Because of the Rain

by Deborah Raney

  Anna sobbed into the phone, “Oh, Paul, my baby…my poor baby. He doesn’t have a chance. How will he ever overcome everything he’ll be starting out with? How?” Her voice turned angry. “I can’t take this. Not another thing! Do you hear me?” She knew it wasn’t fair to spew her anger on Paul.

  But he let her cry, let her rail and shake her fists. Her keening filled the room, a low wailing sound that frightened her, because she had no control over it.

  Emma put an arm around her and patted her shoulder, and across the miles, her sweet husband murmured words of love.

  Finally, spent, Anna handed the phone to Emma and sank back into the cushions of the sofa, her voice stilled, her eyes burning.

  “I’ll be here, Paul,” Emma reassured him. “I’ll stay here all night if I need to.”

  Anna heard him thank her, heard the anguish in his voice and knew that it was killing him not to be able to take her into his arms and comfort her through this storm.

  For the next hour, Emma sat beside her, held her hand, cried with her. Finally, she found her words. They were rational, reasonable questions, asked of necessity.

  “What does it do to a child, Emma, to grow up with dark skin in a white family? Do you think this child could survive that kind of identity crisis on top of the whole adoption question? Would he ever feel like he belongs anywhere? Would I be deserting him… if I give him up? Am I taking away the only chance he has to truly belong somewhere? I’ve never thought much about racial issues. It’s…it’s ever been directed at me, so I’ve never had to face it.”

  Emma had told Anna once that she had faced more prejudice as a single mother than she had as a black woman. But she’d also confided that Daniel and Tanya had faced opposition when they had first moved into their mostly white neighborhood in New Haven. They were one of only a few black families in the small town, and though they now were accepted and even embraced by the little community, it had taken time. Anna knew, also, that Tanya and Daniel worried that as Justin grew older and entered school, he would invariably face questions and possibly even ostracism for the dark skin that singled him out. It was wrong, terribly wrong, yet it seemed to be a sad truth of human nature.

  How would the Whitemans, Matthew and Jeanine, face the bigotry they were almost sure to come up against simply because their child was of a different race?

  A new thought crossed Anna’s mind: Would Matt and Jeanine still want her baby? She voiced the frightening thought to Emma.

  Emma reached out and turned Anna’s tear-stained face toward her, forcing her to look into her dark, piercing eyes. “Anna,” she said fiercely, “even if the Whitemans do change their mind, somebody will want your baby. Somebody will love him, and care for him, and cry with him, and laugh with him.” She spoke the thought like a poem, and Anna took comfort in the beauty of her friend’s words.

  Chapter 21

  Paul phoned Walter LeMans the following morning. He explained the new development to the attorney, who listened with concern.

  “Do you have any opinions on what would be best for a child of mixed race?” Paul asked the lawyer. “We want what is best for the baby, but I admit this has thrown us for a loop.”

  “I can certainly understand why,” LeMans said.

  Paul sighed. “Anna already worries that the child might suffer because of his background—being a child of rape, being adopted. Anna sees it as her rejection of him. And then add this to the mix and… I wonder if there are any studies that would point us one direction or another. Would it be in the child’s best interest to be raised in a black family? One where he will most likely resemble his adoptive parents? Or does that really matter… ?”

  LeMans rubbed his smooth-shaven chin. “I’m not aware of any studies that offer proof of one line of thinking over another. I do know that there are some in the African-American community who believe strongly that black children should be placed in African-American families. Of course, that isn’t always possible, and personally, I feel there are other factors that are more important than the race issue. Surely the stability of the marriage, and the love and commitment a family can offer a child make a greater difference than the racial issue.” His tone became thoughtful. “I wish I could offer you a more definitive answer, Paul, but I don’t have one. I guess the first thing we need to do is visit with the Whitemans and see how they feel about it. I’m sorry this has been so difficult, and I certainly understand your concerns. I’ll do some checking and see if I can find some information that will be helpful.”

