Adirondack Audacity

by L. R. Smolarek

  “No,” I whisper. “It can’t be possible.” I’m stunned with shock.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”

  Oh my God, How could I be so stupid? I feel like someone gut punched me, and then threw me into a vat of ice-cold water. A miscarriage, this can’t be possible.

  “Vic, there must be some mistake.” I shake my head in disbelief. “There is no way I was pregnant. They told me years ago, there would be no more children, something to do with a mild form of endometriosis. I barely have a period anymore. Jack wanted a large Irish family and it was a miracle we had two children. They must be wrong.”

  “You had a D &C, quierda,,” he gently tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, giving me a tender kiss on the forehead. “The doctor said the baby was about twelve weeks old. The timing fits the last time we were together. Elle, we conceived another child.” He gives a weak laugh and shakes his head. “Remember Bridget’s comment about the horny monkeys?” He bites his lower lip, rolling his eyes. “We’d fill an entire zoo with them. It seems every time I touch you……” His voice turns bitter. “And we never get to keep our babies.” He walks to the window, and stands with hands on his hips, chest heaving in anger. “Son of a bitch.”

  My head is whirling;; I can’t believe it. A baby? Pregnant again? I’m like…..old. Boy, talk about miracles….or not.

  Vic turns to me, holding up his hands in consolation. “I know this doesn’t help, but the doctor said it was probably a good thing you lost the baby. At your age, it would have been difficult to carry the baby to term and there’s a very high risk of birth defects.”

  I feel the creeping tendrils of depression and loss curl through my gut. At my age, I really don’t want another child, but the thought of losing a baby is crushing. Tears flow down my face, deep sobs rack my body. All the anguish of losing our first child comes back with a stabbing pain. I feel the bed compress under the weight of his body as he lies down, gathering me close to the warmth and safety of his arms.

  “I’m sorry, Ella, my bella, bella,” his lips brush tenderly against my hair. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

  “Vic,” I reach my hand up to caress the beard stubble covering his face, only enhancing his rugged beauty.

  “Yes, love,” he answers his voice gravelly with fatigue.

  “I want my baby.”

  “I know, sweetheart,” he leans into me, sighing. “I’ll be honest; the thought of having a child never crossed my mind. I just assumed we were beyond that stage in our lives. You had said you were no longer….you know…. So we were careless.” He shakes his head.

  “No, Vic…”

  “You want to try again?” He rolls onto his elbow peering intently into my eyes. “I’ll be honest, mia,” he caresses my face. “I think it’s too risky, I’m terrified of losing you.”

  “Vic,” I touch his lips with my finger, stopping the torrent of words, smoothing back the long lank of hair tied back with a strip of leather, I never did cut his hair this weekend. I sigh; a wistful smile plays across my face. I pull his face down to brush his lips with a whisper of a kiss. “No, I want our son.”

  “Our son?” He questions, a confused expression on his face.

  “Yes, our son, the one who was taken away from us.”

  “I thought you tried to find him.”

  “I did, but my resources were limited, and Jack wasn’t keen on finding another man’s baby. Jack’s philosophy on life;; what’s done is done, move on, live in the moment.” I look out the window, and muse, “As much as I tried to forget, sometimes…when Jack was away flying, the house all quiet and lonely, the thoughts and the wondering came. Did his adoptive parents tuck him in at night, read stories, take him on walks in the woods; did he play soccer or love baseball? I tortured myself with doubt. Did they love him?”

  Vic blows out a sigh. “I understand your feelings,” he says, leaning back on the pillow. “Shit, I was a mess over the whole thing,” he says, shaking his head.

  “I think Jack was jealous of you.” I say with a sniff. “He knew there was a piece of my heart that belonged to you and that drove him crazy.” I take a deep breath. “He once used that as an excuse for his affairs, that I never stopped loving another man.” I caress his arm that lay slung over my hip. “I did love him, maybe in a different way, but he never let me talk about you or the baby.”

