With all of her heart, she wanted to turn and run. “Ready?” Could he be feeling the same?
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He tossed her a tentative smile and opened the lobby door. He strode toward his car at a quick clip and she had to scuttle to keep up. The passenger door was open and waiting when she arrived.
Anxiety had dried up every drop of saliva and had now started to work on squeezing the air out of her lungs. How must Beck feel?
It took several minutes in the car for her to realize the sun was out and the temperature was pleasantly warm. When they approached the forty-acre park in the center of the city, her stomach got in on the nervous act. Knots and butterflies competed for space. When Beck parked and they started to walk toward the lush grass, the first thing she noticed was an over-abundance of squirrels. She swallowed the paper-like wad of jangled nerves in her throat, and without further thought reached for Beck’s hand.
She couldn’t go through with this on her own.
He didn’t pull away, but held her hand with warm reassurance, and though nothing had changed between them, it made her feel a bit more able to face what lay ahead.
Due to her growing skittishness, it was almost impossible to appreciate the colorful park with tall palms lining the path. Yet she noticed an incredible assortment of trees including her favorite, magnolia, and used its bold fragrance as a distraction on the walk across the vast lawn.
When they made their way toward the rose garden, she might have turned and run if it hadn’t been for the anchor of Beck’s hand. Moisture had developed between their palms, and she couldn’t decide if it was due to her anxiety or his.
She took a deep breath and looked up at him. He nodded encouragingly as he tugged her along. Maybe there was a chance to make it through this encounter and still maintain a relationship with Beck after all.
Jan spied the Williamses sitting on a park bench in the middle of the rose garden. Under different circumstances the multitude of colors and overpowering scent of roses would have taken her breath away, but all she focussed on was one little girl.
The herd of butterflies that had gathered in her stomach burst into flight, sending anxious ripples throughout her body. She squeezed Beck’s hand tighter. What was he thinking?
Meghan sat between her adopted parents with eyes the size of half-dollars. She turned her head and said something to her father then quickly looked back as Beck and Jan approached. Pre-teen thin and without a trace of curves, she was dressed in a hooded baby-blue sweatshirt with Asian letters on it, and embroidered denim blue jeans. The sweatshirt was almost the exact color of Beck’s polo shirt. Her eyes were set deep, like Beck’s, and the light blue contrasted with her full and beautiful long brown hair.
After giving birth and holding her briefly, Jan had handed Meghan into the welcoming arms of her new parents. Since then Jan had only seen pictures of Meghan over the years of her development, and had never ventured to see her again in person for fear of confusing the child. The impact of coming face to face with her birth daughter made Jan’s legs falter. Beck switched hands and his newly freed hand shot to the small of her back to steady her.
The blood in Jan’s head retreated to her feet, causing the park to swim around the periphery of her vision. No. Not now. She refused to pass out. She stood stick straight and drew in a long breath, determined to get hold of herself. “I’ll be OK,” she muttered to Beck.
He looked doubtfully into her eyes, but let go as she’d indicated she wanted him to. He remained close by, as though ready to catch her if she fell, and when she gave evidence of being OK by walking a little quicker, he strode ahead and introduced himself to the Williamses.
He reached out and shook hands with both parents, then drawled charmingly, “And you must be Meghan.”
“Uh-huh.” Her quiet, breathy reply was almost inaudible.
“This is January and I’m Beck. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, young lady.”
The girl swallowed. And if it were possible, her eyes grew wider. Still no smile. Beck didn’t miss a beat.
“We hear you need some help with your science project.”
Meghan blushed and nodded. “Uh-huh.”
January reached for Yvonne’s hand and shook it in greeting. “It’s so good to see you again.” Their handshake turned into a tight hug. Daryl stood by, awaiting his turn.
Meghan cautiously watched everything, fiddling with her notebook and curling her brightly polished toes in her flip-flops.
Beck folded his arms, focused solely on the girl. “So what grade are you in?”
“Eighth.”
