by Nicola Marsh
Before I can mediate, Claire responds. “If you want us to, we’d love to raise your child and look after him like he’s our own.” She presses her palm to her chest. “We’ll love him so much. You never need to be concerned about that. And if you want him to know who his biological mother is, we’re okay with that too.”
She smiles, soft and reassuring. “I come from a big family. Four brothers, two who are years younger than me, who are all pains in the ass but I love dearly. So I know a bit about raising boys and what makes them tick.”
She jerks a thumb in Dane’s direction. “Not to mention living with this one for the last decade. I’ve learned a lot about guys.”
I’m glad Claire’s taking the initiative and trying to put Jodi at ease. If this is how she lulls suspects into confessions, she must get a lot of convictions.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is, we’ll try to make this as easy on you as possible and hope you’ll understand how much this baby will be loved.”
Claire’s declaration, along with a heartfelt smile, seems to work. Some of Jodi’s animosity fades, but not all. She stares at Dane through narrowed eyes, bristling and defiant. “What about you? What do you think?”
I see a vein pulse in Dane’s temple but he’s calm. “I wouldn’t be here if I’m not willing to love this kid with everything I’ve got.”
“Hmm.” Jodi’s noncommittal answer scares Claire. I see it in the slight widening of her eyes and the way her fingers dig into her thighs.
But to my friend’s credit, she won’t give up.
“What can we do to make this easier for you?” Claire clasps her hands in her lap and leans toward Jodi. “I can’t imagine how difficult this decision must be, giving up your baby, so tell us what we can do to help.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Claire is so sincere, so sweet, I know I’ve made the right decision in putting these people together. It has to work out. It just has to.
“You seem nice…” Jodi clears her throat and I’m on the verge of stepping in to take the pressure off her when she continues. “If I agree to this I want to stay in town.” She reddens and hugs her middle tighter. “But I can’t afford to and the stuff I’ve read said it’s all covered as part of the adoption?”
Claire shoots me an uncertain glance, like she’s not sure whether to reiterate this or not. We’ve already talked about the costs for private adoptions and Claire reassured me they’re more than happy to pay.
But I sense Jodi is overwhelmed by this meeting and I don’t want to scare her by forging ahead to the nitty-gritty details. She’s fragile, and jumpy, which compounds my sense of something else going on here, more than she’s told me.
I clamp down on my spidey sense and aim for reassurance.
“You’re right, Jodi, a private adoption takes care of you financially but we can discuss the details later.” I gesture toward my friends. “This meeting is about you getting a feel for Claire and Dane as parents.”
A frown dents her brow as she scoots forward to the edge of the sofa as if she’s about to bolt. “But how can I do that in a short space of time? It’s impossible.”
Dane looks helpless, like he’s floundering for the right thing to say but not willing to risk it. Claire looks plain terrified now. I need to intervene quickly before the whole meeting implodes.
“Do you trust me, Jodi?”
Jodi stares at me for a long time, before she eventually nods. “Yeah.”
“Then you know I’m telling the truth when I say I’ve facilitated private adoptions like this before and that prospective parents like Claire and Dane are vetted extensively. Experienced counselors visit their home and intensive background checks are done. They’re interviewed about everything and their suitability as parents is assessed by experts.” I offer her a reassuring smile. “Trust in the process and they’ll do right by your baby. I wouldn’t have facilitated this so quickly otherwise.”
My little speech has the desired result when the tension drains from Jodi’s rigid spine and she eases back into the sofa.
“I don’t think you can ever really know a person.” Jodi shrugs, like she’s unsure which ice-cream flavor to choose, not making a decision regarding her baby’s future. “But okay.”
I see Claire and Dane sit forward slightly but I need to clarify what Jodi means before my friends are potentially devastated.
“By okay, you mean you agree to this adoption proceeding?” I’m clasping my hands so tight my nails leave tiny indentations in the skin.
