Unsung Lullaby

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Maddie had put in her last day at the office on Friday. They had spent the weekend painting one of the upstairs rooms for a nursery and shopping for the final bits and pieces. Family and friends had hosted three baby showers for Maddie, and despite how cheesy she said they were, the light in her eyes denied her opposition. They had received a crib from Maddie’s co-workers, dresses, shoes, diapers, and some weird-looking underwear from Matt’s family. Maddie’s family had supplied more clothes, as well as a stroller and a bassinet. Just yesterday they’d received a package from Walter. Grandmother had helped him make a dream catcher for his new sister. They had hung it in the window, where the crystal tied to the center of the web-type design caught the light and sent little rainbows dancing around the nursery walls.

  Several people had asked if they were worried about Jenny changing her mind. Of course they were. There was a mandatory twenty-four-hour waiting period. But after that, the birth mother and birth father could sign the forms relinquishing their parental rights. Once those papers were signed, it would be hard to undo the adoption process. There was still a very real risk that Jenny would change her mind, but without taking the risk they would never have a baby at all. After six months, the adoption would be finalized, at which time they could be sealed in the temple. Matt got chills just thinking about it.

  The elevator arrived, and he hopped in, punching the illuminated 4 button. The doors opened, and Gayla was at the nurse’s station. She was all smiles. Matt walked out of the elevator looking hopeful, and she held something out to him. He took it and looked down. It looked like a pink cigar, with “It’s a girl” printed on the cellophane wrapper.

  “Don’t worry, it’s bubble gum,” she said as she took his arm and led him down the hall. Matt couldn’t speak, even though he had a thousand things he wanted to say; he just stared at the object in his hand and went where Gayla led him. They stopped, and Matt looked up. They were standing in the hallway facing a large window. The sight on the other side of the glass made his heart skip a beat, and a lump filled his throat as he realized how long they had waited for this.

  There, on the other side of the glass, was Maddie. Her face looked like a huge lightbulb, and her clothes were covered with a yellow paper coat. Two nurses were with her, instructing her on how to bathe the red, wailing infant she held in her arms.

  The baby had been born—their daughter. Her tiny mouth was wide with what he could only assume was a loud protest, and her fists flailed through the air. She had a mop of black hair, and he noticed that the remaining umbilical cord on her belly button was still gray. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he watched Maddie laugh, and his heart fluttered at the sight. Then she saw him and smiled before lifting the tiny body out of the bathwater.

  A nurse helped her swaddle the baby in a large towel, and Maddie held up the tiny, pinched face next to her own and looked at Matt. She whispered something to the baby, who looked like she was almost asleep now; the only word he made out was “Daddy.”

  ****

  The hospital was as dark as it got, and Matt sat down in the rocking chair. Maddie shifted the bundle and transferred the tiny infant into his arms. The baby didn’t stir. Maddie had finished giving her a bottle, and now it was Matt’s turn for some daddy-daughter time. Visiting hours were over, but the nurses let them stay a while longer. Throughout the afternoon, Matt had held the baby for brief periods of time, but they never lasted long. And there were always so many doctors and nurses around that he didn’t feel he could concentrate. Now it was just the three of them.

  “So what did you decide to name her?” Matt asked as the tiny hand curled around his thumb. They hadn’t been able to agree, so they had decided that Maddie would choose the first name and Matt would choose the middle name. If they adopted again, which they hoped they would, they would reverse the order.

  “Esther,” Maddie said. “In the Bible, she was strong and beautiful, with a big heart and a powerful faith in God.”

  “Esther,” Matt whispered back. Why hadn’t he liked it before? It seemed perfect now.

  “And did you choose the middle name yet?” Maddie asked.

  Matt nodded and looked at his wife. “Madeline. Esther Madeline Shep.”

