she’s asleep for real.”

Asleep for real? I stared down at her closed angel eyes, tiny chest rising and falling. What was this, fake sleep? I didn’t dare ask. I wanted to tell him that even if she woke up she’d go back down again, just like he always had, but that would be parenting advice, which I’d promised myself not to give. Though I still think parents who live with their parents need all the advice they can get.

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