Maitland Maternity Christmas

by Judy Christenberry; Muriel Jensen; TINA LEONARD

  The only other possibility was that he'd stumbled upon the truth she tried to hide from. She'd never allowed herself to get serious about a man because she didn't deserve happiness. Or she was afraid she'd fail another child? Both ideas filled her with panic.

  With Tom, she'd fallen in love so quickly, she hadn't realized she was there until it was too late.

  Tom's question about why she hadn't looked for her son was difficult, too. She didn't know how to begin, she said, excusing herself. But now that she was aware of what she'd been doing, she wouldn't accept that excuse.

  She'd have to begin with her mother. Her father had died six years ago. But her mother might know who had adopted her child. She'd never asked.

  She checked her watch. It was only a few minutes until ten o'clock. Her mother usually went to bed just after the news at ten. She picked up the receiver and began dialing the number. Her fingers were trembling and her breathing was too shallow.

  "Mom?" she said when her mother answered.

  "Claire? Is something wrong?"

  "Yes, Mom. I'm okay, but I want to - I want to know who adopted my little boy."

  Her mother didn't say anything.

  "Mom, I know you and Dad made the arrangements. You may not be able to give me at lot of information, but you've got to have something."

  "Why are you asking?" her mother asked, her voice wavery.

  "Because I need to know. I should've asked much earlier, but I was afraid to find out. But it's time I face the truth."

  "Your father said - "

  "Mom, Dad's gone. I know he tried to do what he thought best for me," she said, almost gagging at that truth, "but he's not here. And I need to know. Before I ruin the rest of my life."

  "I'll have to get the papers. Do you want me to hang up so you don't have to pay while I dig them out?"

  "No, Mom. I want to wait right here while you look."

  She heard her mother laying down the receiver and then her footsteps fading as she left the phone. Just like that, Claire thought. All this time, because she had been afraid, she'd denied herself her son's location. But what if he was miserable? What if he'd been abused? Would she be able to help him? Could she face such a thing?

  Faster than she'd hoped, her mother picked up the receiver again. "Hello?''

  "I'm here, Mom."

  "Mr. and Mrs. Richard Browning adopted him."

  "Where do they live?"

  "In Austin. They sent pictures and a report every year."

  "And you never told me?" Claire demanded, almost screaming.

  "I never even saw them. The lawyer in charge of the adoption received and kept the reports - it was one of the stipulations of the adoption agency that the reports be sent out yearly. Your father said not to read them because he thought it would be too upsetting. Better leave things as they were - in the past. Why bring up bad times?"

  Claire had never questioned her parents' motives when she was younger. Her father's word was law around their house, and to question him could only mean trouble. So Claire quickly learned to follow his wishes, without hesitation. It was only recently that Claire began to realize just how controlling her dad had been - and how it had affected her life. But now, at thirty, Claire was no longer willing to blindly obey.

  "Mom, I just think it's time to start taking control of my life and actions."

  Claire paused. Then she said, "Do you have their address or their phone number?"

  Her mother gave her both pieces of information, much to Claire's surprise.

  "I - I need to go, Mom, but - thank you for giving me this information. I'll call you soon." Once she'd gotten over the unintentional cruelty. Her mother had always been guided by her husband's rules and opinions. It's a wonder she'd given her the information.

  She sat down on her bed and stared at the paper she'd written on. Now what? Did she just call them, out of the blue, and demand to see her son?

  "No," she answered aloud. She needed an intermediary. Someone to find out how her son was before - So she could prepare herself. Someone to negotiate the possibility of her seeing him, maybe even becoming a part of his life.

  Who could she get?

  Tom Blake, of course. The best lawyer in Austin for family problems.

  Without giving herself time to think, she dialed his number. He answered right away. "Claire? Thank God. I thought you'd never speak to me again."

  "This isn't a personal call," she said stiffly.

  After a silence that grated on her nerves, he said, "Why else would you call me?"

  "I want to hire you."

  "To do what?"

