Mercifully, the babies—all boys—had been delivered safely by Caesarian section. Melissa had joined the parents in their hospital room—at their request—posing for photos with a baby in her arms while Vern cradled his other two sons.
As she held the little boy, a blond infant who could have passed for her son, tears had run down Melissa’s cheeks. Overwhelmed by the ache for a baby of her own, she’d replaced the boy in his bassinet, invented an excuse and hurried off.
Nell must have noticed her emotions. In a vulnerable moment during the year-long fertility process, Melissa had confided to Nell the facts of her divorce and that she was considering artificial insemination.
Six weeks after the birth, the couple had concluded they couldn’t risk a second pregnancy and would donate the surviving embryos. When they offered them to Melissa, Nell explained she’d had recurring dreams of Melissa as their mother. But the Grants had insisted that she decide quickly so they could settle the matter. If she delayed, they’d have chosen another recipient.
Now, she stared into the dusk beyond the windshield, revisiting her turbulent emotions as she’d weighed the unexpected proposal. Although Melissa had identified with the Grants and their babies, she knew these children might have been better off with a married couple.
But the chance to realize her dreams, especially given her bond with the Grants, had overridden her doubts. Although there’d been no specific agreement that she allow regular visits after the babies’ birth, Melissa liked the idea that the families could remain in touch.
Ironically, once the initial excitement over the implantation faded, the Grants had been too overwhelmed caring for their triplets to keep up contact. In an email, Nell had noted that one little boy had required surgery to fix a newly discovered heart defect. Although he was doing well, she had no energy to spare.
Melissa’s hand rested on her abdomen. Her body still vibrated with Edmond’s lovemaking, yet these little girls weren’t simply someone else’s embryos. They were her daughters.
Despite the joy they’d shared today, despite the fact that she longed to share her future with a husband as well as her babies, she’d made the right choice.
* * *
THE COUNSELING CLINIC occupied a small white building on a busy street in the city of Garden Grove, midway between Norwalk and Safe Harbor. Edmond had chosen Franca Brightman, Ph.D., based on a recommendation from Paula Humphreys.
He’d brought Dawn for weekly sessions after Simon’s death and Barbara’s arrest, fearing that the events would traumatize his niece. Edmond had learned during his family law career that counseling could be vital. He’d seen fiercely antagonistic divorces defused by a counselor’s insights into the couple’s underlying issues.
His sister had consented to Dawn undergoing therapy, although she hadn’t been thrilled. Resisting the possibility that she, too, might benefit, she’d only attended once, early in the process. That had relieved her concerns, although she’d still refused Edmond’s offer to fund counseling for her, as well.
Initially, he’d believed that the point of therapy was to “fix” the child. But Franca had explained that the goal was to allow Dawn to integrate her experiences and gain the emotional tools to cope in the future. Edmond had wondered how such a thing was possible with a child her age—she’d only been six at the start—who would have trouble articulating her feelings.
Allowed to observe her first play therapy session, he’d tried not to be impatient, although the pace had seemed slow. Franca—she encouraged them both to use her first name—had allowed Dawn to choose among an array of toys and art supplies.
When the little girl began drawing, he’d expected the therapist to steer her toward depicting scenes that would reveal her inner landscape. Instead, Franca had simply observed, with occasional comments such as, “You enjoy using bright colors,” or, “The way you sniff the crayons shows me that you enjoy the smell.”
She wasn’t praising or directing the little girl; instead, she was making Dawn aware of her own reactions. After several sessions, he’d found that his niece was better able to process her emotions and to communicate them.
Tonight, once Dawn went into Franca’s office, Edmond sat alone in the waiting room. He no longer observed the play sessions, after Franca explained that Dawn should be free to interact with her away from him. Also, despite an impulse to keep close tabs on his niece, he didn’t wish to control her. Mutual respect was important in their relationship.
Would a father—a worthwhile father, not a jerk like Simon—be so quick to loosen the reins? Edmond did care about Dawn, very much. Beyond that, he had to trust the therapist’s recommendations and hope his instincts weren’t seriously out of balance.
After checking his email on his phone, he glanced at the reading material arrayed on a low table in front of him. Choosing a parenting magazine, Edmond scanned an article about online safety, then flipped to a page about preparing for the start of school.
A photo of a woman with light hair, hazel eyes and a classic oval face reminded him of Melissa. Last night after she’d left, he’d slept still engulfed in emotions from their incredible lovemaking—regrets about their quarrel, a touch of anger that she’d pushed him away again. Confusion, too. Why couldn’t he move past their relationship? Why was he still haunted by the sense that they belonged together?
After the divorce, he’d had one brief, unsatisfying relationship with a woman at his old law firm that had dissuaded Edmond from pursuing further affairs. He’d told himself he was waiting for the right woman. Making love to Melissa again had brought home the searing awareness that she was still the right woman. If only she’d waited before becoming pregnant, perhaps mothering Dawn would have satisfied her.
He didn’t mean to resent those three little infants. And it was his own fault because he’d stupidly rushed to “solve” the situation.
