A Weekend Getaway (7 page)

“Yeah.”

Beth had an idea. Reaching in her purse, she pulled out a
compact mirror and handed it to Emma. “You can practice your smile on the way.”

Once at the studio, Emma seemed to like all of the props the
photographer had sitting around. She wanted to play with the artificial
Christmas tree in the back corner, but the photographer wasn’t happy. Obviously,
as a photographer that specialized in weddings, he preferred subjects that
stayed in place and didn’t wander off exploring. He handed Emma a plastic
flower and told her to sit on the X taped on the floor.

Emma smelled the flower and frowned. “This stinks.”

The photographer rolled his eyes and pushed his
tortoiseshell glasses up his nose. “Just hold it and pretend it smells like a
rose.”

“But it’s a daisy.”

Beth smirked. Emma was so sharp.

The rail-thin man snapped shots from different angles before
pausing to look at Beth. “Do you want any mother-daughter shots?”

It was like a kick in the gut. She’d never thought about how
their blonde hair and blue eyes made them look alike. And who else would bring
a two-year-old to a photo shoot but a family member? Her voice barely made a
sound. “No.”

Somewhere there
was
a little girl that was hers. But she’d given her away, assuming there’d be
plenty of time for babies later. Now she wondered if she’d missed her only
chance.

Would she ever be a real mother? Would she ever know the
pleasure of seeing her own image reflected in the next generation’s face? Her
newborn had been beautiful--bald with fat cheeks and blue-gray eyes. The doctor
said her eye color could change later. Would she look like Beth now?

The bright lights in the tiny room caused sweat to form on
her face. She leaned against the back wall and fanned herself.

The session lasted for an hour and near the end, Emma whined
that she was hungry. She was probably hot, too, Beth figured. “Just a bit more,
Emma. You can do it.”

Emma toddled back to the Christmas tree and picked up one of
the pretend gifts. “Mine.” She shook the box.

The photographer let out a loud sigh. Children were
obviously not his forte.

Beth tried to take the package from Emma. “There’s nothing
in there, honey. Now go back over to the X. One more smile and we can go.”

Emma refused to let go of the box. Beth shrugged. “Okay. Take
the gift and sit on the X.” She looked at the photographer. “Maybe we can use
these in the Christmas cards.”

Emma sat down and pulled at the red velvet bow. She giggled
as she tore into the package.

“No!” Beth said, but it was too late. Flashes kept popping
as the photographer decided this was his last chance. When Emma uncovered the
empty box, she cried.

The photographer snapped another picture before standing. He
took off his glasses and wiped his brow. “I’ll have these ready for you to
proof in about twenty minutes.”

There was no way Emma would be content here for another
second—let alone twenty minutes. Beth hugged the disappointed little
girl. “I think we’ll run out and grab a snack while you get things ready.”

Resisting the embrace, Emma squirmed and stomped her feet.
“No! I want a gift.” She was so hungry and wiped out, there was no
rationalizing with her.

If Beth had been thinking straight, she would’ve anticipated
this. Their after-daycare routine included going home and eating a snack. Why hadn’t
she grabbed a Healthy Habits granola bar from the office vending machine?

Too late now. “Want some ice cream? Or a cookie?” Beth
gently tugged on Emma’s hand. “Let’s go get a cookie.” Anything to make her
stop crying.

The cool air outside immediately dried the sweat on Beth’s
forehead. She looked up the street for a bakery or restaurant that might have
something sweet. No such luck. They started walking anyway and passed a pet
store.

Emma sniffled and pointed at the window. “Doggie! Doggie! I
want a doggie!”

“No, we can’t get a dog.”

Emma scowled at her. “Mommy said I could have a doggie at
her new place.”

Beth ground her molars. Mommy. “Maybe she’ll get you one,
but we can’t get it today.” She tried to coax her down the sidewalk, but Emma
stayed at the window with her nose pressed against the glass. “Can I pet him?”
A little brown dachshund jumped toward her. He was just as excited to see Emma
as she was to see him.

“Um.” Beth swallowed. “Don’t you want a cookie?”

“No!” Emma stomped her feet.

“Okay.” A bell jingled on the door as they stepped inside.
Parakeets chirping, dogs barking, and the smell of grainy pet food greeted them.
Noticing that bubbling fish tanks lined the back wall, Beth followed Emma to
the dog cages they’d seen from the window.

Emma sat down and stuck her fingers through the slats.
“Awww. Cute puppy.”

