Previously... Natalie Bishop had almost forgotten about these feelings. But now, in the final weeks of her pregnancy, she recalls them all too well. Years ago, during her first pregnancy, she remembers watching her body grow and swell. It was strange, but there was something special about it, something fascinating. She devoted hours to shopping for clothes that were not strictly designated as maternity wear, but rather roomy, flowing garments that still looked stylish and trendy. She tried her best to keep herself in shape, by walking and attending yoga classes – but despite her efforts, toward the end, her body betrayed her. Her hands and feet and face all ballooned, filling up with water and undermining whatever chicness she had tried to bring to her pregnancy.
And
now it’s happening again. As she worked herself into her black
maternity leggings this morning, pulling the pouch over her very
large stomach, she couldn’t help but look in the mirror and see
a woman who looked like nature had gotten the best of her. No
matter how much she has worked out or dieted or carefully
selected outfits, this is how she turns out: a fat,
tired-looking, pregnant woman. She knows that the pregnancy will
only last so much longer, and then she can return to her yoga
classes and try to tame her body again – but she also knows that
it will be more difficult than it was when Bree
was born, when she was much younger.
"Yeah,
Conrad came about ten minutes ago,” he answers as he screws
the cap back onto a bottle of water that sits on the kitchen
island.
She
offers a weary smile. “Thanks. I didn’t have the energy to
deal with him today.”
“It’s
fine. Now who’s ready for lunch?”
“I
am!” Sophie shouts, her hand shooting into the air. “Is Travis
gonna be there?”
“I
texted him, and he says he’s working. He’ll come out and say
hi,” Jason says.
Natalie
picks up her purse from the kitchen table. “Well, I’m
starving. Big surprise. So let’s get going.”
They
get into Jason’s car – Natalie with a little more difficulty
than the other two – and drive to the north side of King’s
Bay. Summer has finally emerged in all its glory, no matter
how hard the Pacific Northwest’s instincts might have tried to
suppress it, and the sun shines out of a gleaming blue sky. As
she attempts, with little success, to get comfortable in the
passenger seat, Natalie tries to focus on the facts that it is
a beautiful day and that she is spending it with a man she
adores.
“Good
to see you guys,” Matt
Gray says when he greets them at the host’s stand.
“How’re you feeling?”
Natalie
groans. “I’m getting through it.”
“I
think we’re all ready to meet this little guy or girl,” Jason
says.
Matt
waves the host off and shows them to a table himself. He sets
down three menus and points out the server who will be with
them in a moment.
“Can
I get French fries?” Sophie asks, her voice a little too loud,
per usual.
Natalie
feels some kind of primal craving rise up within her and
decides to go for broke. “Want to split an order? That sounds
good.”
“Promise
you guys will save me a couple,” Jason says. He looks out the
large window to the side of their table. “What a nice day. I’m
glad we’re all together.”
Natalie
takes in the sight of his warm, gentle face, and a smile fills
her own. “So am I.”
 The
kitchen of Harbor Boulevard is already steamy with the heat of
prep work, even though the lunch shift has yet to begin. Travis
Fisher is at his station, slicing an entire bucket of
lemons into wedges. He is about halfway through when he hears
his uncle’s voice call through the kitchen.
“Can I
get everyone over here for a quick staff meeting?”
The
entire kitchen staff, Travis included, hurries to reach
stopping points in whatever work they are doing. They convene
around Matt Gray, who is stationed at the end of a long,
stainless steel counter.
“Just
a couple of things,” Matt announces. Travis notices that, as
he addresses the entire group, Matt maintains a focal point
somewhere above all of their heads, toward the back wall. He
has never thought of Matt as someone who would especially
enjoy public speaking, but working for him has caused Travis
to see him in a different way. He somehow manages to maintain
his usual shy demeanor and yet command the attention and
respect of his staff.
“We’re
gonna be doing our usual booth at the end-of-summer festival
at the winery,” Matt says. “Since this is the first year
without Bill,
I wanna make sure we keep up the tradition and have a good
presence there.”
Murmurs
of agreement fill the kitchen.
“I’m
gonna be putting together a team to prep the samples we’ll
give out there,” he continues, “so if that’s something that
sounds good to you, come talk to me. And we’re having more of
those keychains made to hand out, too.”
He
rattles through another order of business pertaining to
end-of-the-night cleanup, and he is winding down the short
meeting when a voice barks out from near the front of the
group.
