A Mother's Choice

by Kristin Noel Fischer

  My breath caught. “What? Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he thought she wouldn’t be able to take care of a baby. Maybe he wanted to give the baby to Ruby in compensation for Eric’s death. Or maybe there was another reason.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “I spoke to Father Tim on the phone. He seemed kind and concerned about Mom. I can’t imagine him taking away her baby.”

  “Yes, but he adored Eric. He spent just as much time at Ruby’s house helping her and Mr. McCoy as he did us. People process grief differently. Maybe his argument with Mother about adoption was his way of coping. All I know is, after I overheard their conversation, I stopped trusting him. I feared he might take you, and then help the doctors send Mother away.”

  I covered Eleanor’s hand with my own. “You were just a child. I can only imagine how scared you must’ve been.”

  She closed her eyes, nodded, and pulled her hand away.

  “He can’t hurt us,” I said. “Regardless of his intentions back then, he can’t hurt you now.”

  “I know.” She sounded raw and uncertain.

  I tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Trust me, Eleanor, nobody wants to adopt a woman with two rambunctious kids.”

  She managed a weak smile but remained disturbed. “Did something else happen?” I dared to ask. “Did Father Tim ever try to hurt you or—”

  “No,” she insisted. “No, nothing like that. Up until I heard him arguing with Mother, I adored him. As an adult, I can understand he was just acting in our family’s best interest, but as a kid …” She shuddered. “As a kid, I was scared to death. I was afraid if he could convince her to give the baby away, he might be able to convince her to … to give me away.”

  “Oh, Ellie.” I rubbed her back, searching for the right words to comfort her. “Everything worked out okay. Mom kept me, and she kept you, and despite everything, we’re still a family.”

  She nodded and we sat in silence, watching Aubrey instruct the boys on how to make a river leading from a large boulder to the sea. The children’s cheeks were flushed, and all three of them had removed their jackets. Eleanor must’ve been severely shaken because she didn’t even comment on Aubrey’s bare arms.

  I looked at the letter and read it again, dying to know what was meant by the choice. “You said Father Tim ruined Mom and Ruby’s friendship. What did you mean by that?”

  She watched a large vulture cross the sky, its big black wings spread wide. “I always thought he promised the baby to Ruby, and she got mad when Mother kept you … but maybe there was something else.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said, hoping I’d be brave enough to ask Father Tim about it when he arrived.

  Chapter 27

  After the horrible accident that took so many loved ones, I had no idea how I was supposed to go on with my life. I had children who needed me. The boys were fifteen and thirteen, and Eleanor just nine. My unborn baby was due in October, but I couldn’t function. Couldn’t even find the will and energy to get out of bed. I think nowadays they have medication for depression like mine, but in 1985, everything my doctor gave me put me to sleep.

  I spent days lying in bed, crying and sleeping. I barely ate, and I lost so much weight, I probably would’ve starved to death had Eleanor not brought me meals. At night, I wandered through the dark and lonely house feeling empty and completely lost. I’d crawl back into bed exhausted just as dawn was breaking.

  In the morning, Eleanor would come into my bedroom with a tray of food. “You have to eat, Mother. If not for you, at least for the baby.”

  Guilt ridden, I’d force myself to take a bite, vowing to try harder. But the truth was … I didn’t care about myself or the baby or anything but trying to find a way to reverse time and prevent the accident from destroying our lives. If only I’d stopped Ruby and Harold from going on the retreat. If only Jude hadn’t taken Angela and Eric to look at that crib on the other side of town. If only Jude had seen the stop sign.

  After the funeral, Father Tim came to the house daily, but I barely spoke to him. I didn’t want him pestering me about not attending church. And I certainly didn’t want to hear about God’s will. How could God’s will include taking Jude, Angela, Eric, and my unborn grandchild? How?