A teenaged girl in a white lab coat approached them. “Would
you like to pet him? He’s my favorite.” She unlocked the cage and placed the
wiener dog in Emma’s lap. The puppy jumped and squirmed, licking Emma’s cheeks.

Finally, Emma’s foul mood dissipated. She laughed as she
petted the pup and Beth’s shoulders unclenched.

The teenaged employee went behind the counter and brought
out a dog toy. “This is his favorite.” When she squeezed the plastic bone, it
squeaked. Emma grinned and took the toy.
Squeak!
Squeak! Squeak!

The dachshund bit on one end of the bone and played
tug-of-war with Emma. They were a good match. Neither gave up easily.

Beth sat down next to them. “I wonder if he knows how to
fetch.” She wrestled the bone away from the dog and tossed it a few feet away.
The dog took off running and stayed to chew on it.

“Come here.” Beth’s voice had elevated itself to that silly,
high-pitch especially suited for cute animals. She slapped her thighs. “Bring
me the toy. Bring it, bring it.”

The dog lifted the bone in his mouth and carried it back to
them. Beth clapped and rubbed his head as a reward.

Immediately Emma tossed the toy, knocking it against an
empty fish tank.

“Careful,” Beth reminded her. The last thing she needed was
to be forced to buy something that Emma broke.

The dog returned and Emma threw the bone again. Toss,
return, toss, and return. Emma never seemed to grow tired of the game.

Being an only child could be lonely, Beth knew from
experience. The girl needed a playmate. If not a dog, a cousin maybe. A smile crept
across Beth’s face. Perhaps this would be a new tactic to try to light a fire
under Drew. Having a baby would be good for Emma.

Beth glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes had sailed by. “Time
to go.”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t wanna go.” She grinned as the
dog licked her face.

Making her way to her feet, Beth signaled to the lab-coated
employee. “Can you put the dog back now?” She reached for Emma’s hand. The
toddler became dead weight, refusing to stand. “Emma, now, please get up. We
have to go see how pretty you look in those pictures. I’ll need your help
picking which ones to order.”

“No!”

Releasing her grip on Emma, Beth picked up the puppy and
handed it to the salesgirl. Emma fell onto her belly, kicking her feet and
pounding her fists. Her cries sounded more like screams. Wails that could
probably be heard out on the sidewalk. Shrieks that embarrassed the hell out of
Beth. She looked around to see how many people were watching—to see how
many would know what a terrible guardian she was. Fortunately, only the
salesgirl and one other family were there. But of course they all stared.

Beth grabbed Emma’s elbow and tugged. No luck. Beth crouched
down and whispered. “Let’s go home and tell Uncle Drew about the puppy.” Oh,
she was desperate. “Maybe Santa will bring him to you for Christmas.”

Emma turned up the volume on her protests. “No!”

Beth grappled for the phone inside her purse. “Here, Emma.
You can take a picture of the puppy with my cellphone. Then Uncle Drew will
understand how cute he is.”

“Don’t wanna!” Emma could give a hurricane a run for its
money.

Beth knew her cheeks must be crimson by now. How could a
little kid go on and on for so long? Shouldn’t she run out of breath by now?
Beth had no idea what to do—she wasn’t prepared for this. Wasn’t ready.
She hadn’t had a chance to read all those parenting books and blogs. She hadn’t
had a chance to prepare for motherhood…wait, that wasn’t true. She’d had a
chance sixteen years ago and she’d given it away. Her voice lowered to a
whisper. “Please get up. Please. You’re embarrassing me. I’ll do anything if
you’ll just be quiet.”

Emma swallowed her tears. “Get me doggie!”

Beth took a deep breath, frustrated that she’d been
blackmailed by a three-year-old. She stood and walked toward the teenaged
employee. “Do you have anything a little less involved? We can’t get a dog.
We’re in the middle of remodeling a house, our yard isn’t fenced in, and we
both work.”

The girl nodded her head, her eyes still wide from Emma’s
hysterics. “We have hamsters and gerbils.”

That was more like it. Something furry in a cage. Something
that wouldn’t chew on her shoes and pee on their floor. “Emma, come here. See
what they have back there.” Beth waved her arms in a giant swoop.

At first the little girl paused. Then she stood and stomped
toward them. The teenager pulled what looked like a furry mouse out of a cage
and let Emma pet it. Emma shook her head. “I want a dog.” She crossed her arms
and turned away.

The clerk exchanged an apologetic look with Beth.