  Maddie’s face filled with emotion, and she leaned over to seal it with a kiss. They sat there for several more minutes, inspecting their baby daughter and relishing the family-ness. Matt looked up toward the window when something caught his eye. A teenage boy stood watching them. His sadness and longing, coupled with his dark features, told them both who he was. For half a minute he stared at the infant in Matt’s arms, then he looked at them both, first Maddie and then Matt. He held Matt’s eyes, and Matt said softly, “Thank you,” knowing the boy couldn’t hear it, but hoping he would understand. The boy nodded and turned away. As they watched him disappear down the hallway, a whole new emotion gripped them. Brandon and Jenny had given up so much. Not just in the baby they gave away, but in the innocence lost along the way. They would never be the same, and as Matt and Maddie looked back down at this miracle in their lives, they both felt deep and sincere gratitude for the selfless gift Jenny and Brandon had given to them.

  The next evening Esther was given the thumbs-up sign to go home. Jenny and Brandon had chosen to see but not hold her during the twenty-four-hour wait, and they signed the papers as soon as it was legal. Maddie wanted to do something to show her gratitude, but Gayla let her know that Jenny was in no state to appreciate the gesture. Despite her surety that adoption was the right path, and despite knowing Matt and Maddie were the true parents intended for Esther, her pain was still raw and devastating. So without seeing the young woman who had brought their daughter into this world, they left. Brandon watched from a faraway vantage point as Matt and Maddie signed the release papers and listened to the last-minute instructions. This time when they looked at Brandon he managed a small smile.

  Then began the real shock of it all. Esther ate every two hours and cried for most of the time in between. It took only a matter of days to learn that Esther had colic. All day, it seemed, every day, Maddie rocked and bounced and cried with her, wondering when it would end. She wondered when she would get a full night’s sleep again, when she would do the dishes or the ever-increasing piles of laundry. Matt pitched in a lot, but Maddie took the brunt of it. Although she tried to be a good sport, she was frustrated and didn’t know what to do except keep bouncing, rocking, and crying. She worried that Esther somehow sensed that Maddie wasn’t her real mother, and it broke her heart. Despite everyone telling her otherwise, she had a hard time believing that didn’t have something to do with it. But a lot of prayer, and several blessings from her father and her husband, reminded her that Esther was hers, and she need not question it.

  At six weeks the colic seemed to be getting better, just in time for the ear infections to start. There were moments—golden moments, Matt called them—when Esther would be content and calm, gazing at her parents with the innocence and peace they had longed for. At those times, Matt and Maddie were reminded why they had relinquished their savings, why Maddie was asleep before her head hit the pillow every night, and why their house smelled like dirty diapers. At those moments it all made sense. If only those golden moments could come around more often.

  Walter came for spring break, and they all enjoyed the holiday. They had their first family photo taken, with Esther’s mouth caught in a scream—at least it was true to life. When Walter went home, the separation still hurt, but this time there was someone to hug in his absence. He’d been thrilled with his new sister, at least as thrilled as any ten-year-old boy would be. Maddie got tears in her eyes every time she looked at the family photo now hanging over the fireplace. They were a family—for real.

  ****

  The smell of bacon woke Maddie up, and she smiled and stretched her arms over her head. She was under strict instructions to stay in bed until told otherwise. It was hard to do. Since jumping into full-time motherhood, she’d found it
hard to keep still. It drove Matt nuts that she couldn’t watch a movie without getting up and organizing things. But she had promised to stay put today. A few minutes passed, at which point the door to the master bedroom squeaked open. Matt stood in the doorway with a plate of food in one hand and a bundle of baby tucked in the other arm. Maddie furrowed her brow. Matt was wonderful, but doing two things at once wasn’t his forte.

  He walked in and was handing her the plate when Essy slipped. It wasn’t much, but Maddie overreacted and lunged for the baby at the same time Matt shifted. Maddie knocked his arm, and the plate flew through the air. Matt fumbled with it, making a gallant effort, but egg was already going everywhere. Moments later he was apologizing, Esther was wailing in his arms, and Maddie was pulling scrambled eggs from her hair.