Jodi nods and I exhale a breath I’m unaware I’ve been holding. “Yeah, I think so.”
She glances at Claire and Dane and flashes a tentative smile. “Let’s hope this works out for everyone.”
Claire’s eyes fill with tears and Dane blinks rapidly, his jaw clenched in that way men do if they don’t want to appear vulnerable or emotional.
I should be ecstatic but I still can’t shake the feeling something is wrong. Jodi’s responses have been evasive and what does she mean by “let’s hope this works out for everyone?”
But it’s a start down this potentially pot-holed road and I need to capitalize on it.
“This can’t have been easy for you, Jodi, I’m proud of you.” I touch her shoulder, pleased when she doesn’t flinch away like she did the first few times. “Why don’t we go through some of the logistics now, if you’re up to it?”
Jodi wrinkles her nose. “Actually, I’m exhausted. Do you mind if we do it later? I need a nap.”
Claire gives an imperceptible nod so I say, “Sure. Rest up. We’ll meet again later this afternoon.”
Jodi pushes herself into a standing position and I see Dane has to sit on his hands to resist helping. “See you guys later.”
Claire and Dane mumble goodbyes, wearing matching thunderstruck expressions, like they can’t quite believe Jodi has agreed to let them adopt her baby.
I wait until Jodi has left my office before speaking. “I know you’re both overwhelmed right now, but what do you think?”
“I think you’re incredible for doing this.” Claire flings herself at me, knocking me sideways, and we bump into a filing cabinet.
Paperwork tumbles to the floor. We don’t care. I hug my friend as she cries a little, while Dane picks up the mess we’ve made.
My eyes are damp when she releases me and we resume our seats. “Look, I just want to say that while I think this will go through, be aware there can always be hiccups.”
Claire deflates a little. Her bottom lip trembles, as if she’s on the verge of tears again. “You get that feeling about her too, huh?”
I nod, glad my intuitive friend has picked up on Jodi’s flighty vibe. “She’s opened up to me a lot but I can’t help but feel she’s hiding something. Though it’s perfectly normal for expectant mothers to be jittery. Thankfully, as we mitigate more meetings, they tend to become more comfortable and show faith in the process as time goes on. I think she came to town to tell the baby’s father about the pregnancy but she’s changed her mind for some reason. Yet she wants to stick around regardless. Seems contradictory.”
Dane fixes me with a speculative stare. “I’ve been researching private adoptions online and it can be tricky, right? Are you saying that once we get proceedings underway, she can still back out?”
I hate reining in their enthusiasm but I’d be an awful friend if I didn’t prepare them for the worst. “Unfortunately, yes, it’s the mother’s prerogative. Even the private adoption route can be complicated and there’s always a risk involved. The first step is at a court hearing where a judge issues a decree that permanently ends Jodi’s parental rights. Though even when she consents to an adoption there’s a period where she can change her mind and revoke consent.”
Claire pales but I must give them all the facts in case Jodi reneges. I’m not sure how committed she is to the process despite her vague verbal agreement.
“I’ve done a bit of reading too,” Claire says, her fingers fiddling with the
seam on her skirt. “How intrusive is the home study? I mean, we have nothing to hide but…” She shrugs. “It sounds nerve-wracking.”
“It’s not. Because it’s an independent adoption, the court will appoint someone to check out if you’re suitable parents. Do background checks, that kind of thing. But you won’t need to undergo counseling, which happens if you’re going through an agency. And I’d consider this a low risk adoption, where rights haven’t been terminated yet but we expect they soon will, and there’s little likelihood of the child returning to Jodi.”
Claire and Dane continue to stare at me with abject horror but I want to educate them on the process as best I can.
“The last step is the finalization of the adoption in court, making you the child’s permanent, legal parents.” I blow out a breath. “I’ll be honest and say lots can go wrong along the way, especially if Jodi is fickle. But in saying that, independently adopting a newborn this way is the fastest way to have your baby.”