The inner door opened. Dawn emerged, her little face more relaxed than when they’d arrived. “Franca wants you to go in.”
He arose. “You’re okay out here?”
“Yep. Don’t forget to lock the door.”
“Right.” At the entrance, Edmond flipped the bolt, as he always did when leaving his niece alone in the waiting area.
As Dawn selected a picture book from the rack, he went inside. “Hi,” he said to the slim, red-haired woman as she rose to greet him.
“Big changes this week.” Franca, who could almost have passed for a teenager with her heart-shaped face and sprinkling of freckles, shook his hand firmly. “How’re you holding up?”
He’d emailed her about Barbara’s sentence and Dawn’s planned move. He’d also sent her information about the social worker along with permission to provide input for the woman’s report.
“My head’s spinning,” Edmond said as they sat in adult-size chairs. Surrounded by mostly tiny furniture, he felt like Gulliver among the Lilliputians.
“Dawn talked a lot about her Aunt Lissa. I presume that’s your ex-wife.” Earlier, he’d described the circumstances of his divorce to Franca. “She’s expecting triplets?”
“That’s right.” Edmond set aside his instinct to keep personal matters private. That was counterproductive with a therapist. “It’s an embryo adoption.”
“That’s unusual.” While her calm manner revealed only nonjudgmental attentiveness, Edmond sensed there was a point to this discussion.
“She works in a fertility program in Safe Harbor Medical Center, where I’m consulting.” He sketched their interaction over the past week, including the preparations for Dawn’s arrival, but omitted their intimacy. That really was nobody’s business. “Being around Melissa seems to be beneficial for my niece, especially since I have virtually no experience with parenting.”
He expected the therapist to agree. Instead, she replied carefully, “It’s understandable that you’d rely
on her, since you have a friendly relationship with your ex-wife, and Dawn has a bond with her.” As usual, Franca summarized complex matters succinctly. “But what happens after the triplets are born? Melinda—sorry, Melissa—will be up to her ears in babies. No matter how attached she is to Dawn, they’ll have first claim on her.”
“Well, of course.” Because of the speed of the week’s events, Edmond hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“That will be another loss for Dawn, and imagine how she’ll feel,” Franca said earnestly. “She’ll be devastated if she’s counting on her aunt and is set aside for the babies.”
Much as he wanted to deny that that might happen, Edmond couldn’t. This pregnancy had to be Melissa’s top consideration. “What do you propose?”
Franca spread her hands. “I’m not suggesting you break off contact with your ex-wife, only that she remain on the sidelines. You have to be the constant in Dawn’s life. So spend time alone with her. Find activities you enjoy doing together. Other people may come and go, but it’s vital that she’s assured she can count on you, always.”
Always. He nearly blurted that Barbara was still Dawn’s parent and that hopefully she’d be out of prison in five years or less. But by then, Dawn would be nearly a teenager. Furthermore, Barbara would be an ex-con with no job. How long would it take Barb to reestablish her life, and at what point should he hand over his niece? She might stay with him until she was grown. Dawn deserved to be his first priority.
“Well?” The therapist watched him closely.
“You’re right,” Edmond said. “I’m Dawn’s anchor.” With those words, he sealed his commitment. No more hedging; no more considering this a temporary situation.
“This transitional period will involve a lot of ups and downs,” Franca went on. “During what’s called the honeymoon phase, your niece may strive to please you, to conform to whatever you ask. Once she’s more confident, she’ll test you by flouting the rules. When that happens, it may seem as if you’re taking two steps backward for every step forward, but that’s natural. She has to figure out where the boundaries are in her new landscape.”
“And my job is to steer a steady course,” Edmond said.
“Yes. Fortunately, you’re up to the task.” Her freckles stretched as she smiled.
“As I’ve explained, my plans didn’t include fatherhood.” He’d been open on that score. “But I understand my responsibilities, and Dawn’s needs. I won’t let her down.”
“You may be pleasantly surprised to discover that parenting your niece is more rewarding than you expect,” Franca said.
“I hope so.”
As he rose to shake her hand, Edmond tried not to show how rattled he was at the prospect of distancing himself from Melissa. For Dawn’s sake and in some ways his own, he couldn’t entirely keep them apart. For starters, he’d promised to bring his niece to her house for Sunday dinner. And then there was his longing for Melissa, which defied reason.
You can handle this. As Franca said, you’re up to the task.
In the waiting room, the little girl’s face brightened when she saw him. And reaching for her hand, Edmond decided that finding things to do, just the two of them, might not be difficult after all.
Chapter Twelve
Sitting at the small desk in her bedroom, Melissa listened to Edmond in dismay. He’d called to explain the counselor’s recommendation that she put distance between herself and Dawn.
“I love her,” she protested.
“This isn’t the end of your relationship,” he assured her, his voice slightly rough at this hour. It was only nine-thirty, but no doubt he’d had a long day. “However, in your condition, you can’t guarantee you’ll be there for her when she needs you.”
While Melissa assumed he was quoting the counselor accurately, she couldn’t shake the suspicion he was deliberately pushing her away. “Are you angry at me?”
