“I need to talk to you about something,” Grace replied, trying to slow her pulse, which was banging so loudly in her ears that she could hardly hear her own voice.
“Then get in the car, in the back,” he hissed, worried that if anyone saw them talking, they would easily put the pieces together, and the entire school would be calling him Daddy before first lunch block.
When Grace slid into the back seat, the smell brought everything back, crashing down on her like a tsunami, and she stifled a scream. Turning around, Nick asked, “What the fuck’s the matter with you?”
“The smell of your car, it’s making me sick.” Gagging, hardly able to talk through her panic attack, Grace breathed through her mouth so she wouldn’t have to smell it.
“Nice.” If she threw up on the leather, he’d kill her.
Not that she owed him an explanation, but she wanted so much for him to understand how she felt, to exhibit even the slightest bit of interest in her. “Your car smells the same as it did the night we ….”
“You still need money?” he interrupted, eager to get this conversation over with. “You didn’t listen to me before, so what do you want now?” Nick wished she would just handle this on her own and leave him out of it.
“No, I don’t need your money.” Although she didn’t care about him as a person anymore, he still had the power to disappoint her. Grace was still hoping to hear some compassion, regret even, for what had happened between them. Not expecting actual empathy, or even an apology, she just wanted him to prove that he was at least human, if not for her sake, then for the sake of the baby, who would be inheriting not only his cheekbones, but possibly his cold, dead heart. She trembled involuntarily.
“So what do you want from me? Jennifer says you’re giving it away. You should have just gotten rid of it, but I guess this is better than keeping it.” Sometimes Nick had nightmares that Grace decided to keep the baby and he was working at a gas station to make money to buy diapers, because his parents had kicked him out and he’d had to turn down the college scholarships so he could support his accidental family. He would wake up in a sweat to the sound of a baby screaming, but it was his own cries that had woken him.
“That’s kind of what this is about. In order to give the baby up for adoption, we both have to sign away our parental rights,” Grace said, trying to maintain a neutral tone.
She couldn’t shame him into being a good person, and she needed to stay calm if she was going to get through this conversation without losing it. Trying to assure herself that his stony indifference to the baby, to her, was a product of some failure on his part, not her own inadequacy, she waited for the next selfish, childish rant to spill from his perfect lips.
“Why do I need to do that if no one even knows I’m the father? I’m not signing my name anywhere. If I admit to being the father, then I could be on the hook. I could lose everything.” I, I, I … even Nick heard what a self-absorbed asshole he sounded like, but that didn’t change how he felt. There was no way he was going to throw himself under the bus now, when Michigan had pretty much promised a full scholarship, preferential athlete housing, the whole works.
“The woman at the adoption agency said no one would ever see the document you sign. It’s just legal stuff. Otherwise she won’t help me, won’t help us with our problem, and then we might have to keep the baby.” Nick needed to be reminded that though he had remained anonymous so far, she could throw him to the wolves at any time. It was only because Grace had mercifully spared him that his future wasn’t in ruins. A single telephone call to his parents could change everything. “Besides, even if you never sign anything, never admit to anything, a simple DNA test will accomplish the same thing.”
That did it. The blood drained from Nick’s face as he realized Grace wasn’t quite the simp he’d taken her for. She knew how to play hardball, and she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. He decided he’d better watch his tongue. “Why can’t you just go to another agency? You can just say you don’t know who the father was, that it was a one-night stand and you never knew his name.”
“All the agencies I spoke to require both parents to sign off. Maybe some less reputable ones don’t care, but I want our baby placed with the best family, and this is the agency I want to use.”
Grace hadn’t looked at any other adoption agencies, so she didn’t actually know if what she said about the rules was true, but there was no way she was going to tell anyone that she’d had anonymous sex with some stranger just to protect Nick. Up until this moment, Grace had let him have his way, given him the gift of anonymity, but now she was drawing the line. This wasn’t about him and it wasn’t about her — this was about the poor, innocent life they had so stupidly and cavalierly created together, and they both owed it to this child to redirect its life from its inauspicious beginning.
“Fine.” Smart enough to know when he was beaten, Nick turned around and stared out the windshield. “So where’s this piece of paper?”
“You have to come to the agency, because your signature has to be witnessed by a notary public.” Grace handed him one of Mrs. Olson’s business cards. “Here’s the address. You need to be there tomorrow afternoon at four.”
“Okay. That’s all I have to do?” In the back of his mind, he wondered if this was a setup, whether Grace’s dad would jump out from behind the door, flanked by her mom and the pastor of their church, ready to make Grace an honest woman and wreck his life.
As if she had read his mind, Grace said, “Don’t worry, it’s not a trap. After you sign, we’re done. I never want to speak to you again.”
If only she’d had a crystal ball back in July, had been able to see that Nick’s beauty was barely skin deep and that sex didn’t necessarily have anything to do with real love. As she got out of the car, Grace turned once more to look into those eyes that had wielded such power over her a few months earlier. Now they were just eyes.
At 4:15 the next day, Janet turned to Grace and said, “Do you think he lied to you, that he won’t show up?”
