Firstborn

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Then Trevor had announced to all within hearing that it was just as well Erika got married because her grades had never amounted to much. “Sheer waste of money to send her to college. Not smart enough to make more of herself. Best thing about this day is now she’s somebody else’s headache.”

  Steven remembered her brave expression as Erika had fought to keep smiling through the rest of the reception, not letting down until the newlyweds were finally alone. Then she’d cried.

  “Why can’t I ever please him?” she’d asked between sobs.

  “Forget what he said, Erika. You please me. I know you’re smart, as well as pretty and loving and desirable.” He’d tilted her chin with his index finger, forcing her to meet his gaze, hoping to tease away her tears. “You gotta be smart. You chose me for your husband, right?”

  It had worked, more or less, but he knew the hurt never quite left her.

  “Has the old coot retired yet?” Dallas asked, pulling Steven back to the present.

  “Not yet.”

  Dallas took a swallow of soda. “How old is he, anyway?”

  “Seventy this year.”

  “No way that’s gonna be me. I’m planning for early retirement. Maybe by fifty-five.” His gaze drifted to Paula, who was talking to Ethan’s friends. “Of course, that could change soon. Kids’re expensive.”

  “Kids?” Steven’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is Paula pregnant?”

  His friend was silent for a few moments, then answered, “Not yet, but we’re hoping.”

  Steven wasn’t sure what to say next.

  “We haven’t done anything to prevent it for a long time. Years actually. It didn’t matter at first. We were both building our careers. I figured when the time was right, it would happen, but it never did.” Dallas cleared his throat. “I went for some tests. You know. To see if anything was wrong.”

  Steven kept his eyes on the grill.

  “The doctor says I’m okay.” Dallas cleared his throat a second time. “Now Paula’s going to make an appointment with her gynecologist.”

  At last, Steven glanced toward his friend. “I’ll say a prayer for the both of you.”

  “Sure. No skin off my nose.” Dallas shrugged, then said, “Those burgers look ready. I’ll get the buns.” He tossed his empty soda can into the trash receptacle, then strode toward the kitchen.

  Steven grabbed a platter and began scooping hamburgers onto it. Moments later, he carried it to the picnic table. The rest of the adults joined the teenagers on the patio, and for a while, chaos reigned.

  Erika smiled at her husband as he settled beside her on a lounge chair, balancing a paper plate on his knees. “They’ll all be done eating pretty soon.”

  “Like a swarm of locusts.” He chuckled. “Do you think they tasted anything before they inhaled it?”

  “Maybe a little.” She leaned toward him, whispering, “When do we give Ethan the car?”

  “Just before the other kids leave. Otherwise, it’ll break up the party early. He’ll want to take it for a drive as soon as he gets those keys in his hands.”

  She gazed toward the lawn where the teenagers sat, Ethan in the middle of the group. Her son was a handsome young man, but what mattered to Erika was that he had a good head on his shoulders and a tender heart. He’d given them little trouble in his teen years, unlike the children of some of their friends.

  “Are you fixing to get all sappy on me again?” Steven asked softly.

  “No.” But she was. Her eyes were beginning to mist.

  “Here’s some news that will shock you. Dallas and Paula are trying to have a baby.”

  He was right. That did shock her. Erika turned to look at Steven, blinking to clear her vision. “Really?”

  “Paula didn’t say anything to you?”

  “Not a word.” Erika had a difficult time imagining Paula awake at two in the morning with spit-up on her nightgown. She wasn’t exactly the type to reach for another woman’s infant or exclaim over cute baby clothes in a shop window.

  “I told him I’d pray for them.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  “The usual.” Steven shook his head. “I wish just once he’d listen to what happened to me—to us—when we came to Christ. He’s got to see how different we are now from the way we were before. After ten years, he’s got to know the change is real. We’re way past the religious-fanatics, passing-fad stage.”

  Erika placed her hand on his upper arm. “Don’t lose hope.”

  They were silent for a short while before Steven said, “I’ve always known Dallas would make a great dad.”

