Happenstance

by Jamie McGuire

  “What are you doing, babe?”

  My purpose, where I was, and even my own name were lost on me, because of what had just come out of his mouth. I’d heard other couples call each other sweet terms of endearment, and I heard mothers say such things to their children, but no one had called me anything but my name, and a few colorful slurs. I’d always imagined what it would feel like, to hear someone who loved me call me something simple and sweet, and it just came out of Weston Gates’s mouth.

  I tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Do you want me to drive?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he took another step toward me. “Are you okay?”

  I took a few quick strides and jumped on him, wrapping my legs around his middle and my arms around his neck, kissing him hard.

  He kissed me back. The sacks he was holding crackled as he hurried to wrap his arms around me.

  When I pulled away, he smiled. “What was that for?”

  “I don’t know. I just needed to.”

  “You should follow your gut more often,” he said, kissing me again.

  He asked me to drive, and five hours after I left work, I pulled into Gina’s driveway. There were two police cars and another car, dark blue with the Oklahoma Department of Human Services logo on the driver and passenger doors.

  “Oh my God,” I said. I turned to Weston. “I don’t know what this is about, but you have to go.”

  He shook his head. “No way. We’re getting through everything together now, remember?”

  Hot tears burned my eyes. “I appreciate that. I really do, but this is humiliating. I don’t want you to hear whatever they have to say.”

  “What are they going to say?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t want you to hear it.”

  Weston hesitated, and then grabbed my hand gently. “Does she hit you?” I shook my head, and Weston sighed with relief. “When are you going to learn that I don’t judge you, Erin? I love everything about you. I always have.” When I didn’t respond, he squeezed my hand. “Let me come with you. Please?”

  I nodded and turned off the engine. We both walked to my house, hand in hand. When we walked in, Gina was sitting on the couch, her expression blank. Two police officers were standing to the side, and a woman from DHS was sitting next to her. She smiled at me.

  “Hi, Erin. My name is Kay Rains. I’m from the Department of Human Services. We’ve come because of certain circumstances regarding the death of Erin Alderman.”

  “Okay . . .” I said, completely confused. Did they think her death had something to do with me?

  She smiled, noticing my nervousness. “It’s okay, Erin. You’re not in any trouble.”

  “What’s with the cops, then?” Weston asked. His hand was still firmly holding mine.

  Kay nodded. “We didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just procedure. We need you to come to the hospital with us. There is some confusion.”

  I frowned. “With the Erins? What does that have to do with me?”

  Kay stood. “An autopsy was requested for Erin Alderman. The results were returned last night, and the parents have questions. If we could just get a blood sample from you, we can get all of this cleared up.”

  “A blood sample? You still haven’t said what this has to do with Erin,” Weston said.

  Kay sighed. “The results have shown that Erin Alderman is not the biological child of Sam and Julianne Alderman. Erin Masterson’s results are normal. You’re the only female baby that was born at Blackwell Hospital on September fourth. In fact, you’re the only baby that was born, besides the girls that passed away, within three days of your birthdays.”

  “Are you saying that you think Erin Alderman is Gina Easter’s daughter, and Erin is . . . Sam and Julianne’s?” Weston said. We both gasped when he finished his last word.

  Kay touched Gina’s knee, even though she wasn’t visibly upset. “Unfortunately, that is what we suspect.”

  Weston and I looked at each other, both of our mouths hanging open.

  “I’ll . . . uh . . . I’ll drive you.”

  I nodded.

  “We’ll return her shortly, Ms. Easter.”

  Gina nodded, and we all left her alone in the living room.

  My shoes crunched against the gravel as we walked to Weston’s truck. He opened the door and picked me up, sitting me in the passenger seat without effort. He looked straight into my eyes.

  “Is this for real?” he asked.

  I shook my head, unable to speak.