Emma walked up to a plastic container with a labyrinth dug
into sand. Her tiny fingers traced the tunnels. “Cool!”

Beth stiffened. It was an ant farm.

Emma stared at the crawling ants the same way she stared at
Dora the Explorer. “Can I have this?”

“Those are bugs. You can go outside and look in the dirt if
you want to see ants.”

“Pleeeeease!”

At least it was lower maintenance than a dog. Beth asked the
clerk about what they ate and was assured they were the “easiest pet ever.” Spotting
the grin on Emma’s face, Beth realized she was holding her breath, dreading
another tantrum. “I guess. As long as you promise not to let them out.” As soon
as she could swipe her Visa, they were out of there—ant farm and sugar
water all in tow.

Thank God that was over.

CHAPTER
SIX

The lie had slid far too easily from Beth’s lips.
Sarah has the flu, her husband’s out town on
business, and she needs help with the kids. She has four, you know. Don’t wait
for me to eat dinner.

She hated to lie to Drew, but it was the only way. Taking a
day off of work rubbed her wrong, too. The morals and work ethic she prided
herself upon seemed to be crumbling. Her insides twisted with guilt.

Even though she wore a navy cardigan and jeans, Sarah
shivered beside her in the church basement. She opened a large cardboard box in
the corner. “Did you have a rough night?”

Beth randomly selected a stack of boxes nearby. “I guess so.
Why?”

“Your clothes look like you slept in them.”

Glancing down at her wrinkled, long-sleeved T-shirt, Beth
gritted her teeth. “That’s Drew’s fault. When he does the laundry, he leaves it
in the dryer and lets the clothes get all wrinkled. It drives me nuts.”

“That would bug me, too.”

“And it’s far from his only offense. He doesn’t seem to
notice when the dishwasher is full and ready to be run. There weren’t any clean
bowls for breakfast this morning.”

As she thumbed through the files, Sarah nodded. “You sound
like an old married couple.”

Beth flinched. “An old married couple without any of the
benefits.”

“Do you think you two will ever make it official?”

Beth paused, a manila folder clutched in her hand. Should
she admit that she almost proposed? Slowly, she slid the folder back in place. The
files, singed and water damaged, weren’t in any obvious order, but Beth
wouldn’t be the one to shift them around. She’d leave them the way she found
them—not alphabetized and randomly dumped in boxes. The foul smell of
smoke and mildew wafted from them. “I’d like to marry Drew, but he seems
content living together. He’s probably gun shy from his first marriage. I guess
she loved living on the east coast and when Drew said he wanted to move back to
Indiana, she filed for divorce.”

Sarah set a stack of papers off to the side. “That’s
terrible. Doesn’t he want to settle down and have kids someday?”

“He said he did before I moved in. Then Emma came to live
with us a couple months ago and he suddenly became obsessed with fixing up the
house.”

“Sounds like he has the nesting instinct. That’s a good
sign. I remember as soon as we found out I was pregnant, my hubby baby-proofed
the entire place.”

They could be here awhile and Beth’s feet were already
starting to ache, so she placed her hooded sweatshirt on the cement floor,
moved the box she was searching to the open space next to it, and sat down. “I like
fixing up the Victorian house, but I’m getting tired. There’s so much to do, it
feels like we’ll never finish.” Not to mention that the house technically
belonged to him. If it wasn’t eventually going to be hers, too, then why invest
any more of her own time and money? “The longer I live with him, the less
magical everything seems. I used to think he was better than Ben & Jerry’s,
but now...”

Sarah waved away her concern. “That’s how it is when you’re
married, too. My hubby used to bring me flowers. Now, he just tracks the
flowerbed dirt in the house.” She chuckled in a way that made it obvious she was
still very much in love.

“The other day, Drew brought home a meat-lovers pizza so he
could eat while scraping paint off the baseboards. How thoughtless is that when
I’m on a diet?”

“You look great, by the way. How much have you lost?”

Beth’s cheeks warmed. She considered rounding up, but
instead she shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“How’d you do it?”

“Oh, you know. I stopped eating everything that tastes
good.” She laughed. “Eat less, move more. It’s not rocket science. It’s just
miserable.” God, what she wouldn’t give for a pint of Chubby Hubby ice cream.

Sarah offered her a sympathetic laugh. “With four kids, I
feel like I’m always on the move, but I don’t know that I’ll ever lose the baby
weight.” She patted her soft belly.