  “Thank you. I’ll hop online and do my own research tonight, too.”

  LeMans assured Paul that he would inform the Whitemans and secure a definite answer from them by the end of the week.

  When Paul got home from work later that night, the message light was flashing on the answering machine. He pushed the playback button.

  Walter LeMans’ rich voice filled the room. “Paul, it’s five-thirty, Wednesday afternoon. I was hoping to catch you at home. I’ve spoken with the Whitemans, and they would like to meet with you as soon as possible. I would appreciate it if you could give me a call at your earliest convenience. Feel free to call me at home.” The attorney went on to leave his home number and ended the message with, “Please call me as soon as possible.” Paul detected a note of urgency in his voice.

  He checked his watch and dialed the number.

  “Thank you for getting back to me so quickly,” LeMans said when he came on the line. “I’m afraid I have some disturbing news.”

  Paul waited in silence for the inevitable announcement.

  “The Whitemans want to explain their reasons to you in person, but the long and short of it is they do not feel they can take the baby under the present circumstances.”

  Paul shook his head. “I was afraid that might happen.” He sighed deeply. “I’m not sure Anna can take another blow like this.”

  “I understand. I’m so sorry, Paul, but under the circumstances, I think the Whitemans made the right decision. They’ll explain everything when we get together. Will you be coming to Indiana this weekend?”

  “Yes. In fact, I’m coming down Friday to stay until the baby is born. But I have to wrap things up at the agency here before I leave, so it will be impossible for me to get there before late Friday afternoon. Would a four o’clock Friday appointment work for you and the Whitemans?”

  “I’ll make it work. We should also probably go over some more resumés while we’re together. I know Anna is very near delivery, and I would hate for the baby to have to go into foster care before we can arrange an adoption.”

  Paul hadn’t thought of that. But agreed with him. He hung up the phone, a myriad of questions churning in his mind. He knew Anna must be having the same questions. It was too late to call her now, as she’d been going to bed earlier in this last month of her pregnancy. He wondered how she was taking things.

  Still, he trusted Emma to say the right words. Anna was in good hands with her, but he also knew that her emotions were frayed beyond the breaking point. And the baby was due in less than two weeks.

  It was a solemn group that sat around Walter LeMans’ desk Friday afternoon. Jeanine Whiteman’s red eyes looked like Anna was sure her own did. How many tears had been shed over this child?

  Paul looked utterly exhausted, and Matthew Whiteman’s expression mirrored Paul’s. She worried about her husband and all he’d had to bear up under these last nine months.

  After a rather formal statement of the reason for the meeting, Walter LeMans turned to the Whitemans. “I appreciate your willingness to speak with the Marquettes in person. I know this is difficult for you, and I’m sure they appreciate that as well.” He nodded in Matthew’s direction.

  Looking nervous and unsure of himself, the young man cleared his throat. Beside him, Jeanine dabbed at her eyes and pressed her lips tightly together.

  “We are very sorry,” Matt began. “There is nothing we would like more than to take your baby and raise him and love
him. But…well, if there is any chance that this baby would be of another race…or biracial…my father would never accept a child like that…a child that was not white.” He hung his head, shame apparent in his countenance. With obvious effort he continued. “That was one reason we didn’t want to tell anyone about how the baby was conceived. My father…he—I love my father,” Matt finally blurted, “but he is a very opinionated, prejudiced man, and it wouldn’t be fair to put a child through the kind of rejection I fear my father is capable of. We…we would have loved your baby with all our hearts.” He broke down then, and his wife reached for his hand as he slumped into the chair and buried his head in his hands.

  Paul put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for you, Matthew, I truly am. We felt very positive about giving the baby to you and Jeanine. But I believe you have done the right thing. You’ve done what’s best for this baby. We’ll pray that the Lord will bless you with another chance to be parents.”