  "I - I found the name and address of the couple who adopted my son. I need someone to talk to them, to find out how he's doing. To ask them if I can meet him. Would you - I'll pay for your services."

  Again he hesitated, but, much to her relief, he said, "Yes, I'll do that for you. Give me the information."

  She did so. Then she asked, "When - when do you think you'll be able to - to handle this business?" She tried to keep her voice steady, but she hadn't succeeded.

  "I'll call first thing in the morning. It may take a while to set up a meeting, but I'll let you know."

  "Okay, thank you. I'm sorry I disturbed you so late for business, but I - I couldn't wait."

  "It's not a problem, sweetheart. Will you be able to sleep?"

  "Of course," she assured him, knowing she was lying.

  "Good night, then."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After handling only the most pressing things on his desk the next morning, Tom picked up the phone and dialed the number Claire had given him. His heart was beating rapidly as he considered how important this call was. If Claire had believed his theory and could accept happiness, maybe their romance had a chance.

  Mrs. Browning answered the phone and Tom quickly explained that he was calling on behalf of her son's birth mother. After she listened to his explanation, the woman invited him to their home at noon, when her husband would be there and they could discuss his proposition.

  The rest of the morning was wasted as far as Tom was concerned. He so badly wanted things to work out for Claire. When it neared twelve o'clock, he drove the few miles away to a pleasant, upscale neighborhood where the Brownings lived.

  "Come in, Mr. Blake," the woman who opened the door said.

  She led him into a dining room where a man stood at once, introducing himself as Richard Browning.

  Mrs. Browning invited him to sit down and offered him a cup of coffee. There were cold cuts and fresh bread on the table, along with condiments.

  "Please fix yourself something to eat. We don't want you to sacrifice lunch for our convenience," she explained with a smile.

  As soon as Tom began doing so, Mr. Browning said, "What we don't understand, Mr. Blake, is why the birth mother is in any doubt about Jordan's situation. We've been sending yearly reports ever since he was born."

  Tom stared at the man, surprised. "I beg your pardon?"

  "You didn't know?" Mrs. Browning asked.

  "No. Claire hasn't known where her son was located or what his situation was. Did you send the reports to her parents?"

  "We sent them to our attorney who arranged the adoption. A couple of times we even suggested a possible meeting between Jordan and his birth mother because he had questions. There was never any response."

  Tom sighed. "I think Claire would've loved to visit with the boy. She was fifteen when he was born and her parents gave her no choice about adoption. She's worried about him ever since."

  "Oh, the poor thing. Of course, we'd be glad for her to visit with Jordan."

  Tom reached out and patted the woman's hand. The couple was being very receptive. "You don't have to worry, Mrs. Browning. Claire is a respectable citizen. She's a nurse at Maitland Maternity specializing in preemie care."

  "Oh, how wonderful!"

  "So, how shall we set this up?" Mr. Browning asked. "I'd like to be here, too."

  "How about we co
me this evening or tomorrow evening for a get-to-know-you visit?"

  "It will need to be tomorrow evening because Jordan has a basketball game tonight," Mrs. Browning said. "He plays on the freshman team at school.

  "He's tall, then?"

  "Fairly," Mr. Browning said with a chuckle. "But he's got a huge heart and lots of determination."

  He sounded a lot like his mother, Tom decided.

  Claire discovered Tom waiting by her car when she left the hospital that afternoon. "Hi! What are you doing here?"

  "Waiting for you, of course."

  "Don't you ever work? Lawyers aren't supposed to finish work at four-thirty. It's still daylight." She'd had friends who were married to lawyers and they always complained about never seeing their husbands. She kept staring at him, though, wondering if he was here because of her phone call last night.

  "We're not night creatures, afraid to be seen in the sunlight, I promise. Besides, I have flexible hours."

  "I guess you do, since you're the boss," she said. "Did - did you make that phone call?"

  "Yeah. How about I tell you everything over dinner?"

  "No. Just - just tell me now."

  She was tied up in knots. "Your son is fine, and his parents are willing for you to come see him. They've been sending reports to the lawyer once a year and have even suggested you come visit."

