“Come here.” Beth’s voice had elevated itself to that silly, high-pitch especially suited for cute animals. She slapped her thighs. “Bring me the toy. Bring it, bring it.”
The dog lifted the bone in his mouth and carried it back to them. Beth clapped and rubbed his head as a reward.
Immediately Emma tossed the toy, knocking it against an empty fish tank.
“Careful,” Beth reminded her. The last thing she needed was to be forced to buy something that Emma broke.
The dog returned and Emma threw the bone again. Toss, return, toss, and return. Emma never seemed to grow tired of the game.
Being an only child could be lonely, Beth knew from experience. The girl needed a playmate. If not a dog, a cousin maybe. A smile crept across Beth’s face. Perhaps this would be a new tactic to try to light a fire under Drew. Having a baby would be good for Emma.
Beth glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes had sailed by. “Time to go.”
Emma shook her head. “I don’t wanna go.” She grinned as the dog licked her face.
Making her way to her feet, Beth signaled to the lab-coated employee. “Can you put the dog back now?” She reached for Emma’s hand. The toddler became dead weight, refusing to stand. “Emma, now, please get up. We have to go see how pretty you look in those pictures. I’ll need your help picking which ones to order.”
“No!”
Releasing her grip on Emma, Beth picked up the puppy and handed it to the salesgirl. Emma fell onto her belly, kicking her feet and pounding her fists. Her cries sounded more like screams. Wails that could probably be heard out on the sidewalk. Shrieks that embarrassed the hell out of Beth. She looked around to see how many people were watching—to see how many would know what a terrible guardian she was. Fortunately, only the salesgirl and one other family were there. But of course they all stared.
Beth grabbed Emma’s elbow and tugged. No luck. Beth crouched down and whispered. “Let’s go home and tell Uncle Drew about the puppy.” Oh, she was desperate. “Maybe Santa will bring him to you for Christmas.”
Emma turned up the volume on her protests. “No!”
Beth grappled for the phone inside her purse. “Here, Emma. You can take a picture of the puppy with my cellphone. Then Uncle Drew will understand how cute he is.”
“Don’t wanna!” Emma could give a hurricane a run for its money.
Beth knew her cheeks must be crimson by now. How could a little kid go on and on for so long? Shouldn’t she run out of breath by now? Beth had no idea what to do—she wasn’t prepared for this. Wasn’t ready. She hadn’t had a chance to read all those parenting books and blogs. She hadn’t had a chance to prepare for motherhood…wait, that wasn’t true. She’d had a chance sixteen years ago and she’d given it away. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Please get up. Please. You’re embarrassing me. I’ll do anything if you’ll just be quiet.”
Emma swallowed her tears. “Get me doggie!”
Beth took a deep breath, frustrated that she’d been blackmailed by a three-year-old. She stood and walked toward the teenaged employee. “Do you have anything a little less involved? We can’t get a dog. We’re in the middle of remodeling a house, our yard isn’t fenced in, and we both work.”
The girl nodded her head, her eyes still wide from Emma’s hysterics. “We have hamsters and gerbils.”
That was more like it. Something furry in a cage. Something that wouldn’t chew on her shoes and pee on their floor. “Emma, come here. See what they have back there.” Beth waved her arms in a giant swoop.
At first the little girl paused. Then she stood and stomped toward them. The teenager pulled what looked like a furry mouse out of a cage and let Emma pet it. Emma shook her head. “I want a dog.” She crossed her arms and turned away.
The clerk exchanged an apologetic look with Beth.
Emma walked up to a plastic container with a labyrinth dug into sand. Her tiny fingers traced the tunnels. “Cool!”
Beth stiffened. It was an ant farm.
Emma stared at the crawling ants the same way she stared at Dora the Explorer. “Can I have this?”
“Those are bugs. You can go outside and look in the dirt if you want to see ants.”
“Pleeeeease!”