“Fantastic. You like middle school?”
“I guess.”
“Oh, come on, you’re a great student,” her mother broke in.
Meghan flashed a typical impatient pre-teen glare at Yvonne, quickly followed by another blush.
After a long silence, while Meghan glanced back and forth between Jan and Beck, she finally said in a quavering voice, “Are you guys really my birth parents?”
Jan looked at Beck, and was nearly knocked over by the angst on his face. Like the trouper he was, he tried to remain cheery, and Jan suspected only Meghan might be oblivious to his pain. Surely Daryl and Yvonne could read the deep sadness behind his guarded expression.
“We are,” he said in a strong and steady voice.
“Are you guys married?”
“No,” they said in unison, glancing at each other awkwardly.
“You look so young,” Meghan said.
Daryl and Yvonne had been in their late thirties when they’d adopted Meghan, and were now well into middle age. Compared to Jan and Beck, of course, they’d seem old to a pre-teen. Weren’t all parents “old” to teenagers?
“We were. Let that be a lesson to you about having sex as a teenager,” Beck said, then quickly glanced at Daryl and Yvonne as though making sure that topic was OK.
“Don’t worry,” Daryl said, “we’ve already started talking about that. We have a very open relationship.”
Beck nodded. “Good. You don’t want to end up like us. I’d just turned eighteen and had joined the military, and January was only in the eleventh grade.” Beck edged his way next to Meghan on the bench. “We were too young to be parents. I hope you can understand that.”
Meghan looked at her feet. “My old babysitter is pregnant. She’s seventeen.” She glanced up at Jan. “She’s keeping it.”
Finally, Jan found her voice. “It will be very hard for her, but I’m glad she’s going to keep the baby. If that’s what she wants.” She worried how that might sound, and decided to clarify what she’d meant.
Jan knelt in front of Meghan and took one of her hands. It felt fragile and tiny. “Meghan, if I had thought I could be a good parent for you, I would have done anything to keep you. Beck had just left for the military and never even knew. Then I met your future parents and knew immediately that they were the most perfect people in the world for you. I didn’t give you up for adoption because I didn’t love you. I did it because I loved you with all my heart, and I knew it would be the best thing.”
Jan couldn’t stop tears forming in her eyes. Meghan’s eyes did the same. “I have to help my babysitter balance her checkbook. And sometimes she forgets lots of stuff. Maybe she is too young.” Meghan made her first attempt at a smile, with noticeable blue colored braces. Was she trying to soothe Jan’s pain?
When Jan glanced at Beck, his eyes were watering, too.
He touched her hand briefly, and cleared his throat. “So I hear you’ve got a bunch of questions for us.”
Meghan nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well, let’s get started, then,” he said, making a great play at keeping things casual and on a lighter note by changing the topic.
An hour and twenty pages of notes later in decidedly plump and diagonal cursive, Meghan and her parents thanked both Beck and Jan profusely and prepared to leave. There was no offer to join them for lunch, or to stop by the Williamses�
� home before they left town. They’d obviously decided to keep this a practical meeting, nothing more.
And Jan respected their decision.
Beck reached out to hug Meghan and she graced him with a few seconds of a half-hearted squeeze. Jan gave her a quick cuddle and kissed the top of Meghan’s sweet-smelling head. She took a deep breath to help remember the fragrance mixed with the roses. The Williamses also hugged both of them…and then they left.
Beck and Jan stood watching.
Halfway across the rose garden, Meghan turned back toward them and waved goodbye. Jan couldn’t hold in the torment another moment. As she waved and smiled encouragingly, hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She dared to look at Beck. Pain contorted his face as he fought to keep his composure. His mouth formed a thin line of tension, his brows pulled tightly together, and huge teardrops flowed out of his large hazel eyes. His nostrils flared as he struggled to keep from bawling. With hands tightly fisted and balanced on his hips, he looked like a man withstanding torture.