“He’ll be here. He knows I mean business. I kind of told him that if he didn’t sign it, no adoption agency would help us and we would have to keep the baby,” Grace answered.
“Brilliant. Veiled threats. Actual threats. Whatever it takes to get the job done.” When they first met, Janet had worried that Grace was so fragile she might fall apart under the stress of pregnancy and the adoption process, but she could see that under the delicate, uncertain façade, Grace was tough as nails.
As if on cue, the door to Janet’s office suite opened and Nick strolled in, his posture belying his discomfiture at being so deep in enemy territory. Glancing around quickly, even checking behind the door, he was relieved to see that Mr. Warren and Reverend Halvert were not present, wedding rings and Bible in hand. Maybe Grace wasn’t trying to ambush him after all. Janet stood and walked towards him slowly, hand out, as if approaching a wild animal. No wonder Grace’s common sense went out the window, she thought. Embarrassed that she could be so physically attracted to someone who could easily be her son, Janet hoped that the heat she was feeling wasn’t evident in her cheeks. Even though she knew what a lowlife he was, she couldn’t control the visceral response to his broad shoulders and sculpted features. Janet’s heart broke for poor Grace — she’d never stood a chance. But one thing was certain: it was going to be a beautiful baby.
“You must be Nick. I’m Janet Olson.” She couldn’t say it was a pleasure to meet him or that she’d heard a lot about him. Either one would be inappropriate, and she didn’t want to rile this kid up. From what Grace had told her, he was a loose cannon, and now that he was here, she didn’t want to risk him bolting.
“Hi.”
For the first time in his life, Nick was standing in front of an attractive woman and had nothing to say. He had a little thing for cougars, though he hadn’t yet nailed one. According to a couple of guys on the lacrosse team, it was a good time: they tried really hard, were incredibly gratefu
l, and even paid for dinner. But this particular cougar was all business. Usually women of all ages gave him an appreciative once-over, but Mrs. Olson never looked away from his face. He realized Grace must have told her everything, and his natural urge to charm would be a total waste of time. He just needed to sign the paper and get the hell out of there.
“Let’s get this taken care of, shall we?”
As much as she wanted to launch into a tirade about sexual responsibility and respect, Janet held her tongue. She understood that as much as this boy deserved a dressing down, he would merely be a stand-in for the now-middle-aged man who had violated both her body and her trust in the back bedroom of a frat house. Years of therapy had taught her that nothing she could do could erase the past, and blaming others for one’s own situation only delayed one’s recovery. This kid would get his. The next girl he knocked up might not be as civilized as Grace, or maybe he would catch a nasty STD that would permanently take the lead out of his pencil. One could only hope.
“Yeah,” he said softly. Grace was sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Janet’s desk. Nick nodded at her but said nothing.
“Okay, have a seat. Nick, when you sign these documents you are giving up your parental rights to this child. That’s forever. Under no circumstances can you reassert your rights. This piece of paper effectively trumps your biological connection. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Nick said with a little smile.
“Fine,” Janet said, handing him a piece of paper. “Read this over. Take your time. If you have any questions at all, now is the time to ask.”
After a couple of minutes, Janet spoke. “I’ll assume your silence means you fully comprehend what you’ve read. Please sign and date the document.” It was such an emotional moment, but it was important to remain businesslike, at least until the paper was signed and she had put her notary stamp at the bottom.
Nick scribbled his name casually and sat back. His nightmare was over. One stroke of a pen and he’d gotten his life back. He paused, certain that anything so easy had to have a catch. “Is that it?”
“You’re all done,” Janet said, wanting to add, until you knock up the next one, you self-centered putz. “Grace will sign after the baby is born, and that’s it.” Although she had hoped this scare would change Nick’s attitude toward sex and girls, make him understand that sex was more than just a carnival ride, the vacant look in his eyes and the way he slouched in his chair told Janet that this kid was still thinking with his penis, and nothing she could say was going to change that.
“Okay, see you later,” Nick said to the room, barely able to keep the smile off his face. “By the way, do you know what time is it?”
“It’s five to five,” Grace offered, realizing as she said it that those were probably the last words she and Nick would ever exchange. They had made love — well, they had had sex — made a child, and now their last conversation was about the time. It had truly ended with a whimper.
“Thanks,” he said as he opened the door to leave.
He was late to meet Amy, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Their late summer thing had continued into the fall. She was the best fuck he’d ever had, and she had this little stick implanted in her arm that meant there was no way she could get pregnant. Sometimes he didn’t even wear a condom, even though he knew she was probably screwing other guys, which he knew was stupid on his part, but doing it bareback was amazing. Willing to try any freaky thing he suggested, Amy was like a female version of himself, and he was under her spell. Instead of waiting for the elevator, he ran down the stairs.
CHAPTER 13
Dear Baby,
Happy Thanksgiving! You’re twenty weeks old. The doctor says you’re six inches long, and you can hear things. So now you know what my voice sounds like and that I listen to the Beatles in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep, which happens a lot. I can feel you wiggling around inside of me. It’s not time for you to come out, so just relax. The doctor told me that you’re a girl, and I cried. Not because I was sad, but because now I know I’m having a daughter.