“About what?”
“We...sort of snapped at each other the other night.” Surely he’d played their discussion through his mind as often as she’d played it through hers.
“No, I’m not angry,” he said thoughtfully. “But, Melissa, even after all these years, we’re both clearly still hurt and a little raw.”
So he was pushing her away. “Are you going to change the plan to bring her over on Sunday night? I was just drafting an email to thank Isabel for sending the chicken recipe.”
“No. She’ll enjoy that, and so will I.” His tone lightened. “And for what it’s worth, Franca didn’t say I had to avoid you.”
If only he’d be clearer about what he meant! Melissa confined herself to a clipped response. “Well, I’ll see you Friday, then.”
“Friday?”
“At the hospital. I’m curious to hear your talk.”
“Oh, yes. Great. Until then.” On that note, the call ended.
Frustrating man! Irritably, she reread the draft email.
Thursday night
Sender: Melissa Everhart
Subject: Thanks for the recipe
Cc: Edmond Everhart
Hi, Isabel and Dawn,
Isabel, thanks for the chicken recipe. My friend Karen plans to fix it for us Sunday night. Dawn, I can’t wait to have you over! It’ll be fun having you live so close. I’m sure we’ll get together often.
Love,
Aunt Lissa
She’d have to revise it to sound more impersonal. Melissa blinked away tears—maternal hormones kept her emotions close to the surface these days.
Inside her, the babies were squiggling. Her palm traced the shape of her abdomen, which seemed to expand almost hourly.
When her daughters emerged into the world, they’d have only their mother to depend on. She would have to be all things to them, an intimidating prospect. Adding to her concern was the uncertainty about when they would arrive and whether there’d be complications. She supposed the counselor had a point.
All the same, she’d never shut out her niece. Quite the opposite—she longed to share her family-to-be with Edmond and Dawn.
For now, she’d have to retreat, but it hurt, both for her niece’s sake and for Edmond’s. The man deserved a slap to bring him to his senses. At the ridiculous image of herself punching out her ex-husband, Melissa laughed.
Then she rewrote the email, and hit Send.
Friday morning
Sender: Isabel Everhart
Subject: From Dawn
Cc: Edmond Everhart
Hi, Aunt Lissa,
Grandma Isabel’s been helping me pack. I can’t wait until Sunday!
Here are my favorite names for my little sisters [note from Isabel: that’s how she refers to the triplets]. Bunny, Bambi and Belinda.
Love,
Dawn
On Friday afternoon, Edmond was pleasantly surprised to find the hospital auditorium nearly full for his talk. In view of the change of topic and speaker, he’d half expected attendance to be low.
Waiting on the side of the stage with public relations director Jennifer Serra Martin, he scanned the crowd. Immediately, he pinpointed Melissa between Karen and their supervisor, Jan Sargent. Meeting his gaze, his ex-wife nodded encouragement.
Although she’d accepted Franca Brightman’s advice, he knew she was upset. He didn’t like it, either. He and Melissa had been soul mates from the day they met, and it had torn him apart when they divorced.
Their lovemaking this week had shown how strong the bond remained, but it was no longer just the two of them. There was no question of bringing her three babies into his household, even if he’d been willing to consider it, because he couldn’t risk letting his niece get lost in the shuffle. Dawn urgently required stability, reassurance and his full attention.
And, despite his best intentions, he sti
ll felt a twist of resentment about the pregnancy. If only she’d waited. If only she’d loved him as much as he’d loved her.
Edmond surveyed the rest of the attendees, recognizing a number of people including Vince Adams, who filled a center seat beside the administrator. Why was the gruff billionaire attending his talk?
Perhaps Mark had suggested it to further involve Vince with the hospital. The administration was hoping he’d give a major donation, as much as twenty million dollars, Tony had mentioned.
Adams, his wife and their daughters would be returning to their main residence in San Diego next month. They’d rented a beach cottage in Safe Harbor for the summer so the girls could be near their maternal grandmother, but school would be starting soon. And everyone in fund-raising knew that absence made the heart go wander.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” murmured Jennifer, a dark-haired woman with a throaty voice. Adjusting her note cards, she rose and approached the microphone. The audience chatter died.
“I’m Jennifer Martin, public relations director at Safe Harbor Medical Center. Welcome to our latest Medical Insight lecture.” Her formality reminded Edmond that the talk was being recorded and would be available on the hospital’s website.
What he said and how he said it would affect many people’s opinions of him, now and in the near future. It might also change a few lives. He couldn’t wait.
* * *
MELISSA JOINED THE round of applause as Edmond took the mike. In a blue shirt, dark brown jacket and tan slacks, he struck a balance between professionalism and Southern California informality.
Following a few introductory remarks, he launched into his topic. “When I worked for a large law firm in L.A., I witnessed the ugly side of divorces, custody battles and cases involving adoptions and surrogacy. As many of you may have observed, nice people can become monsters when they feel as if their family is threatened. Sometimes the level of rage in those cases made me glad no one’s invented a personal-size nuclear weapon.”
The Surprise Triplets Page 12