“I’ve
got something to bring up,” says the craggy voice, which
Travis instantly recognizes as belonging to Hansen; he is the
only guy here whose voice has the same weathered character as
his face. “It’s about a menu change.”
“Go
for it,” Matt says.
“It’s
about the chili. Brought this up to Bill last year, and then…
y’know.” An awkward silence briefly descends upon them before
Hansen presses onward: “Think it might be a good idea to pull
it from the menu.”
Matt
folds his arms. “Why’s that?”
“For
starters, it’s a bunch of ingredients we don’t use in anything
else. So that’s sunk costs we aren’t getting back. And
frankly, it’s a pain in my ass to keep it heated all day, and
make sure it’s fresh by dinnertime.”
Travis
watches Matt nodding, maybe mulling it over, and something
surges inside him that he can’t push down.
“I
know I’m new here, but I have to disagree,” Travis says. He
sees every head swivel around to look at him and wonders if
he’s out-of-line in speaking up. But it’s too late now. “That
chili was one of my grandpa’s signatures. He made it at the
old restaurant and brought it over here.”
It
seems as if the ensuing quiet stretches on for hours, but
finally Matt nods and says, “Travis has a point.”
“Of
course he does,” Hansen says. “I’m not saying it’s not good.
But c’mon – it’s kind of lowbrow, don’t you think? All this
other stuff we’re doing, and then we have chili? It’s taking
up room we could use for another soup.”
“It’s
one of my
grandma’s favorites,” Travis says. “And we get a lot of
orders for it.”
Hansen
shrugs. “We get orders. Not a ton. Not enough to justify the
prep and the expense and the time, if you ask me.” He looks
back at Matt. “Just a suggestion.”
“I’ll
think about it,” Matt says. “Anyone else?”
Travis
knows that if he argues any more, he’s likely to lose his
temper. He already hates the way Hansen talks to the rest of
the staff and treats him like a child. And now, to try and
pull one of Bill’s favorite dishes from the menu not even a
year after his death? It’s disrespectful and stupid.
“Everyone
back to work, then,” Matt says. Travis lingers for a moment and
considers approaching his uncle about the chili, but Hansen
passes by him and gives a look that can only be described as a
glare. Stewing, Travis bites his tongue and heads back to his
station.
-----
The
glowing sun feels fantastic on Yvette Banks’s skin, and the
fresh air is a welcome relief from the muggy air inside her
old sedan. She waited in the parked car long enough to watch Tempest
emerge from the apartment building, wait a few minutes at the
bus stop, and then ride away. She has to admit that she was
surprised to see her daughter riding the bus. From everything
Yvette has observed over the past several weeks, Tempest has
it pretty good: the lady she lives with works at the hospital;
that girlfriend of hers just graduated from the local
university; and she has apparently been promoted to some kind
of desk job at that ice arena. Yvette would’ve thought she
could afford a car – or that the white lady would’ve bought
her one, considering that it looks like she’s taken her on as
a daughter.
But
never mind that. Yvette has done her research, and she knows
enough to know that today is the right day to make her move.
After
Tempest’s bus pulls away, Yvette heads for the apartment
building. She realizes that she has no way of getting in on
her own, but she looks at the callbox for a moment and finds
the name of the woman Tempest lives with: “C. Fisher.” She
dials the code for the apartment, and the box emits a loud
ringing noise.
“Hello?”
a female voice asks from inside.
“Delivery
for Mrs. Fisher,” Yvette says.
A beep
sounds, and the door unlocks. Yvette goes inside and takes the
elevator up. Thanks to her research, she knows exactly where
she is going. She makes her way to the apartment and knocks.
When Claire
opens the door, Yvette watches her reaction carefully. The
pleasant smile gives way to confusion.
“Claire
Fisher?” Yvette asks, although she already knows the answer.
Though she has seen the woman from a distance several times,
this is her first time getting a look up close. She’s pretty
enough, Yvette supposes, with dark hair, pretty eyes, and a
long face. Her neck is thin – hell, all of her is too damn
thin.
“That’s
me,” Claire says, wariness edging into her voice. “Can I help
you?”
“My
name is Yvette. Yvette Banks.”
She
watches as recognition dawns over Claire.
“I’m
real sorry I lied down there on that buzzer,” Yvette says,
“but I had to see you. My girl – my Tempest—”
“She
isn’t home.” There is a sudden, hard edge to Claire’s voice.
