A Mother's Choice

by Kristin Noel Fischer

  “Stop rocking,” she snapped. “You’re giving me a headache.”

  “Sorry.” I brought the chair to a standstill and pressed my lips together tightly.

  Eleanor stifled a yawn. She hadn’t looked so ragged after Aubrey was born. Maybe Jude was keeping her up at night.

  “I want to show you something,” I said, reaching into my purse for the anniversary album.

  Recognition filled her eyes. “Where did you find that?”

  “In a box in the attic. Do you remember it?”

  She nodded. “Angela made it for Mom and Dad’s anniversary.”

  I moved to the couch and set the album on the cushion between us. Eleanor leafed through the pages with a sad smile. When she came to the clipping about Elvis’s movie, I asked her about the boy with the red hair. “Was this Ruby’s husband? I saw him, Mom, and Ruby in the movie.”

  A strange look crossed her face. Cradling Jude, she lifted her shirt so he could latch onto the other side. “I don’t know who that is.”

  I studied her carefully. “Why are you lying to me?”

  “I’m …”

  Jude fussed and kicked his legs. Eleanor put him on her shoulder and yanked down her shirt. “He won’t nurse on the left side. I’m so engorged, I’m about to explode.”

  Why was she avoiding my question? “A friend of mine had that problem. She had to pump on one side until the baby decided it wasn’t so bad.”

  “How long did that take?”

  I shrugged. “A few months or so.”

  Eleanor grumbled, insisting she’d never tolerate that kind of behavior from an infant. She tried nursing the baby again, but Jude wasn’t having any of it. Finally, she gave up and pushed herself off the couch. Pacing the living room, she patted the baby’s back, bouncing him up and down.

  Jude let out a huge burp that echoed across the living room. Eleanor crunched her face and returned to the couch. Without all that air in his belly, Jude nursed from the offending side. My sister relaxed and even smiled.

  Instead of pursuing my questions about the boy from the movie, I changed topics. “Did you know Angela was pregnant?”

  Her eyes widened, and she looked down at her baby, placing a hand on his head. “Of course I knew she was pregnant.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  She shrugged. “It never came up.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head and looked up with a sad smile. “Dad was so mad when he found out.”

  I swallowed hard. “What did he say?”

  “He wanted Angela to give the baby up for adoption, but neither she nor Mother would do that. In the end …” Eleanor paused. “Well, in the end, he relented and agreed to let Angela and the baby live at home.”

  “Who was the baby’s father?” I blurted out, suddenly struck by the need to know where my biological father was in all of this. Was he still alive? Did he know about me?

  Eleanor’s expression darkened. “He was a real jerk. He pretty much raped Angela, although our parents didn’t know that part.”

  My stomach contracted. “She told you that?”

  “We shared a room. She came home crying the night it happened. She wouldn’t tell me at first, but when she did, she begged me not to say anything.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  She nodded and ran a tender hand over Jude’s head. “Despite all that, Angela really wanted the baby.”

  My heart lifted. “She did?”

  “Yes.”

  We both looked down at Jude. His eyes closed and his head lolled to one side, milk trickling over his fat cheek.

  Eleanor pulled down her shirt and held her son close. “Angela said the baby would give her healing, would give her a purpose in life. She was about to graduate from high school and go to college, but I think she was lost.”

  I knew that feeling. I was almost thirty, and I still felt lost. Still felt as though something was missing.

  “When the baby died in the accident, Dan tried to comfort me by insisting it happened so fast, she didn’t suffer. Still, losing everyone, including her …”

  I blinked several times. “But you didn’t lose the baby. I didn’t die.”

  Confusion marred Eleanor’s eyes.

  “It’s all right. At first I was angry everyone hid it from me, but I’m okay now. Honestly, after Jude was born, I understood why you didn’t tell me. You wanted to protect me and give me a normal life.”

  Eleanor frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  I thumped my chest. “Me. I know Angela was my biological mother. I found her medical records, and it’s okay. I get it now.”

  Eleanor stared at me. “Is that what you seriously believe?”

  “Of course.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, Autumn. That’s not it at all.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No, you’ve got it all wrong.”

  Chapter 23

  Ruby found out about Harold’s affair on the day the library chose her design for the new mural in the children’s wing. Although devastated, she was determined to stay in the marriage and work things out.

  “I’d like to work things out by beating Harold over the head with a frying pan,” I told Jude, setting his usual breakfast of eggs, blueberry pancakes, and bacon on the kitchen table.

  My husband folded the Seattle Times and set it aside. He pulled me onto his lap and rubbed my thigh. “Please don’t resort to physical violence against that man, my dear. You’ll be sent to jail and ruin your frying pan. Then where will we be?”

  “Men are pigs,” I said with a false pout.

  He snorted against my neck. “You’ve always been fond of pigs.”

  I giggled and squirmed to get away, but he held me tight. Surrendering to his strength, I relaxed against him. After eighteen years of marriage, he was still the love of my life. Still my soul mate.

  A noticeably pregnant Angela waddled into the kitchen and winced. “Are you sure you want to be doing that? You understand what that leads to, don’t you?”

