“Are you seeing him again?” Libby was unsure how much to pressure Robin for information. Naturally she was curious, but she didn’t want to appear overly nosy.
“I … I don’t know.”
“He didn’t ask?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Maybe the evening hadn’t gone as well as she believed. “Do you want to get together for a movie tomorrow?”
“Maybe. Can I call you?”
“Sure.” Libby couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Clearly something was up, but she couldn’t imagine what. “If I don’t hear from you, then I’ll see you at the gym on Monday.”
“Oh, yeah, right. See you Monday.”
Robin sounded terribly depressed, and frankly Libby wasn’t in the best of spirits herself. She longed to ask what had gone wrong but hesitated, not wanting to overstep. “Do you want to talk?” she asked, hoping a little encouragement would help Robin to open up.
“Not now,” her attorney friend muttered. “Maybe later, all right?”
“Of course. I’m here if you need me.” Libby understood. She wasn’t in the mood to discuss the fact that she’d seen Phillip with some gorgeous woman draped all over him. She tried to guess what might have gone wrong for Robin and her judge and suspected that Robin had frozen up again. The poor girl had it bad.
Libby didn’t hear from Robin on Sunday and she didn’t show up at the gym on Monday morning, either. Phillip did, but Libby pretended not to notice. She caught him looking at her once but she quickly looked away, determined to ignore him. Clearly he’d moved on and pride demanded that she give the same impression.
At ten sharp Libby was parked outside of Ava’s house. As soon as she turned off the engine, Ava appeared in the doorway. She raised her hand in greeting. Libby climbed out of the car and brought in the bag of books and a fruit smoothie from the gym. She’d kept it in the freezer at home before driving to Ava’s so it was still cold.
To her surprise, Ava hugged her tightly once they were inside the house. The dear girl trembled and buried her face in Libby’s shoulder. They sat down together so close their knees touched.
Libby reached for Ava’s hands and held them in her own. “I don’t want you to be afraid of seeing the doctor. You need to do this if you’re going to have a healthy baby. It’s for you, too, Ava. This is important.”
“I know. But Grandma will be upset and I … I just can’t do that to her.”
“But she needs to know, Ava,” Libby told her, not for the first time.
That apparently wasn’t the only problem that worried Ava. “What if the lady from the state makes me tell her who the father is? I don’t want anything to happen to him … We were …” She didn’t finish the sentence and shook her head, indicating she was unwilling to say anything more.
Knowing how resistant Ava had been regarding the baby’s paternity, Libby didn’t feel she could pressure her. Again she suspected the boy next door, Jackson’s basketball friend. Beyond Peter, she couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine. Libby was fairly certain that Ava would tell her if she’d been raped or abused, but then, maybe not.
“Why don’t we cross that bridge when we need to, okay?”
Ava sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, but I’m not telling. No one can force me to tell, right?”
“Right.” Libby decided to let it go for the moment. The girl was terrified enough as it was. “Why are you so afraid of letting anyone know the name of the father?” she asked.
Ava hung her head low. “Because he might go to jail and … and I don’t want that to happen.”
“The sex was consensual?”
“If that means we both agreed, yes, then it’s that word you just said.” Blushing, Ava looked away.
Identifying the father wasn’t important for now. Libby would let the social worker get the answers to the difficult questions.
“Will you go to the doctor with me?” Ava asked.
“If that’s what you want.” Libby had offered to be with her once already. She assumed the caseworker would also be present, but Libby didn’t know that for a fact.
“I don’t know if I can do this if you aren’t with me.” Ava squeezed her hand. “I don’t like needles and I don’t want anyone touching me … there. I feel …” She paused and her lower lip trembled as she struggled not to cry. “I’m afraid, Libby.”
“I know, but I’ll make sure you aren’t alone.” Libby wrapped her arms around the teen and hugged her tightly. “Don’t you worry. Everything will turn out all right. Do you know how far along you are?”
Ava sniffled and nodded. “Eight months. Maybe a week or two more. It could be more. The book said the baby is ready to be born after forty weeks.”
“Yes, and the closer you carry the baby to full term the better it is for the health of the baby.”
Ava nodded. “But I feel sick almost all the time.”
“That’s one reason why it’s so important for you to see a doctor.”
“Okay, but what will happen to him after he’s born? Or she. I hope it’s a she. Is that wrong?”
“No, not at all. As to your questions, you have a couple of options. You could let a family adopt the baby.”
“Adoption,” Ava repeated. “Would anyone want my baby?”
“Oh yes. There are families on waiting lists who would take your baby and love him or her so much. Some women are unable to have children for a number of reasons and they want a baby badly. They often turn to adoption agencies. They would love your baby, Ava.”
She smiled. “But what if I want to keep the baby?”
“Then that’s another option.” Warning bells rang like a tornado warning system in Libby’s head, but she didn’t want to say or do anything to sway the girl’s decision. This was one Ava would need to make on her own or with her grandmother.
“Grandma wouldn’t want me to do that; we can’t afford to feed anyone else.”
From everything she’d heard about the older woman, Libby had to agree finances were a major concern. Darlene Carmichael already had more than she could handle with Jackson and Ava.
