by Megan Kelly
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
A piercing whistle emitted from his lips, which then formed a grin as she winced. “I can teach you to do that, if you want. Might come in handy in the classroom when the kids get unruly.”
Heads had turned, then ducked again when they didn’t recognize Ginger. One pair of hazel eyes focused on her in disbelief.
“Yo, Matthews,” Dylan called. “Get your butt over here and talk to your lady.”
“Oh, it’s, ah, not like that.” Ginger felt the heat in her face.
Dylan shrugged. “That’s between the two of you. But if you want my advice—”
“She doesn’t,” Scott said as he arrived.
His boss just laughed. “You can take off if you need to, Scott. Otherwise, the break room is empty till people wander in to collect their lunch bags.” He studied Ginger’s face. “Unless you want to use my office? I don’t need to be in there for the next however long.”
She laid her hand on his arm. “Thanks, but no. The break room will be fine.”
Scott’s jaw shifted. Too bad if he didn’t care for her making any arrangements with his boss. He should have come to the party as promised.
Partly for spite and partly because Dylan was so considerate, she stretched up and kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”
“Hey, more than my pleasure. You let me know what else I can do for you. I’m always available for that kind of thank you.” Dylan clapped Scott on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky man. Don’t screw it up.”
They both watched Dylan walk away, Ginger the more amused and entertained of the two. “Which way?”
Scott turned and led her to the break room, the size of her classroom and just as bright and welcoming. Tables and chairs filled most of the middle floor, while sofas, futons, cabinets and refrigerators lined the walls. Several microwaves and even a stove supplied the need for warming food.
“Coffee?” Scott asked, his Southern hospitality fully active despite the displeasure on his face. “There’s always a fresh pot brewing.”
He indicated four industrial-size coffeemakers.
“No, I’m fine.” She frowned at him. “I’m full of candy and cupcakes and punch.”
“Oh, yeah, the party. Did y’all have a good time?”
Ginger set her teeth. “Shelby missed you.”
“She understood I wouldn’t be there.”
She waited.
“I thought it would be better for all three of us not to be in the same room. You and I aren’t dating now, and I didn’t want to send the wrong signals.”
“You and I never dated.”
“True.” He nodded acknowledgment, propping his back against the counter and crossing his arms. “So why are you here?”
“I want to talk. I want to understand.”
“There isn’t anything to understand. You want to adopt. I don’t.”
Ginger took off her coat and tossed it across a chair.
Scott scowled. “Now, don’t do that. There’s no need. You won’t be here that long.”
“Maybe I have some things to say.” She perched her behind on a table three feet away and crossed her arms, mirroring his stance.
“Dylan really needs to start stocking beer in here,” he muttered. “Okay. Shoot.”
Don’t tempt me. “What do you have against adoption?”
“Not a thing.”
That threw her. “Then why won’t you talk about adopting a baby with me?”
His eyebrows rose. “I didn’t realize we’d been talking about adopting a baby together. You just told me your plans. Did I miss a proposal?”
Her teeth clenched even as embarrassment swamped her. He hadn’t proposed. They hadn’t talked about forever. Damn him.
“You said you wanted me. That you were over Samantha.” What else had he said? He’d been implying a future.
“But you’re adopting a baby,” he said. “You want more than me and my girls. I can only offer you the three of us.”
Aha. She knew by the flush of his skin and the tightening of his lips that he hadn’t meant to admit to any offer.
“So I can be part of the family if I don’t adopt?”
“I didn’t say that.” He shot her that annoyed look again as she waited him out. “Okay, I might have hinted at that. But it’s a moot point, right? You want a baby.”
“I do.” And I want you. And the girls. Not that she could say that.
“I’ve done the baby thing. Serena was no piece of cake and I don’t want to go through that again. Been there, changed those diapers.”
He did it again. Talked about Serena as a baby, just as he had once before. “Was Shelby not a difficult baby?”
His mouth opened then closed. Shutting his eyes for a second seemed to help him come to some decision. He blew out a long breath. “Sit down.”
He pulled out a chair for her and sat beside her. “Shelby isn’t mine. Biologically, anyway. But she is my daughter.”
Ginger lost the ability to speak, picturing the girl’s almost black hair, the color of rich coffee. “She’s adopted?”
He shook his head. “She’s Samantha’s. Shelby was one year old when I met Sam and less than two when we married. She doesn’t know.”
“You adopted Shelby, but you won’t accept me if I adopt?” She heard her voice rise, wanted to rise to her feet with it, wanted to raise her hand to his face. But she wasn’t a hitter, and slapping a man was melodramatic.
Besides, it couldn’t come close to repaying him for his betrayal.
“Sam got pregnant in high school. The dad signed away all rights, but he was a minor. About the time Sam was pregnant with Rena, he came back, wanting those rights. Shared custody. He took us to court.”
“I’m sorry.” She subsided, ready to listen, trying to understand. Pain laced his words and she couldn’t ignore it.
Scott rubbed a hand over his face. “He lost. Proved to the court he was still irresponsible and would provide a negative environment in which to raise a child. The guy didn’t even have a decent place for a baby to visit, let alone live. Thank God.”