  Jude, calmer but not quite at peace with his oldest daughter’s pregnancy, growled. “We’re married. I take care of your mother, and she takes care of me. See the difference?”

  Jude had tried to convince Angela to put her baby up for adoption, but she’d refused. I’d talked to her about an open adoption with Ruby and Harold, thinking that would be the perfect solution, but Angela wanted no part of that.

  I climbed off Jude’s lap and ran a hand through his hair, which was still thick but now contained several strands of gray I found downright appealing. I smiled. Now would be a great time to hit him with my unexpected news.

  He looked up at me and grimaced. “Are you okay, honey? You look a little pale.”

  Pale? I’m pregnant, I almost said, but the words clung to my throat, refusing to be released into the world and made real. I was forty-one and almost a grandmother. How could I be pregnant?

  And yet, when I’d voiced those same words eight years ago, I’d been devastated to suffer a miscarriage. Since then, I’d spent a lot of time talking to Father Tim about feelings of guilt. For a man who’d never been married, he definitely understood women. He assured me my negative feelings toward the pregnancy hadn’t caused me to lose the baby.

  But now I was pregnant again, and those same apprehensive feelings were back. Why in the world had God granted me another baby? Wasn’t my fertility supposed to be winding down about now? Weren’t my eggs supposed to be all dried up? Apparently not.

  “Nadine?” Jude asked, interrupting my thoughts. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I just haven’t had my coffee this morning.”

  Satisfied with my answer, he returned to his breakfast and morning paper. I walked to the stove where Angela was dishing up the remaining eggs and bacon. “Leave some for your brothers and sister, please.”

  “But I’m so hungry,” she whined. “And the baby wants food.”

  “Then you can cook
more. These are for your siblings.”

  Angela started to huff but stopped herself. Jude and I had warned her about following our rules if she wished to stay and raise her baby under our roof.

  Jude had also talked to the baby’s father about child support. Rodney agreed to take responsibility, but he only earned minimum wage working at his father’s garage.

  “There was a time when you only earned minimum wage,” I’d reminded Jude.

  “But I had you, and you inspired me to work hard so we could carve out a good life. These two aren’t even in love. They’re just having a baby together.”

  “It will work out in the end,” I insisted, despite my doubts.

  Opening the refrigerator for the orange juice, I tried to imagine myself at the park, pushing my baby and granddaughter on the swings next to all the young mothers half my age. My own daughter would be receiving hand-me-downs from her niece. Angela, who was convinced she knew everything about pregnancy and babies, would probably give me advice on breastfeeding and changing diapers. I laughed at the absurdity of it all.

  Angela eyed me suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” I answered.

  *

  Later that day, I met Ruby downtown for lunch at Juliet’s. Usually I ordered a glass of Chardonnay with my salmon, but since I was pregnant, I feigned a headache and stuck with water.

  Ruby frowned. “Why aren’t you drinking wine?”

  “I told you, I have a headache.”

  “Wine is good for headaches.”

  I straightened the silverware and avoided her gaze. I didn’t want to admit I was pregnant again, although I suspected Ruby already knew. Anybody who looked closely at me could see the signs. I was already beginning to show, especially in my breasts, which resembled gigantic headlights heralding my arrival.

  I imagined the only reason Jude hadn’t noticed was because he was so distraught over Angela’s pregnancy. Plus, he was smart enough not to comment on my recent weight gain.

  “How far along are you?” Ruby asked.

  “Just a few weeks.” I covered my face and shook my head. “I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know how it happened.”

  “Really?”

  “You know what I mean. I’m too old to start over again.”

  “No, you’re not.” Ruby’s voice held a note of longing. “I don’t think you’re too old at all. In fact … well, it’s a moot point now.”

  “What?”

  She shook her head and stared out the window where a mother with two little boys strolled past, each of them licking an ice cream cone. “Before I found out about stupid Harold’s stupid affair, we were talking to the lawyer about adopting another baby.”

  “Really?”

  Ruby nodded and the skin around her eyes tightened. “When Harold agreed to adopt another child, I thought life was pretty perfect. I had a beautiful son, the prospect of another baby, and what I thought was a good marriage. Then I found out about the affair, and everything changed.”

  I smoothed the cloth napkin in my lap. “Ruby, what exactly happened? You said Harold’s former secretary contacted you to confess she’d slept with Harold eight years ago. Why after all this time did she feel the need to tell you?”

  Ruby tugged at a loose thread on the tablecloth. “She wants to see Eric.”

  “Eric? What do you mean?”

  Tears pooled in Ruby’s eyes, and she shook her head. “She’s Eric’s mother. She’s the secretary who accidentally got pregnant and gave her baby up for adoption.”

  It took a minute for my brain to comprehend what she was saying. “Does that mean Harold is Eric’s biological father?”

  She nodded. “I feel so betrayed. Not only did my husband sleep with another woman, but he had a baby with her. He had Eric, and he never told me.”

  I took a sip of my water, wishing it was wine. No wonder Harold finally agreed to adopt. He was adopting his own kid!