I know I’m not keeping you, but I need to call you something other than Baby. Can I call you Molly for now? I know that your adoptive parents will give you a name, but for now it’s just you and me. Remember how much I love you and how sorry I am that I did this backwards, but I’m going to make it right. You’re going to have the best mommy and daddy I can find. I promise.
Love,
Grace
When Grace walked into the kitchen on Thanksgiving morning, Vera was rolling out a piece of pastry for a piecrust and Helen was sitting on a stool at the counter polishing the silverware. An assortment of copper pots bubbled away on the oversized range, and the air smelled like cinnamon and coffee and vanilla. As much as she tried to block the thoughts, Grace couldn’t help wondering what her parents were doing. It was nine o’clock, so they were probably already at the soup kitchen, up to their elbows in vats of mashed potatoes and gravy, full of empathy for those less fortunate than themselves. Their ability to sympathize with strangers and not their own daughter made Grace both sad and angry. Maybe if she were living on the street, strung out on heroin instead of pregnancy hormones, they could find it in their hearts to forgive her. No, don’t go there, she warned herself. Determined not to ruin the day, Grace stomped on all her bad thoughts and vowed to live in the moment, to appreciate all the good things she had. It was Thanksgiving, after all.
“Good morning, Vera. It smells amazing in here. Mrs. T., thank you for inviting Jennifer over. She’s going to join us for dessert.”
“I’m so glad. I know this must be a difficult day for you, and having your best friend with you seemed like a good idea.”
Earlier in the week, Helen had ventured across the street to invite Grace’s parents to Thanksgiving dinner. This silent treatment was going on way too long, and it was time for the Warrens to start acting like adults. Thanksgiving seemed like the perfect opportunity to put the past behind and make a fresh start. But although Helen could hear footsteps on the other side of the door, no one answered, and after ten minutes of knocking and doorbell-ringing, she gave up and went home. Grace’s parents had to be crazy — there was no other explanation.
Grace shrugged. “I’m okay. Every day it gets easier being away from them.”
That was a lie, but Grace was committed to making it true because she didn’t have a choice in the matter, and it was a waste of time and energy ruminating over a situation that was out of her control. She had begged, literally on her knees, for their forgiveness, and they had slammed the door in her face. Since that awful day, she had left three notes in their mailbox saying that she loved them and was sorry for what she had done, basically repeating what she had told them that very first night, hoping that the passage of time might have softened their seemingly impenetrable outer shells. But there had been no response, and it looked like the cold war was going to continue through the winter.
“I’m sure that’s not true, darling, but you’ve done your best to mend the rift, and now we simply must wait for your parents to find their way out of the woods. As Dr. Needleman used to tell me every week, the only behavior you can control is your own.”
“I know, but I just wish I could make them understand why I’m doing this. Why don’t they get it? They raised me to think this way, and then they went and changed all the rules.” Grace’s voice cracked and she turned away, swiping at her tears with her sleeve.
Putting down her polishing cloth, Helen came around the kitchen island and put her arms around Grace. “Shhh. They’ll figure it out eventually. Come, sit down and have a little breakfast. Vera and I were about to take a coffee break.”
“Thank you, Mrs. T., for everything,” Grace whispered into Helen’s soft sweater, feeling the stamina of every one of Helen’s eighty years in those narrow but sturdy shoulders.
“It is my privilege, mamala, and my pleasure,” Helen whispered back.
“Good morni
ng. Happy Turkey Day, ladies. Did I miss the group hug?” Charlie put his arms around Helen and Grace and kissed each of them. The feel of his hand on Grace’s back and the smell of his soap made her pulse speed up just a little bit. It frightened her.
“Good morning, darling. Grace and I were just having a moment. Holidays are kind of emotional. Speaking of which, we should call your parents sometime today. What’s the time difference in Moscow? I always forget.”
“It’s eight hours later there. I already Skyped them. They’re doing Thanksgiving at the embassy.”
“That sounds exciting,” Helen said. “I’m afraid I can’t compete with that.”
“Last year, we had Thanksgiving at the embassy in Paris. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. I’m much happier here with you, Aunt Helen. You’re way better than any ambassador.” Charlie was talking to Helen, but he was looking directly at Grace. “I wouldn’t trade my time here for anything.”
Grace blushed, picked up the silver cloth, and started rubbing vigorously at the tines of a serving fork, trying not to look flustered, and failing. Charlie poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from Grace.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” he asked, sounding more parental than he intended.
“Not yet.” Grace blushed again, not sure why such a neutral question would provoke such a response. “I’m going to have some cereal. I’m fine. I just woke up.”
“Sit,” Helen ordered. “Vera and I made a quiche this morning, and we’re all going to have some.”
After breakfast, Helen excused herself. “I think I should give your folks a call myself. Just say hello. We e-mail, but I haven’t spoken to them in a bit, and as long as I’m looking after you, I should probably let them know that you’re thriving under my tutelage.”
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