Vada Faith

by Barbara A. Whittington

I didn’t respond and we sat there in silence sipping Cokes until the crowd outside started disbanding. Then someone started pounding on the door.

  Cautiously, Joy Ruth unlocked the door and an old woman tromped inside, stamping her shoes. I’d seen her around town, but she’d never been in our shop before.

  “Why’s the door locked?” She demanded, looking around her curiously. A scarf covered most of her head, a few bushy gray hairs stuck out on the sides and she wore dark glasses.

  “We were taking a lunch break. Come on in. Vada Faith can take you.”

  “Sure.” I motioned to the woman. “Over here.” I had to hurry. Midgy Brown was due in for a hair cut and style and that was a forever job. Midgy had a truckload of curly red hair.

  A small crowd had gathered outside again. I’d noticed Bruiser peering in the window but I ignored him.

  “I gave myself a trim this morning,” the old woman said, reaching up and taking off her scarf.

  “I see you did.” She’d done some serious damage with her scissors. Nothing I couldn’t fix though.

  “I couldn’t reach the back to do a proper job.” She folded her wrinkled hands in her lap as I worked. “I tried not to cut out my permanent. They cost an arm and a leg.” She sighed. “I can’t afford another until my check comes in. First of the month.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have you fixed up in no time. I’ll just even it up for now. I’ll give you a coupon for 50% off a perm for your next visit. How’s that?” I trimmed off just enough to even it up. Then I did some layering to blend in the areas she’d cut too short.

  “That’s great,” she said, patting her hair and smiling when I finished. I gave her a mist of our best spray and took the cape from around her shoulders.

  “Thank you kindly,” she said. “Can I tip you next time? When I get my perm. A double tip?”

  “Sure. No double tip. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She reached over, patted my arm and left her hand there for a minute. “Thank you, honey. I don’t care what those men outside were saying, you do good work. Remember it’s what’s inside your heart that counts.”

  My mind was too busy to look inside my own heart. I was trying to come up with creative ways to answer the press. Besides I was afraid of what I’d find there. I was going to be cornered by the media eventually. I could say, “I’m only thinking about being a surrogate.” That wasn’t true. I’d been to the clinic and the world knew it. I could turn all questions over to my sister but I didn’t want her talking to reporters.

  My answers might satisfy some people. The ones hardest to convince were going to be those closest to me. What was my husband going to say about me using my own egg to make a baby for someone else? He’d hate the rowdy demonstrations in front of our shop. The news coverage would make him sick and I couldn’t imagine what he would say about his brother’s involvement.

  I wanted to weep. Instead I picked up my scissors and smiled. Midgy Brown was heading toward my chair.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In spite of what I wanted or didn’t want, did or didn’t do, Angela had her camera rolling and I was on the 6 o’clock news that very evening right before the weather. The camera had caught everything. Me slinging my purse at the deacon. Me standing toe to toe with Bruiser in his cowboy suit. Even me screaming at the camera crew and Angela.

  “That’s the latest on the surrogacy involving Roy and Dottie Kilgore and local resident, Vada Faith Waddell,” Angela said, standing in front of our beauty shop.

  “Mommy,” Hope Renee pulled at my arm, “what’s a breeder woman? You’re on TV, mommy. See.” She pointed at the screen.

  I had forgotten that both girls sat beside me on the sofa. So much for keeping them from the news.

  “Those aren’t words we use,” I said. “I was on television because the news camera was in front of the beauty shop today.”

  “There’s Uncle Bruiser!” Charity Mae squealed.

  Sure enough there was a close up of my brother-in-law with his fat cat grin.

  “Yes,” I said, turning off the set. “He was there too. Hey,” I said, snapping my fingers, “why not color Grandma Helena a picture from your new coloring books.”

  “Yes,” Hope Renee said, running to get the books.

  As they worked on their pictures, I knew I’d have to start censoring everything they watched and everything I did.

  “I’ll be late,” John Wasper said, when I picked up the phone that evening, “so don’t hold supper.” He was already later than usual. The girls and I were eating macaroni and cheese with the loaf of fresh bread I’d picked up from the bakery on my way home.