Scott took a breath. “I’m her legal father now. The judge agreed Beau had signed away his rights to Shelby.”
“Beau?”
“Beauregard Sheldon Abernathy.”
“Sheldon and Shelby?” It couldn’t be coincidence.
“Sam was feeling sentimental after the birth, and she regretted the name afterward. So we named the new baby with an S, too. Sam wanted it that way. I didn’t care.”
“Serena.”
“I talked her out of ‘Serenity.’ She claimed our lives would be smooth sailing with serenity surrounding us. So I countered with it being serene waters, and it stuck. Poor kid.”
“I still don’t get it.” She stood before him and squeezed his hand. Time neared when his coworkers might wander in. “If you understand about adopting a child, about that child bringing love into your heart, why are you trying to block me from experiencing that?”
“I’m not blocking you, Ginger. I’m just not going through it again.” He shook his head. “I told the story too fast, made it sound too easy. We went through hell for almost a solid year, worrying about losing Shelby to that…loafer. I really worried the stress would make Sam miscarry.”
“Was there reason to worry?”
“She was under her doctor’s eye. Nausea related to her stress had her vomiting so much she became dehydrated, and neither she nor Rena got the nutrition they should. Her blood pressure rocketed. There was the fear of an early delivery.” He shook his head. “Then of course, the fear of losing Shelby on top of it all. That man almost took everything from me, both my daughters, and he endangered my wife’s health. Because he changed his mind.”
“That’s just one case, Scott. Your experience with adopting soured you, but—”
“Soured me? Soured? That’s way too mild. I was incensed and sick and panicked. I can’t go through that again.”
“But I won’
t be pregnant when I adopt. Can’t be, so we wouldn’t have that worry of me miscarrying.”
“Are you sure you can’t? I mean, you went through all the tests?”
“Kyle, my husband, ex-husband, wouldn’t donate his sperm, but by the time they tested me he didn’t have to. I couldn’t have a baby.”
“Why?”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“What did the doctor tell you? The diagnosis.”
She knew he wanted an easy answer. Something fixable.
“Is the cause of your infertility too embarrassing to discuss with me?”
“Just useless. My fallopian tubes are blocked. I’ve been taking fertility drugs to deal with the pain and cramps and such, but there’s not much hope of conceiving, even with the aid of the drugs.”
“I’m sorry.” He squeezed her hand. “Surgery?”
She shook her head, too choked to speak. She’d wanted a baby so badly. Not being able to carry Scott’s baby cut more deeply.
She loved him to an extent she’d never loved Kyle.
“There are complications to the treatments and surgery available to me. Few would likely kill me, but the chances of us having a child were low even with treatment.”
“Could we, you and I—” Scott’s smile trembled. “Try in vitro fertilization? I have good sperm.”
“I bet you do.” Tears ran down her face. She leaned over and kissed him, putting her heart into it. “Serena is proof of that. But no. It’s no use. I can’t carry a child to term.”
“Is that something your doctor confirmed or does that come from your ex, too? Because if he didn’t get tested you can’t be sure the problem wasn’t partly him.” He smiled weakly. “Maybe your body knew what a jerk he’d turn out to be and sent out toxins to kill his sperm.”
She chuckled, liking the idea. “Scott, trust me. If we could have found a way, we’d be parents now.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help you get pregnant—” He grinned. “You know I’d be more than happy to try.” He sobered. “But I can’t go the adoption route again. Even for you.”
She swallowed her tears and sadness. “I see.”
“It was pure hell, Ginger. Time and money are only the start of the cost. Our emotions were yanked all over the place. I’m not doing it again.”
“Not everyone regrets giving up a child for adoption.”
“Can you guarantee me that whoever this is you’re talking with won’t come back in a couple of years, after we’ve fallen in love with this baby and considered it our own, and try to take him or her away? Or a member of this person’s family won’t? Because that happens, too.”
“You know I can’t guarantee that.”
“Then I can’t risk it. I’m sorry, honey.”
He didn’t love her as much as he needed to in order to overcome his fear of a remote possibility.
It hurt. There weren’t words to describe her pain.
“You can’t let my girls be your girls?”
The girls that hated her? She didn’t think so. “I want a baby.”
Stalemate. Maybe he thought she didn’t love him enough to take them all into her heart. But that wasn’t it. She loved him too much to make his daughters miserable, to put him in the middle of their unhappiness and hers. Shelby and Serena deserved a woman they could accept as a mother.
Scott stilled. “These pregnant women you’re talking to. Is either a minor?”
She nodded.
He grimaced. “Both? Because, if you’re going to do this, I’d urge you to pick someone who’s old enough to sign a legal document and make it valid.”
“I will.” She glanced at the clock. Five-twenty. “Where is everyone?”
Scott shrugged and stuck his head out in the hall. “Come on in, Jerry. You don’t have to wait in the hall.”
“Most of us went home,” the bald man said. “I just finished up a second ago.”
“I have to go,” Scott told Ginger. “I can meet you later, but I have to get the girls from the Wee Care. If I leave now, I’ll just make it.”
Ginger smiled faintly. “What happens if you’re late? They don’t keep the girls and lock the doors, do they? Take them home to their houses?”