At least it was lower maintenance than a dog. Beth asked the clerk about what they ate and was assured they were the “easiest pet ever.” Spotting the grin on Emma’s face, Beth realized she was holding her breath, dreading another tantrum. “I guess. As long as you promise not to let them out.” As soon as she could swipe her Visa, they were out of there—ant farm and sugar water all in tow.
Thank God that was over.
CHAPTER SIX
The lie had slid far too easily from Beth’s lips. Sarah has the flu, her husband’s out town on business, and she needs help with the kids. She has four, you know. Don’t wait for me to eat dinner.
She hated to lie to Drew, but it was the only way. Taking a day off of work rubbed her wrong, too. The morals and work ethic she prided herself upon seemed to be crumbling. Her insides twisted with guilt.
Even though she wore a navy cardigan and jeans, Sarah shivered beside her in the church basement. She opened a large cardboard box in the corner. “Did you have a rough night?”
Beth randomly selected a stack of boxes nearby. “I guess so. Why?”
“Your clothes look like you slept in them.”
Glancing down at her wrinkled, long-sleeved T-shirt, Beth gritted her teeth. “That’s Drew’s fault. When he does the laundry, he leaves it in the dryer and lets the clothes get all wrinkled. It drives me nuts.”
“That would bug me, too.”
“And it’s far from his only offense. He doesn’t seem to notice when the dishwasher is full and ready to be run. There weren’t any clean bowls for breakfast this morning.”
As she thumbed through the files, Sarah nodded. “You sound like an old married couple.”
Beth flinched. “An old married couple without any of the benefits.”
“Do you think you two will ever make it official?”
Beth paused, a manila folder clutched in her hand. Should she admit that she almost proposed? Slowly, she slid the folder back in place. The files, singed and water damaged, weren’t in any obvious order, but Beth wouldn’t be the one to shift them around. She’d leave them the way she found them—not alphabetized and randomly dumped in boxes. The foul smell of smoke and mildew wafted from them. “I’d like to marry Drew, but he seems content living together. He’s probably gun shy from his first marriage. I guess she loved living on the east coast and when Drew said he wanted to move back to Indiana, she filed for divorce.”
Sarah set a stack of papers off to the side. “That’s terrible. Doesn’t he want to settle down and have kids someday?”
“He said he did before I moved in. Then Emma came to live with us a couple months ago and he suddenly became obsessed with fixing up the house.”
“Sounds like he has the nesting instinct. That’s a good sign. I remember as soon as we found out I was pregnant, my hubby baby-proofed the entire place.”
They could be here awhile and Beth’s feet were already starting to ache, so she placed her hooded sweatshirt on the cement floor, moved the box she was searching to the open space next to it, and sat down. “I like fixing up the Victorian house, but I’m getting tired. There’s so much to do, it feels like we’ll never finish.” Not to mention that the house technically belonged to him. If it wasn’t eventually going to be hers, too, then why invest any more of her own time and money? “The longer I live with him, the less magical everything seems. I used to think he was better than Ben & Jerry’s, but now...”
Sarah waved away her concern. “That’s how it is when you’re married, too. My hubby used to bring me flowers. Now, he just tracks the flowerbed dirt in the house.” She chuckled in a way that made it obvious she was still very much in love.
“The other day, Drew brought home a meat-lovers pizza so he could eat wh
ile scraping paint off the baseboards. How thoughtless is that when I’m on a diet?”
“You look great, by the way. How much have you lost?”
Beth’s cheeks warmed. She considered rounding up, but instead she shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“How’d you do it?”
“Oh, you know. I stopped eating everything that tastes good.” She laughed. “Eat less, move more. It’s not rocket science. It’s just miserable.” God, what she wouldn’t give for a pint of Chubby Hubby ice cream.
Sarah offered her a sympathetic laugh. “With four kids, I feel like I’m always on the move, but I don’t know that I’ll ever lose the baby weight.” She patted her soft belly.
Beth closed up the box she’d been inspecting and set it aside. She glanced at Sarah. “You look fine. Being a full-time mom agrees with you.”
“Thanks.”
“So do you keep lists in your head of everything that your husband does wrong?”
