“Mr. Gray.” I hesitated, doing my best to sound calm. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m representing your sister.”
I flicked the edge of the card with my index finger. “In what matter?”
“Is there a more private place we can talk?”
I lifted my chin. I was tired of secrets. Of hiding. “Here is fine. Why are you here?”
He drew in a breath. “Janet Morgan is concerned that you may contest her custody of her infant daughter.”
Anger stabbed and prodded, but I kept my tone even. “She told you that?”
“Yes.”
I held his card so tightly the fine white linen paper creased. “She certainly works fast.”
“She wants you to understand that once she has a place to stay, she’ll be taking the baby.”
“Really?” The baby/job juggling act was driving me insane. What was Janet going to do when she picked up a waitress job?
“There’s a meeting scheduled tomorrow with Social Services at nine o’clock in the morning. The department will be ruling on the child’s custody.”
My fingers crushed the attorney’s card. “Doesn’t sound like I have a choice.”
“No.”
He turned and left, leaving me to stand at the shop entrance, my head a little dizzy with anger. “So I’m supposed to turn the baby over to her?”
He stopped and faced me. “You will be required to follow the ruling of the department.”
“And what if I don’t like the ruling?”
He pulled Ray-Bans from his breast pocket. “I suggest you get an attorney.”
“How the hell am I supposed to afford a guy like you?” My voice rose high and sharp. “And how the hell is Janet affording you?”
He slid on the glasses. “That is not your concern.”
“Are you going to be around in five months when Janet can’t hack it anymore, and she and the baby are in crisis? Are you going to drive across the country when she calls to bail her out of more trouble?”
“I can’t predict the future, Ms. Morgan. I can only deal with the issue at hand.”
“Meaning you don’t give a shit what happens to the baby! Or Janet for that matter. She can’t handle the stress right now.” Years of pent-up anger rolled free now.
“Have you ever considered that maybe you underestimate your sister.”
Disgust rose up in my throat. “Spoken like a man who’s never traveled this path before.” I slammed the door, the bang of wood against wood echoing in the warehouse.
* * *
Calling Zeb for help was not easy for me. We’d forged a tentative alliance. I understood he was simply looking out for Eric and the boy’s relationship with his mother’s family, but I needed an ally. Though I considered calling Scott, in the end, I didn’t bother. He was always so very clear about what he wanted. He never wavered. Never changed course. How could I blame him? It was me who’d changed course.
I dialed Zeb’s number. As my stomach knotted, my finger hovered over the Send button, and I paced the floor. Drawing in a breath, I pressed the button. The phone rang once and then twice before he picked it up.
“Addie. Is everything all right?”
“Not really. Janet wants Carrie.”
A long heavy silence cut across the airways. “She said that?”
“She not only said that, but she’s hired an attorney to represent her. There’s going to be a hearing in the morning at Social Services.”
He sighed. “How can she afford a lawyer?”
“She can’t. But she knows so many people, and she can be so damn charming. She’s convinced this guy to help her, and I bet he doesn’t get paid a dime.”
“Their arrangement isn’t really the problem. He’s on her side and helping her. Look, if you need to hire an attorney, I know they’re expensive, but I’ve some money.”
Sudden hot tears stung my eyes. “No. I don’t want your money, but if you could show up at Social Services tomorrow at nine A.M. and talk to the social worker, maybe you could convince her to give this situation more time.”
“How much more time, Addie? Are you willing to raise the baby?”
The question had buzzed in my head for days, but when Janet showed up yesterday, the buzzing grew so loud it blocked out almost all other thought. Breathe deep. Let it go. “Yes.”
Silence snapped. “What about Scott?”
“He doesn’t want to be a part of Carrie’s life.”
“So he’s not going to man up and help?”
“It’s not his fault. I changed the rules. And now I have to figure out what’s next. But I can’t worry about next if the social worker gives the baby to Janet.”
“Okay, I’ll be at the hearing.”
“I don’t want to cut Janet out of Carrie’s life, but I see a train wreck coming if she rushes into mothering and working.”
“I know.”
“Thanks, Zeb.”
“Sure.”
I hung up and the hot tears burning the back of my eyes spilled down my cheeks. A couple of weeks ago when I buried the witch bottle, I asked to feel normal, but my life was so far from normal now.
* * *
The next morning I dressed Carrie in a light blue onesie that belonged to Daisy’s son and was one of the nicest garments in the bag of clothes. Light blue, I reasoned, was also suited for a girl as well as a boy.
I rummaged through my clothes, but found only jeans, which would not have worked for this hearing. With no time to shop, I called Margaret and asked if she owned a skirt. A half hour later, she arrived with a pink paisley A-line skirt and a white blouse. Both had a peasant feel to them, and I debated if they looked more “motherly” than a clean pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. In the end, I chose the skirt, top, and a pair of tan sandals.
Grace came out of her room dressed in a simple pair of cotton pants and a white top. She brushed back her gray hair and tied it back into a ponytail at the base of her head. She looked as pulled together as I could remember.