“No, I just get fined. Tara, my boss’s wife, will be waiting.”
Ginger put on her coat. “Call her. Tell her it’s my fault.”
She was screwing up everything lately, she thought as she got in her car. Her marriage died because she couldn’t conceive. Her relationship with Scott was over because she couldn’t not adopt. Nothing was going right these days.
“WHICH MEANS YOUR LUCK’S bound to change,” Lisa said, handing her a shortbread cookie at her cheery kitchen table.
The whole sorry story had spilled out over cookies and iced tea. Ginger felt lighter for having shared her burden, but they hadn’t come up with any solutions. There was no middle ground on which a compromise could be negotiated.
The back door swung open into the kitchen. Lisa’s husband, Joe, came in with her children, Abby and Bobby.
“Hi.” Joe leaned over and kissed Lisa. The kids yelled their greetings on the way through. “Should you be drinking this?” he asked.
“It’s decaf.”
Ginger looked at Lisa consideringly. No caffeine?
“Okay, then,” Joe continued. “I’ve got some homework to do with Bobby, but I’ll be down in a bit to fire up the grill. Ginger, you want to stay for dinner?”
“Can’t tonight, thanks. I have homework of my own.”
“Make a date with Lisa. We don’t see you often enough.”
Ginger watched him go after one more caress of his wife’s arm. His wife who was pink cheeked and avoiding her eyes.
A smile worked its way to Ginger’s face and came out as laughter. “You’re pregnant.”
Lisa’s mouth opened then shut. She nodded.
“Oh, sweetie.” Ginger rose and embraced her friend. “That’s terrific. How far along?”
“Almost three months.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” She sank back into her chair. “You didn’t feel you could. I’m sorry about that.”
“No, I’m sorry. I should have known you’d be happy for us.”
“Of course I am.”
“Deep down, I knew you would be,” Lisa corrected. “I was afraid you’d also be sad or hurt or something. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“How long have you known?”
“We’ve been trying since Thanksgiving. Decided it was time after the last year had gone so well. The kids have adjusted to Joe and him to them.”
“And if you could find Brad and get him to give permission, Joe could give them his name.”
Lisa waved a hand. “That doesn’t matter. I think they’re ready to call him dad without the legal stuff settled. They love him.”
“And he loves them back.”
“Like his own.” Lisa covered her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to compare our situation to yours with Scott’s girls.”
“It’s okay. Stop walking on eggshells.” It hit her then, how often Lisa had danced around the topic of babies. “I was urging you to have a baby with Joe not too long ago. Did you already know then? How are you feeling?”
Lisa’s gaze met hers. “Are you sure you want to talk about it?”
“It would hurt me more if we couldn’t. You’re my best friend.”
“I’ve been sicker than a dog.” Lisa smiled.
Ginger thought of poor Horace. “That’s awful.”
They talked about the pregnancy and the coming baby. Ginger wound up staying for dinner, soaking in the good vibes of a happily blended family.
It hurt just a little, but not enough to override her joy for her friend.
GINGER KEPT AN EYE ON SHELBY the next week, watching for clues to what was going on at her home. The girl said nothing and acted no differently. She was probably glad her teacher had stopped hanging around her father.
The art pr
oject at the end of February centered on family roots. With a nod to Black History Month and Presidents’ Day, the intent was to make all students proud of their heritage.
“I finished my report, Ms. Winchester,” Harry called.
“That’s good, Harry. Please remember to raise your hand.”
“That’s not fair,” Jean said, shooting her hand up as she spoke. “Ron and Harry only did one report between them.”
Ginger stared her down. “Jean, have you finished your report?”
The girl held up a page of writing. “I talked to my grandma on the phone and got more information about my family. But it’s not interesting.”
Interesting to the class meant pirates and killers, heroes and leaders. Part of the lesson helped the students understand the importance of everyday people making a difference.
Ginger stopped by Shelby’s desk. Mentioning family gave her an odd feeling. She knew more about Shelby’s family than Shelby did. Keeping the secret felt almost like lying, although she didn’t see how Shelby would benefit by knowing. This was Scott’s decision, after all.
“How’s your family tree coming along, Shelby?”
The girl shrugged. “Okay, I guess. You think I should call my grandma for more facts about my mom’s side of the family?” She pointed at her notepaper filled with scribbles and a few connecting arrows. “It’s got some holes. Are you going to mark me down for stuff I don’t know?”
“I’ll be grading the effort on everyone’s paper,” Ginger addressed the class. “Howard wasn’t always the thriving community it is today.” She held in her laughter. Thriving was pushing it. “If your family has always been here, it might have been farmland when they came. Farming was a vitally important and sometimes dangerous job.”
“Ms. Winchester.” Shelby’s hand went up. “I just got here.”
“Ask your dad what his family did down South. Many people worked two jobs to feed their children and pay for their homes.”
Some of the children nodded, familiar with this in their lives.
One eye on the clock assured her she only had two more hours until she met with Emma, a pregnant college student. Ginger mentally crossed her fingers. This was her third meeting with Emma. She had a feeling the young woman would make a decision today, one way or the other.