“What about, you know, an abortion?” Ava whispered, lowering her voice.
“It’s too late for that, Ava. Can you feel the baby move?”
She nodded.
“That’s a real person inside of you.”
“I know.”
Libby had strong feelings on the subject, but she left it at that. Again, it was better to keep her opinions to herself.
“If I decide to let one of those families who can’t have children adopt my baby, how will I do it?”
“The state has an adoption agency and there are private agencies, too. They would help guide you through the process. They will take care of your medical expenses, too.”
“They will?”
“Yes. And you can meet the parents, if you want.”
Her eyes widened. “Would I be able to visit the baby, too?”
“You could, if that was what you wanted. They call that an open adoption. You could have contact with the parents, receive pictures and updates on the child, and …” The sound of a door closing came from the area of the kitchen.
“Jackson?” Ava called, her voice trembling slightly.
No answer.
“If it’s Grandma …”
Jackson walked into the living room holding a glass of water. “Hi,” he said, and looked at his sister. His eyes seemed to say Ava was in deep trouble if their grandmother ever found out about Libby stopping by.
“I brought you something,” Libby said.
“Oh?”
She pulled out a package of protein bars. She’d seen them advertised at the gym by a pro basketball player. She couldn’t remember his name now and she wouldn’t have recognized it even if she had. Basketball wasn’t a game that interested her. Jackson, however, seemed to love the sport. The bars weren’t something his grandmother could afford.
“Max Williams power bars,” Jackson repeated as
if she’d presented him with a ten-pound box of solid gold. “Wow, thanks.”
“Libby’s my friend,” Ava whispered.
“I know and you don’t need to worry; I won’t say anything to Grandma about her coming to see you.”
Jackson took the box into his room and then went back outside with two of the bars clenched in his hand.
Ava lowered her head. “He doesn’t know about the baby.”
Libby had suspected as much.
“He wants me to come outside but I don’t anymore. I don’t know what I’m going to do when school starts.”
Classes were scheduled to resume right after Labor Day. Libby had already thought of a solution. “Once your grandmother finds out you’re pregnant I can help homeschool you until after the baby is born. That way you’ll be able to stay here until you’re ready to return to your regular classes.”
Ava nodded. “I … think I might want to keep my baby.”
“You don’t need to make that decision now. Think about it, Ava, think very hard, because there is a lot at stake here. It is more than your future; it’s the future of your child, too.”
“Lots of women do.”
“I know, but it’s hard work and you need to be prepared for that.” Libby didn’t feel she could say anything more just yet. She didn’t want to influence the teenager, and at the same time she felt she needed to let Ava know it wouldn’t be easy to raise this child by herself.
“Thank you, Libby,” Ava whispered, squeezing her hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Just let me know when your doctor’s appointment is scheduled and I’ll go with you.” She glanced at her watch.
“Do you have to leave now?”
Libby sighed. “Sorry, yes, I have a meeting.”
A very important appointment … with Martha Reed. The entire future of her own private practice was at stake.
Chapter 25
Libby had visited the home of Mrs. Martha Reed several times while she was working at Burkhart, Smith & Crandall. The mansion—and really, that was the only word to describe it—never failed to impress her. As the large wrought-iron security gates slowly opened to allow her passage, Libby sucked in her breath and whispered a silent prayer. A great deal hung on this meeting. While she was prepared to present herself to Mrs. Reed, Libby couldn’t help thinking about her morning with Ava. She was determined to do what she could to help the girl, but her options were few.
The housekeeper answered the door, and although she’d admitted Libby to the house any number of times she gave no indication that she recognized her.
“Hello, Alice,” Libby said.
Alice cracked a smile. “Good to see you again, Ms. Morgan.”
“You too.” Libby stepped into the large foyer. A round mahogany table with a dazzling floral arrangement rested in the center and a crystal chandelier hung overhead, the glass sparkling in the sunlight.
“Mrs. Reed is in the library,” Alice told her.
“I know the way,” Libby assured the other woman.
It didn’t matter; Alice led her to the room, opened the massive pocket doors, and announced her. “Ms. Morgan to see you.”
“Libby.” Mrs. Reed held out her hand without getting up. Although she was in her eighties, Martha Reed remained a striking woman. She wore her thick white hair in a bun at the base of her head. Libby had never seen her in anything but a dress. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever seeing the older woman unstylish. On a couple of occasions Mrs. Reed had taken Libby into her rose garden. She pruned the bushes herself and was inordinately proud of her prize roses. She’d worn an apron over her dress as she’d wandered through the garden, pruning as she strolled along the paved pathway.
“Sit down, please.”
“Thank you.” Libby took the wingback chair next to the family matriarch. Her husband, Bernard Reed, had died nearly twenty years ago. He’d devised some small part that had revolutionized the airplane engine and had been handsomely rewarded for his invention.
“I’ve asked Alice to bring us tea.”
“That would be lovely.” Past experience taught Libby that Mrs. Reed preferred to chat before discussing business. Libby guessed that Ben Holmes had been all business from the moment he walked in the door. Big mistake.
