Sugar Daddy (Travis Family #1)(13)

I stared at the mountainous carcass. "What are we going to do with it?"

"I have no idea." Mama scrubbed her hands through her pale, rumpled hair. "But we've got to dispose of the evidence. That bird was worth a lot to somebody...and I'm not paying for it."

"Somebody should eat it." I said.

Mama shook her head and groaned. "That thing is one step up from road kill."

I thought for a moment, and inspiration struck. "The Cateses," I said.

Mama's gaze met mine, and gradually the scowl on her face was replaced by reluctant humor. "You're right. Go get Hardy."

To hear the Cateses tell it later, there had never been such a feast. And it went on for days. Emu steaks, emu stew, emu sandwiches, and chili con emu. Hardy had taken the bird to Earl's Meat Market, where the butcher, after promising strict confidentiality, had a high time processing it into fans, fillets, and ground meat.

Miss Judie even sent over an emu casserole for Mama and me, made with Tater Tots and Hamburger Helper. I tried it and thought it was one of Miss Judie's better efforts. But Mama, who was watching me with a doubtful gaze, suddenly turned green and fled the kitchenette, and I heard her getting sick in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, Mama," I said anxiously through the door. "I won't eat the casserole anymore if it makes you sick. I'll throw it out. I'll—"

"It's not the casserole." she said in a guttural voice. I heard the sounds of her spitting. and the gurgle of the toilet flush. The water spigot was turned on as Mama began to brush her teeth.

"What is it, Mama? Did you get a virus?"

"Uh-uh."

"Then—"

"We'll talk about it later, honey. Right now I need some—" She stopped for another spit. PtlPtl "Privacy."

"Yes, ma'am."

It puzzled me that Mama should have told Miss Marva she was pregnant before she told anyone else, including me. They had become friends in no time, despite the fact that they were so different. Seeing them together was like watching a swan keeping company with a redheaded woodpecker. But they shared a certain steeliness underneath their dissimilar exteriors. They were both strong women who were willing to pay the price for their independence.

I figured out Mama's secret one evening when she was talking in our kitchenette with Miss Marva, who had brought over a delicious peach cobbler with layers of sopping juice-soaked crust inside. Sitting in front of the TV with a dish and a spoon in my lap. I caught a few whispered words between them.

'"...don't see why he should ever be told..." Mama said to Miss Marva.

"But he owes you some help..."

"Oh no..." Mama lowered her voice again, so I could only hear a little here and there. ".. .mine, has nothing to do with him..."

"It won't be easy."

"I know. But I have someone to go to if things get bad enough."

I realized what they were talking about. There had been signs, including Mama's queasy stomach and the fact that she'd made two doctor visits in the space of a week. All my wishing and longing for someone to love, for family, had finally been answered. I felt a pinch in the back of my throat, something like tears. I wanted to jump up to my feet, I was so filled with happiness.

I stayed quiet, straining to hear more, and the intensity of my feelings must have reached Mama somehow. Her gaze fell on me, and she broke the conversation with Miss Marva long enough to say casually, "Liberty, go and start your bath now."

I couldn't believe how normal my voice sounded, just as normal as hers. "I don't need a bath."

"Then go read something. Go on, now."

"Yes, ma'am." I made my way reluctantly to the bathroom, questions darting through my mind. Someone to go to...An old boyfriend? One of the relatives she never talked about? I knew it had something to do with Mama's secret life, the one she had led before I was born. When I was a grown-up. I vowed silently. I would go and find out everything I could about her.

I waited impatiently for Mama to break the news to me. but after six weeks had passed and still no word, I decided to ask her directly. We were driving to Piggly Wiggly for groceries in the silver Honda Civic we'd had ever since I could remember. Recently Mama had gotten it all fixed up, all the dents and dings pushed out, new paint, new brake pads, so it was good as new. She had also bought new clothes for me, an umbrella table and chair set for the patio, and a brand-new TV. She had gotten a bonus from the title company, she explained.

Our life had always been like that...sometimes we would have to count every penny, but then little windfalls would come. Bonuses or small lottery winnings, or something left to Mama in some distant relative's will. I never dared to question her about the pockets of money that came our way. But as I got older I noticed they always happened right after one of her mysterious disappearances. Every few months, maybe twice a year, she would have me stay overnight at a neighbor's house, and she would be gone for a day and sometimes wouldn't come back until the next morning. When she returned, she restocked the pantry and the freezer, and there were new clothes, and things were paid off. and we could go out to eat again.

"Mama," I asked, staring at the delicately stern lines of her profile, "you're going to have a baby, aren't you?"

The car swerved slightly as Mama shot me an astonished glance. She returned her attention to the road, her hands gripping the steering wheel. "Good Lord, you almost made me wreck the car."