  “They say you never forget your first love.” Vic murmurs softly. “I never have, she always lingered at the fringes of my mind.” The weak morning sun filters through the diaphanous curtains blurring the outline of trees bordering the hospital grounds.

  “I know this sounds crazy, but Vic, could we…hire a private investigator to find our son?”

  He nods, thinking. “No, it doesn’t sound crazy at all, in fact, it sounds sane……. very sane.”

  As I drift off to sleep, the oddest thought floats through my mind, whatever happened to the Betty Boop underpants? Are they stashed with my clothes or hopefully, a little pile of ash in the hospital incinerator? After all this and I’m worrying about what I was wearing…..that’s called female resilience.

  Chapter 37 Lost and Found Seated behind a mahogany desk in one of the most prestigious law firms of New York City, Tee looks good. Gone is the gawky teenager from camp; maturing into her vision of the tall, sophisticated, beautiful executive. The view from her office overlooks the Manhattan skyline. Leaning back in a leather chair that costs more than my car, her appearance exudes poise and confidence. At ease in the corporate world, secure in her stature earned by hard work and a dogged determination to succeed. Vestiges of the gangly teenage girl from Camp High Point, in pressed pink shorts and button down shirts, vanquished into a polished professional woman. She graduated at the top of her class from Cornell Law School, never married and dates infrequently. As Lani’s godmother, she dotes on my children, insisting they call her, Auntie Tee. At birthdays and holidays, she satisfies her maternal urges through extravagant gifts and afternoon outings …..with returnable children.

  Over lunch a few months ago, after a glass of wine…or two, I confided in her that the search for our son had reached a dead end. The adoption laws years ago protected the adoptive parents not the birth parents. The records were sealed. As one of my closest friends during the emotional turmoil of losing Vic and the baby, Tee understood my frustration. She listened with a sympathetic ear, nodding as I filled her in on the details.I turned to her, hoping for a loophole, were there any legal paths for us to pursue, do birth parents have rights?

  Tee suggested before starting legal proceedings to contact the private detective employed by her law firm. She assured me the man was tenacious at ferreting out information. The firm used him exclusively due to his high rate of success. But he was very expensive.

  With a little luck and good timing, I hired Richard Harsonge on retainer…and not only was he

  expensive…..he was very expensive. Even Vic’s eyes widened at the cost. No Jimmy Choo shoes for me.

  And finally, one night about a week ago, as Vic and I relaxed in front of the fireplace at the ranch, the phone rang. It was Harsonge, informing us he obtained the requested information. He refused to go over his findings on the phone, suggesting an appointment be made with Tee in New York City. A copy of his investigation would be forwarded to the Manhattan office by courier. In addition, he proposed we allow Tee to open the paperwork, and review the contents from a legal perspective before our meeting.

  Since the phone call, V ic and I can’t eat, can’t sleep and had our first fight. Over what flavor of ice cream to buy! We’re going nuts. He started running, I stopped eating, I lost three pounds, he lost five……..except he lost the weight off his stomach, I lost it off my boobs……life isn’t fair.

  At last the day arrives and Tee ushers us into her office wearing her professional lawyer demeanor, all business until she relaxes back in her chair, a barely suppressed smile on her face, eyes twinkling with eager anticipation.

  I take
one look at the file on her desk and want to launch myself at it. Vic must have read my mind because he places a restraining hand on my arm.

  “Actually, if you want to wait, we can do this some…other time?” She says, pointing to the file with a nonchalant air, a puckish grin on her face. “Hey, I heard of this new bistro on 25th, what about lunch first?”

  “Tee, I love you, but if you don’t open that immediately,” I say, between clenched teeth. “I may have to kill you.”

  Vic puts both hands on the desk, looks her in the eye and growls, “Tell us for Christ sake!”

  “Sorry,” she says, looking contrite, “I’m just so excited, I don’t know where to start.”

  “Teeee,” Vic says, his voice raising an octave.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes!” We shout in unison.