Jan wanted to drop to her knees and beg his forgiveness. If only she could turn back time and fix all her mistakes. She wished she could erase this moment and start fresh, free of guilt and pain, because she couldn’t stand the burden another second. But there stood Beck, reminding her how callous and cruel she’d been. She’d thought only of herself, never giving him an ounce of consideration.
And now she’d done the emotional equivalent of tearing him limb from limb.
Swallowing back tears, she said, “Please, forgive me, Beck.”
He shook his head and gave her a tormented glance before pinching the bridge of his nose. He recovered his composure and stared at the sky briefly, but still didn’t utter a sound.
The pain in his eyes sent Jan over the edge. Her body protested, bile rose up her throat, and suddenly she needed to run for the bushes to heave.
In the midst of waves of nausea, with heat rolling across her skin one second and chills the next, she felt a warm palm at the center of her back, then another hand cupping her shoulder.
Beck.
He lifted her out of the bushes and helped her stand. Somewhere he’d found some tissues and handed them to her. She wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg for mercy, but couldn’t move. She felt wretched and undeserving of his charity, and slapped at his hand, then thanked him with a defeated nod as she accepted the tissues.
“Let’s go back to the hotel,” he said hoarsely.
And without another word, she followed.
If Beck clamped his jaw any tighter, it would snap. He utilized every interrogation technique he’d ever learned to disguise the depth of his anguish. January was hurting as much as he was, he could read it all over her. He didn’t need to add to her already overwhelming guilt.
If January had only been honest and told him he was going to be a father, he would have made sure she’d waited for him. He would have married her and brought her to the military base to live. They could have been a family instead of three strangers.
Of course, they would have had to live on a soldier’s pay and she would have had to drop out of high school. And the responsibility of a baby would have tested their characters like nothing else in life, at a time when other kids their age would have been partying in college.
His foot pressed heavily on the gas pedal in the car and once he realized how fast he was driving he forced himself to slow down. January stared out the window, occasionally dabbing at her eyes and nose with another tissue he’d produced from his glove compartment.
Wanting with all of his might to blame her for botching up the decision to give their daughter away, he couldn’t quite give in to sanctimony. He’d knocked her up and taken off. Her mother had exploited the situation with threats of having him arrested.
January had once said she loved him more than anything in the world. Maybe she’d told him the truth, and adoption had been her way of protecting him and the baby. Maybe it had been the noblest gesture a young and frightened girl could have made.
Nah, he wasn’t going to let January off the hook that easily.
He wanted to strangle Karen Stewart for manipulating January, but the final decision had come down to her and her alone, and, what the hell, none of it mattered any more. His flesh and blood knew two other people as parents, and he’d been relegated to being some stranger to play Twenty Questions with.
He bashed the horn with his palm when a driver cut him off. January sat up straight, on alert. Tightening his lips, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. That guy ticked me off.”
He didn’t dare look into her eyes. The sorrow and guilt he’d seen there all morning nearly drove him out of his mind. He needed to take her home. Then he needed to stay as far away from her as he could for the rest of his life.
They were packed, had checked out, and were ready to drive home when Jan’s cellphone rang. It was Daryl Williams.
“Are you guys still in town? Meghan has just had a freak accident. Yvonne hates the sight of blood and I’m not sure if she needs stitches or not. The thing is, our doctor’s office is closed on Saturdays, and we called the local ER. They said it would be a three-hour wait just to be seen. I was wondering, since you folks are medical people, if there was any chance you could take a look at her knee? I’ll explain more when you get here.”
“Of course,” she said. “Where do you live?”
Ten minutes later Jan and Beck parked in the driveway of the Williamses’ suburban home. Yvonne came rushing out the door, her face tense with concern.
“I’ve got her leg all wrapped up. I think the bleeding has stopped. Come inside.”
Beck picked up the medical kit he always kept in his car and Jan led the way. Once inside, they found Meghan lying on a sheet on top of the couch. She looked pale compared to her healthy color from earlier in the day. She sheepishly eyed Jan and Beck as they entered the living room.