Alice rolled in an elaborate cart and poured them each a cup of steaming Earl Grey. She didn’t need to ask how Libby liked her tea, she remembered and added a teaspoon of milk without being prompted.
“Thank you, Alice,” Libby said when the housekeeper handed her the delicate china cup and saucer.
“My pleasure.”
The second cup went to her employer. The cart remained but Alice left the room, closing the doors behind her. The library was an impressive room. Floor-to-ceiling cherrywood shelves were filled with thousands of volumes. Some were valuable collector’s items. Mrs. Reed had an impressive array of autographed books. Libby had held a copy of Uncle Tom’s Cabin and seen Harriet Beecher Stowe’s signature for herself. Mark Twain’s signature was penned in The Innocents Abroad and Ernest Hemingway had autographed The Old Man and the Sea. That was only a small part of the older woman’s collection. Row upon row of autographed books dating as far back as the early 1800s graced these shelves.
Libby loved this room, with its faint scent of leather. She knew that Mrs. Reed spent a good portion of her afternoons in here. If she wasn’t in the library or attending some charity function then she was in her beloved rose garden. Libby was somewhat surprised the older woman had chosen to meet in the library, seeing that it was such a beautiful sunny afternoon. But then this was business and Mrs. Reed preferred to talk business in the library.
“How have you been, my dear?” Mrs. Reed asked as she stirred her tea, dissolving the single sugar cube.
“Very well. And you?”
Martha sighed. “Good.”
“The children and grandchildren?” Libby asked.
The older woman’s face lit up as she mentioned each of her four children, from the oldest to the youngest. When she finished she spoke of her nine grandchildren. Mrs. Reed was a woman who loved family. The vast majority of her estate was designated to charity, but she would leave a substantial sum to each of her children and had set up trust funds for each grandchild.
Libby knew all of Martha Reed’s family members by name, although she’d never met them. Hershel had, she knew, but not her.
After she updated Libby on her family, Mrs. Reed focused her attention on Libby. “What have you been doing with yourself these past five months?”
Five months? It felt like so much longer. It would kill her to admit she’d been unable to find a position in all that time. Instead of focusing on the negative, she relayed the changes that had come about in her life.
“For one thing, I took up knitting.”
Mrs. Reed rested her china cup in the saucer. “Really? I knit myself, but that was years ago now.”
“You’d enjoy it, Mrs. Reed,” Libby assured her. “I started out making preemie hats and then advanced to …”
“Preemie hats?”
Libby explained why these warm hats were so important to tiny infants and how the customers at A Good Yarn had taken it upon themselves to supply the warm, knitted hats for the babies in need.
“Why, I think I would enjoy knitting those myself,” she said when Libby finished.
“I’d be more than happy to help you get started,” she offered.
“Oh, dear, thank you but there’s no need. Alice and I will be able to figure it out.”
“I’ll give you the name and address of the yarn store,” Libby offered.
“That would be wonderful.” Mrs. Reed seemed enthused and even a little excited.
“I’ve also volunteered at Seattle General Hospital, rocking the newborns.”
The older woman’s eyes widened with surprise. “I didn’t think rocking babies would be of interest to you.”
Libby smiled. “It came as a shock to me, too.
Both knitting and spending time with the babies has helped me deal with … life’s frustrations.” Again she was determined not to mention that she hadn’t found work with another firm.
Mrs. Reed went silent for a couple of moments. “I suppose you heard that I’ve left Burkhart, Smith & Crandall.”
“I did get word that you’d recently made that decision.”
“Bernard trusted them with our business for many years. I never thought to question his choice. My husband was an astute businessman and Hershel was most helpful following Bernard’s death.”
Libby responded with a simple nod of acknowledgment.
“But lately I’ve grown displeased.” She pinched her lips together for an instant before she continued. “I can’t tolerate that young man Hershel assigned to my account.”
“Ben Holmes is a gifted attorney.” Libby felt obliged to defend her former colleague. “But he—”
“He’s rude and arrogant and always in a dreadful rush. He told me he didn’t have time for tea. I hardly had a chance to tell Alice not to bother before he pulled out my file and started talking business. He might not want tea, but I prefer it when discussing the details. I found him to be most unpleasant.”
Libby recognized that to Mrs. Reed business was a delicate issue and should be dealt with in a leisurely manner. “I apologize for Ben,” Libby said, although she knew Hershel had probably already offered his own regrets. “He’s young and ambitious.”
“Hershel said much the same thing and assigned me some other attorney … Oh dear, I’ve forgotten the name now. Ander, Anson … something like that.”
“Jake Amber?” Libby guessed. She couldn’t think whom else Martha might mean.
“That’s it,” she said, and sounded relieved. “It was the same thing. Oh, he had tea with me, but I could see he didn’t enjoy it. Everyone is always in such a rush these days. Why, I can remember the time back in the mid-seventies when our son …” She paused and shook her head. “You don’t want to hear the ramblings of an old woman.”
Libby immediately recognized this was a small test to see if she’d changed from the attorney and woman she once was. “On the contrary,” Libby said, and settled against the back of the comfortable chair. “I’d like nothing better than for you to tell me about your son. Paul or Wade?”
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