  She supposed Dallas would make a good father, but she didn’t want to discuss it with Steven. Some things were better left alone.

  Steven continued, “Dallas said he went to the doctor to make certain he wasn’t the reason Paula hasn’t conceived. I guess he got the all clear. Now it’s Paula’s turn.”

  Erika rose abruptly from the lounge chair. “I need a soda. Want anything?” She walked away before he could answer.

  Dallas didn’t think he’d ever seen his godson dumbstruck. Unlike a lot of boys his age, Ethan had plenty of self-assurance, a quick wit, and a large vocabulary. He always had something to say.

  But when Ethan saw that red-and-white Chevy and his dad dropped the keys into his hand, he stood in the street, staring, mouth agape, while his friends whooped it up behind him.

  Erika gave her son a hug. “Don’t you have anything to say to Dallas and Paula?” she asked, laughter in her voice.

  The boy turned. His mouth worked but no words came out.

  Dallas laughed. “You’re welcome.”

  “But I—”

  “You keep your grades up and get that scholarship to Yale. That’ll be thanks enough.”

  Ethan finally moved. He strode over to Dallas and gave him a tight hug. Then he did the same to Paula, followed by his dad and his mom.

  “Can I take Cammi home in it?” the boy asked of no one in particular.

  “It’s your car, honey,” Erika answered. “You don’t have to drive my minivan again.”

  Ethan turned toward the pretty blonde who was standing close by. “Ready to go?”

  “Sure!” Cammi answered.

  Dallas was amused by how quickly a group of ten friends broke into couples, all of them eager to get away from the watchful eyes of adults. In minutes, they’d gathered their belongings and left in five separate cars.

  “You spoil that boy,” Trevor James told Erika loud enough for the next-door neighbors to hear. “There are plenty of other things you could do with your money than spend it on some blamed car.”

  The light of enjoyment vanished from Erika’s eyes. “It wasn’t our money, Dad.”

  Her father grunted as he turned toward his mother-in-law. “Louisa, get your things. It’s time I took you back to the center.”

  Dallas barely kept from grinding his teeth. He couldn’t stand that man. Never could. Trevor James had made Erika’s youth miserable. For that matter, he’d done his best to make her adult years miserable, too. It was no wonder Erika was so insecure. “Are you going to stand there all day,” Paula asked, intruding upon his thoughts, “or help us clean up?”

  Dallas looked at his wife.

  “I’ll do the dishes,” she said with a smile, “and you can clean the grill.”

  When you and I have kids, they’ll never have to wonder if their dad and mom love them. They’ll know it.

  He put his arm around Paula’s shoulders. “Sure, let’s get it done so everybody’ll go home and we can be alone.”

  November ,1979

  “Your old man’s really something,” Dallas said. “You know that?”

  Erika shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about her dad.

  The waitress arrived just then, setting their two large Cokes on the table before them. “Anything else?” she asked.

  “No, thanks.” Dallas gave her a grin.

  The waitress—a woman old enough to b
e his mother—lit up like a Christmas tree. She looked at Erika and said, “Honey, you better hang on to this one. He’s a tiger.”

  “Hear that, Erika?” Dallas said after the waitress left. “Hang on to me ’cause I’m a tiger.” He tried out his sexy smile on her.

  It didn’t work.

  It wasn’t that Erika didn’t know how handsome Dallas was with his inky black hair, olive complexion, and coppery brown eyes. He could’ve been a model with his looks and build if he’d wanted to, only he was too busy wowing the girls.

  Erika was glad Dallas had never seriously tried turning his immeasurable charm on her. It would have been a waste of time. She was Steven’s girl. Or at least, she thought she was Steven’s girl. It was hard to know for certain, seeing as how she hadn’t heard from him in almost a month.

  Dallas leaned back in the booth. “Man, I gotta tell you. There’s times I wish I was back in high school. It was sure a lot easier. My folks are always asking about my grades and warning me about the evils of booze and pot.” He took a drink of his soda. “College would be a lot more fun if Steve was here.”

