Mother of Prevention by Lori Copeland

Author:Lori Copeland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2005-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

“The wait is an hour and forty minutes right now.”

Parlyvista’s smiling hostess wrote my name and number in party down on her clipboard, then handed me a buzzer. My eyes scanned the crowded waiting area. Potential diners were lined out the door, spilling onto the sidewalk.

“Mommy, I’m tired.” Kelli slumped against me, holding the sack of pillows. Though bulky, the package was the lightest to carry.

I gently soothed her hair. “I know, sweetie. We’re all tired.”

My feet were coming through the soles of my shoes. My gaze searched for an empty spot—anywhere we could get out of the traffic flow. Waiters and waitresses ducked around us carrying steaming platters to anxious customers. I checked the time: 5:03. Gray was threading his way through the blocked doorway.

I stood on tiptoe and waved. After several attempts at trying to snag his attention, he finally saw me and worked his way over.

“Hello—sorry I’m a few minutes late.”

“We just got here.”

His eyes skimmed the crowd. “What’s the wait?”

“An hour and forty minutes.”

“Not bad.” He smiled at Kelli and Kris. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

Kelli buried her face in my skirt; Kris mumbled something.

He turned back to me. “Care for a drink from the bar?”

I shook my head. “I’ll wait and have tea with dinner…but if you—”

“No, I don’t drink,” he said. “The stuff gives me a headache.”

We backed up to allow another set of waitresses to pass by.

“Did you ladies have a successful shopping expedition?”

I briefly told him about the crowds, and how I knew better than to shop on weekends. Kelli was pressing into my side, deadweight. I tried to straighten her. She jerked away and buried her face in my skirt.

The thing about dating—it’s so awkward. I remember the first time Neil and I went out, he took me to a movie and then later for a soda. I bet we hadn’t said fifteen words to each other that night, but he called again the following weekend. The second date we played miniature golf; I beat him double the score. I thought he wouldn’t call again. But the third weekend he called, and by then it seemed as if we couldn’t talk enough.

I glanced at Gray, melancholy washing over me. I couldn’t start crying now—not in front of him.

I straightened Kelli, and she whined. “Stand up, honey. Mommy’s tired, too.”

My daughter—my precious angel who rarely gave me an ounce of trouble—suddenly sat down in the middle of the floor, screwed up her face and let out a bawl that would make a guernsey proud.

Horrified, I watched fat tears run down her cheeks; her nose ran, and between squalls she blubbered something about chicken nuggets.

Gray stooped and tried to console her but she kicked out at him, catching him on the shin.

Pain shot across his face, and he quickly backed off.

“Kelli Madison!” I bent and tried to pull the child to her feet, but she threw her head back and howled more loudly. By now every eye in the place was on the ruckus.

I lowered my tone.

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