Chapter Five: Friday, July 4th, 2003, 6:30 P.M.
Have you ever experienced an out-of-body moment? You know... a time when you were both observer and participant of the same event? Well, that was me when Rachel's voice jerked my head around. My eyes were immediately drawn to her tummy, expecting to see some visible evidence of my husband's story. She looked as slim and fit as she always had been as a teenager. Then, I let my eyes drift up to her face and saw it. In fact I remember thinking at the time, "I wonder how I missed her 'glow' before now?" It was then that I had the feeling that I was watching myself looking at Rachel. Very weird!
Pregnant women often times have a certain look to their skin. There has been some debate about this phenomenon in the medical field with many doctors discounting it. But I know what I've seen, and I've seen it quite often. My daughter had it right then, but I hadn't seen it at 11:00 P.M. the night before.
Neither I or my husband had made a response to Rachel's confession up to this point, and I guess she took our silence as a reason to continue.
"Mom, Dad... Peter and I are so sorry about how all this came out. Please know that it was planned to happen in a very different way. We don't blame you if you hate us and never again want to have anything to do with us. We would like to..."
She never got the chance to finish her thought at that moment... I was too quick with my embrace. I crossed the seven feet separating us and hugged her so hard that it was like I was trying to force her body into mine. She let me know that it was a bit too much for her.
"Mom! Too hard. You're squeezing the life outta me!"
I eased up and brought my hands to either side of her face and looked square into her hazel eyes:
"There is nothing you or Peter could ever do to lose my or your father's love for the two of you. But, little girl... you are up to you neck in trouble. I am so angry with you that I'd like to put you over my knee and spank you like I had to when you bit James Junior on his finger!"
"I'm not your 'little girl' anymore, Mom, but I probably deserve a spanking."
"Yes you do! And don't believe for one minute that just because you are almost twenty-five, that automatically makes you an adult. So-called 'little girls' are females who go and make really stupid choices - like knowingly getting impregnated by their brother! You want to explain that one, Rachel?"
"Not without Peter next to me, Mom."
"Where is he?"
"He's on his way in from the garage. I came in first to kind of 'smooth the path' for his entrance."
Now my husband found his way into this conversation:
"Entrance? Why the need for all this suspenseful drama? Hasn't the day already been dramatic enough?"
"Mom, perhaps you had better sit back down."
"Jesus and Mother Mary, Rachel... now what!? Okay, I'm sitting."
I really wasn't prepared for what Peter was about to do when his sister/cousin (now wife) called out for him to come into the lounge. No, I mean it... I really wasn't ready in spite of the fact that by now, dear reader, you have probably already figured it out. Well, jolly good for you! Just remember that you aren't where I was that day, ok?
My nephew Peter is six feet, three inches tall in his socks. He looks even larger with a two-year-old boy perched in his arms, let me tell you!
Have I told you yet to never, and I mean never, ask what worse thing could happen to you? Let me just say that it sucks to find out that you've been a grandmother for over two years. It's a smack across the face that stings much worse than finding out about the sex lives of your children.
But, let me also say that my husband and I also never saw a more handsome young man than the one who was looking at me at that moment.
"Petey, say 'Hi' to your grandma and grandpa," my nephew/son/son-in-law! said to the little boy.
"Hello, gammy. Hello, gampa."
Peter is a very smart man: never explain your actions when there is a cute two-year-old available. I asked my husband later, and, yes his heart also melted.
Then the little show-stopper had to go and reach out his arms to me. When his father placed Petey on my lap, I began to cry the sweetest tears of joy any woman ever let flow. That's when I looked up at my children and said:
"You're both still up to your necks in trouble! We need to talk."
"Peter," began my daughter, "you brought in the portable crib and the rest of Petey stuff, right?"
"Sure, hon. It's in the kitchen."