Dating Game (42 page)

And as soon as Paris got back to the office, the secretary told her she had a call from Alice Harper.

“I have an interesting birth mother for you,” Alice said, as Paris listened. She had just completed her home study and was ready to go, whenever it happened. “She's a little older than our run of the mill. And she's married. She's twenty-nine years old, and has four kids. She lives in the East Bay, and her husband is a lab tech. They're very tight on money. And apparently, he's been having an affair with their neighbor. He's leaving her, or in fact he's already left. And she didn't want this baby to begin with. I gather he's been pretty abusive to her. No drugs, no alcohol, she's very religious, and she wants this baby to have a good life. She knows it won't if she keeps it. She can't afford the ones she has, in fact, her sister is going to take her little girl who's three, and the birth mother is going to take the three boys, who are eleven and nine, and seven, and she wants to go east to get a job and live with her mother.” It sounded like a tragedy to Paris. Fragmented lives and endless heartbreak. It had happened to her. She couldn't even imagine what it would have been like if she had had to break up her family, farm out her children, and give one up for adoption.

“What happens if she gets on her feet? Will she want this baby?”

“She says he raped her. She told him she wanted a divorce a year ago, and he didn't believe her. He sounds fairly abusive. So he raped her, and she got pregnant. But then he got involved with the neighbor. She filed the divorce yesterday. Now she wants to place the baby, and start life with a clean slate somewhere else. I'm not sure I blame her,” Alice said. She had heard thirty years of these stories, and many of them were tragic. “What I like about her is that she's older, sensible. She knows what she's doing. She knows what it is to take care of a child, and she also knows what she can and can't handle. She's got more on her plate than she can cope with, and she knows it. You'd be a godsend for her.” And maybe she for Paris.

“When's the baby due?” Paris asked, making notes on a scratchpad.

“There's the rub. In two weeks. It's a baby girl, by the way. She had a sonogram last month, and the baby is healthy.” Paris had confided to Alice early on that she would prefer a little girl, it would be easier for her as she got older, particularly with no male role model for a little boy to rely on. But she was willing to take either sex.

“Two weeks?” Paris looked startled. “Next week is Thanksgiving.”

“I know. Her due date is December fifth. Do you want to meet her?”

“I…sure…” She had told her kids it could take a year. But Paris felt that if this was right, she would know it. And she already had a good feeling about it.

Alice called her back half an hour later. She had made an appointment with the birth mother, for Paris, at a coffee shop in San Leandro, the next evening at seven. It was the most exciting dinner date Paris had had in months. Possibly in years.

And the next night she was hurrying out of the office when Bix saw her.

“I'd say you had a hot date, but unfortunately, I know better.” He was extremely discouraged about Paris's current position on dating, although he knew she'd had lunch with Andrew Warren. She had told Bix pointedly that he'd make a great friend, and that was all either of them wanted. They were on the same page about that.

“I do have a hot date. I'm meeting a birth mother in San Leandro.” Paris looked anxious and excited and hopeful all at once.

“You hang out in the nicest places,” Bix teased.

With traffic, it took her an hour and a half to get there, but she had allowed enough time, and walked into the coffee shop minutes before the birth mother. She was a tired-looking blonde who looked as though she was ready to drop with exhaustion. But she was pretty, and gentle and bright when Paris talked to her. She'd had a year of community college, and wanted to go to nursing school one day. But for now, she was going to have to do whatever she could to support her children. Her husband sounded like a real bastard. And all this woman wanted to do was get on a plane after she had the baby, and go east to get away. She said her sister would send her little girl to her when she thought she could handle it. But she was frantic about trying to support her kids now, and she knew that they would all drown, if she had a fifth one. Her husband had recently lost his job, and he couldn't pay support. And every penny he had, he was spending on the other woman. Paris wanted to put her in the car and drive away with her, with the rest of her children. But she knew she couldn't. That wasn't what she was there for. They were there to talk about the baby that was due in two weeks.