  The eggs were hot, the bacon had likely stained the comforter, and juice had splashed all over the place. Maddie ignored the mess, took Esther, and held her close, calming her down. Then she looked at Matt’s dejected face. Reaching up, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to her eye level.

  “Thank you,” she said as he picked another clump of egg from her hair.

  “For bathing you in eggs and jam?—you’re welcome.” His tone showed how disappointed he was.

  “It’s the best Mother’s Day ever.”

  Later they went to church, and, without being too proud about it, Maddie stood and received her complimentary petunias. It was a small thing, but very powerful. She’d always felt like she was cheating before, but this time it was for real.

  When they arrived home, Matt gave her a can of Coke and a new pair of fuzzy socks, similar to the ones she had received last year.

  “It isn’t No Socks and Have a Coke Day today. It’s the fourteenth.”

  “For us, Mother’s Day will always include a Coke and a pair of socks. Deal?”

  “Deal,” she said with a laugh.

  “And this came in the mail earlier this week. I saved it.”

  She took what looked like a card and opened it up. Inside was a picture of Walter, glued to a construction paper card. On the other side of the paper was a bouquet of crayon-drawn flowers. A little note said, “I would send flowers but I don’t have enough stamps. Happy Step-Mom Day. Love, Walter.” They’d never stopped praying for the opportunity to be a bigger part of Walter’s life, and in some ways it had worked. Things like this card, pictures he sent them, and his excitement at their regular phone calls made them feel as if their prayers were making a difference.

  Maddie wiped at the tears just as Esther started whimpering in the other room. “I’ll get her,” Matt said, standing.

  “It’s Mother’s Day,” Maddie said, pushing him back down and feeling as if she were on the top of the world. Being a mom was all she had ever wanted, and she had it—twice over. Better yet, no one could take it away from her now. The last thing she wanted was a day off. “Let me.”

  Chapter 46

  Sonja stumbled from her room. Anna only glanced at her before returning her attention to the book she was reading. Walter, absorbed in the TV, didn’t even look up. It was ten o’clock in the morning, but Anna was surprised to see Sonja dressed. Her hair was done as well, making Anna think she was planning to go somewhere.

  “Isn’t there any milk?” Sonja asked after opening the fridge to find it nearly empty.

  Anna looked up from where she was reading at the kitchen table. “You said you would buy some last night,” she said.

  “What did you guys eat?” Sonja asked, ignoring that it was her fault there was no milk.

  “Eggs.”

  “I hate eggs.”

  “That’s all we have,” Anna said, returning to her book.

  Sonja pulled a beer from the back of the fridge. Anna scowled when she heard the hiss of the top being opened. Sonja arched an eyebrow. “You want one?”

  Anna didn’t bother to answer. Things had gone so well after Christmas, she’d had very high hopes for the new year. But in February José had shown up on their doorstep. When he had come back into their lives, the fifty-three days of Sonja’s sobriety had ended. They had gone to the bar that night, and the one time Anna had tried to remind Sonja of her commitments, she’d been told to keep her mouth shut or leave. José had seconded the idea, and Anna had watched her hopes vanish into cigarette-smoke-filled air. Now it seemed that the reprieve had never happened. Sonja was more arrogant and mean than she had ever been. She drank more than ever, and Anna suspected she was doing drugs—though she wasn’t sure which ones. Anna was so disgusted she could hardly look at her sister anymore.

  “You’re such a prude,” Sonja said, walking toward the table.

  “At least I’m not a lush,” Anna muttered under her breath—apparently too loudly. Sonja slapped her face so hard that Anna fell out of her chair. The room spun for a moment, and rather than jump to her feet right away, she stayed put, rubbing her jaw while Sonja delivered a long, obscene monologue that laid out in no uncertain terms how ungrateful Anna was. Anna told herself not to cry, but she couldn’t help it. After telling Anna what a baby she was, Sonja stopped and went into her room to drink her breakfast in peace.