  One night, I sat in the dark kitchen thinking about the housewife in Dallas who’d driven off the cliff and ended her life. In the depths of my depression, I prayed for the courage to kill myself. I didn’t want to live anymore. Didn’t want to struggle through the next thirty years without Jude. A mother should never have to bury a child, but losing both my daughter and my husband was too much. And Eric … Oh, Lord. My heart broke over and over for the loss of Ruby’s sweet, precious little boy.

  Gazing out the window toward Ruby’s back porch, I sucked in a quick breath as I saw the flicker of light from a cigarette.

  Ruby was smoking again. We’d all smoked on occasion in college but had quit after the Surgeon General announced the link between smoking and lung cancer.

  But now, my fingers itched to hold a cigarette. Like a child’s special blanket or a sweater knit by your own mother, smoking was a way to soothe a deep-seated pain. Not that anything could even begin to soothe our pain.

  Barefoot and wearing only my nightgown, I opened the back door and crossed the rough and wet grass. With both hands, I held up my belly, heavy with a baby I imagined weighed a hundred pounds.

  Stepping onto my best friend’s back porch, I felt as if I’d traveled a thousand miles. I hadn’t seen Ruby since the day we buried all three of our loved ones. Father Tim had suggested one funeral, and I’d agreed, not wanting to endure a separate mass for each lost soul.

  “Ruby?” I whispered, my throat dry.

  She blinked but didn’t answer. She’d always been trim, but now she’d lost so much weight her body looked brittle. Her usually shiny brown hair hung listless and uncombed at her shoulders.

  “Ruby, I’m so sorry.” My eyes burned, but I blinked hard, refusing to cry in front of my dear friend who’d lost her only child.

  She looked up with red, puffy eyes and took a long drag on the cigarette before turning away and blowing out the smoke. I held my breath, willing her to say something. Anything. But she remained silent. A deep tension pressed down, and the scars on my heart burned.

  Not knowing what else to do, I quietly slipped into the chair beside her. Running a hand over the wooden armrest, I recalled the day Ruby and I had bought four of these chairs at the county fair. Two for her porch and two for mine. Since we couldn’t fit more than one chair in my car at a time, we’d returned three times for the other chairs, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

  “Ruby, do you remember when—”

  The hollow expression on her face stopped me. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

  She ground out the cigarette on the patio, then rose and disappeared inside her house without a word. The screen door banged shut, and my heart shattered. I’d always associated that sound with good memories—Ruby coming to see me with homemade brownies, fresh-squeezed lemonade, or some juicy piece of gossip. Would we ever be friends like that again?

  Squeezing my eyes tight, I offered up a silent prayer. “Lord, I’d do anything. Anything. Just tell me what to do to make things right. Guide me, please.”

  I stayed on Ruby’s porch until the sun rose, then I dragged myself across the overgrown grass, neglected since Jude’s death. I crawled into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and slept until someone entered the bedroom.

  Opening my eyes, I expected to see Eleanor, looking down with a worried and disapproving expression. Instead, Father Tim stood beside me, holding a breakfast tray. “You need to eat, Nadine.”

  My stomach protested at the smell of eggs and coffee. Even the plain toast didn’t appeal to me. “I saw Ruby last night.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Good. The two of you need each other. Especially now.”

  I shook my head. “She wouldn’t talk to me. She just went in
side her house.”

  Tim placed the tray on the nightstand. Sitting beside me, he offered a sympathetic smile. “Give her time. You both need more time, then—”

  I sat up and leaned against the headboard. “What if this doesn’t get better with time?”

  He clasped his hands together tightly in his lap. “It will. I promise. God has not abandoned you.”

  “Are you sure about that, Father?” My voice was full of bitterness. “Where was God when Jude died on the night of the accident? Where was God when they all died?”

  I wanted Tim to fight back with words like “our inability to understand God’s divine plan” or “all things work for the good of those who love Him.”

  Instead, he hung his head and didn’t speak for a long time. Finally, in a soft voice, barely audible, he said, “When that tragedy happened, my darling Nadine, God wept.”