  “Okay, here we go,” she opens the file, arranges the papers to her satisfaction, picks up a pair of reading glasses, and begins………she’s either going to break my heart or make my life complete in the next few minutes. “Richard Harsonge delivered this to me a few days ago.” She places a protective hand over the paperwork. “I did review the information, as requested from a legal stand point. I know how important this is to you.”

  I cast a worried glance at Vic, and he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. Our lives and the life of our son forever changed based on some papers in an envelope; just a small thin envelope. Would he want to see us? How will our children react to a half-brother? Will the adoption parents feel threatened? Should the past have remained buried? A litany of doubts plays in my head, I’m clenching Vic’s hand so tight;; my nails dig into the soft flesh of his palm. A wave of anxiety sweeps over me. So many years of asking…where are you? Do they love you? Emotion overwhelms me, a sob escapes my throat.

  Vic glances nervously at me. “Mia, are you all right? We said we wanted this no matter what.” I mutely nod. Taking a deep breath he gives Tee the nod to proceed

  “Ellen, relax, I’m happy to report, it’s all good news.” Tee’s face finally breaks into a grin as she holds out the first sheet of paper. “We’ve waited a long time to find this baby. And now here he is…a fully grown man.”

  Did she say a man? I’ve always thought of him as a baby, a little boy. A surreal feeling washes over me.

  “Joshua Westland,” she looks up, tucking a lock of sleekly coifed hair behind her ear. “Your son’s name is Joshua Westland. Ironically, he lives near Old Forge in the Adirondacks.” Tee says with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Not far from where he was conceived.” She wiggles a finger at us, a goofy grin on her face. “Yes?” Sometimes……Tee’s sense of timing is not the best, her comments occasionally off the mark, creating awkward moments, like now. She stops short at the look on our faces. “Okay then……to continue on,” She reverts back to her professional demeanor, “He’s a biology teacher at Blue Mountain High School. In addition to his teaching duties, he heads up the ecology and photography clubs at school. Hmmmmm.” She taps the side of her face with a finger. “I wonder how he inherited those talents. His adoptive father is a civil engineer, working for the Army Corp of Engineers. Together he and his wife ran Westland’s Canoe Outfitters in Old Forge. They are avid backpackers and members of the family compete in the Adirondack Canoe Classic held every September.”

  I vaguely remember hearing about the ADK Canoe Classic, it’s some ninety mile race held over a three day period in September. One of Jack’s nephews competed in it a few years back. Vic and I dare not look at each other for fear of breaking this spell of good fortune. The grip I have on his hand is crushing.

  “He is married,” she looks up removing her glasses, and smiles. “This is the best part. He has two children.” She gushes, “A girl named Isabella, who they call Izzy, she is five and the little boy just turned three, his name is Ansel, like the photographer.” Tee pauses for dramatic effect, with a flourish of her hands, she announces. “You’re grandparents! Get it, Grandma and Grandpa!”

  I’m stunned. I look at Vic shaking my head, not comprehending this information. A son……and two grandchildren magically appear and most likely a daughter-in-law too. We never thought any farther than finding our son, the fact our child was close to thirty, and married with children never occurred to us. It’s quite feasible and logical;; we’re just unprepared for this bounty of blessings. Vic releases my hand, leans back, rapidly blinking in an effort to control the deep well of emotion breaking to the surface from a core of hurt and misplaced guilt. He hurriedly wipes a tear from his eye, while I unabashedly weep. This can’t be happening. Am I dreaming? For good measure I pinch my arm, this is reality, we’ve found our son. It’s true. The puzzle pieces from the past, fall into place, and fit so perfectly.

  “Tee,” Vic pauses in askance. “How can we be sure this is our son? The paper trail for finding adopted children is often vague and full of speculation, not facts. Without a DNA test, how can we be positive Joshua is our son?”

  Not saying a word, a small secretive smile plays across her face as Tee reaches into the envelope and removes a photograph. Slowly and deliberately she pushes it toward us. In a quiet voice she asks, “What do you think?”

  I stare at the image of our son on her desk, as the air is sucked from my lungs.