  Anna wanted to add her own approval to what Paul had told them. She believed they truly did have the child’s best interests at heart, and she admired their courage in letting their dream go, in making this sacrifice for a child they already loved as their own. She could imagine how devastated Jeanine must be feeling now, how tempted she must be to feel hatred toward her father-in-law.

  But as much as she wanted to be able to give the Whitemans some expression of comfort, she could not form the words. With great effort she forced a wan smile and nodded in their direction, but already her mind was racing. What will we do? Where do we turn now that this has fallen through?

  Matthew and Jeanine rose and left the room, heads down. Walter LeMans shook Paul’s hand and again offered apologies. Anna watched all this through a haze as she and Paul stood and walked toward the door. She had never felt so near despair. She simply could not think clearheadedly anymore.

  One of the mild Braxton Hicks contractions she’d been feeling off and on for the past week began its slow ascent.

  “You okay, babe?” Paul’s forehead furrowed.

  She closed her eyes and bit her lip, leaning heavily against him. After a minute the pain crested and abated. “I’m fine.”

  They walked down the empty hallway and through the wide doors that opened onto the parking lot. Paul made polite conversation with the lawyer, who had walked them to the door. Anna was silent, unable even to find simple words of farewell.

  They drove back to the apartment in silence. Paul helped Anna change clothes and tucked her into bed as though she were a small child. Then he went back to the car to carry in two-weeks’ worth of luggage.

  Anna was asleep by the time he finished unloading the car, and he plopped down, fully clothed, on top of the blankets beside her, too exhausted to unpack his bags. He clasped his hands behind his head and stared, unseeing, at the ceiling.

  He must have drifted off because when he opened his eyes next, morning sunlight was streaming through the windows. He’d slept through the night, too exhausted to unpack his bags, or do more than slip his shoes off before lying beside Anna. He eased his legs over the side of the bed and headed for the shower.

  Anna was stirring when he emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Once I finally settled down.” She stretched and yawned. “You?”

  “I must have. I slept in my clothes.”

  “I saw that. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  He leaned over the bed and kissed her. “Sleep in if you want. I’ll go put the coffee on.”

  “No, I’m awake.”

  Paul fixed them a light breakfast of toast, orange juice, and coffee, and they sat companionably in the kitchen, voicing only mundane comments about the food and the weather.

  Pouring Anna a forbidden second cup of caffeinated coffee, Paul took a deep breath. “Honey, I think we should go over the other resumés as soon as you feel up to it. LeMans mentioned that if we haven’t found a home for the baby by the time it’s born, the child would likely go into temporary foster care. I’m sure you’d rather that not be the case…” He let his voice trail off, waiting for her reaction.

  “Paul.” Anna looked him directly in the eye, and he knew by the set of her jaw and the look in her eyes that what she was about to say had been mulled over through the night and was now spoken with conviction. “I think we should keep this baby…and raise him ourselves.”

  Paul was stunned. And almost ashamed to admit how relieved he’d been when Anna had told him early in her pregnancy that she wanted to give the baby up for adoption. While he felt it was the best answer for the baby’s sake, he admitted with no small measure of guilt that his reasons were less than altruistic. Aside from the selfishness of wanting Anna to himself in their later years, of wanting to be free to travel and free to come and go as they pleased, free even from the financial responsibilities of another child—aside from all that, it terrified him to think of setting out anew on the journey of parenthood at the age of forty-eight. He was healthy and active now—felt no different than he had at thirty-eight. But how many sixty-five-year-old men were capable of supporting a child to adulthood—financially or emotionally? He could scarcely imagine having a toddler in the house again. Would he even live long enough to see this child grow up?

  As these thoughts raced through his mind, Anna stared into the distance, as she spoke. “It is my baby, and it seems that I’m the only one who can protect him. The only one who really loves him. If I let him go, he won’t belong to anyone. Shouldn’t he have at least one person in this world…one person in his life to whom he truly belongs?”