  Her eyes filled with tears and she closed them, hoping Tom wouldn't notice. But her hands were shaking; in fact, her entire body was shaking. "They don't mind?"

  He shook his head.

  "Did you see him?"

  "No. He was at school."

  "When? When can I see him?"

  "Tomorrow evening. We can't go tonight because he's playing in a junior varsity basketball game."

  "Basketball? He's tall?"

  "His dad said he's kind of tall, but mostly he's got a big heart and a lot of determination."

  "I - I'm so glad he's happy." Tom put his arms around her. "You do want to meet him, don't you?"

  "Oh, yes, with all my heart," she exclaimed. "Oh, Tom, thank you. Thank you so much. They don't mind? You're sure?"

  "I'm sure," he said, smiling now. "They seem like nice people. There were a lot of pictures of the three of them. The house is nice, the mother the kind anyone would love. When Mr. Browning spoke about the boy, there was pride and love on his face. I'd say your son got lucky."

  "So did I," she whispered, tears filling her eyes again.

  He took her face between his hands. "Hey, no more tears. Things are turning out well."

  "Yes, but I could've found him years ago if I hadn't been a coward! If I'd stood up to my dad." She pulled away from him. "You were right. I was a coward. He probably won't want to know me!"

  "Lord have mercy, woman! It's time to rejoice, not beat yourself up over what you couldn't control. You were only fifteen! The age he is now. Come on. You did the best you could."

  She shrugged her shoulders and laid her head on his.

  "Would you like to come home with me now? Mrs. Dee wondered if you'd do some taste tests tonight."

  "No! No, I couldn't face anyone tonight. I - I don't think I should help with the party!"

  "You promised. Besides, it's possible we'll have the way cleared for that wedding I'm interested in."

  "Tom, I can't promise - Your theory was interesting, of course, but I had good reason for breaking up with the men in my life. I'm sure it wasn't - "

  "But you don't have a good reason for breaking up with me."

  She stared at him, unable to think of anything.

  "See? Come with me tonight. It will take your mind off tomorrow night, so you won't be a nervous wreck. You can help Mrs. Dee by giving your opinion about the hors d'oeuvres. She's counting on you."

  "But - "

  "It'll just be you and me tonight. No expectations. If you want to walk away after this weekend, I won't tie you up and hold you captive. Even though I'd like to," he assured her with a grin. "Tonight it's just friends."

  "I can't - I might not be able to - I'm already nervous."

  "I know. This way I can be sure you eat a good dinner and relax just a little. Humor me. I'll knock ten per cent off your bill."

  While he was talking, he took her arm and led her to his car. She could've protested, gotten away, gone home. But she wasn't sure she wanted to. This momentous event that would occur tomorrow night would drive her crazy with stress. Maybe if she went with Tom and pretended everything was normal, like it was last week before she decided to stop dating Tom, she would be able to deal with her nerves.

  Tom talked her into leaving her car there and they drove to his family home together. Again its beauty was overwhelming, but in no time she was settled comfortably at the breakfast bar on a stool.

  Mrs. Dee showed her three recipes she'd tried out that afternoon. She seemed to enjoy talking over the advantages of each one and Claire certainly did, too. She wasn't that great a cook and her mother hadn't encouraged her participation in meal preparation when she was growing up. Instead her mom had wanted her kitchen to herself. She didn't like messes - and children were often messy.

  "Tom, try this one," Claire said, calling him to her side. "It's my favorite."

  "Then, it's my favorite, too," he immediately announced without tasting it.

  "I'm serious," Claire urged.

  He opened his mouth and let her pop in a small ham-and-cheese swirl that had a tangy taste. He chewed then smiled. "See, I told you it was my favorite."

  "We both like this one, Mrs. Dee," Claire said with a smile. Then she swatted Tom's hand as he reached for another. "You haven't tried the others yet. No doubling up."

  "She's so strict," Tom complained, making a face.

  "You two and your teasing," Mrs. Dee said with a laugh. "The beauty of this one," she added, pointing to the ham-and-cheese swirl, "is that it can be made ahead of time. And it's easy to make."