  “You have a late run?” I asked, spooning out some applesauce for the girls.

  “Can I have some more?” Charity Mae clapped her hands. She loved applesauce and would eat it straight from the jar if I’d let her.

  “No,” he said, “I’m not at work.

  It was then I heard the music in the background and people laughing.

  “Where are you?” I asked, putting the applesauce back into the refrigerator.

  “It’s not important. I’m with some guys from work. I’ll be home later.”

  “How much later?”

  “Just later. Don’t wait up.”

  “Don’t be too late,” I said. “Don’t drink and drive either. You hear?”

  “Hey,” someone called out, “come on man. Is that the old lady? Tell her not to sleep with anyone while you’re gone.”

  “That is not funny,” I said, between clenched teeth.

  “Who’s laughing, honey? It’s not me, by heck. Not after seeing you on TV twice in one day, involved in this surrogacy thing, having a baby for someone else. We’ll maybe I’ll see you later and maybe I won’t.” With that, he hung up.

  I was sitting on the sofa in the living room at 2 a.m. leafing through a magazine when I heard his key in the lock.

  “If you think you’re going to stay out like this,” I said, walking into the darkened kitchen where he stood, “you’d better think again.”

  John Wasper laid his keys and on the counter and put his thermos in the sink.

  “Well,” I said.

  “Well, what?” He turned his back to me. “I’m taking a shower. Go to bed.”

  I walked past him, close enough to check his breath for alcohol. All I could smell was a day’s work on his clothes.

  “I’m not drinking,” he said, with his back still to me. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I took off by myself. Okay? I’ve been driving around. That’s all. Now go to bed. I want a shower. It’s late and I need to get some sleep.” His voice trailed off. “I have things on my mind.”

  There was something about his demeanor I didn’t like. He held himself away from me as if I might get too close. I crawled into bed. I listened as the old water pipes moaned and the water came shooting on. It seemed to run forever. I must have dozed off. I heard him coming up the stairs but he didn’t turn on the light and I didn’t let him know I wasn’t sleeping. He climbed into bed and lay very still. I could feel this big wedge between us. Like a knife. I didn’t know what to do about it.

  I was so tired I couldn’t even cry. Tomorrow we’d have to talk, but for now, I pulled myself up in the fetal position and put everything out of my mind. I listened to the sound of the rhythmic stream I kept in my head for nights when I couldn’t sleep. It must have worked. The next thing I knew it was daylight. I felt across the bed for John Wasper but he wasn’t there. I could sense he wasn’t in the house. I got up and walked through each room to make sure. I looked out the front window. His truck was gone from the driveway.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if he was gone from my life too?

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You sure you’re okay?” Joy Ruth asked, holding the girls’ hands as they walked out the door. I’d called earlier and asked her to come and take the girls to mama’s. Their usual sitter had the flu.

  “I’m fine,” I said, yawning. “Just tired
. I didn’t sleep much with all the excitement yesterday. I’ll be in at noon.”

  “If you’re sure. I can call somebody in,” she offered.

  “No. I’ll be there,” I said, as she put the girls into the backseat of her car.

  “Don’t come in if you’ve got the flu!” She called before she pulled away.

  “I won’t.” I waved at the girls. “I promise.”

  Before she was out of sight, I was back in bed pulling the covers over my head. I’d set the clock for 11. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t go back to sleep.

  I was up, showered, and over at the trucking company where John Wasper worked by 11:00, which was when he took his lunch.

  Finally I spotted him walking between the rows of cars to his truck with Mac Hill, a guy I didn’t care for and some other workers. When the guys disappeared, I pulled up beside John Wasper.

  “Hey,” I said, “how about taking a girl to lunch?”

  “What are you doing here?” He avoided my eyes and held himself away from me as though I had some fatal disease.

  “I came to see you. Come on, please. Let’s go get some lunch.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to.” He stared at the ground.

  “Hey,” I said, “please look at me.”

  He raised his head. His left eye was black.