  Weston got behind the wheel, and followed the DHS car and the two police cruisers to the hospital. We were escorted to the lab, and then sat in the waiting room. Weston held my hand. I stared at the white tile floor, unable to speak, or even think. My brain felt stuck, as if it wouldn’t allow me to even explore the possibility of what all this meant.

  “Erin Easter,” the tech said. I stood up, and Weston stood up with me.

  “Just her, please,” Kay said.

  I nodded to Weston and he sat.

  The tech led me through the door into a small room with cabinets and a counter top. He gathered a long rubber strap and clear tubes on a silver tray next to me. I looked away, letting him stab me with the needle, feeling him move just slightly as he switched out the tubes. He extracted the needle, placed a cotton swab on the puncture site, and taped it down with a hot pink, sticky material that looked like a piece of ace bandage.

  I stepped out to find Weston standing in the waiting room, between Kay and the police officers. “What now?” I asked.

  Kay offered a sweet, reassuring grin and handed me her card. “And now we wait. If you need anything at all, call my cell phone. It’s listed on the card. I’ll come by with the results the moment we have them. We put a rush on the order, but they’re sending them off, so it will likely be Wednesday.”

  “Oh. I don’t have a . . .”

  Weston took the card, looked at the number, and then tapped his phone. “I’ve got it,” he said. He tapped his phone again and waited. Kay’s phone rang, and she dug it from her purse and looked down. “That’s me,” Weston said. “You can reach her at this number.”

  Kay and the officers walked in front of us as we headed down the hall toward the parking lot. They backed out before we buckled our seat belts.

  “Do you . . . do you think it’s possible? That Gina’s not my . . .” Just saying the words took my breath away, and my mind shut down again. It wouldn’t let me process the possibility.

  Weston intertwined his fingers with mine. I don’t know how my luck changed so dramatically, but this had to be an apology straight from God. If Weston hadn’t been sitting next to me, holding my hand with that look of reassurance, I might have broken down.

  I think you’re coming home with me, that’s what I think. We’re going to put on sweats, eat junk food, and watch as many movies on demand as we can fit into one night.

  My lips curled up. That sounded a lot like what we’d been doing all Spring Break, and that was exactly what I needed. My smile faded. “Should I go home? Talk to Gina?”

  “Do you want to?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think anything good will come out of it. So I guess not.”

  Weston turned south and drove down Thirteenth Street, in the direction of his house. I had spent most of my time the last nine days either at the Dairy Queen or Weston’s. Gina hadn’t even asked any questions or spoken to me at all. Not that I was complaining. Spring Break had been the best week of my life, and the thought had crossed my mind more than once that I wouldn’t mind if things stayed that way forever.

  Once the truck was in the garage, Weston turned off the engine and pushed the garage door button. We walked down the hallway to find Peter and Veronica sitting at the table. Peter was in a dark gray suit with a black tie, and Veronica was in a beautiful black dress with a black belt.

  She stood and crossed the tile floor, her heels clicking with each step. She hugged her son for several moments, then let him g
o, dabbing her nose with a tissue. “Where have you been?” She wasn’t angry, but she was clearly emotionally drained. Her eyes scanned me, more curious than before.

  “We’ve been driving around mostly, but we just got back from the . . .” Weston glanced back at me, waiting for permission to continue.

  “The hospital,” I said. “I was asked to give a blood sample.”

  Weston took my hand. “They requested an autopsy for Alder. She isn’t Sam and Julianne’s biological daughter.”

  His parents weren’t surprised.

  “We heard,” Veronica said.

  “Is it true?” Peter asked. “Sam and Jillian just left here.”

  “Left here?” I asked.

  Veronica sniffed. “They’ve suffered the unimaginable as parents, and now it’s happening again. I’m not sure if I’m just exhausted, or . . . she has Jillian’s eyes, Peter. Don’t you think?”

  Peter shook his head. “Veronica. Don’t get the girl’s hopes up.”

