CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Ned put his hand on his mother's arm, "You were talking to Grandmother?" he asked quietly, realizing that just because he asked a question didn't mean she'd give him an answer.

"Um, yeah, to uh, to the photo." She turned around, so that she was no longer facing him.

"Just like you did when we thought Grandfather was dead."

"Mmm hmm," she murmured. "Something like that." She turned around and got straight to the point, "How much did you hear?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Ned?" she pleaded.

"All right. Come on. Let's sit down," he escorted his mother to the sofa, and much to his surprise, she didn't fight him.

Tracy folded her hands and placed them on her lap, "So?"

"So?" Ned repeated.

"How. Much. Did. You. Hear? That's why you wanted to sit down, isn't it?"

"Right," Ned nodded. "Um, it's all right to talk to her. You don't have to feel embarrassed."

She squinted, "You're avoiding the question, darling. And who said anything about being embarrassed?"

Ned confessed, "You checked the entrance to the living room more than once."

"You heard everything, didn't you?" she realized.

"Yeah," he told her before changing the subject, "Do you need anything? Maybe a glass of water?"

Tracy reluctantly went along. She didn't want to discuss what was supposed to have been a private conversation. "I'm tired of water, Ned."

"Well, what about a glass of milk? Or juice? I can have Alice steal some fresh orange juice from the kitchen."

She shook her head. "No, but uh, thanks."

Mother and son remained on the sofa, neither of them knowing what to say exactly. "I think you need to try and talk to Grandfather again."

Tracy was hoping to shy away from that subject. "I plan on it," she said anyway.

"Good. I hope he listens."

"Yeah," she laughed. "Me too." She sighed heavily.

"Everything all right? I mean, besides Grandfather…"

"Yeah," she answered, but Ned didn't believe her, and she knew it. "You don't believe your mother, huh?"

Ned just shrugged, and the room became silent.

"You know what? On second thought, orange juice sounds good. Why don't you go get some for me?"

"Sounds like you want to get rid of me."

"Of course not, dear," she fibbed.

Ned tried again, "All right. Then, it sounds like you want me to suffer at the hands of Cook." It was a desperate attempt to get her to smile…and it worked.

Tracy laughed, "I'm sure she's on break."

"Then why don't you go in there?"

"Because I'm pregnant and do not want wished to be harassed," she said matter-of-factly.

"Ah, so you're admitting there's a chance she's not on break and on the look-out."

Tracy laughed again, "We'll go together. How's that?"

Her words surprised him, but he wasn't going to argue. His mother was acting very pleasant, and he chose not spoil it. "Sounds like a plan, but—," and then he did almost spoil it, "as soon at it's done, I'm not giving up."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'd like know what is going on in that complex mind of yours," Ned responded.

"Oh, I'm sure you would—Uh, the orange juice," she reminded him.

"Right."

The two strolled to the kitchen arm-in-arm.

"Ready?" Ned asked.

Tracy nodded.

"I'll look on the count of three. One…Two…Three," he whispered. "All right. She's not here. Let's go," he led the way for his mother. "Maybe there is some left-over juice from this morning in the refrigerator."

"You want me to drink something that's left-over?"

"Would you rather squeeze the oranges yourself?"

"Left-over juice it is," she smiled, as Ned removed the jug from the fridge.

The two of them heard footsteps.

"Let's go," Tracy whispered. "And don't you dare put that back."

"What if she notices it's missing?"

"Don't be so cowardly," she ordered. "Let's go."

Both of them tip-toed out of the kitchen and safely returned to the living room.

"That was close," Ned admitted.

Tracy smiled, "Indeed it was," she paused. "Dare I say it…That was almost kind of fun?"

The two of them chuckled, as Tracy poured herself some juice. She took a big sip. "Mmm," she closed her eyes as she finished it. "Well," she swallowed. "I got what I wanted, so now—"

"Mother, wait. You didn't really want the juice. You were trying to avoid our conversation."

"Now, darling, that's not true," she put on a fake smile.

"Mother, I want to be there. Now something else is bothering you besides this whole debacle with Grandfather. What is it?"

Tracy kept quiet. She could never tell him that Coleman fathered her child. Never. Ned had enough fun finding out she had ended up pregnant at her age. He had ridiculed her, and even if he didn't mean for it to hurt, it did, and she refused to subject herself to that again.

"Nothing," she smiled, heading for the foyer.

"Mother," he persisted.

"Ned, please." Tracy turned around. "You want to know what's bothering me?" She decided to lie. "I'm pregnant. I didn't ask to be. I'll be 60 when the kid's in kindergarten. Over 70 when the kid's in college. And probably dead by the time he or she makes me a grandmother. Happy now?" she spat.

"I, uh," he didn't have the words. "You shouldn't talk like that."

Tracy paused to contemplate what she had just said. Maybe that did bother her after all. She had been so preoccupied with the fact that her husband wasn't the father, that she didn't give anything else much thought…until now. Is it possible that I might not be alive to see my child's children? I mean, goodness, I HATE that Ned made me a grandmother, and I'm going to HATE it if Dillon does the same, but…

"Mother?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"You shouldn't talk like that."

"And you shouldn't repeat yourself," she noted. "Uh, thanks for the juice," she said as she started to exit.

"Where are you headed?"

She just shrugged, and Ned decided against stopping her.

PREVIEW: It's Thanksgiving, and when dinner isn't served at the right time, Edward suspects that something went wrong.