I loaded Carrie into her car seat and slung the baby bag on my shoulder. I was hoping the social worker would see my side, but I knew life never went as planned, so I packed extra clothes and diapers in the bag in case the baby left the building with Janet.
Grace followed Carrie and me outside and as Grace settled in the front seat, I hooked Carrie’s seat into the backseat. We made the trip in silence and because the morning commuter traffic had cleared, the journey took less than ten minutes. I parked the car in front, fed the meter, and pulled the baby and bag out of the backseat as Grace closed her front door.
The receptionist was expecting us, and even mentioned that Ms. Morgan had arrived. That prompted a raised brow from Grace. “First time she’s ever been on time.”
We rode the elevator to the second floor and were directed to a conference room. When I knocked, the door edged open, and I saw Janet and her attorney sitting across the table. Janet looked lovely. Her hair freshly washed, she wore a navy blue pullover dress that hugged slim curves. Bracelets rattled from her wrists and her eyes sparked with a nervous excitement that would be hard to resist.
She looked up at Grace and me, and oddly, the smile did not dim. She rose and came around the table and hugged me. “Addie, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for Carrie and me. I don’t know where we would be without you.”
“You’re making a mistake,” I whispered in her ear. “Don’t do this.”
She smiled at the baby. “Why don’t you have any confidence in me? Why do you think I’m always going to screw up? This time is going to be different.”
“I wish that were true.”
Ms. Willis entered the room, along with another woman who was tall and full figured. She wore a blue suit and white blouse with blond hair around her shoulders. “Ladies, if
you will sit we can begin.”
I glanced over my shoulder, hoping to see Zeb, and when I didn’t, my heart dropped..
“Shall we?”
I sat and set the car seat on the table. Janet sat next to me and turned the seat so she could see Carrie. She jostled the baby’s socked feet and tickled her under the chin. Carrie grinned and kicked.
I sat and tried to calm racing thoughts. I needed to sound clear and thoughtful. “Yes.”
“I am Mrs. Hudson,” said the other woman as she opened her file and reviewed the case. “As I understand it, Ms. Janet Morgan, after having spent the last thirty days in a mental hospital, is now stable and would like to take custody of the minor child, Carrie Morgan.”
Janet smiled, but it was her attorney who spoke.
He leaned forward in his chair, his gold cufflinks winking in the light. “That is correct.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Harold S. Gray, attorney-at-law. I’m here on Ms. Janet Morgan’s behalf.”
Mrs. Hudson studied the lawyer and Janet before her gaze shifted to me. “You must be Ms. Addie Morgan?”
I straightened my shoulders. “That is correct. I’m Janet’s sister and Carrie’s aunt.”
“It’s my understanding that you did not want the child at first. According to Ms. Willis, you asked her to find a foster home.”
“That is correct.” I shifted forward in my seat. “News of the baby’s birth was a big surprise to me. It took some adjusting.”
“And now you want to keep the child?”
“Janet needs time to get on her own two feet. I have no doubt that she loves the baby, but raising a baby, I’ve discovered, is very stressful. It has always been my experience that Janet doesn’t handle stress well.”
“I don’t think it’s fair to talk about the past,” her attorney said. “This is about now. My client has already gotten a room in a friend’s house and she’s looking for a job.”
“Who’s going to take care of the baby while you work, Ms. Morgan?”
“My friends have offered to help.”
The door behind me opened and closed, and I turned to see Zeb. He wore a crisp white shirt, a red tie, and khaki pants.
Janet shifted in her seat. “What’s he doing here?”
Mrs. Hudson looked at Zeb. “And who are you?”
“I’m Zeb Talbot.” His voice was clear and sharp. The cavalry had arrived. “I was married to Janet Morgan for three years, and we have a seven-year-old son together. I have custody of the boy.”
Janet shook her head. “This is not fair. I’m different than I was then.”
Mrs. Hudson held up her hand. “Mr. Talbot, how is it you came to have sole custody?”
His expression was stoic, his voice even as if he were giving a report to a superior. “Janet left when our boy was four months old. The stress of mothering was too much.”
“That is a biased opinion,” the attorney said, rising. “That was seven years ago and does not take into consideration the stresses and strains of their marriage. This matter is completely separate.”
Mrs. Hudson wrote several notes in her file. “Ms. Willis, what is your opinion?”
“I’ve met with Janet Morgan several times in the last month, and I’ve seen tremendous improvement. She is willing and anxious to take custody of her baby. I’ve seen where she’s living, and it’s suitable, as are her roommates. I think Addie Morgan has done a tremendous job with the baby, but Janet Morgan should be given the opportunity to parent.”
“If I may speak,” I said.
Mrs. Hudson nodded and I continued. “I believe Janet is sincere. I know she loves the baby, but she has the same illness that our mother had, and even Janet will admit, we did not have a stable upbringing.”
The attorney shook his head. “Medications and treatment options have advanced radically in the last twenty years. That is not a fair comparison. The past is not a predictor of the future.”
Zeb shifted his stance, the tension rolling off of him. “I disagree. I have been down this road with Janet. She is not ready.”
Janet glared at Zeb.