Sarah burst out with laughter. “Not exactly. I try to put a positive spin on things. Like if he forgets to put a new liner in the trash can, I think that it was so nice of him to take out the trash in the first place.”
Beth rolled her eyes. She should’ve known better than to talk about this with Sarah Homemaker. She was like a cheerleader for everything domestic. If asked, she’d probably confess she loved cleaning the hair out of the shower drain.
Unable to tolerate any more from the happily married mom, Beth let the conversation die. She couldn’t help wondering if her relationship with Drew would continue to go downhill. Obviously, playing house had been a mistake. Would getting married really change anything?
Sarah reached for her quilted purse. “I have to show you this. I started making podcasts.” Pulling out her phone, she tapped the screen and in seconds, a podcast geared toward stay-at-home-moms filled the room. Four children began to sing “The More we Get Together” in perfect harmony while using their hands to do sign language.
Beth’s gaze bounced from the screen to Sarah’s face. “Are those your kids?” They had grown so much that she barely recognized them. They’d transformed from babies into miniature people in a few short years.
Sarah nodded.
“Wow. They have your eyes.” Almond-shaped and kind.
After a few songs, the children transitioned to crafts. Beth watched as the kids picked lavender from their backyard then the older ones made it into soap. The youngest sat on the floor breaking the stems into tiny pieces.
“The bits of lavender make an excellent exfoliant,” Sarah explained. “My hubby likes to use it after he’s been working on the car.” She handed the phone to Beth and turned her attention back on the boxes.
“Your kids are adorable.”
“Thanks.”
As she watched tips on creative yet healthy lunches, DIY décor, and kids’ crafts, Beth kept thinking she just wanted to watch one more minute. Someday she hoped she’d spend her days making things out of dried flowers and play-doh, too.
Beth jumped when Sarah gasped. Glancing at her watch, she saw that over an hour had passed. She’d been so engrossed in the podcast, she’d lost track of time.
“Beth!” The excitement in Sarah’s voice was obvious. “I think…I think this is it.” She pulled out a folder labeled “Taylor” and flipped it open.
Beth turned off the podcast and set it on the floor. Leaning over Sarah’s shoulder, Beth scanned the paperwork. Alvin and Patricia Taylor adopted Marsha Braya Sims on January 8, 1990. Beth shook her head. “That’s not it. It’s the wrong Taylors.”
“Sorry.”
Beth rooted through the same box as Sarah. If there was one Taylor, maybe there would be another. She did find some more Taylors, but none of them were optometrists and none of them the right year.
Once they’d checked every name in that box, they pushed it aside. Each of them worked separately again, chatting about milestones that Sarah’s kids were passing—learning to ride bikes without training wheels, getting braces and first crushes. Having little to contribute on those topics, Beth told about Emma’s new ant farm then shifted to her work at the call-in center—the lonely, old woman who called every time after her grandkids visited, the woman who liked to complain about Healthy Habits’ products but always placed another order, the guy who had five pet cats. Beth smiled as she spoke. These customers felt like people she knew—like long-distance relatives she spoke to on the phone but never met in person.
After exhausting their conversation, Sarah and Beth let the quiet of the basement envelope them.
When she found another “Taylor” label, Beth reminded herself not to get her hopes up even as her body pumped blood faster. Seeing the prefix “Dr,” she sucked in her breath. “Oh my God. This could be it.”
Flipping through the file, she saw her baby’s birth certificate from the Bloomington Hospital, legal documents where Beth had signed away her parental rights, and a court date for finalizing the adoption. Beth’s pulse spiked.
Sarah stared. “What does it say?”
Her fingers struggled to function as she turned page after page. Finally, Beth found a hand-written note about the Taylors. “Apparently they moved eight years ago to be closer to his family in Texas.” She chewed her bottom lip. “I wonder why.”
“Once you have a baby, you realize the importance of extended family. Maybe they wanted their child to know her grandparents or to have cousins to play with.”