Paris talked about her own family, and Meg and Wim, her house, her life, her job. But just as Alice had predicted, the birth mother wanted to know very little about her. All she wanted to know was that Paris was willing to take the baby. It was she who wanted Paris to approve of her, not the reverse, and get her out of the mess she was in, so she could get on her feet as quickly as possible, and help her other children. Giving someone the baby she was carrying was going to allow this girl to survive and take care of her other kids. She didn't care that Paris was single, or that she was older. She felt total confidence in her the minute she saw her. And from the moment Paris laid eyes on her, she knew this was the baby for her. They were halfway through the meal Paris had ordered for her, which neither of them barely touched, when Paris took the woman's hands in her own and held them, and as they looked at each other, there were tears rolling down their cheeks. They both knew at the same moment what had happened. The deal was done. The birth mother's name was Amy, and all she had to do now was have the baby, and give it to Paris. Paris and her attorney would take care of the rest.

“Thank you,” Amy whispered, still clinging tightly to Paris's hands. And they sat there, talking and planning, and exchanging photographs until nine o'clock. There were no notable medical problems in Amy's family, one of her children had hay fever, and there was no history of mental illness. No alcoholism, no drugs. And all she wanted from Paris were photographs once a year. She did not plan to see the baby again. Both she and her husband were willing to sign off, and the baby would become the ward of the adoption agency then. And within four months, the baby would be legally hers. Once they signed off, and it was registered in Sacramento, neither she nor the father could change their minds. But Amy assured her there was no way they ever would. She was far more concerned that Paris would back out, and Paris assured her there was no question of it. She had made her decision, and stepped up to the plate. Now all Paris had to do was wait. And tell her kids.

And as she drove back to the city that night, she felt exactly the way she had the first time the doctor had told her she was pregnant. There was always that queasy little fear in the back of your mind that something could go wrong, but what you felt most of all was excitement and exultation. She had come running into the house to tell Peter victoriously, “I'm pregnant!” And she felt exactly that way now. She had given Amy all her phone numbers and told her to call the minute she went into labor. And they both had to call Alice Harper in the morning to tell her they had agreed, and it was a match.

The attorney called Paris at home while she was dressing for work, and Paris held her breath. What if Amy had changed her mind? She might have on the way home. Or maybe her husband had decided to stay with her after all.

“She wants you,” Alice said simply. “How about you?”

“I love her,” Paris said, with tears in her eyes again. They had even both noticed that they had the same color eyes and similar hands. As though God had made them sisters at one time, and separated them, and now brought them back together in the nick of time. Paris had two weeks to buy everything she needed. And she told Alice she would write a check that morning for everything Amy needed. The delivery was covered by Amy's medical plan. All she needed was some child care for her other kids while she was in the hospital, and Paris had volunteered to pay plane fare for Amy and her boys to go back east, after the birth. It seemed like the least she could do.

“I'll send the check over this morning,” Paris said nervously.

“Don't worry. She's not going anywhere. She needs you,” Alice said wisely.

“I need her too,” Paris said. More than she had ever realized. But she knew it now. She called Meg and Wim before she left the house, and told them both.

Wim answered with a monotone “Whatever.” And then said that whatever made her happy would be fine with him. And he sounded as though he meant it. Paris cried when she thanked him. His support was the greatest gift he had ever given her.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Mom,” he said, smiling at his end. “I still think it's a dumb thing to do. But if you want it, it'll be okay.” Paris cried with relief and gratitude as she listened.

“I love you,” she said fervently, touched to the core.

“Me too.”

And the conversation with Meg went better than she had hoped it would too. She had had a long talk with her husband, and she could see her mother's point. If she really wasn't going to remarry, it was going to be a lonely life for her. And if this was what she wanted, Meg said she would support her. The only thing that worried her was that she thought that if her mother did want to start dating again, no man her age would want to get stuck with a baby. But Richard pointed out that he was her mother's age, and he wanted a baby with Meg. In fact, they'd been working on it. So in the end, she got Meg's blessing too. “This is pretty exciting, Mom,” Meg conceded before they hung up.