Sadness and loss washed over me. The voices around me swirled and grew distant and far off. I knew before Mrs. Hudson spoke I’d lose. When she finally ruled, she ordered that Janet be given custody of the baby with supervised visits from Ms. Willis.
Loss enveloped me like a thick wool blanket, weighing down my body. It took tremendous effort to lean forward and kiss the baby on the cheek, push the diaper bag toward Janet, and leave the room. Conversations buzzed in the background but I refused to make sense of it.
Zeb caught up to me at the elevator. “Addie, we can fight this. This does not have to be the end of it.”
“I will always remain close so that if Carrie needs me I will be there.” I pushed the Down button.
“So you’re going to walk away?”
I faced him. “What do you want me to do? A fight is not going to change anything. It’s only going to add more stress into Janet’s life and Carrie needs her healthy.”
“She can’t do this,” Zeb said. “She can’t.”
“Maybe she can.” I tried to inject hope into my tone but I missed the mark. “Maybe I haven’t been fair to Janet.”
The doors opened and I walked inside. “Thanks for coming, Zeb. I really appreciate you trying.”
* * *
I barely remembered the drive back to the vineyard. The landscape blurred past me as I drove the country roads I knew so well. The first time I drove these roads, I felt broken and lost and now here I was again. Broken and lost and searching.
I pulled up to the vineyard sign and drove up the dirt road. Dust kicked up around my car.
When I parked in front of the tasting room, I got out of the car and stood for a moment. The place was so quiet. No cars. No honking horns. No baby crying. Too quiet. The noise of the city once was maddening, but now the silence was worse.
“Addie.”
Scott’s voice sounded warm and welcoming and when I turned he was hurrying toward me. He wore a large grin on his face, and he easily wrapped me in his arms. I burrowed my face into the rough shirt that smelled of Scott and sunshine. I loved his smell. Loved his touch. Tears burned and fell. When I sobbed, he wrapped his arms tighter around me.
“It’s going to be okay, baby.” His warm breath brushed the top of my head. “We’ll be fine. I love you.”
I clung to his shirt, needing his strength. “I love you.”
He pressed his hands on my shoulders and leaned me back so that he could see my face. Carefully, he brushed away a tear trailing down my cheek. “Will you marry me?”
I blinked, struggled to shift my thoughts. “What?”
Grinning, he dug a small box from his pack pocket and held it in front of me. “Marry me.”
Hands trembling, I took the small box. Hinges creaked softly as I opened it. Inside was a single solitaire diamond that looked to be at least a carat, or maybe more. It caught the midday light and twinkled. “Scott.”
“I’ve been meaning to give that to you for weeks. I didn’t realize how much I love and need you until you were gone.”
I stared at the ring. It sparkled in the light. So beautiful. A month ago it was my heart’s desire. “It’s beautiful.”
He took the box and removed the ring. Carefully, he slid it on the ring finger of my left hand. “I love you.”
I kissed him, wishing this moment was perfect and enough to wash away the loss that lingered like a specter. “I love you.”
He hugged me tight. “We’re going to be happy.”
A hole gaped, open and raw, in my heart, but I believed it would heal. It had to. “I know.”
“And Janet and Carrie are going to be fine.” He smoothed his hand over my hair, tucking a loose strand behind my ear
.
“You called Grace.” My words sounded distant, far off.
“I spoke to her about an hour ago. She told me what happened.” He smoothed his hands over my hair. “You’re exhausted. You need sleep, and then in a few days you’ll be back in your old routine. You’ll be fine.”
“Right. I know. I need time.” The words echoed, hollow.
“I know you think you’re the best choice for Carrie, but Janet is her mother. She’ll be better off.”
“Better off?” The words tumbled out rough and jagged.
“A child belongs with her mother.” He spoke as if he were stating a fact I should know. “We both know that. That’s why I hired the attorney for Janet.”
“What?” Replay. Rewind. “Say that again.”
“I hired the attorney. Honey, you’re so loyal. You’d have ridden that situation to the end. It would have drained the hell out of you. I knew the best thing to do was end it quickly. You need to get back to your life. Our life.”
For a moment I wasn’t sure what to say. “You decided.”
“I did. I did it because I knew you wouldn’t.”
I glanced at the ring, winking bright in the sunlight. My dreams glittered back up at me. Had this been what the witch bottle always wanted for me? Had it known I belonged here and not Alexandria? Maybe it did know what was best for me.
Maybe.
Very slowly, I pulled the ring off. I placed it in the center of Scott’s calloused palm and slowly closed his fingers over the diamond. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
His smile didn’t dim. He was still so proud of his good deed. “Baby, what are you talking about?”
I cleared the emotion tightening my throat. “You shouldn’t have interfered.”
The smile dimmed only a little. “Your sister interfered in our lives. She was tearing us apart.”
“No, we were doing that. We reached a fork in the road and realized how different we are.”
He spoke to me like he were breaking down a complex problem for a small child. “I love you. You love me.”
“I sure thought I loved you.” Where was the old certainty?
“Thought?” he said, offended. “What does that mean?”
At the Corner of King Street Page 30