Vada Faith

by Barbara A. Whittington

  “Can I show you around?” He smiled back at me as he went over to a bar built into the wall and poured himself another drink. He came back to sit in the chair.

  “Maybe later.” I was uncomfortable and wanted to get this over with.

  “Here, I’m sorry, Mr. Kilgore. I have to return this.” I held out the box I’d carried all day in my purse.

  “Roy, sweetheart! Call me Roy. Now what’s this?” He took the box, and turned it over as if he had no clue what was inside.

  “The bracelet,” I said, “the diamond bracelet.”

  He opened the box and stared inside.

  “I can’t keep it, even though it’s beautiful.” I was nervous and ran my fingers through the sides of my short hair. I sat back on the sofa and sighed. “My husband would never let me keep it. I mean, I don’t want to keep it anyway.”

  I had sunk so deep into the oversized sofa, my knees nearly touched my chin. I put my arms around my knees hugging them to me. Then I felt like a little girl and straightened myself up in a more dignified position, smoothing down my skirt and wishing suddenly that it were a little longer and covered more.

  “I didn’t tell John Wasper about the bracelet,” I said. “It would upset him. Besides I can’t keep it. We have a business deal. That’s all.”

  I sounded like an idiot but I couldn’t stop the flow of words. “My sister said this bracelet personalizes the whole thing. She’s right you know. I wouldn’t tell her though. She would be happy if we’d forget the surrogacy completely.”

  I cleared my throat, and gave a nervous little laugh. “I’m not sure we can now.”

  I wanted to kick myself. I hadn’t meant to say anything until I was sure. I just had a strong hunch.

  He raised his eyebrows and smiled real big. “Are you saying…?” He gave me a questioning look.

  “I’m not sure, Mr. Kilgore. Roy, I mean.”

  His face beamed.

  “That’s all I’m saying for right now.” When I saw his crestfallen look, I added, “Okay, maybe.” For the first time the thought of having a baby this way made me panic.

  “Oh, honey,” he said, rushing over to me. He dropped onto the sofa beside me and put his arms around me. “I’m so happy I could cry.” He laid his head on my shoulder and squeezed me so tight I could hardly breathe. My heart started racing.

  “I’m not positive, Mr. Kilgore. Roy.” I untangled myself from him. “I could be wrong. I feel similar to how I felt when I was pregnant with the twins.”

  “You don’t think, oh, mercy, you don’t think we could get twins. Two babies. Do you, sweetheart?”

  “No,” I said, swallowing hard. “No.” I’d never considered the possibility of two babies. There were many things cropping up I’d not considered. “No way,” I said. “Twins run in my family. But no. Not another set.”

  The thought of having two babies for this couple made my head reel.

  “It would be too much to expect.” He finally moved away and gave me some space. “We’d pay for two babies. Now, don’t think we wouldn’t. However, one fine baby will do,” he said, leaning back into the sofa. I was beginning to feel strange being alone with him.

  He got up and went across to the bar and poured himself another drink.

  “Did my wife ask you if we could be with you during the baby’s birth?” He came back to the sofa and edged close again. I could smell alcohol so strong on his breath I wondered exactly what was in that fancy glass of his.

  “We want to be in the room when our baby is born.” He touched my arm. “Would that be okay with you, honey?”

  “Oh.” What was next I wondered? “I’d have to think about that. I’d never considered it.” I knew I had to get out of that house without being rude. “Nope, not one thought whatsoever.”

  “Will you give it some thought?” He reached for my hands and took them in his. “I want to be there more than anything in the world. I want to see our daughter or son come into this world. Will you let me be with you, please? Let us be with you?”

  “Well,” I said, feeling cornered and very unsure of myself, “I’ll have to see. My husband wasn’t in the room when I had the twins. He couldn’t bear seeing me in pain. I was going to have my baby natural. Then we learned it was twins. I still wanted to try but I had to have a caesarean. I have to warn you that might happen again. Though the doctor said if it’s a normal delivery I should be okay.”