Claire reaches for Dane’s hand and holds on tight. I stare at their clasped hands, envying the kind of bond they share, the kind of unequivocal support through good times and bad. “We need to keep the faith.”
Dane raises her hand to his lips and kisses it. “You’re right, as usual.”
The way he gazes at Claire, the obvious adoration, makes me want to bawl again. “I’m extremely hopeful all will be well but I wouldn’t be doing my job unless I gave you every possible scenario.”
Claire’s smile is understanding. “Thanks, Ris, we appreciate it. You’ve done so much for us and we can’t ever thank you enough.”
“Letting me be a part of your child’s life will be reward enough.”
Trite, but true. My friends will make exceptional parents and I’ll get to be around a gorgeous baby again. I remember the early days with the girls like it was yesterday. Sure, feeding and bathing and transporting twins had been a handful, but I’d thrived on caring for them. I’d never felt so alive as I had when I’d been their mom.
Kissing their cute little toes, blowing raspberries on their tummies, tickling them under the chin, savoring their unique baby smell… Avery never understood my obsession. He’d called me a martyr for wanting to do everything for the girls myself. I hadn’t wanted a nanny or a housekeeper even though we could afford both. I’d relented when he insisted on having a part-time cook, because caring for the twins left little time to whip up the kind of meals he expected.
It had been a hectic whirlwind and I cherished every moment. Even when babyhood gave way to the toddler years and they needed me more than ever, I thrived. And as tweens they’d always been after me to do stuff for them.
Like all teens, they’d been trying, but I never begrudged them. I’d wanted them to have the wonderful childhood I’d never had. That’s the ultimate reason I tolerated Avery’s frequent late nights and absences.
How many times had I pestered my mom for details about the father I never knew? How many evenings I’d be doing my homework at the kitchen table, glancing at the back door in the hope a kind, distinguished man would walk through it, take one look at me and say ‘I’ve missed you so much’? How many athletics carnivals and science fairs and first days of school had I watched the front gates, willing my mythical father to appear?
Mom never told me who he was and as the years passed I gave up begging her to know. But every time Avery walked through our front door and the girls flung themselves into his arms, I knew I’d done the right thing in turning a blind eye to my husband’s transgressions.
I don’t know how long I’m lost in memories of motherhood but when I refocus, Claire and Dane are both watching me with matching odd expressions.
“Sorry, just visualizing what kind of first gift I’ll buy your baby boy.”
Their expressions are even stranger now and I make a grand show of glancing at my watch. “I have another client meeting shortly. Is there anything else you wanted to ask before we finish up?”
“Yeah.” Dane’s adorable little-boy grin conveys just how excited he is by the prospect of becoming a father. “How often can you babysit and what do you charge?”
We laugh and exchange hugs again before they leave my office. As I gather the paperwork together and slip it into Jodi’s file, I can’t shake a niggle of worry. Usually I distance myself from clients but this time I’m too invested. Claire and Dane are my friends. I don’t want anything to go wrong. They’ll make great parents and I want them to experience the joy I had. Watching my friend go through the wonderful years of motherhood, helping out whenever she needs me, is something I can’t help but look forward to.
I shouldn’t worry. Every time I meet with Jodi she trusts me more but I’ll feel a lot better when we get the paperwork started.
Sooner rather than later.
Twenty-Two
Elly
My lover is satisfied and slumberous. It’s the perfect time to interrogate him.
“I didn’t like how you treated me at the supper party.” My voice is soft and hurt, not confrontational and accusatory. I know how to play this. He doesn’t take kindly to pushy women.
“How’s that?” His drawl is amused, as if he finds my question funny.
“You know.” I roll toward him, lying on my side so we’re staring at each other. I can only just see his face in the dim light. Darkness fell hours ago and only a single lamp is on in the cottage bedroom. I prefer the darkness but I need to see his face, to see how he reacts when I drop my bombshell.