Something ached inside her chest. Did her baby have cousins? Did she have doting grandparents? She hoped so. “Do you think they’re still there?”
“You don’t know until you try.” Sarah handed Beth her phone again.
This was too fast. Sure, they’d been searching for hours, but that didn’t mean she was ready to talk to these people. These kind-hearted strangers who raised her child for her. At the time, she’d convinced herself she knew them well enough. Now, she scolded herself. She didn’t know them at all—certainly not well enough to give them a call and pick up where they’d left off—and yet she’d given them her baby.
Anxiety unfurled inside of her. Why hadn’t she asked about cousins? How did she not know that his family lived in Texas?
Beth swallowed hard, not taking the phone. “I can’t do it. I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say you thought they should know that the father has a genetic condition.”
“I told them I didn’t know who the father was.”
“What?” Sarah’s jaw hung open.
“It made the whole process easier.”
Sarah leaned back against a dusty desk and rubbed her brow. “I guess if you named the father, Parker would’ve known about the adoption. He’d have needed to sign away his rights.”
Beth squeezed her scalp, trying to quell her nerves. “I didn’t want someone else telling me what I should do. I already felt like I was in a no-win situation.”
“Now what? They need to know the truth.”
“Do you think they’ll hate me?”
Sarah shook her head. “You gave an infertile couple a baby. They won’t hate you.”
“I gave them a baby that might have a terrible disease.”
“You didn’t know. Besides, there are no guarantees with children. Being a parent means taking a chance on the unknown.”
Beth had never been one to take chances. Unlike so many other college students enjoying their newfound freedom, she had never gone bungee jumping or skinny-dipping. If she’d had a term paper due, she’d started it right away. If she had a test, she didn’t wait for the night before to cram. That very need to plan and prepare had been the reason she’d placed her baby for adoption in the first place.
Now her life was orderly, just the way she liked it. She was in her thirties, had a steady, middle-management job and a stable relationship with Drew. Parenthood made sense now.
Funny how becoming a mother scared her sixteen years ago and now it was all she wanted.
“I thought someday I
’d have another baby. I always comforted myself knowing that next time, I’d be ready. . . . I want to feel the baby kicking in my belly, knowing I’m going to keep her, knowing I’m going to see her first steps, hear her first words, comfort her when she cries.” Tears welled up in Beth’s eyes. But she couldn’t move forward and have another child until she took care of the baby she gave away.
Sarah hugged her. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
“What if I gave away the only baby I’ll ever have? I missed everything. She’s sixteen already.”
“You made the choice that worked for you at the time. You didn’t have a job; you didn’t have a house. You weren’t ready to be a mom.” Sarah pulled out of the hug to procure a tissue from her purse and hand it to Beth.
“Now I’m ready and it doesn’t matter.” She wiped at the tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually cry.”
Sarah rubbed Beth’s back with her palm. “Don’t apologize. This is tough. You did a brave thing back then, giving your baby away. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Beth recalled Sarah rubbing her back just like this when she’d suffered through morning sickness. She’d also made numerous trips for 7Up on Beth’s behalf. Sarah had always been there. Always. And she was here now.
“I wasn’t brave at all. I’m still not, but they need to know. Will you call for me?”
Sarah looked her in the eye. “What do you want me to say?”
“Just tell them about the Huntington’s. Tell them to be prepared.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Sarah remained quiet for a bit. “If it makes it easier for you, I’ll call.” She looked in the file folder for the number and dialed.
“Thanks. Sarah, you’re a good friend.” Beth chewed on her lip, waiting.
A minute later Sarah pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up. “No one’s home. I didn’t think this was the kind of thing you wanted me to say to the answering machine.”
“Oh.” Disappointment coursed through her. Dr. and Mrs. Taylor were probably at work and the girl would be in school. Sixteen. Would she be a sophomore or a junior? Summer babies were either the youngest or the oldest in their class. Was she especially bright? Did she have a knack for math the way Beth and Parker did? Beth clenched her eyes shut, trying to stop the barrage of unanswerable questions.
A Weekend Getaway Page 7