  “Thank you, thank you. Honey, you have made me the happiest man in the world.” Suddenly he stood up and pulled me up with him. He scooped me into his arms and hugged me to him.

  “Whoa, Mr. Kilgore,” I said, struggling to get loose. I’d made a mistake in giving him too much hope about being pregnant and now thinking he could come into the delivery room. John Wasper would have a fit if I let another man in the delivery room with me. No matter whose baby I was having. It took all my strength to get out of his embrace. He certainly was a strong man.

  “Roy,” he said, keeping one arm around my waist as I edged away. “Call me by my first name.”

  “Roy,” I said, finally jerking away from him completely. “I don’t want to get your hopes up.” I straightened my blouse and pressed my mini skirt down to my sides. “I may not be pregnant, and I’ll have to let you know about the delivery room. None of this is for sure.”

  I had to get out of there. As I got up, I couldn’t resist glancing out the big window at the incredible view. Tall pine trees stretched for miles. It gave me a lonesome feeling. Maybe that was the feeling Dottie had in this big house up on this mountain all by herself.

  “What a gorgeous view,” I said, turning back to him.

  He was holding the bracelet up to the light streaming in the window.

  “It’s a beautiful bracelet. I hope you understand why I can’t keep it.”

  “Yes,” he said, “I do understand.” He settled the bracelet back in its box, “I will not take it back to the jeweler. If you change your mind, you let me know. Maybe after the birth of our baby, you will feel differently.”

  “How about something to drink?” He asked putting the box on a glass topped table. “Perrier? Juice? We have to keep you healthy.”

  “Nothing, thanks. I have to get going.” Uneasiness was creeping up my spine again.

  “You need to understand,” he said, coming to stand by me, “we came here to take care of you, to be near our little birth mother. We want to make sure you get the best prenatal care money can buy. The best of everything money can buy.” He was too close again. “We want to be involved in every little step you take, honey. Every little step. Don’t forget it. You are special. A princess.”

  “I’m flattered. Truly I am.” I glanced at my watch and edged away. “I really have to go now.”

  “I wanted you to see the nursery, Vada Faith.” He drained his drink. “Come on. I’ll show you. It’s upstairs. Won’t take a minute.”

  “Some other time,” I said. I wanted to see the house yet something told me it was time to leave. Mr. Kilgore was a very forthright person - on the verge of being too forthright. A little too affectionate for me. Was I reading too much into this? I just didn’t want to push things and get into something I couldn’t handle.

  “Next time.” I moved quickly toward the door. “Thank you for the bracelet.” I turned to him. “It’s the thought that counts.”

  “I know.” He smiled. “I send you countless thoughts everyday.” With that, he winked.

  “Well, uh, thank you again.” I was suddenly aware of the man, brushing against me. I was aware of my short skirt and my low cut top. What was I thinking when I dressed that morning?

  “Let me know about the baby.” He edged closer and I backed up against the entryway wall. “When you know.” I could smell his breath, scented this time with the mint he’d popped into his mouth moments ago.

  “Yes.” I grasped the door handle. “I will. When I know.”

  I knew one thing for certain as I drove up to the main road and away from
the beautiful mountain retreat. I wanted to know if I was pregnant. The first person I’d tell would be my own husband. Somehow I had to work things out with him.

  I couldn’t help wondering what was going on with this couple. I was uneasy about all the feelings welling up inside me.

  All I’d wanted was to help a childless couple have a baby and get myself a new house. I hadn’t bargained on the negative publicity or a couple who seemed to get quirkier with each passing day.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The next day after work I hurried home to see John Wasper. Mama was there instead, painting her nails at the kitchen table with supplies from the wicker basket I kept in my bathroom. That was one thing about my mother. She made herself at home wherever she went.