  “Good Lord!” I jumped out of the car. “Where did you get that?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He turned away from me. “I have to go.”

  “If you don’t get in this car, I’ll cause a big scene.” I put my arms around him and tried to hug him but he pulled away.

  “Bigger than the scene you caused yesterday? I saw the news. Everyone in Kelly’s Bar saw it, too. It was bad enough,” he said, moving away from me, “but then Bruiser rolled in and narrated it for us. So,” he said, pulling himself up straight, “that about sums it up.”

  “It doesn’t sum it up. Who hit you?”

  “Bruiser. After we had a few words outside the bar. Then I went driving around.”

  “Looks like you had more than words.” I went over and touched his face.

  “You’ve got a cut on your cheek.”

  “Listen to me,” he said, this time his voice softened some. “Go home. I’m fine.”

  My husband’s got the sweetest face in the world and it broke my heart to see him suffering. It hit me anew how much I really loved this man.

  “I want you to be okay,” I said, putting my arms around him again. “I didn’t know it would be like this. Honest. With everyone upset. All the wild commotion. Bruiser acting like an imbecile.”

  He gave me a half hug. “I’m okay,” he said. “I’m not worried about my big brother. I can take care of him. I just don’t want to go any farther with this surrogacy. I want it stopped. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said. It felt good to be near him.

  I wasn’t sure it could be stopped. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach. A queasy sensation. Like I had when I was pregnant with the twins. I didn’t say anything to him. I didn’t want to break the spell.

  “Go on,” he said, giving me a gentle shove, “and don’t worry about the black eye. It’s not my first from Bruiser.” He closed the car door for me and patted my shoulder awkwardly.

  “I do love you, Vada Faith. I don’t know how to handle what’s happening to us.” He closed his eyes for a minute as he leaned his arms on the door. His long lashes made my heart melt. He looked at me sadly. “We’ll try to work it through.”

  “I love you,” I said, and waved as I drove away. “I do love you, John Wasper,” I said sadly to the empty front seat, “but I’m so afraid it’s too late to stop the surrogacy.”

  ***

  “Please,” Joy Ruth said, using her chopsticks to spear a piece of chicken from the China Belle container, “don’t have another insemination. Stop while you can.”

  We were eating lunch. I was sipping green tea. It was my sister who was eating Chinese. I was listening to her ramble on. She was on her surrogacy bandwagon. I tried to remember, without any luck, what had consumed our lives before this topic. I was trying not to think of my squeamish stomach.

  “How can you give birth to a little baby and then not hang around and raise it?” She popped a glob of rice into her mouth like a pro with those chopsticks.

  “Do we have to do this?” I asked, nibbling on a Chow Mein noodle from the can. I was trying not to think of the baby.

  “The Kilgores are exploiting you.” She sighed. “They’re using you, honey. They’ll cast you aside when they’re done. Like an empty tin. Like an old cardboard box that once held a gift.”

  I groaned. I felt bad enough. She had to make things worse.

  “You won’t mean any more to them than a box, honey. A throwaway. Like this take-out container here.” She tapped a chopstick on the small white box. “Worth nothing without the contents.”

  “This little baby will only exist because of Dottie and Roy,” I said, trying to convince myself as well as my sister. “Because of their love and hard work. My egg will go to waste if it doesn’t help them make a baby.”

  “Aw, grow up. You can’t make a baby out of every egg you have. Get real. If you become pregnant don’t you want to bond with your own little baby?”

  “It won’t be mine. Why would I bond with a baby that’s not mine? I have bonded. With this couple. I don’t have any desire to bond with their baby.”

  “You’ve been brainwashed, for sure! If I didn’t know better I’d think you were kidnapped by aliens, taken up into space and had your brain altered.”

  She gathered the wrappings from our lunch and took them to the trash bin. “You are too far gone for help. That’s a fact.” She slammed the lid on the trash container.

  “Did I show you this?” I asked, pulling the Queen Anne house plan from my purse. “This is what I’m putting my money into.”

  She studied the house plan and frowned. “Too extravagant for me.”