  I swallowed past the large lump in my throat. The small part of my soul that still held a small kernel of faith split wide open. I yearned to believe it was true. Yearned to cling to it.

  But the rest of my soul—the dark, angry, ugly part—reared its wicked head. “I’m having a difficult time believing that, Father. Honestly, I don’t think God even remembers who I am.”

  He nodded and said nothing. I was grateful he didn’t quote some Bible passage or tell me about a thirteenth century saint who’d endured an even worse situation than mine.

  Standing, he looked down at me with sadness and compassion. “I’m going to drive Eleanor and the boys to school while you eat this breakfast. Then you’re going to take a shower and get dressed. When I return, we’ll go for a walk. You need to get out of this house and breathe some fresh air.”

  I started to protest, but he held up his hand. “I know your heart is broken. Mine is, too. Jude was a good man and one of my dearest friends. I loved Angela and Eric as though they were my own children. But we have to go on, Nadine. We have to pick up our cross and move forward. You can’t continue living like this.”

  I blinked and met his gaze. “What if I can’t go on?”

  A single tear slid down his face. He quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand as though ashamed to find it there. “You have to find a way. For the sake of your children. For the sake of this unborn baby, and the sake of your precious friend, Ruby. And for my sake, whose soul is breaking seeing you like this. You have to move on.”

  Guilt and sorrow crushed me. He was right, but that didn’t make it any easier, or answer the question as to how I was supposed to move forward.

  Chapter 28

  I awoke in the morning to find Kyle standing in front of the coffeemaker, dressed for work. He opened his arms, and I walked into them, resolved to accept the things I couldn’t change.

  “Okay,” I said. “If it’s really important to you, I won’t stand in your way.”

  “What? Having my morning coffee?”

  I swatted his belly. “No, the fellowship.”

  He gripped my shoulders and leaned back so he could see my face. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. You can do the fellowship or another residency or whatever it is you need to become an OB if that’s what you want.”

  He stared at me. “What’s going on? Why did you suddenly change your mind?”

  “You’re a good husband and a wonderful father. The only reason I said no is because I’ll miss you. I hate having you gone all the time. It’s lonely, and I just want you home, but I know you love me and would never cheat on me.”

  “Of course I’d never cheat on you. Why would you even mention that?”

  “Jim slept with Vilda.”

  Kyle’s face fell. “I was worried about that.”

  “You were?”

  He squeezed my shoulders before releasing them. Grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, he poured us each a cup of coffee. “It was just a feeling I had. Jim and Eleanor don’t seem to enjoy spending time together.”

  “I know.”

  “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about that with me, okay? I swear. Delivering babies has given me a whole new perspective on the female anatomy down there.”

  “Down there?” I laughed. “Is that an official medical term?”

  He grinned. “You know what I mean.”

  I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the first taste of the day. “Has it ruined how you feel about my female anatomy down there?”

  He laughed and patted my hip. “Baby, nothing could change how I feel about your girlie parts.”

  “Good. Then I guess we’ll be hanging out in residency a little longer.”

  He eyed me cautiously. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, but I’m coming with you. Even if all we can afford is a one-bedroom apartment with a communal bathroom. I’m not going to live apart from you for an entire year.”

  “I wouldn’t let you.”

  I hid my expression in my coffee mug and refrained from pointing out he’d been the one to suggest it.

  *

  After Kyle left for work, I decided to do something I hadn’t done in a long time: attend church. If there was ever a time when I needed God in my life, it was now.

  I endured the usual frustrating routine of trying to figure out what to wear. After trying on a dozen outfits, I finally settled on a simple dress with tights and boots. The boys couldn’t find their church shoes or church pants, so they wore jeans, matching polo shirts, and their least dirty pair of sneakers.

  In the sanctuary, we sat in the back pew, where Eleanor and her kids joined us. Aubrey looked adorable in a ladybug sundress and a sparkly black sweater.

