Rescue - By Anita Shreve Page 0,83
he adds, “and I’d seen the lying and the drinking, I might have ended it. We weren’t even living together when she got pregnant.”
“So,” Rowan says, “I’m what? A mistake?”
Webster turns to his daughter. “Rowan, look at me,” he says. “Do you feel like a mistake?”
It takes her a while to answer. “Sometimes I do.”
Webster briefly closes his eyes. Why didn’t he talk to Rowan about this when she was younger? But how does a dad know when his daughter is ready for a conversation like this?
“Rowan, listen. A baby, when it comes, is never a mistake. Never. A baby is the exact opposite of a mistake.”
Rowan turns her face away.
“You were deeply loved from the moment you were born,” Webster adds. “Certainly by me, that goes without saying. But by your mother, too.”
“If she loved me so much, why did she leave me? And why did she drink so much? Why did she risk my life?”
“I think you’re going to need to ask her those questions.”
He pauses.
“Somewhere inside, the drunk has to want to get better. Otherwise, nothing works. Your mother wasn’t there yet.”
He stops again.
“I couldn’t have her driving around drunk with you in the backseat. End of story. And I’m guessing that wasn’t the first time she’d had you out in the car after she’d been drinking. You and she were incredibly lucky that day. On Route 222, an unexpected curve, a slow reaction time? She’s lucky she didn’t go head on with a tree.”
“Is she sober now?”
“Yes, she is.”
“What did Nana and Gramps think of her?”
“They didn’t like her at first. Or they didn’t like the fact that I was marrying her. But after the wedding, they were fine. And after you were born, they were over the moon.”
Rowan taps the empty can on the patio table. “Were they happy when you sent her away?”
“No, they weren’t. I had to explain it to them. I mean, they knew, they could see it, but I talked to them anyway. I could hardly avoid it. You and I were living with them at the time.”
“What was I like when I was born?”
Webster smiles. “Wrinkly. Red-faced. You had a pointed head.”
“I did?”
“All babies have pointed heads. The ones that are birthed naturally. And, boy, were you in a hurry. You were practically born in the car.”
“I was?”
“I was all set to deliver you.”
“What did… my mother… think?”
“She wasn’t thinking anything, Rowan. She was in pain.”
“Is the pain really terrible?”
Webster tosses his cup into a wastebasket. “I think that’s another question for your mother.”
“I might have had brothers and sisters.”
Webster leans forward. “Rowan, honey, listen to me. You didn’t. OK? That’s your given. You didn’t have a mother most of your life. That’s another given. You’ve been dealt that hand, and that’s what you play with. You can wish you had a different given, but it won’t do you any good. People start feeling sorry for themselves, that’s pretty much the end of them.”
“What makes you know so much?”
Webster shrugs. “I don’t know so much. I know a lot about a few things. I know about raising a child from birth to seventeen.”
Rowan narrows her eyes. “You don’t know everything.”
There’s been enough conversation for one day, Webster decides.
“You have months, years, to digest this. The most important thing you have to do now is rest.”
“The most important thing I have to do is grow my hair,” she says.
Webster waits until the next day before reintroducing the subject of Sheila. Webster has alerted Sheila that the visit is likely to happen in the morning. Tommy and Gina are scheduled to come later in the day. Webster has to make this happen in the morning, if at all.
“So how are you doing today?” Webster asks when he walks in the door.
“Good,” she says. “They’re going to begin physical therapy for the shoulder, and they have to make sure I can walk a fair distance without losing my balance. I can’t risk falling on the shoulder.”
Webster sits on the bed. He smiles.
“You didn’t notice they washed my hair.”
“I did notice. You look great.”
“I tried to figure out how to handle the bald spot.” On a hook on the back of her door is the hat Webster bought her. He went to the campus store and asked a young woman if she knew what Rowan meant. The woman sent him to a boutique not far away that sold the right kind of cap.
“Rowan, do you remember I asked if you’d be willing to meet