His hand, resting on my hip, drifts lower. “I thought you always like when I do this.”
He sweeps a finger between my folds and when I don’t react, he laughs. “Too late to play hard to get now. We both know you’re always begging for it.”
I hate when he talks to me like this but I bite back my first expletive, along the lines of ‘go and procreate with yourself’. Because I have an agenda tonight and if all goes to plan I’ll be the one smirking at the end, not him.
“Do you know the girl who arrived unannounced at the party?”
He scowls and snatches his hand away. “What is it with you and that night? It was weeks ago now.”
“It’s strange, that’s all. Ris told me this girl Jodi arrived at the party, then she took her to the center.”
He rolls his eyes and makes a disparaging sound akin to a snort. “We all know Ris and her rescue complex. Probably another of her strays seeking guidance.”
He made it sound like Ris killed puppies rather than helped people. Bastard.
He fixes me with a speculative stare. “Why are you so interested in this girl anyway?”
I school my face into an impassive mask, not wanting to reveal too much before I get to the zinger. “I got curious when Ris asked me to get her an appointment with our best ob-gyn at the center.”
I see something in his eyes then. A flicker. It’s enough to inform me he knows more about this girl than he’s letting on.
“Apparently she’s staying in town until the baby’s born in one of those studio apartments on The Rise.”
I shrug and the sheet falls. He doesn’t look at my breasts, which speaks volumes. He’s a sex maniac. One glimpse of me naked is enough to make him pounce. So the fact he hasn’t even glanced at my breasts means he has something on his mind.
I drop a few more morsels into the conversation. “As manager of the swankiest medical center on Long Island, I don’t do menial tasks for anyone but Ris has personally asked me to ensure this girl is well looked after so it got me thinking.”
“Don’t do that,” he said, his gaze finally lowering to my bare chest. His pupils dilate and his mouth curves into the smug bastard grin I know so well. “Thinking is highly overrated when you look like that.”
Misogynist creep. I fake disinterest and tug the sheet lower, exposing my tanned torso. “So you know nothing about this Jodi Van Gelder?”
He hesitates for the barest fraction of a second but it’s there and I know he’ll lie before he speaks.
Lying is what he does best. “Nothing.”
He reaches for me and yanks away the rest of the sheet. “Why are we wasting time talking about this knocked-up tramp anyway?”
He lowers his mouth to my nipple. “I’ve got way more important things to do and they sure as hell don’t involve talking.”
His mouth fastens over my nipple, his tongue laving and licking in the way he thinks I like. My mind is ticking over. My lover knows a lot more than he’s telling me.
He nips my nipple, a bite bordering on painful and I involuntarily arch. He takes it as an invitation. He shoves my legs apart with characteristic roughness. Sex is always on the verge of brutal with him, like he wants to go further but is restraining himself.
He parts me with the fingers on one hand while stroking me with the thumb on the other. His gaze glazed and fixed, like he’s never seen me before.
It’s this ability to make me feel like I’m the only woman in the world that gets to me every time. It’s not his skills as a lover that I like as much as his intent to make me feel good.
He’s eager to be inside me again, his weight heavy on top of me as his thrusts start. He’s focused, single-minded in his quest for pleasure, and while I like it when he clasps my face between his hands and stares deep into my eyes, making me feel at one with him, I can’t help but wonder what my lover knows about Jodi but isn’t telling.
When it’s over, he folds me into his arms and I finally relax. My cheek rests over his heart, the steady rhythm an odd comfort. Back in Chicago, this would be the best part of my day, when my husband would hold me and tell me snippets about his job and retell funny anecdotes with clients. We’d laugh together and I’d be secure in the crook of his arm, my head resting on his chest, smug in my perfect life.
What a crock.
I’m aware not remembering the rape has messed with my mind to the point I look forward to being in my lover’s arms. It’s probably some warped, twisted way to make up for what I once had with my husband: the solid comfort of having a man hold me.