  “He swears it was just one night,” Ruby continued, “and it never happened again, but how can I trust him after something like that?”

  “Oh, Ruby, I’m so sorry.”

  She took a large swig of her wine. “I went a little crazy and barged into Father Tim’s office this morning, demanding to know how he could be so dishonest.”

  “What’d he say?”

  Ruby gave a derisive chuckle that caused me to question her rationality, although what woman wouldn’t be half-crazy after discovering her husband’s deception. “Tim claims he didn’t know, but I’m sure his brother—the adoption lawyer—did.”

  All I could do was shake my head. “That’s incredible.”

  “Incredible is one word for it.” Her voice was sarcastic and irritated. The waiter came to the table and asked if everything was all right. “Not really,” Ruby replied.

  “We’re fine,” I said. “Perhaps some more bread?”

  “Certainly.”

  After he left, Ruby apologized. “I’m just so angry, but Father Tim thinks attending Retrouvaille will help.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A marriage retreat for couples on the brink of divorce.”

  I started to tell her she didn’t have to go, but Ruby held up a hand to stop me. “I know you don’t like Harold. I know you never approved of our marriage, and I’m sure this whole mess only makes you detest him more. Believe me, I understand. I’ve never been more furious in my entire life. But … he’s my husband. He’s Eric’s father, and I can’t ignore that.”

  My disdain for Harold had waned over time, but this stunt reignited my contempt. Regardless, Ruby needed my support right now. Not my judgment. Still, how in the world was she going to overcome something like this?

  “Ruby, are you sure you don’t want to just end things with Harold?” You can do better, I thought but didn’t say.

  She stared at me for a long time, and I worried I’d overstepped. I started to apologize, but she didn’t let me finish.

  “I’m afraid if I can’t work things out with Harold, he’ll take away my son. So, for that reason, I have to find a way to make my marriage work. At least until Eric is older. I can’t lose him. I can’t!”

  I simply nodded, my own eyes burning with tears. Ruby was trapped in a difficult situation, and as a mother, I completely understood her choice.

  Blotting her face with her napkin, Ruby forced a brave smile. “I need you to do a favor for me.”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “I need you to watch Eric while Harold and I attend the retreat.”

  I told her I would, wanting to help, but years later, I would regret this moment. I would regret nodding my head and insisting Eric would be fine while Ruby went away with Harold to save her marriage.

  But mostly, I would regret that this was the last time Ruby and I had our friendship intact.

  This was the last time we were together before the police officers knocked on my front door, informing me that my husband and daughter had been killed.

  Chapter 24

  I sat on the living room couch at Eleanor’s house holding Jude. “Are you sure Angela couldn’t possibly be my mother? I’ve heard stories of babies surviving horrible accidents because they were protected in their mother’s womb.”

  “That can happen,” Eleanor agreed. “But not in this case. I know because I kept asking Dan the same question until he finally showed me the newspaper article. There was a picture of the car, and trust me, nobody could’ve survived that accident. Not even a baby.”

  I mulled this over, exploring every possibility. “So Mom and Angela were pregnant together? Mom really had me when she was forty-one?”

  Eleanor groaned. “Forty-one isn’t that old. Just three years older than me. And yes, Angela and Mother were pregnant together.”

  To prove her point, she stood and walked into her home office. Moments later, she returned with a small photo box. Sitting across from me, she dug through the photos until she found what she was looking for.

  “H
ere,” she said, handing me the photo.

  I took the picture and laughed. The image showed my mom and Angela, both of them wearing floral maternity dresses and proudly holding their bulging bellies.

  I held up the picture. “Can I keep this?”

  “I’ll make you a copy.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jude grew heavy in my arms and gave a huge yawn. I smiled as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  “I should put him in his crib,” Eleanor said. “I don’t want him getting used to being held all the time.”

  I tightened my grip around my nephew. “He’s a baby. He’s supposed to be held all the time.”

  She didn’t argue but sat back on the couch defeated and changed the subject. “I was nine that summer and so excited to have both my mother and sister pregnant. I offered to let the babies sleep in my room.”

  “Didn’t you share a room with Angela?”

  “I did, but Dad and the boys converted the garage into a bedroom for Angela and her baby.”

  The idea of my father doing something like that warmed me. “I wish I could’ve met him.”

  Eleanor gave a sad smile. “He was wonderful. Even though he grumbled about Angela’s pregnancy, he built that room for her and found a slightly used crib. In fact, that’s where they went the night of the accident—to pick up the crib. Dad wanted to make sure Angela liked it.”

  My heart fell, devastated that such a joyful outing had turned sour.

  “Before that, though, I was happy,” Eleanor continued. “We all were, except when Mother used Angela’s unplanned pregnancy as an excuse to lecture us about pre-marital sex.”

  Aubrey came into the living room at that moment. “What’s sex?”

  I looked at Eleanor and smiled. My sister returned my smile and shook her head.

  “What’s so funny?” Aubrey asked.

  Eleanor, who never shied from telling her daughter the truth, took a deep breath. “Sex is how you make a baby.”

  Aubrey gently kissed her brother’s head. “Oh, can I have sex?”