  I frowned. “Get my hopes up? As if this is a prize that I’m waiting to win? Do you really think this would be a good thing?”

  Veronica and Peter looked at each other, then Weston, then at me. “Sam and Julianne are wonderful people, Erin. If it’s true, you’ll have a whole new, amazing family to look forward to,” Peter said.

  “If it’s true, that means I’ve missed out on eighteen years with them. I’m not sure I want it to be true. For me or for them.”

  Veronica crossed her arms across her stomach, and Peter put his arm around her. It was odd, because they were mirroring Weston and me.

  Peter nodded. “You’re right, Erin. It’s a horrible situation for all of you. We’re so sorry.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just been a very long day.”

  “Of course it has, honey,” she said, leaving her husband’s arms and reaching out for me. She clutched me to her and held me tight.

  I glanced over at Weston, who was watching his mother with a look in his eyes that appeared to be a combination of appreciation and relief.

  Veronica let me go with a smile on her face.

  “We’re going downstairs,” Weston said.

  He took my hand in his and led me to the basement. We sat on the couch, and Weston held up the remote, pushing the power button. The screen lit up, and he switched on the first movie listed. We settled in, neither of us feeling like we needed to have a lengthy conversation. In the last month, for both of us, life had gone from hopeless to happy, in the strangest, most unfortunate way.

  Chapter Ten

  The room was quiet when I sat in my seat at the black table in first period. Everyone was staring at the floor, but when I walked in, they all glared at me. Then the whispering started. This was all very new, and I didn’t know what to expect, which was more frightening than life before the Erins were dead.

  For the first time in eighteen and a half years, I was the only Erin. There was no need for nicknames, and I didn’t have to pretend not to notice Weston when he walked into the room. But that didn’t change the way people felt about me. Brady’s eyes twitched, the hateful words he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue.

  The bell rang, but Mrs. Merit didn’t speak. Instead, a crackling came over the speakers, and Principal Bringham came over the PA system.

  “Good morning, students. As you all know, we lost two very bright students over Spring Break, Erin Alderman and Erin Masterson. We’re going to observe two minutes of silence today, for you to pray for their friends and family if you would like, or, if not, a moment of silent reflection.”

  The PA fell silent, and we all sat, staring at the floor. I was not the only person the Erins had relentlessly picked on, and certainly not the only one feeling a sense of relief more than a sense of loss. But, wherever they were, I hoped they were free of whatever plagued them to make others miserable, so they could feel better about themselves.

  “Thank you,” Principal Bringham said, and then the PA system shut off.

  “I was asked to instruct all of you that if you need to speak to anyone about what happened to Sonny and Alder there are counselors here all week to help you understand and process your feelings. Now, please open your text books to page one eighty-eight.”

  Throughout the day, I noticed that the student body was mostly quiet. Occasionally one of the cheerleaders could be heard making a scene near their lockers. After Chrissy wailed after second period, they all seemed to try to outdo one another’s outbursts of hysteria. Brady was sandwiched between two empty chairs in Health class, and although I caught him glaring at Weston and me several times, he didn’t say anything.

  In Art class, Mrs. Cup called Weston to her desk, and they had a long, quiet conversation. It seemed like it ended well, but it ran so close to the end of the hour, that she was barely able to brief us on our last project: adding to the Blackwell mural downtown. The former Art teacher, Mrs. Boyer began the tradition, and Mrs. Cup continued it after Mrs. Boyer retired. We added our own tiny pieces, but mostly we filled in bits of brick that had broken off, or painted what had worn away over the last year.

  “Be prepared,” Mrs. Cup said. “We’ll be going to the mural site tomorrow. Be sure to bring your things with you, so you don’t have to come back to the building. You can leave straight from the mural at 3:30.”

  Weston sat in his stool at my desk.

  “Is she still going to fail you?” I whispered.

  He shook his head and tried not to smile.

  Two girls stood in Mrs. Cup’s open doorway. “Mrs. Cup, Mr. Bringham needs to see Erin Easter.”