  “Your guy had to work late. The girls are sleeping,” she said, blowing on her nails. “Too much city pool. They were asleep before I could get them into their pajamas. There’s a casserole in the oven.” She pulled on a straw hat with daisies on it. “I’m meeting that scoundrel, Albert, for coffee. He wants to discuss what went wrong on our trip. As if he doesn’t know. He thinks I’m going to Cancun with him in a few months.” She picked up her straw purse. “No way.” A big smile came over her face. “I met someone new at the Methodist Church picnic.”

  “Why were you at the Methodist Church picnic?” I asked, bending down to peek into the oven. “Something smells wonderful.”

  “That’s potato casserole.” She gathered up the tote bag she carried with her everywhere she went. “Some ham slices in the refrig too. Leftovers I didn’t take to the picnic.”

  “What’s with going to that Methodist picnic? I thought you were a Baptist like me and Joy Ruth.”

  “I am a Baptist.” She held herself erect as if to prove it. “Did you know there are more single men over at the Methodist Church,” she said, “than in all the other churches in town? Of course, I didn’t go for that reason. I went because Harry Rinehart, the minister, who is an old friend of mine asked me to. They’re having this membership drive. So I went as a favor. He introduced me to one of the single deacons. Who by the way is taking me to dinner next Friday. Look,” she checked her watch, “I’ve got to get over to Memory Lane and let Albert down easy. Let’s get together soon. We need to talk about this mess you’re in. I do worry about you.”

  “I’m not in any mess.”

  “I think you might be, honey. Everyone at garden club yesterday was talking about you. Wondering what was in your head to do such a thing. Especially using your own egg. Everyone knows now. It changes things. If you have a child it will be part yours. Our blood.”

  “Do you think I’m crazy for doing this?” I sat down at the table. “If you do, just say so.”

  “Look,” she said, sitting down across from me, “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think maybe you got into this too fast and didn’t think it through enough. Besides, you can stop this thing.”

  Tears rolled down my cheeks.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay,” I said, wiping my cheeks with a napkin from the apple napkin holder. Only a few weeks ago I’d been caught up in decorating with apples. Now decor seemed so unimportant. “I’m just feeling emotional right now,” I said. “I didn’t expect this to affect anyone but me. Instead it’s got the whole town upset. People I don’t even know. We’ve had messages written on our shop windows. Breeder woman. Adulterer. Awful things.” I wiped my eyes. “With permanent marker, too. We’ve had to hire a company to clean it. How can people be so mean? I thought some of them were my friends, like that dumbhead Bruiser. I hate that man.”

  “Now,” she said, handing me a tissue from her bag, “you don’t hate Bruiser.”

  “I do.”

  “He’s still lashing out at that flighty Missy Sue, that ex-wife of his,” she said, “that’s all. She was not the girl for him. I could have told him that.”

  Mama knew every last person in town even though she’d been gone all those years and she could tell you something about each one of them. Both good and bad.

  “Bruiser’s probably mad at himself. His size is a burden. He’s always towered over everyone else.” She smiled. “I’ll never forget him. Little Brucie Waddell.” She sighed. “Maybe life has got Bruiser down. I’m sure he’s not angry at you.” She patted my arm. “People are just provoked because they don’t know anything about surrogacy. The unknown is scary.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve lived long enough to know they’ll get over it.”

  I stopped sniffling and smiled. Brucie Waddell and his little brothers, John Wasper and Bobby Joe.

  Memories came flooding back. I think I loved John Wasper back when we were kids. “Go home, Waspie,” I’d yelled at him once. “I hate you.” We’d been fighting over who was bravest. He jumped on his bike, all red-faced, but before pedaling away, he said, “Vada Faith, don’t ever call me Waspie again. Call me John Wasper. Bruiser calls me Wasper because I’m brave. I’m not afraid of bees even.”

  Mama interrupted my thoughts. “Did you know,” she said, “that I was a protester?

  Me and your father both. During the Vietnam War.”