  She looked at Paul with pleading in her eyes, in her voice. “Don’t we all deserve to belong somewhere? I can’t just desert my baby now. What happened wasn’t his fault. He shouldn’t have to suffer—but he will anyway. He will, and I… I want to be the one to dry his tears and…and tell him how much God loves him…how much I love him…” She started to cry.

  Paul pushed back his chair and went around the table to her. Helping her from her chair, he put his arms around her, hugging her from behind. They stood that way for a long time, her swollen belly making their embrace awkward and probably uncomfortable for Anna.

  He didn’t know what to say or how to respond. He’d promised Anna on a long-ago night that he would raise this child and love it as his own, if that was what she wanted. Could he make that promise all over again and mean it?

  He searched his heart now. What had changed? Was he hesitating now because the baby was biracial? Was there racism in him that he wasn’t even aware of?

  He searched his heart. And concluded that no, he was not a prejudiced man. Had Anna reckoned, though, that the disclosure of the baby’s paternity would make it impossible for Paul to pass himself off as the child’s father? Not just to the child, but to anyone else. What would damage the child more—a haunting secret about his past, hinted at with every curious stranger’s glance? Or the devastating truth that the father whose genes he carried was a criminal, that his conception had been a tragic event that had physically brutalized and emotionally traumatized his mother?

  And too, there were immediate concerns. Anna had been virtually in hiding for nearly three months. If they were to decide to keep this child, they would have to reveal the truth to their extended families, to their church, to the people he worked with, and to Anna’s friends at school. The intimate private details of their tragedy would become public knowledge.

  It would be extremely difficult. He wasn’t sure Anna had thought about all these things.

  Then there was Kara. He feared a sudden life-altering decision like this would be another blow to Kara’s relationship with her mother.

  All these things tumbled through his mind, troubling him greatly. But he said nothing. There were no easy answers. And Anna was exhausted.

  Finally, as he had said many months before this nightmare began, Paul repeated, “We’ll do what’s right, Anna. I don’t know what else to say right now.
We’ll do what’s right.”

  At five o’clock in the morning on December 11, Anna woke with a start. The apartment was quiet, and Paul snored softly beside her in the bed. He’d been here for ten days now, waiting with her and seeking answers to the impasse they found themselves up against. Despite the dilemma they wrestled with, despite the unsettled decisions, in many ways Anna felt like she was home. Having Paul in her bed again, at her side every day, and knowing that when he went home this time she would go with him was a comfort beyond words.

  She placed her hand gently on his back now, absorbing the warmth of his skin, the rhythms of his breathing. Not sure what had awakened her so abruptly, she sat up and eased her legs over the side of the bed. She stretched to work the stiffness out of her joints and padded barefoot into the living room. Nothing seemed amiss, but now she was fully awake. She made a trip to the bathroom and, not wanting to wake Paul, came back out to the living room and stretched out on the sofa.

  She hadn’t been there ten minutes when she was gripped by a strong contraction. The Braxton Hicks contractions, normal during late pregnancy, had come and gone with some regularity in the past few weeks, but there was no mistaking this crescendo of pain. As the minutes passed, Anna grew certain she was in labor.

  Though she’d waited through the interminable weeks and months that’d led to this day, though she’d longed to have this day over with, she suddenly could hardly fathom that it had at last arrived.

  She held out a hand and realized she was trembling. Fear rose in her throat for the pain and hard work of labor that lay ahead of her, for the encounter that would bring her face-to-face with the baby—her baby—whom she had grown to love fiercely.

  Whispering a prayer, she padded into the bedroom to awaken Paul.

  “Push, Anna, push.” The doctor’s voice seemed inordinately loud in Anna’s ears. For nearly twelve hours she had labored to bring forth a baby who seemed reluctant to make an entrance into the world. Though the pain was not yet excruciating, her exhaustion was. She wasn’t sure she could push even one more time.