Yvette
takes care to react with both surprise and sadness. “Well,
maybe that’s best. It’s probably you I need to talk with
anyway.”
“How
did you find us?”
“I saw
that video of Tempest’s on the internet – I’m so glad she’s
okay, after what she went through. That could’ve gone real
bad. That’s my girl – my baby girl. All these years, I didn’t
know what happened to her, if she was okay…”
As
Yvette hoped, the lines in Claire’s face soften ever so
slightly.
“She’s
doing well. She’s safe and cared for.”
“Good.
Thank you, thank you, Mrs. Fisher. I can’t thank you enough. I
thought the worst could’ve happened. I even went to the
police, but they said Tempest was a grown-up, and I guess they
didn’t think it was important…”
“When
I met Tempest, it was clear she had run away from something
bad,” Claire says. “I don’t want to accuse you of anything,
but it doesn’t sound like she had a very happy life before she
left Los Angeles.”
“No.
I’m afraid not. But she’s a good girl, and I miss her so much.
I have to see her—”
“I
don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Yvette
reminds herself to keep her emotions in check. “Excuse me?”
“Tempest
has given no indication that she wants to see you or anyone
from her past,” Claire says. “I don’t think it’s a good idea
for me to give you access to her. Not without her permission.”
-----
“The
lost soul, the wise one… The mother, the child… It took me a
while to see… That all this time… I was always portraying
me.”
“I
know so. It’s like— it sounds like your old stuff. In a good
way. It has that kind of, I dunno, soul to it.”
The
guitar in her lap, Danielle lets herself exhale with relief.
They sit in the garage of Molly
Taylor’s house with the quiet surrounding them now that
Danielle has finished.
“You
just wrote that?” Jimmy asks.
“It’s
something I’ve been working on. But I couldn’t crack the
chorus for months. I kept coming up with stuff that wasn’t
quite right. And as soon as I started going to meetings a few
weeks ago, it was like my head opened up, and… there it was.”
His
grin lingers lazily, the same way everything about Jimmy seems
to do. “I’m proud of you. Seems like you’ve picked yourself up
from a hard time.”
“I’m
trying. Taking things day-by-day. That’s all I can do, right?”
She still feels so much shame when she thinks about how she
backslid into drinking, how she threw away all those years of
sobriety. And she shudders when she thinks of any of those
blurry days and nights, hours in which she isn’t entirely sure
what she said or did. For better or worse, she does
remember her nasty outburst at Brent,
during which she outed his relationship with Claire to Molly –
but she has said her apologies, and she knows that she can’t
change the past. She can only be a better person moving
forward.
“Hell,
you got a song done. That’s pretty great,” Jimmy says.
“Actually,
I have seven songs done.”
“Seven?
Wow.”
“Yeah.
It’s like the floodgates opened up in the last month or so.
It’s amazing.”
He
drums his hands on his knees and then points at her. “I’ll
tell you what. We should get you into my buddy Darren’s
studio. It’s not much – just an attic he converted – but
decent equipment. We could get some of this stuff recorded.”
“That
might be nice,” she admits. “There’s something else I should
tell you, actually.”
“What?”
“I
signed up for something.”
Jimmy
waits. He leans forward, eyebrows rising.
“Open
Mic Night at Cassie’s,” she says. “It’s been so long since I
played in public, but it feels like – like what I need to do
to keep moving forward.”
“I
think that’s the second best thing I’ve heard all day. Besides
that song, I mean.”
Danielle
laughs. “It’s not that good.”
“It’s
good. Now you’ve got seven, you say? Let me hear another one.
Because we’ve gotta choose the very best for your Open Mic
Night.”
Danielle
draws a deep breath and adjusts the guitar in her lap. Her
fingers move back to the strings with the same ease that her
feet take steps or her eyelids blink. This is natural. This is
right.
You
can do it, she tells herself before she launches into
another song.
-----
“Mmm.
These are good!”
Sophie
holds a French fry between two fingers and takes a showy chomp
out of it.
“See?
Told you this would be a good idea,” Natalie says as she takes
another.
Jason
holds up his palms. “Hey. I’m never going to argue with fries.
But do you ladies maybe want to think about what you’re
ordering for lunch?”
Sophie
lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, Dad.”
Jason
barely suppresses a laugh as they all pick up their menus.
“The
chili sounds good,” Natalie says. “Is it spicy? The doctor
says some spice might help move things along with the baby…”
“When
is it getting here, anyway?” Sophie asks.