  “I was saving it for spring,” my sister said, “but I chose to embrace my chaotic life and let her wear it today.”

  I smiled. “She looks cute, and so does Jude.” Jude wore a little navy blue sailor suit with tiny anchors on the snaps.

  Dan, Darlene, and their kids waved as they marched down the aisle, headed for the first pew where they sat each Sunday, claiming their kids behaved better in the front. Kyle and I had sat with them once. Logan and Zane were much younger, and it had been a nightmare. Unbeknown to us, Logan slid his shoes under the modesty railing, where a lector had tripped on them on his way up to the podium!

  The music began, and as we rose for the opening hymn, I saw Michael standing several rows ahead of me. A familiar, curvaceous woman with short blonde hair stood next to him.

  “It’s one of Mom’s nurses from the hospital,” Eleanor said.

  She was right. The five-o’clock-somewhere nurse.

  Aubrey leaned over. “Her name is Christy. She likes strawberry ice cream, unicycles, and collecting sand dollars.”

  “Good to know,” I said.

  My phone vibrated with a call from Kyle, but I sent it to voicemail, assuming he’d leave a message or text if it was an emergency. Maybe he’d already talked to Dr. Forman about the fellowship and was now slotted to begin tomorrow. If that were the case, I would stay in Turtle Lake until things were settled with my mother.

  Sticking my phone in my purse, I forced myself to concentrate on the readings and sermon. My mind strayed, however, to Michael and Christy. What was going on between the two of them? They weren’t touching as far as I could see, but they were sitting close to each other. At one point, she turned and studied him, but Michael didn’t react. He probably couldn’t see her through that horrible mass of hair. Obviously, Christy had a crush on him, but how did my brother feel about her?

  My mind drifted from thoughts of Michael and his love life to what Eleanor told me yesterday down at the lake. She must’ve lived in terror, thinking any minute she’d lose her mother or unborn sister.

  I thought about some of the nine year olds I’d worked with in speech therapy. A few of them were hardened by life, but most of them were innocent. A couple still believed in Santa Claus!

  Maybe Eleanor had misunderstood the conversation about adoption between our mother and Father Tim. I couldn’t imagine a priest who’d been such a huge part of my parent
s’ lives trying to convince my mom to give up her baby. Then again, if she’d been so depressed she couldn’t get out of bed, who knows what they talked about.

  Still, something about Eleanor’s story didn’t sit right with me. What was the answer?

  Faith, the voice whispered for the second time.

  My eyes darted to the stained glass window above the altar. I stared at the cherub angels flying in the billowy clouds of heaven. “I’m trying,” I whispered. “I’m trying.”

  *

  After church, Eleanor and I took the kids outside and met up with the rest of our family. The boy cousins ran to play at the church’s park, but Aubrey stayed behind not wanting to get her dress dirty.

  Dan placed an arm across his wife’s shoulders and looked at Michael with amusement. “Were you sitting with one of Mom’s nurses from the hospital?”

  Darlene, Eleanor, Aubrey, and I spoke in unison. “Christy.”

  Dan’s eyes broadened, but Michael casually stroked his beard as though it were a pet. “It’s no big deal, we just happened to run into each other this morning. She usually attends Saturday night, but she went to a barbecue last night.”

  Darlene patted Michael’s arm. “She happened to show up this morning because she wanted to see you. You understand that, right?”

  Michael shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. She’s a pretty girl, but she’s not interested in me that way. We’re just … well, not friends, but acquaintances.”

  Aubrey squinted in the sunshine. “Do you like her?”

  “Of course,” Michael said. “Don’t you? She’s a good nurse and takes great care of Grandma and the other patients.”

  Aubrey rolled her eyes. “Oh, Uncle Michael. That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

  We all shared a smile just as my phone rang. Father Tim’s number appeared on my caller ID, and my heart lurched.

  “Answer it,” Eleanor demanded, peering over my shoulder.

  “Hello?”