Daryl paced, poised to jump the moment Beck and Jan entered. “OK. We’re going to be perfectly honest here. Once we got home, Meghan took off.”
“Dad,” Meghan broke in.
“Sweetie, I’m going to be honest with them. Yvonne and I spent an hour looking for her. We found her in her favorite thinking tree at the local park. She knows better than to climb up there. We used to scold her all the time, but that’s beside the point.” He rambled on about all the circumstances leading up to Meghan’s injury. “She didn’t want to talk to us, so I climbed up after her. She tried to get away and almost fell. I grabbed her just in time, but her knee caught a small branch. She hit it real hard. Got cut pretty deep.” He sighed and shook his head. He looked at his daughter, concern on his face. “Does it still hurt, Meggie?”
Meghan shook her head. “Maybe just a little.”
Jan sat on the edge of the sofa. “May I take a look?” she asked. Meghan nodded.
Carefully unwrapping the makeshift bandage, Jan noticed there wasn’t nearly as much blood as she’d expected from Daryl’s frantic call. Peeling away the last of the wrap she saw a half-moon-shaped laceration on Meghan’s knee. The top skin flap had been pushed back and she was pretty sure she could see a portion of the pale white patella.
Jan glanced up into Meghan’s anxious eyes. “I’m afraid you do need stitches. It’s a deep cut.”
Beck moved in. “Let me have a look.” He nodded. “Yep. She’s right.” He winked at Meghan. “Piece of cake. You want me to fix it?”
Meghan chewed on her lower lip, and tentatively nodded.
“No problem,” Beck said. He fished through his bag for a suture kit, then Jan and Beck went to the kitchen to wash their hands.
“Has Meghan had a tetanus shot recently?” Jan called out.
“Last year,” came Yvonne’s reply.
Back at the couch, Jan thoroughly cleaned the wound with soap and water and then antiseptic solution. She patted Meghan’s hand. “You’ll need to keep this area clean and dry for a few days and you’ll have to keep your leg straight for a day or two. Then it
will be stiff for a few days after that. Just take it easy.” She drew up the local anesthetic. “I don’t know how you feel about needles, but this tiny little pinprick will hurt a lot less than having stitches without it.” She smiled empathetically at the girl. “Are you OK with that?”
Meghan hesitated, but nodded, not making a peep. She held her mother’s hand and squeezed until her knuckles were white as Jan injected local anesthetic. When she’d finished, she switched places with Beck, who began carefully suturing the wound.
Meghan’s shoulders tensed and rose. Her mother rubbed them. Jan decided to help distract her.
“You’ll need to keep these stitches in for a week. Yvonne, you can remove them by snipping the sutures with small scissors and pulling them out with tweezers, or if you prefer…” Jan babbled on almost as nervous as she assumed Meghan was. She made eye contact with her, and the girl appeared to be listening intently in order to ignore the stitches. Since she had a captive audience, she continued. “If the skin gets red, tender to touch, or starts making pus, you’ll need to see a doctor. But if you keep it covered and clean for the first few days, though it was a dirty wound, it may not be a problem.” Jan kept chattering on. “You can use an ice pack on and off for the local swelling for the next couple of days if you want.” Looking at Yvonne, she said, “Just don’t leave the sutures in over a week.”
Before everyone realized it, Beck had completed eight stitches, perfectly aligned in a half-circle. He patted Meghan’s calf. “Whenever you look at this scar, I want you to think of me, OK?” He gave his signature-charming smile.
Meghan blushed, rolled her eyes and said, “OK.”
“Hey,” Daryl said. “We can’t thank you two enough. Won’t you stay for dinner?”
Jan glanced at Beck. He subtly shook his head.
“We’d love to, but we have a really long drive home and we both have to work tomorrow,” she said, wishing with all her heart that they could stay and get to know their daughter a bit more.
“Tell you what,” Beck said, bending down and lifting Meghan up into his arms. “I’ll carry you to your room so you can take a nap.”
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