• • •
As Jack predicted, time flew, and suddenly the big meet-the-parents weekend loomed only a few sleeps away. They’d met the week before the interviews to go over their questions.
Ms. Yeung sent a short, heartening email urging them to relax and really try to get to know the candidates. “Ask them anything you want,” she encouraged. “And if you have any questions beforehand, please call or email me. You’ll meet David and Beth Scott on Saturday morning. In the afternoon, Michelle and Winston Oliver. On Sunday morning, Maria Del Ray will be first, followed by Sydney Fox and Taylor Laberge. Please keep in mind that these people are under a lot of stress. Some of them have been trying to adopt for years. It’s an arduous journey. Be kind, and good luck!”
Chapter Seventeen
You’ve reached full-term. Your baby can now survive outside the womb. Your baby is able to identify your voice and knows your favorite music. She is about the size of a honeydew melon.
Excerpt: From Conception to Birth
Ms. Yeung had scheduled the interviews with ample time between each one. She’d purposely spread the two-hour meetings over the weekend to make travel easier and so that no one would have to take time off work or school.
Unbeknownst to each other, all seven of the hopeful parents-to-be found themselves at Vancouver airport’s arrivals area on the Friday morning preceding the interviews. Coincidently, five of them had flown in on the same flight from Calgary. The others, Taylor, Sydney, and their little girl, Star, touched down from Montreal five minutes after the Calgary flight.
The Calgary flight had made one stop in Kelowna, British Columbia, before continuing on to Vancouver. The magnificent Okanogan Lake appeared to be blanketed with diamonds—a combination of light and unseasonably warm sunshine on its calm surface.
Maria—Sawyer’s choice—glanced out the window only briefly. Uncharacteristically, she had little interest in the vista spread out below her. Instead, her mind remained focused on the upcoming interview that could change her life forever. She found it somewhat intimidating that her suitability as a mother would be decided by a young teenaged girl, the girl’s mother, and the biological father, who was still a child himself.
“It’s unusual,” Ms. Yeung agreed, “but Sawyer is the biological mother, and we have to respect her wishes and the wishes of those she’s chosen to help her with this tough decision. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be able to answer all of their questions. They’ll love you.” Ms. Yeung meant it. Maria was a lovely woman with all of the attributes of a great parent.
She’d said similar things to two of the other four sets of prospective parents—an odd mix certainly, but overall, the kids had chosen fine candidates. Ms. Yeung did harbor some reservations about one couple, but they’d passed the home study with flying colors, their references checked out, and there were no red flags—being the professional that she was, she kept her personal feelings private. She felt confidant Sawyer Martin and her friends would also have doubts and eliminate the couple in question. If not, so be it. It was, after all, up the bio-mom and not the facilitator to make the final decision.
For her part, Maria desperately wanted to believe Ms. Yeung; however, she didn’t allow herself to be overly optimistic. Since she’d begun the arduous process of adoption, she’d learned that her single status weighed heavily against her, so she did her best to keep her emotions in check. After all, she reasoned, the higher her hopes, the harder her fall. She’d been surprised—no, elated—when the phone rang with the unexpected news that she’d been chosen as a possible parent candidate in a domestic adoption.
She’d almost said no, fearful that she’d have to face yet another disappointment. She’d been on both the foreign and domestic adoption lists for four years. She could count on one hand the number of countries whose agencies would allow single-parent adoptions. She’d even had offers from Lesotho and the Ivory Coast, but both had been withdrawn due to civil unrest and new governments—the last-minute denials had nearly broken her.
And now this. The call she’d been praying for. It hadn’t been easy to leave her practice on such short notice, but she’d found a retired veterinarian willing to take over the clinic for three days. Better yet, he’d agreed to look after Benny, her lovable Lab.
Two rows behind Maria, two equally anxious people, Michelle and Winston Oliver, gazed out the small window at the sparkling water below. They’d been in Calgary visiting relatives but were flying home a couple of days earlier than planned because of the interview with Sawyer. Winston glanced surreptitiously at his wife, unable to curb the anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He felt ambiguous about the interview. The strain of a four-year search for a child had begun to show on his wife’s face. Fine lines creased the area around her cat-green eyes and the corners of her mouth. They’d tried everything— in vitro fertilization, overseas adoption, foster care, and now this—the possibility of a newborn on the other side of the Rocky Mountains. He refused to get his hopes up. Like Maria, there had been too many disappointments, too many tears. He worried about how much more his wife could handle.
“Ça va, cherie?” She had not let go of his hand the whole flight. She smiled weakly and rested her head on his shoulder.
“I’m terrified. What if they don’t like us? What if they like the other couples better?”
Winston didn’t want to think about that. “Ce qui sera, sera, cherie.” He kissed the top of her head. “All we can do is meet them, and after that, it’s out of our hands.”
She sighed and tapped her foot impatiently. “How long until we arrive?”
“Thirty-five minutes. We’ll be in Vancouver within the hour. Besides, we don’t meet the kids until Saturday afternoon. Perhaps we can enjoy a dinner out this evening and a walk around the seawall in the morning.”
