Marrying For A Mom
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“Do you have a little girl?” Amanda asked unexpectedly.
The question startled Whitney, and she pulled back, half-afraid of disappointing the child. “No,” she said slowly.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to have one?”
“Amanda,” Logan reproved. “That’s kind of a personal question, even for a chatterbox like you. We don’t ask—”
“No, that’s okay,” Whitney said quickly. “I don’t mind. Really.” She paused, wondering how much she could safely reveal. “Someday I’d love to have a little girl. More than anything. But I’m not married and, actually, I’d like to have a daddy for my little girl. I’d want to make sure she was safe, and happy, and loved by her mom and dad.”
“You don’t have a husband?”
An ominous feeling swept over Whitney, making her feel as if she was stepping into something as dangerous as quicksand. “No, not anymore.”
Amanda sat back, and thoughtfully regarded Whitney. “My daddy doesn’t have my mommy anymore, either.”
“I know, and I’m sorry to hear it.”
“She went to heaven,” Amanda matter-of-factly explained. “Where did your husband go?”
Whitney did a stutter-step over her answer. She certainly couldn’t explain to a six-year-old what had led to the breakup of her marriage. For, after Logan caught Kevin skimming money from the petty cash, and threatened to press charges, it had been the last straw for Whitney and her marriage had immediately crumbled. There had never been a blacker, more degrading moment in her life. She suddenly realized how she supported him while he wandered from one job to another, how she’d suffered through his rude behavior and insolence. It had come as an epiphany to her, to realize she had married Kevin for the wrong reasons—and Logan, whether he knew it or not, had had a hand in her decision to move on with her life.
Logan, seeing Whitney’s distress, flushed uncomfortably, then leaned over and sternly whispered in his daughter’s ear.
Suddenly a wry response struck Whitney, and she impulsively offered it up. “My husband,” she announced glibly, “went to California. With a cardboard suitcase, and a beat-up Chevrolet. And, let me tell you, he was a funny sight, going down the highway.”
Logan clamped his lips over an irrepressible smile, his eyes shuttering closed. Amanda’s lips wiggled, even as she looked genuinely confused.
When it hit Whitney, she was appalled at the jingle she’d just concocted. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t explain that very well. And I didn’t mean—” lowering her voice, she caught Logan’s eye “—to make it sound like…”
“It’s okay,” he mouthed over Amanda’s head. Then, he chuckled. “Whitney and I went to school together, Amanda, and for as long as I’ve known her, she has always put an interesting spin on life.”
Nagging embarrassment colored her cheeks, but Whitney took the plunge, determined to be honest with Amanda—and with Logan. “Amanda,” she said seriously, “my ex-husband wasn’t very happy—and he wanted things I didn’t want. So, how it ended up was that he left—and I stayed. We got a divorce because we couldn’t be happy together and agree on how to live our life.”
“Is he ever coming back?”
Whitney shook her head, afraid to look at Logan, afraid of what she’d see in his eyes. “No. Never.”
Amanda’s gaze never wavered. “Then you’re all alone, too. Like us.”
The candid observation knocked the wind out of Whitney. She steeled herself to show no emotion. “Single, and independent,” she confided, leaning closer to Amanda. “It’s not a bad thing for a woman to be. Honest.”
Amanda studied her, quizzically. Then she reached over and carefully touched the gold charm, the teddy bear that Whitney always wore. “I like that,” she said shyly.
“You do?” Whitney’s smile reached her eyes. “You know there’s a story behind that little bear.”
“There is?” Amanda’s eyes widened hopefully.
“Mmm-hmm. When I was a little girl, not much bigger than you, we had to move. We were kind of in a hurry, so my mom thought she’d leave some of our stuff and go back and get it later. But there was this mix-up, and everything got lost. All my books, my dolls, all my favorite things. They were all gone. Not one thing was left.”
Amanda’s face fell. “You must have felt awful,” she said soberly, dropping the charm, to awkwardly pat the back of Whitney’s hand.
“For a while I did. But then my gram, who had some old scraps of fabric, helped me make a rag doll. It turned out so wonderful that we started thinking we could make a teddy bear.” For emphasis, Whitney rolled her eyes. “Well, we had the craziest looking teddy bear you ever did see. My gram said it looked like something the cat dragged in.”
Amanda laughed, imagining.
“So my gram went out and bought me a brand-new teddy bear, and I thought it was the best present ever.” Whitney glanced up at Logan, but his eyes were brooding, dark. “I…” Whitney hesitated, “I have a little store not far from here, and everything in it has teddy bears on it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Amanda sat back, in the circle of Logan’s arms, considering. “Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Is that where you got the coloring books and stuff?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, at Whitney’s shop.”
“Maybe sometime, Amanda, you’d like to visit me there, and see all the teddy bear things.”
“Can we, Daddy? Do you think we can go?”
“What I think, gumdrop,” Logan said, carefully avoiding an answer, “is that you’ve pestered Whitney long enough. Come on. You ready for our weekly pilgrimage?”
“Can Whitney come? Please? This could be the day for the Lollapalooza.”
Logan pulled back, baffled. This was a first. Since Jill’s death, Amanda had been reluctant to invite people into her life. She didn’t warm up to people anymore, not as quickly as she used to. But, with Whitney, he saw vestiges of the old Amanda coming back.
“That’s a great idea, to invite Whitney,” he agreed. “Well?” he slid Whitney a sideways glance, and didn’t bother to explain. Everyone in Melville knew the Lollapalooza was the Ice Cr`eme Shoppe’s 27 scoop, thirteen topping treat. “What do you say? Can you join us?”
“Oh…no, I’d feel like I was intruding…” If Whitney could have kicked herself all the way home, she would have. She’d automatically offered up the no, and passed up another rare opportunity to be with Logan.
“Whitney. C’mon. Join us,” he insisted. “The Lollapalooza may be a little too much, but maybe another time…for a special occasion…” He lifted one shoulder higher than the other, letting the suggestion hang.
“You’re goading me into playing hooky,” Whitney chided. “I have rent to pay and shelves to stock.”