  “All right,” Mrs. Cup said, gesturing for me to gather my things.

  “He said he needed for her to come right away,” one of the girls added.

  I gathered my things, and Weston touched my arm. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  He frowned. “I want to come with you.”

  I grinned. “You worry too much. You don’t have to protect me, Weston.”

  “Says who?” he said, only half joking. “I’ll wait for you in the front.”

  I shook my head. “You’ll be late for practice. Go ahead.”

  He watched me as I stuffed a few things in my backpack. I followed the girls down the hall. We passed the set of lockers that stood alone in the middle of the commons area and then turned left toward the office. Just a few weeks before, I’d gone down this way, soaking wet. Now life seemed completely different, and it felt like it was about to change more.

  I walked into the office, where Kay Rains stood, along with a police officer, Principal Bringham, and the counselor, Mrs. Rodgers. A few students and teachers idled about or sat in a row of chairs beside the door, waiting for something. Maybe for me, and whatever was about to happen.

  “Why don’t we step into my office?” Principal Bringham said. “I think that would be best.”

  Our small group followed him, and Kay asked me to sit with her in one of the two chairs in front of the principal’s desk. Mr. Bringham sat down and clasped his hands in front of him.

  “Erin, I understand you’ve taken a blood test. Do you understand why?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t want you to be nervous. I know there are a lot of people in here, but it’s just a formality. Ms. Rains has the test results, and she’s come here to explain them to you.”

  “With a police officer?” I asked.

  Kay chuckled. “I know. It’s awful. But we felt it was best since we’re on school grounds and the potential for emotions to run high . . . it seems like a bit much to me as well. But because you’re eighteen, and Ms. Easter requested we inform you at school should the results come back a certain way, we’ve come here.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but can we get to the point? I’m going to be late for work.”

  Kay blinked. “Of course, I’m sorry.” She shifted in her seat. “Erin, according to the test results on all three of you girls, we’ve come to
the conclusion that there was a mistake at the hospital the day you were born. It appears that the late Miss Alderman was given to the Aldermans, and you were given to Ms. Easter . . . by mistake.”

  Mrs. Rodgers side stepped, making eye contact with me. “What she’s trying to say, Erin, is that you are Sam and Julianne Alderman’s biological daughter. Now, you’re eighteen, so I’m not sure what this means to you, but the Aldermans have been informed, and they would very much like to speak with you as soon as you’re ready.”

  “They know?”

  Mrs. Rodgers nodded and smiled. “And they’re eager to talk to you about it, if that’s all right. They know this is a huge shock for you, and they want to give you as much space as you need to think this over.”

  “Where’s Gina?” I asked.

  Kay looked to Mrs. Rodgers, then to me. “She opted out of the meeting. She has been made aware, as well.”

  I thought for a moment, while everyone in the room waited for my reaction. I looked at Mr. Bringham from under my brow. “Am I free to go?”

  “Of course. This must be very upsetting for you. Mrs. Rodgers and I are available to talk when you’re ready.”

  Mrs. Rodgers knelt next to my chair. “If you have any questions, legal or otherwise, I would be happy to help you, Erin. Please don’t hesitate.”

  I stood up and took my backpack with me. “Thank you. I appreciate it, but I have to go to work now.”

  The police officer moved to the side and opened the door, and I walked out, trying to ignore the dozen or so pairs of eyes staring at me. I pushed through the side door of the building, to find Weston’s truck sitting under the overhang in the half-circle drive in front of the school.

  I walked past him, but he jumped out and jogged after me. “What did they say?” When I didn’t respond or stop, Weston stood in front of me.

  I blinked.

  “Erin. What did they say to you?”

  “That Gina Easter isn’t my mother, and Julianne Alderman is.”

  Weston stood up straight and looked over my head, lost in thought. “Whoa.” He looked back down at me. “Are you okay?”