  “No.” I wiped my face, feeling a little bit better. “I can’t see you as a protester of anything. Maybe low heeled shoes.”

  “Well, I was, and if you don’t think that didn’t cause a stink in town. People here didn’t protest things back then. We carried signs around town square and got arrested for disturbing the peace.” She chuckled. “We loved going against the system like the kids in the big cities were doing.”

  “I can’t imagine you in handcuffs.”

  “I was. Other kids threw eggs at us. Daddy was furious. Someone threw rotten tomatoes at our house. A group of us moved into the old Hulbert farm. They called us hippies and flower children and we loved it. The more they rankled us the more we got into protesting. We never did get into drugs. We were too scared and God fearing for that.”

  “How’d you make a living?”

  “We tie dyed shirts and sold them. Your father moved into the house with us. He’d come from Chicago.” She got this dreamy look. “I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. He introduced himself as Del Dunn. He was cool back then. He drove draft dodgers to Canada in his truck. That was before he got in his trailer park mode and got the job at Ben’s Auto Body.”

  “Drove draft dodgers to Canada? You never told me that. He never told us either.”

  “No reason, I guess. Do you understand what I’m telling you? People have made your surrogacy their cause. It’s not you they’re mad at. They’re mad because they don’t understand it. Most don’t care to.”

  “Maybe I could do something to make them understand.”

  “I doubt it.” She shook her head. “They may come around in time.” She glanced up at my new wall clock, a big red apple, and set her watch by it.

  It didn’t matter to me anymore that I’d finally found a clock to match my new apple decor. It all seemed so ridiculous now.

  “Goodness, I’m late. Gotta run, honey. Hey, you got a postcard from your daddy today. It’s on the table. Don’t forget the casserole.” She sniffed the air and then she was gone, leaving me to sit there in my red apple kitchen alone with my thoughts. To wonder where John Wasper was. To wonder what I’d gotten myself into and to wonder what my next step was.

  I looked at the postcard from Anchorage, where my father was living in his RV and wondered what to make of his new life. Maybe he’d been waiting for his children to get settled to strike out on his own. It was true he’d stuck by us though there’d been few frills in our lives.

  I heard mama’s horn honking far down the road. It was a sign to let me know she was on the way to her next adventure. I knew what my next adventure was. I intended to let the townspeople know what I was up to. I’d do it in a big way.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “What did you say, Vada Faith?” John Wasper was weaving across the kitchen floor toward me.

  “S
hush,” I said. “You’ll wake the girls.”

  I hurried upstairs to close their bedroom door. I didn’t want them to hear any of this. This was the second night in a row he hadn’t come straight home from work. Now I had some things to say to him.

  “I’m going to be on a television talk show,” I said, when I got back down to the kitchen. “I’m going to tell my story to the world and stop all the gossip.”

  “That Kilgore man is a criminal. The guys at the shop are all talking about him. You want to have a baby for a criminal and tell it on television?”

  “It will not be my baby and Mr. Kilgore isn’t a criminal,” I said. “You know the news media and how they blow everything out of proportion. You said so yourself. Remember what they said about your company last year. They had them dealing drugs, when all they did was haul a load of pharmaceuticals to Kentucky. It was all a lie. That’s exactly what this is. A lie about Roy and Dottie Kilgore. I believe them.”

  “What if they are crooks?” He sat down on the floor and leaned back against the cabinet.

  “You’ve been drinking. Now get up off the floor,” I said in disgust, “before I lose my temper.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He looked up at me with his sad eyes and I couldn’t stay mad at him. “My clothes are dirty. See.” He turned halfway over and I could see his jeans were filthy.

  “Where’ve you been?”

  “Fixing a flat on my truck. With Bobby Joe’s assistance.”

  “I’ll bet. Then where did you two go?”

  “Kelly’s. For one beer.” He grinned. “Two. Maybe three. Not more than three.”