  “Have you heard from him lately?” Erika asked, trying her best to sound nonchalant.

  “Nope. Not a word.”

  “Me, either.”

  “I should’ve gone away to school, too. Must be nice for Steve, not having his parents in the same town. He’s probably partying down every night of the week.”

  That’s what Erika was afraid of.

  “Hey, don’t look so heartbroken, kid. It’s not the end of the world.” He leaned forward. “Speaking of parties, Nora and I’ve been invited to a bash next Friday. Why don’t you and a friend come along? You can see what the college scene is like.”

  Erika shook her head.

  “Come on. It might cheer you up. Besides, it’d really blow your old man’s mind. He’s always riding your case. He thinks you’re doing all sorts of stuff anyway. Might as well be hanged for something you did instead of something you didn’t do.”

  There was a weird kind of logic in what he said.

  “You think Steve’s hanging around the dorm every Friday night?” Dallas added.

  That hurt. Erika shifted in her seat. Thoughts of Steven in the arms of some gorgeous coed swam in her mind once more. Suddenly all of her loneliness, all the broken pieces of her heart, made her want to strike back.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go.”

  Five

  Erika lay in bed, enjoying that pleasant place between sleep and wakefulness. Butter-colored sunlight slipped past the mini-blinds and inched across the bedroom ceiling, a reminder that it was time she was up. But it was far too pleasant to lie there, enjoying her husband’s embrace.

  “Are you awake?” Steven whispered, his breath warm on the back of her neck.

  “Mmm.”

  “Want me to make coffee?”

  She let her eyes drift closed. “Would you mind terribly?”

  “No, I don’t mind,” he answered. But he didn’t rise.

  Erika smiled. This was their normal Sunday morning ritual, and she loved it for its familiarity.

  “What’s the time?” Steven asked.

  She glanced at the clock radio. “Almost seven.”

  He groaned. “We’ll never make the adult class if we don’t get a move on.”

  “I know.”

  Still, neither of them moved.

  Steven kissed her nape again. “Great party yesterday.”

  “Ethan loves the car.”

  “He sure does. He’s probably out in the garage, polishing it now.”

  Erika rolled toward Steven. “I doubt it,” she said as their gazes met. “He didn’t get in until midnight.”

  They kissed, sighed in unison, then rolled toward their respective sides of the bed.

  “Go ahead and shower,” Steven said. “I’ll get the coffee started.”

  “Thanks, hon.” Erika pushed her hair away from her face. “I won’t be long.”

  “Leave me a little hot water for a change. Please.”

  His words were also part of their routine, and Erika laughed in response. If Steven hadn’t managed to break her habit of taking long, hot showers after eighteen years of marriage, it wasn’t going to happen.

  By the time Erika got out of the shower stall, the mirror was thoroughly fogged and the air muggy. After drying off, she tuned the radio to her favorite contemporary Christian station and sang along with Ray Boltz.

  “Coffee’s almost ready,” Steven announced as he entered the bathroom. He slid open the shower door. “Is there any hot water left?”

  “Some,” she answered with a laugh before heading for the kitchen.

  Moments later, with a supersized mug of steaming coffee in hand, she padded on bare feet to stand near the kitchen window that faced their backyard.

  Flowers blazed in a variety of colors, shapes, and sizes. Sparkling with morning dew, the recently mowed grass was a deep emerald green, as was the hedge along the back fence. A few weeks ago, Erika had seen a new nest in the upper branches of one of the globe willows. They would soon have baby birds flitting about the yard.

  Oh, how she loved the month of June.

  “Morning, Mom.”

  She turned at the sound of Ethan’s voice.

  Wearing an oversized T-shirt and a pair of baggy black shorts, her son shuffled into the kitchen. His eyes were half closed. His dark hair stuck out in all directions, the cowlick he’d inherited from his mother especially evident at the moment.

  “I didn’t expect you to be up yet.”