Beth closed up the box she’d been inspecting and set it
aside. She glanced at Sarah. “You look fine. Being a full-time mom agrees with
you.”

“Thanks.”

“So do you keep lists in your head of everything that your
husband does wrong?”

Sarah burst out with laughter. “Not exactly. I try to put a
positive spin on things. Like if he forgets to put a new liner in the trash
can, I think that it was so nice of him to take out the trash in the first
place.”

Beth rolled her eyes. She should’ve known better than to
talk about this with Sarah Homemaker. She was like a cheerleader for everything
domestic. If asked, she’d probably confess she loved cleaning the hair out of
the shower drain.

Unable to tolerate any more from the happily married mom,
Beth let the conversation die. She couldn’t help wondering if her relationship
with Drew would continue to go downhill. Obviously, playing house had been a
mistake. Would getting married really change anything?

Sarah reached for her quilted purse. “I have to show you
this. I started making podcasts.” Pulling out her phone, she tapped the screen and
in seconds, a podcast geared toward stay-at-home-moms filled the room. Four
children began to sing “The More we Get Together” in perfect harmony while
using their hands to do sign language.

Beth’s gaze bounced from the screen to Sarah’s face. “Are
those your kids?” They had grown so much that she barely recognized them. They’d
transformed from babies into miniature people in a few short years.

Sarah nodded.

“Wow. They have your eyes.” Almond-shaped and kind.

After a few songs, the children transitioned to crafts. Beth
watched as the kids picked lavender from their backyard then the older ones
made it into soap. The youngest sat on the floor breaking the stems into tiny pieces.

“The bits of lavender make an excellent exfoliant,” Sarah
explained. “My hubby likes to use it after he’s been working on the car.” She
handed the phone to Beth and turned her attention back on the boxes.

 
“Your kids are
adorable.”

“Thanks.”

As she watched tips on creative yet healthy lunches, DIY
décor, and kids’ crafts, Beth kept thinking she just wanted to watch one more
minute. Someday she hoped she’d spend her days making things out of dried
flowers and play-doh, too.

Beth jumped when Sarah gasped. Glancing at her watch, she
saw that over an hour had passed. She’d been so engrossed in the podcast, she’d
lost track of time.

“Beth!” The excitement in Sarah’s voice was obvious. “I
think…I think this is it.” She pulled out a folder labeled “Taylor” and flipped
it open.

Beth turned off the podcast and set it on the floor. Leaning
over Sarah’s shoulder, Beth scanned the paperwork. Alvin and Patricia Taylor
adopted Marsha Braya Sims on January 8, 1990. Beth shook her head. “That’s not
it. It’s the wrong Taylors.”

“Sorry.”

Beth rooted through the same box as Sarah. If there was one
Taylor, maybe there would be another. She did find some more Taylors, but none
of them were optometrists and none of them the right year.

Once they’d checked every name in that box, they pushed it
aside. Each of them worked separately again, chatting about milestones that
Sarah’s kids were passing—learning to ride bikes without training wheels,
getting braces and first crushes. Having little to contribute on those topics, Beth
told about Emma’s new ant farm then shifted to her work at the call-in center—the
lonely, old woman who called every time after her grandkids visited, the woman
who liked to complain about Healthy Habits’ products but always placed another
order, the guy who had five pet cats. Beth smiled as she spoke. These customers
felt like people she knew—like long-distance relatives she spoke to on
the phone but never met in person.

After exhausting their conversation, Sarah and Beth let the
quiet of the basement envelope them.

When she found another “Taylor” label, Beth reminded herself
not to get her hopes up even as her body pumped blood faster. Seeing the prefix
“Dr,” she sucked in her breath. “Oh my God. This could be it.”

Flipping through the file, she saw her baby’s birth
certificate from the Bloomington Hospital, legal documents where Beth had
signed away her parental rights, and a court date for finalizing the adoption.
Beth’s pulse spiked.

Sarah stared. “What does it say?”

Her fingers struggled to function as she turned page after
page. Finally, Beth found a hand-written note about the Taylors. “Apparently
they moved eight years ago to be closer to his family in Texas.” She chewed her
bottom lip. “I wonder why.”

“Once you have a baby, you realize the importance of
extended family. Maybe they wanted their child to know her grandparents or to have
cousins to play with.”

Something ached inside her chest. Did her baby have cousins?
Did she have doting grandparents? She hoped so. “Do you think they’re still
there?”

“You don’t know until you try.” Sarah handed Beth her phone
again.

