OUT ON A LIMB by Joan Hess Read Free Book Online Page A

want your knees to be trembling when you take your algebra test.”
    “And you need to buy formula and diapers.”
    “Caron,” I said as I poured a much-needed cup of coffee, “what I need is your cooperation for the next few days. If I take Skyler with me inside the store, I’ll undoubtedly run into someone I know. I won’t be able to pretend I found a baby under a cabbage leaf in the produce department. If I hedge, the assumption will be that it’s yours. If I explain, Peter will show up at the bookstore within an hour.”
    “Mine?” she squeaked.
    “It does happen.”
    “Well, it won’t happen to me!”
    She was still deeply upset, although I wasn’t sure why. I decided it might be wise to give her some time to sort through her feelings before I made an effort to talk to her. “As soon as you’re ready, we’ll go. Skyler will be asleep in the basket in the backseat. You can study while I grab the necessities.”
    “What if he…”
    “I’ll change his diaper and give him a bottle while you’re getting ready. I realize you felt as though he cried all night, but he’s actually rather peaceful most of the time, like an elderly relative dozing on a porch swing.”
    She banged her plate in the sink. “I probably cried all the time, didn’t I? You were so tired that you had to drop out of grad school. If I hadn’t come along, you could have finished your dissertation and be teaching at some ivy-infested college, publishing tedious papers and speaking at colloquiums in Paris and Oxford. You’d have tenure by now, as well as a comfortable retirement plan. Instead, you were stuck with me.”
    “I wasn’t stuck with you,” I said gendy.
    “Did Dad feel the same way. Is that why he—”
    “No, of course not.” I was very sorry I’d discarded Dr. Spock’s book, even though I doubted it had covered topics such as this. “Go take a shower and get dressed, dear.”
    She left the kitchen, and minutes later slammed the bathroom door. I fetched Skyler, who was awake and appeared to be interested in whatever he’d overheard. He seemed a bit young to assimilate it, but I wasn’t sure. I gave him a sponge bath, then warmed up the last of the formula and held him as we both enjoyed the morning’s libations.
    Caron had her nose in her algebra book as we arrived in the grocery store parking lot. I grabbed my purse and said, “This shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”
    “Yeah, right,” she muttered.
    I glanced at Skyler, who was sucking his fist, then went into the store and tried to remember if I’d ever gone down an aisle stocked with diapers and little jars of strained things. I took a few wrong turns, but eventually found the appropriate aisle and stopped my cart in front of a vast display of disposable diapers. I’d preferred cloth diapers when Caron was a baby, although I had resorted to the politically incorrect ones in a pinch. I’d made my selection based on price. Now I was bedazzled by the options: pastels, gender, prints that changed colors when the diaper had served its purpose. Elastic or plain. Velcro or tape. Age, weight, level of mobility. No wonder Jillian Scarpo was in the grip of postpartum stress.
    I was so caught up in my search for the perfect box that I was unaware a cart had stopped next to mine.
    “Claire,” said Sally Fromberger, “why ever are you buying diapers?” Her beady gaze shifted to my waist for a few seconds, then returned to my face. She clearly expected an explanation.
    And I was clearly pinned between her cart and the Pampers until I offered one to Farberville’s most dedicated busybody. “I was just… looking,” I said, cursing myself for such a lame response. “What about you?”
    “One of my cats is refusing to eat, so I thought I’d tempt her with strained liver. I’m afraid she has another impacted tooth.” She paused, then said, “Just looking at diapers?”
    I could almost hear Caron hissing in the car. I blindly grabbed a box of diapers