“Yes, sweetheart, it is.” And then she ran to the office to tell Bix.

“I'm having a baby!” she shouted as she came through the door, and then she saw that the accountant was with him. Fortunately there were no clients afoot.

“Congratulations!” the accountant said, looking stunned, but not as stunned as Bix. He looked up and stared at her and said a single word.

“When?” They had twenty-two Christmas parties on the books.

“In two weeks.” She beamed, and Bix looked like he was going to faint. “Don't worry. I won't take off till January. I'll bring the baby to the office. I'll find a sitter. I'll take care of it. You can baby-sit for me,” she said, and he groaned.

“Should I give you a baby shower?” he asked, looking panicked.

“Not till it's here, but thank you. We can play after Christmas.” He was rummaging in his desk frantically as she said it. “What are you looking for?”

“My Valium. I may have to OD. What's the due date, or whatever you call it?”

“That's what you call it.” She grinned. “December fifth.”

“Oh my God, that's the night of the Addison wedding.”

“I'll be there. With the baby, if I have to.” She was going to find a sitter quickly, and already had a call in to a pediatrician. She was going to hire a baby nurse, to help get her through Christmas. And in January she was going to take care of her herself. Now all she had to do was think of a name. But that was the last thing on her mind, as she made hasty notes about what she'd need, and Bix followed her into her office.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Paris? A baby is forever,” he said ominously.

“Yes, I know,” Paris said, looking at him. “That's the only thing that is.”

Chapter 32

Andrew Warren called Paris
again the Monday before Thanksgiving. He said he had to come to town to see his client again that weekend. And while he waited around for him to write something, he wondered if she wanted to have dinner. She was spending Thanksgiving with Steven and Bix, and her kids were going to be in New York with Peter. Over the weekend she was going to buy things she needed for the baby, and beyond that she had nothing to do.

“That would be nice. Do you want to come here for dinner?” She didn't mind cooking for him. She had nothing else to do, and it might be easier for him, while he waited for his beleaguered screenwriter to hatch a script. They were within hours of the deadline, and the studio was making ugly legal sounds, so he wanted to stick around and breathe down the writer's neck.

“Is this what you always do, or is it above and beyond the call?” she asked after he said he'd like to come to dinner.

“Way beyond, but he's a nice kid, and I think he's in over his head. If I can help, I might as well. It's a quiet weekend for me.” He said he was spending the holiday with friends, since both of his girls were in Europe, and he hadn't had time to fly over and see them for Thanksgiving this year. He asked how she was spending it, since he knew that Meg and Richard were going to New York to see Peter, and she told him she was going to spend it with Bix.

“It's always fun being with them,” she said, and they agreed that he would come to her place for dinner on Friday night, strictly casual, sweaters and jeans.

But as it turned out, Thanksgiving with Steven and Bix was a lot less fun than she'd expected it to be. Steven cooked a perfect bird, and Bix's table was exquisite. But there were no other guests this year, except her, and Steven looked like he had a bad case of flu. He ate very little and went to lie down immediately after dinner. And while she helped Bix clear away the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, she saw tears roll down his cheeks.

“What's happening?” she asked as she put her arms around him, and he nearly collapsed against her. And before he even told her, she knew. It was Steven. He had AIDS. “Oh my God, no…it can't be …” But it was. She knew he had been HIV positive for many years. And they had both known it could happen one day.

“Paris, if something happens to him, I can't live through it. I just couldn't live without him anymore,” Bix said as she hugged him, and he cried.

“Hopefully, you won't have to,” she said, trying to be optimistic for him, but they both knew that sometimes life was cruel. “You just have to do the best you can, and do everything you can for him.” And she knew Bix would.

“He started taking protease and nucleoside reverse transcriptase inhibitors last week, and it's making him feel really sick. Eventually, they said it would make him feel better. But right now he feels like shit.” He had looked pretty rocky at the dinner table, but Paris also knew that he was still going to work. He had been on call earlier that day.