This was too fast. Sure, they’d been searching for hours,
but that didn’t mean she was ready to talk to these people. These kind-hearted
strangers who raised her child for her. At the time, she’d convinced herself
she knew them well enough. Now, she scolded herself. She didn’t know them at
all—certainly not well enough to give them a call and pick up where
they’d left off—and yet she’d given them her baby.

Anxiety unfurled inside of her. Why hadn’t she asked about
cousins? How did she not know that his family lived in Texas?

Beth swallowed hard, not taking the phone. “I can’t do it. I
don’t know what to say.”

“Just say you thought they should know that the father has a
genetic condition.”

“I told them I didn’t know who the father was.”

“What?” Sarah’s jaw hung open.

“It made the whole process easier.”

Sarah leaned back against a dusty desk and rubbed her brow.
“I guess if you named the father, Parker would’ve known about the adoption.
He’d have needed to sign away his rights.”

Beth squeezed her scalp, trying to quell her nerves. “I
didn’t want someone else telling me what I should do. I already felt like I was
in a no-win situation.”

“Now what? They need to know the truth.”

“Do you think they’ll hate me?”

Sarah shook her head. “You gave an infertile couple a baby.
They won’t hate you.”

“I gave them a baby that might have a terrible disease.”

“You didn’t know. Besides, there are no guarantees with
children. Being a parent means taking a chance on the unknown.”

Beth had never been one to take chances. Unlike so many other
college students enjoying their newfound freedom, she had never gone bungee
jumping or skinny-dipping. If she’d had a term paper due, she’d started it
right away. If she had a test, she didn’t wait for the night before to cram.
That very need to plan and prepare had been the reason she’d placed her baby
for adoption in the first place.

Now her life was orderly, just the way she liked it. She was
in her thirties, had a steady, middle-management job and a stable relationship
with Drew. Parenthood made sense now.

Funny how becoming a mother scared her sixteen years ago and
now it was all she wanted.

 
“I thought
someday I’d have another baby. I always comforted myself knowing that next
time, I’d be ready. . . . I want to feel the baby kicking in my belly, knowing
I’m going to keep her, knowing I’m going to see her first steps, hear her first
words, comfort her when she cries.” Tears welled up in Beth’s eyes. But she
couldn’t move forward and have another child until she took care of the baby
she gave away.

Sarah hugged her. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“What if I gave away the only baby I’ll ever have? I missed
everything. She’s sixteen already.”

“You made the choice that worked for you at the time. You
didn’t have a job; you didn’t have a house. You weren’t ready to be a mom.” Sarah
pulled out of the hug to procure a tissue from her purse and hand it to Beth.

“Now I’m ready and it doesn’t matter.” She wiped at the
tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually cry.”

Sarah rubbed Beth’s back with her palm. “Don’t apologize.
This is tough. You did a brave thing back then, giving your baby away. Don’t
beat yourself up over it.”

Beth recalled Sarah rubbing her back just like this when
she’d suffered through morning sickness. She’d also made numerous trips for 7Up
on Beth’s behalf. Sarah had always been there. Always. And she was here now.

“I wasn’t brave at all. I’m still not, but they need to
know. Will you call for me?”

Sarah looked her in the eye. “What do you want me to say?”

“Just tell them about the Huntington’s. Tell them to be
prepared.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Sarah remained quiet for a bit. “If it makes it easier for
you, I’ll call.” She looked in the file folder for the number and dialed.

“Thanks. Sarah, you’re a good friend.” Beth chewed on her
lip, waiting.

A minute later Sarah pulled the phone away from her ear and
hung up. “No one’s home. I didn’t think this was the kind of thing you wanted
me to say to the answering machine.”

“Oh.” Disappointment coursed through her. Dr. and Mrs.
Taylor were probably at work and the girl would be in school. Sixteen. Would
she be a sophomore or a junior? Summer babies were either the youngest or the
oldest in their class. Was she especially bright? Did she have a knack for math
the way Beth and Parker did? Beth clenched her eyes shut, trying to stop the
barrage of unanswerable questions.

A moment later, Beth opened her lids and took a breath. She held
out her palm and gently took the file folder from Sarah. “I guess I should
write this information down so I can try later.” She set the folder in her lap.
Digging in her purse for a pen gave her something to do with her nervous
energy. Once she found a ballpoint, she scribbled the family’s address and
phone number on the back of a Gymboree receipt. “I wish you could be with me
when I finally make contact.”