“Perhaps,” she replied, but she didn’t sound at all enthusiastic. “I’d prefer to eat at home tonight, if that’s okay with you.”
“Bien sûr. Of course. I’ll make something delicious, and we’ll watch a movie.”
Half a dozen people deplaned in Kelowna and another six or seven got on. Michelle studied the new passengers absently, catching the eye of a sturdy thirty-something woman decked out in a tentlike flowered dress and flat, plain sandals. She had a massive carry-on bag, the words Drink Kelowna Wine stitched in on both sides. Her laden-down companion, probably her husband, took up the rear, maneuvering a similar carry-on bag.
“Be careful with my stuff, David,” the woman barked.
He noticed Michelle watching them and smiled as if to say I just do what I’m told.
Michelle grinned, temporarily distracted from her own worries. It took all kinds. For a minute, she let herself hope, but then she cut off her thoughts. I don’t know if I can stand losing another child. Think about other things…
Twenty minutes later, they were airborne. The short flight left no time for snacks, and the flight attendants had barely finished their drink service before everyone had to buckle up for the approach to Vancouver.
The woman in the tent dress turned to her travel companion, David, and crossed herself. “I hate landing.” Her voice carried half the length of the airplane.
David shrugged. “It’s in God’s hand, Beth. No use worrying.” It was wishful thinking because, in his mind, Beth did little else. Maybe a baby would distract her from her daily anxieties, but he doubted that. A child would be nice, but he’d be happy continuing on with their double income and uncomplicated lifestyle.
Beth interrupted his thoughts. “You’ll have to shave before we meet the girl. We’ll buy you a new golf shirt. You’ve had that one for years and it looks worn.”
David nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll put my best foot forward.”
“You’d better. I’m counting on you.” It sounded like a threat.
As the wheels hit the runway, Beth closed her eyes and her lips moved feve
rishly in prayer. Beth didn’t have much faith in her husband, but she knew she could count on God.
Eleven a.m. was a busy time at Vancouver International Airport. Four flights landed within minutes of each other, and the passengers waited impatiently to pick up their bags. After a long delay, a disembodied voice announced: “Flight 247 arriving from Kelowna: your bags will be on carousel three. Flight 898 from Montreal: your bags will be on carousel four.”
“That’s us.” Taylor made a beeline for carousel four, while Sydney and three-year-old Star went in search of a baggage cart. Taylor watched the two walk away. At six four, with a crop of dark, curly hair, holding sleepy Star’s hand, his partner stood out in the crowd of travelers. Taylor loved everything about Sydney, but mostly he loved Sydney’s enthusiasm, even after their many years together. Another baby, he mused, meant more joy for their family. They’d flown in two days early, planning to visit friends and sightsee before their meeting with the baby’s mom and her friends on Sunday. Both he and Sydney loved the idea of being interviewed by a couple of teens and the grandmother.
On the way to the carousel, Sydney bumped into a well-dressed woman clutching the hand of a tall, handsome black man. “Pardon.” He’d reverted to his native French.
“De rien,” she responded, her accent perfectly Parisian.
Her husband smiled at Sydney. “C’est un peu fou ici, non?”
Sydney nodded. “Un peu.” He couldn’t wait to get their bags and head out on an adventure. Once outside, they joined a long line of people waiting for cabs.
In front of them, Sydney noticed the multiracial couple he had exchanged pleasantries with at the baggage carousel; while behind them, a rather loud, oddly dressed couple argued about the price of a cab versus a hotel shuttle.
“We could save twenty-five dollars and take the Canada Line,” the scruffy, thin man argued. “That’s twenty-five dollars better spent on a nice meal. Come on, Beth. Can’t you listen to me for once?”
“No, David. My feet are swollen from the flight, and we’ve got too many bags. We’re taking a cab, and that’s all there is to it.”
Sydney nudged Taylor. “Le pauvre,” he whispered. His eyes crinkled and Star giggled—she found her parents’ happiness contagious.
At the front of the long line, Maria overheard the same exchange and, not for the first time, told herself that it was better to be single and happy than married and miserable. “Hotel Vancouver,” she directed the cab driver. During the twenty-minute drive downtown, she thought about her interview the next day and prayed to a god she didn’t believe in to help her become the mother of this unborn child.
At the same time, in different cabs, six other people, all desperate for a child and all hoping to become parents to Sawyer’s unborn baby, prayed for exactly the same outcome.
Chapter Eighteen
The weekend of the interviews had finally arrived. Over the next two days, Sawyer would meet the people who would become her baby’s parents. It was frightening to think that she held their future in her hands. It was scarier still to realize that her baby’s well-being depended on making the right choice.
On Saturday morning, Francis was at Sawyer’s house by nine, sleepy but excited. His mother had sent fresh rolls, a fruit tray, croissants, and a bouquet of flowers. Jack’s boss supplemented the feast with tea for Sawyer and a carafe of coffee, along with the promise of endless refills for the weekend. Jack set everything up in the kitchen, then hurried out the door. “I’ll see you after work,” he called. “Good luck.”