  "But it looks so complicated," Claire exclaimed.

  Mrs. Dee showed her the steps and Claire was impressed. "Wow, even I can do that." She suddenly looked at Tom. "I was thinking of taking tomorrow and Friday off, if I could be of any help, Mrs. Dee. We could make these tomorrow morning, put them in the fridge and be finished with them in no time."

  "Good idea," Tom agreed. "Staying busy is a good thing."

  "Right," Mrs. Dee agreed with a smile. "And the brisket and smoked turkey will be delivered Friday afternoon, all prepared. All we have to do is put it on the minibuns and heat them. I made arrangements this morning." The housekeeper moved another plate closer. "Try this."

  Tom picked up a cracker with cheese and a piece of pepperoni on it. He took a bite, then shrugged. Claire also tasted it.

  "That's what I thought," Mrs. Dee said with a nod. "Nothing special." She wrote something on a clipboard. "We won't bother with those then. Besides, with cheese and cracker trays, chips and dips and dessert trays, I think we'll have more than enough."

  "I know you're doing all the work, Mrs. Dee, but it's a lot of fun for me. Thanks for including me," Claire said with a smile.

  "Thanks for taking part, Claire. Suzanne and Diane used to, but they're too busy now and it helps to have someone else's opinion - and extra hands on Friday afternoon. The last-minute jobs can get overwhelming." Mrs. Dee began putting things away. "Ready for dinner?"

  Tom nodded. "Yeah, but we'll eat here with you."

  "But I fixed a nice table in the dining room just for the two of you," the housekeeper said.

  "I'm sure it's lovely," Claire said, "but I'd rather eat in here, too. I love this kitchen."

  "Well, it is a nice kitchen. So sunny with that big window," she added, waving toward where the table stood, bathed in late-afternoon sunlight. "Okay, if that's what you want, then you two go bring the dishes back in here and I'll serve up."

  Being included in the preparations made Claire feel like part of the family. She loved it. "Mrs. Dee is wonderful," she whispered to Tom as they gathered the dishes from
the dining room.

  He grinned at her. "I told you she was. So I guess you don't have any objection to her working for us?"

  "You said just friends tonight. No pressure."

  "Sorry. I meant, should we ever decide to marry and move into this house, would you object to Mrs. Dee?"

  "No one could possibly object to her. But, should you someday marry, you couldn't possibly need that much help, even if you were serious about this house. Even though it's huge."

  "So we'd have a few bedrooms we didn't need. You never know. We may fill them all with kids," he suggested with a smile. "And we might have a lot of overnight guests."

  Claire followed him back into the kitchen, and then excused herself so she could wash up before dinner, her mind spinning.

  Once they were eating dinner - a chicken casserole with a garden salad and hot rolls that melted in your mouth - Mrs. Dee asked a question that puzzled Claire.

  "So, have you bought a new dress for Friday night?"

  Claire looked up, surprised. "What? Me? Why, no. I'm not one of the guests."

  Tom smiled. "No, you're not. Mrs. Dee and I had a little chat while you were in the washroom, and we both agree that you would make a fabulous hostess for the party Friday night. And we seem to have overlooked that one minor detail."

  "The hostess? No, I'm helping out Mrs. Dee. That's all," she said, a note of panic in her voice. "You said you needed help planning it. That's all."

  "You'll be great, Claire!"

  "Tom Blake, you are incorrigible!"

  "I can take that as a yes then, Claire?"

  Claire hesitated, unsure what to do. It might be fun and it would help take her mind off things. She'd have to get a few pointers from Mrs. Dee....

  "Okay, I'm in. But next time, make your intentions a little clearer from the start!"

  "You'll need to be dressed in a cocktail dress or - or whatever women wear to these things."

  She had one tired black dress that would do, but she'd come to hate it, as she'd worn it many times in the past few years.

  "A woman deserves a new dress for these events, anyway," Mrs. Dee said. "Tom can take you shopping this evening. There's plenty of time."