  “See,” I pointed to the back door, “this is where I’m having the deck put on. I’m having a hot tub. John Wasper doesn’t know yet.”

  “Miss Materialistic, what else doesn’t your husband know?” She asked, handing back the house plan.

  “Not much.” I folded the paper and put it back into my purse. It was none of her business what he didn’t know.

  “What’s in that box?” My sister never missed anything. She pointed straight at the jewelry box in my purse. The one that held the diamond bracelet.

  “Nothing,” I said, quickly pushing the box down into my purse. I planned to give the diamond bracelet back to Roy Kilgore later that day.

  “Hey,” she said. She moved in for a closer look, “I recognize the box. It’s from Mars Jewelry.”

  “You are the nosiest person I know!”

  “Let me see. Come on.”

  “Here,” I said, pulling the box out of my purse. “Look, then shut up.”

  “Where on earth did you get this?” She pulled the tennis bracelet from its nest of black velvet and her mouth dropped open a foot.

  “Does it matter?”

  “The Kilgores! I bet my bottom dollar on it. Why would they give you something like this?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “He gave you this, didn’t he?” She rolled her eyes. “I knew it. I don’t like this one bit. How could you take this? He’s after you, girl. He wants more than your egg.”

  “I’m giving it back.” I finished sipping the rest of my green tea. My stomach didn’t feel any more settled. Probably because another damaging story had been on the news last night. A former housekeeper of Roy’s had given an interview. She was saying Roy had offered her niece a good sum of money to have his baby.

  “Just simmer down,” I said. “I’m taking the bracelet back after work.”

  “You’d better. If John Wasper finds it he’ll kill you.”

  “Maybe I’ll keep it,” I said, putting the bracelet on my arm. “Maybe I’l
l wear it this afternoon. Do our customers in style. You know. Beauticians do it with style.” I turned the bracelet around so I could watch it sparkle. I had no intention of keeping it or even wearing it. I just wanted to get back at her for acting so self righteous.

  “Get that thing off. You’re perming Marge Randolph’s hair.”

  “You’re just jealous, sister-girl. You wish you were doing this instead of me.”

  “I wouldn’t be in your shoes. Not even for your funky socks.” That struck her as humorous and she laughed, shaking her head back and forth, as she headed toward the front of the shop to open the door for business.

  “Smart aleck,” I said, throwing a hair brush at her but she dodged and the rubber brush bounced across the floor and skidded under the reception desk.

  She’d made fun of my socks all day. I didn’t care. I liked them. They had pink hearts to match the mini skirt I wore.

  Chapter Twenty

  I felt out of place standing in front of the huge double doors at the Kilgores’ home. The big house overlooked a majestic valley of pine trees. When Roy answered on the first ring, I was relieved.

  “Well, Vada Faith,” he said, smiling and acting like I was a happy surprise, “do come in.” He carried a drink in one hand and gestured me in with the other.

  “I’m afraid Dottie isn’t here,” he said as I passed by him and he closed the door. “She went to a meeting of the La Leche League. I’m not sure what that’s all about.” He led me into a large room with floor to ceiling windows, and motioned me to a white sofa. “Sit and rest.” He sat down across from me in an oversized chair that matched the sofa.

  “I hope you’re not concerned about those awful stories that have been on the news.” His face carried this serious look.

  “Well,” I said, twisting the strap of my handbag, “I am. Somewhat.”

  “There’s no truth to any of it. When we left Mississippi, we left with a clean bill of health.” He leaned forward in his chair. “One or two disgruntled employees.” He leaned back and took off his tie. Then, he unbuttoned the two top buttons of his shirt. “That’s better,” he sighed. “Home improvement is a strange business. You’ve heard the saying, one bad apple spoils the whole bunch. That was true in our case. We hired the wrong kind of people. Same as in Arkansas and Alabama. We’ve learned our lesson. Here, we’re going with top notch people. A different breed of worker here in West Virginia. Hard working. Kind. Generous.” He smiled over at me. “Generous. That certainly applies here.” He downed his drink.