While they waited for the Scotts to show up, Francis killed time playing video games. Sawyer changed her outfit three times: purple leggings, pink leggings, then finally black. She seemed tense, but so did her normally unshakable mother, who occupied herself vacuuming and re-vacuuming the small apartment. She also rearranged the flowers three times, until Sawyer ordered her to chill.
“Don’t bug me, Sawyer. I want them to feel at home. If I’m nervous, then you can bet that they are three times as nervous.”
• • •
David and Beth Scott parked their rental car a block away from the address they’d been given and debated whether to go for a coffee, or simply wait in the car. David had thought it extravagant to rent a car, but Beth thought it tacky to show up by bus for such an important occasion. When they got to Main Street, she regretted her decision. “It’s a bit shabby around here,” she declared, used to their cookie-cutter subdivision home.
“I like it,” David countered.
“You would, wouldn’t you?”
They were half an hour early for their interview, as Beth had said they would be, but as usual, David had refused to listen. Well, that will all change with parenthood, Beth brooded. He’d have no choice, because although he considered himself to be an expert in most things, she’d read every book under the sun on parenting, and she watched parenting reality TV on a regular basis.
The cold, wet spring temperature did little to dispel Beth’s already-cranky mood. She hated the city, certainly no place to raise a child. Kelowna wasn’t a city, not really. With a population of just under 180,000, it offered the best of both worlds.
David glanced meekly at his wife. Beth had not slept well at the hotel; she never did when they were away from home—that’s why she was so out of sorts, that and the inevitable anxiety. David’s heart sank; he knew they looked much better on paper. In real life, they were a despondent, bitter couple, the result of four stressful years trying everything possible to have a child. And failing.
Even though Pastor Jim told Beth that conception lay in God’s hands, she refused to give up on her dream of motherhood. David would have been content to accept God’s will, but since Beth’s will outweighed their Lord’s by a heavy margin, he went along with her.
“Do you want to go for a coffee, Beth?” he asked again. “That looks like a nice place on the corner.” He tried to keep his voice neutral, though he found her incessant tapping on the steering wheel unbearable. “It might calm your nerves.”
“Since when does caffeine act as a relaxant? I think you want a coffee. Very well,” she huffed. “It’s better than sitting here freezing to death.” She slammed the door of the car. “Make sure you put money in the meter for the full two and a half hours. I don’t want to interrupt the interview, and I don’t want to be towed or get a ticket.”
By the time she’d organized herself, he’d put money in the meter, and they’d bickered about which coffee shop they’d go to, they no longer had time for coffee. Instead, they plodded over the wet sidewalk to Sawyer’s front door. For the first time, Beth allowed some of her nervousness to show on her face. She wanted this baby so very much. They climbed the steps to the third floor and Beth insisted that they stand outside the door for a full five minutes so that she could erase the doubt from her features and try to project some semblance of calm. Finally, she granted David permission to knock.
Mrs. Martin answered the door. “Hello.” She stepped aside for them to enter. My god, she thought to herself, they don’t look anything like their photos! “Come in,” she said invitingly, forcing her lips into a smile.
The front door was visible from the living room, where the kids sat in nervous anticipation. With Sawyer sitting on the couch, hands between her knees, and Francis on one of the kitchen chairs he’d dragged into the living room, there was little space left for Beth, David and Mrs. Martin to squeeze in. “Please come in and let me introduce you to Sawyer and Francis.”
Sawyer jumped up, and Francis followed. Mrs. Martin sat on the arm of the couch. After some initial chitchat, she spoke. “Well, here we all are. I guess we should begin. Sawyer, would you like to start?”
“Well,” Sawyer began, “we thought maybe you could tell us a little bit about yourselves—basic things about your everyday lives and how a baby might fit into that scenario.” She gulped. In her mind, she’d already dec
ided against them.
David cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’m a teacher of high-school math, so I have great hours and love kids.” He smiled tentatively. “I would teach your baby to bake, because that is my second love.”
“And I am an organic gardener,” Beth said. “I am home all day, so we’d never need day care. I don’t believe in day care. Your baby would be raised on healthy food, and she’d know where that food comes from. We’re also members of the Church of God, and she would have a rich spiritual life.”
“My wife, well, both of us, really, have wanted a baby for a long time, but God has had his own plans for us, so we’ve decided to go the adoption route,” David explained.
“What about discipline?” Francis already hated them. Kevin would be crestfallen.
“We believe a child needs structure, and, of course, we’d lead by example. We’d make sure she had the right kind of friends and teach her to respect others.”
“And herself,” Francis added drolly. “Would you want her to respect herself?”
“Of course,” snapped Beth. “The teachings of Jesus show us that.”
Sawyer giggled. The interview went downhill from there and ended forty minutes early.
“Nightmare!” Sawyer’s mother said the minute the couple was whisked out the door. “They are nothing like the online profile. They sounded so…so fanatical.”
Saying Good-bye to London Page 17