  “Are you okay, Anna?” Walter asked when she finally got up from her spot on the floor.

  “Yeah,” she muttered as she got back to her feet. “But keep your distance—your mom had a late night.” Walter nodded his understanding, and they didn’t say another word about it. Walter went back to the TV. Anna sat back down, wiped away the tears, and tried unsuccessfully to ignore the residual throbbing and read some more. She had to finish reading the book for the test in her English class tomorrow, and since she never knew how her days would turn out, she felt a little frantic about getting it done. School would be out in two more weeks; this would be the final test counted toward her grade.

  Sonja came back out of her room a few minutes later, and Anna tensed but made sure to remain absorbed in the pages.

  “When did José leave?” Sonja asked, as if nothing had happened.

  “Around eight,” Anna said without looking up.

  “We’ll be taking off in a little bit. I won’t be home till Wednesday.”

  “Where are you going?” Anna asked. Lately Sonja had been taking two- and three-day trips with José. She never said where they went.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Shouldn’t it be?” Anna said. “Don’t I at least get to know where you are in case we need you?”

  Sonja glared at her. “Look, I’m trying to make some money to support us here, unless you want to start paying some bills—”

  “I’m seventeen,” Anna interjected, glad Sonja didn’t know about the money she’d been saving. She did buy a fair amount of groceries and all her own clothes, but asking her to pay bills that Sonja received child support to pay herself wasn’t fair, and her patience with her older sister seemed to wear thinner every day.

  “When I was seventeen I was running a household, raising Walter, and holding down a job, so back off. Someone’s got to pay the bills, Anna.” A horn honked, and Sonja was gone. She didn’t leave any money for food. She didn’t even say good-bye to Walter. She just left.

  ****

  Early the next morning, Anna opened the fridge and took out the six eggs Grandmother had given them. She noticed they didn’t feel as cold as usual, but it wasn’t until the stove didn’t turn on that she realized the power was out. Could things get any worse? The Rez was known for frequent power outages, but Anna wished something could go her way.

  They ate frosted flakes with water. They’d done it before, and she was grateful Walter didn’t whine about it. She had to leave for school half an hour before Walter did, but as always she made sure he was ready to go by the time her bus came.

  After school they walked to Grandmother’s, since without electricity there wasn’t much else to do. Grandmother gave them some squash and a watermelon. Her electricity was working. When they got back home at sunset, Anna flipped the ligh
t switch just inside the door. Nothing.

  Anna called the power company, but the only information they would give her was that the service had been disconnected. She asked why, but they said they could only give information to the responsible party. She told them there was no responsible party and hung up. She put on a smile for Walter’s benefit and fixed their dinner of squash, the last can of tomato soup, served cold, and watermelon.

  They went to bed early since there was no power anyway. Anna lay in the darkness with a lump in her throat and hot tears in her eyes. When her mother had died two years ago and left everything to Sonja, Anna had begged Sonja to let her stay—knowing her sister would have no qualms about sending her to live with friends or some distant relation Anna didn’t know. Anna had been grateful Sonja had agreed, if only for Walter’s sake. Poor Walter, she thought. What could she do? She choked down a sob as she realized there was only one thing she could do if she were considering Walter’s best interest. These trips of Sonja’s had gotten longer and more frequent over the last few months, and there was no sign it was going to get better. There was something about their situation this time around that was different. She didn’t know what it was, but she couldn’t deny the feeling that something had changed.

  Sonja had said she would be home on Wednesday. There were some peaches and pork and beans in the cupboard—enough food that they could get by for a few more days. Anna would give Sonja one day past that, but if Sonja wasn’t home by Thursday, she would call the Indian Child Welfare office in Gallup. Roots and heritage, tradition and training meant nothing if Walter’s basic needs weren’t met. She knew that. But she couldn’t help feeling that she had failed somewhere.

  ****

  Sonja squinted into the afternoon sun as they left the bar. “What time is it?” she asked.