She didn’t ask him what he’d been thinking about, just took him past the last house on their street, then along the path in the snow toward the depression that was Fisher’s Pond.
It was a busy place midwinter. Neighborhood children played hockey every chance they got, but signs were posted now that the ice was thinning and no longer safe. The makeshift benches and lights were gone leaving only the trampled ring around the pond that was popular with dog walkers in summer. Tonight, they had the place to themselves.
“I haven’t seen the Milky Way like that, either,” he said, nodding at the seam of stars ripped open across the sky. “Not clear and massive like that.”
“Rico, I can’t go to Spain with you.”
“I can hire a live-in care aid.” His tone became very businesslike. “Or support her in any facility she chooses. You can be back here within a day if concerns arise. Do not use your grandmother as an excuse to keep my daughter from me.”
Wow. She rubbed her mitten against her cold nose, trying to keep the tip of it from growing numb.
“She’s not an excuse. She’s my family.”
He absorbed that, then asked, “Where are your parents? Why has it fallen on you to look after your grandparents?”
“I wanted to.” She hugged herself. “They’ve always been good to me. Even when I came home pregnant.”
Especially then. Buying the assisted-living unit would have required selling the house, leaving Poppy without anywhere to live. It had been everyone’s wish that they stay together in that house while Gramps was so sick, but Gran was right. They couldn’t sustain this. Poppy had been mentally preparing herself for spending the summer clearing out the house. That didn’t mean she was ready to move with her daughter around the globe, though.
“Did your parents pass away? Have you always lived with them?”
“I have, but my parents are alive. Divorced. Dad works in the oil patch.” She tried not to sound as forlorn as she had always felt when talking about her parents. “He shows up every few months for a week or so, sleeps on the couch and does some repairs. He used to give Gran money sometimes, for taking care of me. I think he gambles most of what he makes. It’s one of those things no one in the family talks about, but money has always been an issue with him.”
“Thus the divorce?”
“I’m sure that was part of it. Mom had her own issues.” She turned from the cleared patch that faced the pond and started on the path around it.
She hated that she had to reveal her deepest shame, but he ought to know it, so he would understand her reasons for refusing to marry him.
“They were really young when they had me. Mom was only nineteen. Not ready for the responsibility of being a parent. My dad brought her here to live with his parents then left to work far away. Mom stuck around until I was two, then she started moving around, living the life she thought she was entitled to, I guess.”
“Partying? Drugs?”
“Freedom, mostly.” Poppy understood now how overwhelming parenting was, but she hadn’t dropped her daughter like a hot potato just because it was hard. “She didn’t want to be a mom. She wanted to ‘explore her potential.’” Poppy air-quoted the phrase. “She tried modeling in Toronto and worked as a flight attendant out of Montreal. She was a music promoter in Halifax, went to Vancouver to work on a cruise ship. Followed a man to India for a year then came back and opened a yoga studio in California. That’s how she met her current husband, teaching one of his ex-wives to downward dog. He’s a movie producer. They have two kids.”
Two sulky, spoiled children who complained about the meals Poppy’s mother cooked for them and the music lessons and soccer practices she drove them to.
Poppy tried not to hate them. They were family, but they were also entitled little brats.
“You never lived with her?” Rico asked behind her.
“By the time she was settled, I was starting high school. Bringing me across the border even for a visit was more bureaucracy than she wanted to face. She still hasn’t seen Lily except over the tablet. I think she wishes I had never been born. Not in a spiteful way, but she would rather pretend her youthful mistake had never happened.”
The path became streaked by the shadows of a copse of trees. She plodded into it, trying not to be depressed by her parents’ neglect when they’d left her with such amazing grandparents.
“What I’m hearing is that you wish both of your parents had taken steps to bring you to live with them.”
“Is that what you’re hearing?” She stopped and turned, thinking her grandparents had been onto something because there was safety in the darkness, where her vulnerability wasn’t painted in neon letters across her face. “Because I’ve come to realize they did me a favor, leaving me with people who tucked me in and told me they loved me every night.”
She had surprised him by turning to confront him. He had pulled up, but stood really close. His face was striped by ivory and cobalt.
“Have you told them? Your parents?” she asked.
“I told them she was likely mine, even though the DNA results were inconclusive. I said—”
“What?” Poppy’s elbows went stiff as she punched the air by her thighs. “Why did you even come here if you didn’t know?”
“Because I had to know,” he said tightly, “Your guilty expression when you opened the door was all the proof I needed.”