“I
told you, Natalie is due next Wednesday,” Jason says. “That
doesn’t mean it’ll be exactly that day. Sometimes it happens
earlier or later than the day they tell you.”
“Why?”
Jason
and Natalie exchange a look.
“Because
they’re kind of guessing,” Natalie says.
“Because
they’re dumb?”
Jason
seals his lips together, but a burbling laugh still manages to
escape.
“They
aren’t dumb,” he says. “It’s just hard to know for sure.”
Sophie
pulls both of her little legs beneath her on the chair. “Did I
come early?”
“A
little. We were pretty ready, though.”
“And
you took my mom to the hospital?”
Jason
feels a hitch in the conversation at the way Sophie says “my
mom,” as if Courtney isn’t someone she actually knows –
although that is the truth. She never knew Courtney as a
person, no matter how much he tells stories and shows her
photos and videos.
“We
were at work,” he says, doing everything he can to breeze past
the fact that Courtney was arguing with the woman they knew as
Sabrina Gage – who was really Shannon
Parish – at the time. “And we went to the hospital, and
you were born.”
“Just
like that?”
“Just
like that.”
“Just
like that,” Natalie says, or rather, murmurs.
Jason
looks across the table at her. “What?”
“Just
like that.” Natalie’s eyes widen with surprise. “Pretty sure
my water just broke.”
Sophie
jabs a finger in the direction of Natalie’s half-full water
glass. “It’s right there.”
“No,”
Natalie says. “The baby is coming. Now.”
-----
After
he hits a lull in his prep work and takes a minute to pop out
and say hi to his Uncle Jason and Sophie, Travis returns to
the kitchen. It never ceases to shock him how the temperature
in here is a good 15 degrees warmer than it is out in the
dining room. He uses his sleeve to wipe his brow and sets back
toward his station. On the way, however, he passes by Matt’s
office. Matt sits behind the desk, furrowing his brow at some
paperwork. Travis hovers at the open door for a few seconds
before knocking.
“Hey,
Travis, what’s up?”
“It’s
about the summer festival.”
Matt
brightens. “Oh. You wanna be on the prep crew? It’s a good
thing for the new guys to do.”
“I
want to help,” Travis says as he takes a few steps inside the
dimly lit office. “But I have an idea for what we should do.”
“What
kind of idea?”
Travis
takes a deep breath. “Just hear me out.”
-----
“I get
why you’d feel that way, I do,” Yvette says as she stands in
the doorway of Claire’s apartment. “Tempest had a tough time,
I know that. And some of that was my fault – you won’t catch
me trying to say it wasn’t. There was a man, a boyfriend of
mine, and he roughed me up some – roughed me up real good, I
hate to say. And he laid his hands on my little girl, too. If
I could go back and change that…”
As
Claire takes in what the other woman is saying, she studies
Yvette. Her jeans are tight and have a sheen to them, but her
long-sleeved, white shirt is buttoned nearly to the top, as if
she’s made a conscious effort to appear trustworthy in spite
of the heat outside. A black-and-white striped wrap covers the
front part of her hair, and two large, silver hoops hang from
her ears. Although their biological children are about the
same age, Yvette looks to be a good decade younger than
Claire.
“Unfortunately,
you can’t change it,” Claire says. “I’m not here to judge.
Everyone has their own struggles, and I’m sorry you had to go
through that.”
“Not
much. That things were difficult at home. That she’d been on and
off the streets for a while before I met her. But the last thing
I want to do is put her in an uncomfortable or vulnerable
position by making a decision on her behalf.”
“She’s
my daughter. Not
yours.” Yvette pauses suddenly and grips the doorframe to
steady herself. “Let’s get that straight right now.”
“I
know that. And if…”
Claire
trails off as she watches Yvette’s eyes roll back in her head.
“Are
you okay?” she asks. “Come here—”
She
reaches out for the other woman, and she barely gets a hand on
her forearm before Yvette wobbles and then collapses. Claire
lunges to keep her from hitting the floor, but Yvette’s body
is like a sack of potatoes in her arms, and they both sink
down as Claire watches Yvette’s eyes flutters closed, open,
and then closed again.
END
OF EPISODE 831
Is
something actually wrong with Yvette?
What
is Travis’s big idea?
Will
Natalie’s labor go all right?
Discuss
it all in the Footprints
Forum!
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