  Ethan opened the fridge and lowered his head behind the door. “I promised Cammi I’d pick her up for church.” He reappeared, juice carton in hand. “This afternoon, I figured I’d put a wax on the car. Cammi’s going to help.”

  Erika smiled, thinking Steven hadn’t been wrong about the polishing by more than a few hours. “Seems like Cammi’s over here a lot.”

  “Yeah,” he answered. “I guess so.”

  She wondered if they were getting too close. They were at a dangerous age and much too young to rush a serious relationship. Of course, they weren’t as young as Erika had been when she had fallen in love with Steven.

  Which, she supposed, was precisely the point.

  “Dad said he left something out here for me.” Ethan crossed to the small built-in desk and riffled through the papers beneath the wall phone. “Have you seen it? You know. Registration and stuff.” He held up an oversized envelope. “This it? It’s got your name on it.”

  “No. I completely forgot about that.” She held out her hand to take the envelope. “I think what you’re looking for is in the drawer.”

  While her son continued his search, Erika looked at the return-address label. K. Lundquist. She didn’t know any Lundquists, and she certainly didn’t know anyone in Pennsylvania.

  She set down her coffee mug, then took the scissors from the organizer caddy and cut open one end of the Tyvek envelope. Inside was a single sheet of plain white stationery.

  Dear Mrs. Welby, it began. My name is Kirsten Lundquist. I was born in Boston on August 1, 1980, and I was adopted when I was three days old…

  The room began to swim. Erika grabbed for the back of a kitchen chair.

  …born in Boston on August 1, 1980…

  Her hand missed the chair. Her knees gave way, and she sank to the floor.

  “Mom!”

  She lifted her gaze from the white sheet of paper.

  Ethan was kneeling beside her. Her mouth tasted like metal. A whirring noise hummed in her ears.

  “Mom?”

  …I was adopted when I was three days old…

  Ethan grasped her shoulder. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  Kirsten.

  All these years, in a secret corner of Erika’s heart, she’d wondered, and now she had her answer.

  Her name is Kirsten.

  “Dad, get in here quick!” Ethan shouted. “Something’s wrong with Mom!”

 
Erika pressed the sheet of paper to her chest. “I’m all right,” she whispered. But it was too late. Steven came rushing into the room. “I’m all right,” she said again, louder this time.

  Her husband’s gaze met hers, flicked to the clutched stationery, then came back to her eyes again.

  Erika felt a shiver of dread.

  How could she tell Steven? How, after so much time had passed? She’d stopped fearing this moment a lifetime ago. She’d stopped believing she would have to face it one day. She’d conveniently forgotten that silence could be a lie.

  But now—

  “Erika?” Steven stepped toward her.

  She shook her head.

  He looked at Ethan.

  “I don’t know, Dad. She was reading something, and all of a sudden she collapsed. Sat right down where she is now.”

  Somehow Erika managed to get to her feet. “I’m fine. I… I just need a few minutes alone.” Then without any further explanation, she hurried to the master bathroom and locked herself in.

  Steven didn’t know what he’d read in Erika’s eyes a few moments before, but he knew he didn’t like it. Fear of the unknown twisted his gut as he bent to pick up the envelope. Who was this K. Lundquist? What was in this envelope that caused Erika’s peculiar reaction? Or were the two things even related?

  “Dad?” Ethan questioned.

  Steven shook his head. “I don’t know, Son.”

  “Maybe 1 should call Cammi. I was supposed to drive her to church but—”

  “No. You do as you planned. When your mom’s ready to tell us what’s up, she will.” Was he trying to convince Ethan or himself? “She’ll let us know if she needs us.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  Steven glanced at his son, hoping his expression revealed calm assurance—something he didn’t feel in the least. “I’m sure.” He strode toward the coffeepot, took a mug from the cupboard, and filled it with the dark brew from the carafe.

  The moment he heard Ethan leave the kitchen, he set down the mug, then leaned his hands on the counter-top and closed his eyes.