  “Sweet Jesus!” I hear Vic expel, leaping up to get a closer look at the picture on the desk. “It can’t be; it just can’t be.” Oh, but it is……there smiling up at us from the glossy eight by ten photo is a picture of our son, looking slightly older than Vic when I met him the summer of my seventeenth year. The face is Vic, the square lean jaw accented by chiseled cheekbones, the same tousled dark hair…….and the eyes…….. deep with amber lights of gold. No denying whose son this is…and no need for DNA testing.

  A cold clammy sweat breaks out over my body. My heart’s racing, and those little stars that dance in front of your eyes before passing out, are twinkling and whirling in the foreground. The room spins and fades before going dark. And for someone who has never fainted before, this is twice in six months……thank God for strong arms to fall into………but as I go down I take out Tee’s prized Oak Wood Country Club Tennis Award of 2005……….Vic catches me…… but the trophy falls and shatters into pieces………..it was made of Swarovsky crystal. Oh boy……..

  Chapter 38 It’s Just Hormones Once recovered from the shock of finding Josh, the reality of contacting him occupied long discussions into the night. I wanted to jump on the first plane and throw myself on his doorstep as his long, lost mother. Vic on the other hand, cynical from many years of celebrity status suggested we proceed slowly, showing up on his doorstep announcing ourselves as Mom and Dad seemed radical and preposterous. And he cautioned, while Josh may be our son, we don’t know anything about him. We need to protect ourselves. As far as we know, he never tried finding us; maybe he has no interest in meeting his biological parents.

  In the end, we opted for a plan that will give us time to acquaint ourselves with him from a distance, let him meet us as people before introducing the fact we’re his parents. And pray he doesn’t think we’re creepy stalkers.

  We contacted a real estate agent in the Old Forge area inquiring about rental property. The owners of the camp called it Camp Sky Haven. We called it perfect for our needs. The camp was forty-five minutes outside of Old Forge, located within close proximity of the town but far enough away for privacy.

  We rented Sky Haven from May through September. The camp overlooks a private lake with a gargantuan kitchen, four bedrooms, multiple porches, balconies, a boat house with an antique Chris Craft boat, a canoe, two kayaks and the lake comes with a licensed pilot on call for the….seaplane………with pontoons! A fricking Seaplane!

  The camp, new by Adirondack standards was constructed 50 years ago in the tradition of the Great Camps. As much as I loved the mystic of renting an older historic camp, the reality of drafty rooms, erratic electrical service and limited communication lines enticed us to rent a modern
version of a Great Camp. Face it, I’m all for going nature girl. Give me a backpack, some stout hiking boots and let’s head for the back country. Otherwise, a hot shower, down feather beds and a fully stocked refrigerator set the standard. I believe the hand lettered sign over my bed reads, Former Purist……gone soft.

  Well off the main road, nestled in a forest of balsam pines, the house sits on a small rise facing the mountain lake. The two-story timber frame lodge was built using logs and indigenous stone work from the local area. A shingled roof with broad overhangs covers multiple porches. A large expanse of windows overlooks a shoreline bordered with mountain laurel, alder and clumps of willow. Loons call out over the water at dusk and dawn, and the wings of osprey flash as they dive for fish in the afternoon sun.

  Ferns and shade loving plants landscape the gardens surrounding the house while the decks boast a mixture of Adirondack chairs and tables built from twisted twigs and branches.

  The kitchen is a gourmet cook’s paradise;; at least, I think it is…I don’t recognize half of the appliances or culinary gadgets in there…sooo, it could be a hardware store for all I know.

  My stomach misses Bridget, but my expanding waist needs a remote location with limited access to food prepared by someone who actually knows how to cook. I need to rely upon my own culinary talents…how long before a person starves to death?

  Holding a steaming mug of coffee, I lean against the porch railing watching the sun rise over the lake. Beams of golden light glitter through the trees, the riparian plants growing along the water’s edge glisten in the morning sun. The month of May in the mountains is a time of rebirth after the long Adirondack winters.