The Trouble with Joe

by Emilie Richards

  You have so much to give.

  “No, I’ve stood in the way,” he said. “I’m the one who’s been out of touch with what I have to offer. I’ve been so tied up with my sperm count. I’ve only remembered what I can’t give you, not what I can.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, it does.” He buried his hands in her hair. “Somehow I let making you pregnant become the cornerstone of my whole existence. I’ve been brooding like a spoiled child.”

  “Never that.”

  “Too much like that. I haven’t been the husband you needed. I haven’t been the man you married.”

  “Don’t you think I know how hard this has been for you?”

  “So what? It’s been hard for you, too. I’m sorry, sorrier than I can tell you. I’ve failed you miserably.”

  “Never, never failed. But we’ve both been wrong not to face this squarely. You wouldn’t talk, and I tried to cope by taking Corey—”

  He put a finger over her lips. “Don’t start on that. Having Corey hasn’t been a bad thing.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” It was all he could say; he didn’t know what else he could add right now. He still had miles of unexplored territory inside him.

  “Thank you.”

  He kissed her, promised her with his hands and lips that they would make a new start.

  Later, asleep with Sam cuddled close beside him, he realized that for the first time in many months he had made love to her without remembering that he would never make her pregnant.

  Tonight it just hadn’t mattered.

  Chapter Fourteen

  FROM THE CORNER of her eye Sam watched Corey plodding away at her homework on the kitchen table. Her teacher, at Joe’s prompting, had begun to assign more creative challenges for the little girl. The reports from school were encouraging. Corey was more manageable in class and less disruptive. At home, though, she was simply listless. Sam had tried to compensate by lavishing more attention on her, but Corey’s response had been erratic. Sometimes she clung, but most of the time she withdrew.

  Sam didn’t need a child psychologist to explain the problem. Corey was suffering the fate of many foster children. She knew her life with Sam and Joe was temporary. As time dragged on and her father couldn’t be found, her situation grew more unstable. Sam never talked to her about the future, because she didn’t know what to say. Until Corey’s father was located, the future was, at best, a question mark.

  “Did you finish your math?” Sam asked when Corey closed the book.

  “It’s dumb.”

  Sam sensed a rebellion brewing. “You won’t think so someday when you have to balance your bank account. Bring it here and let me see what you’ve done.”

  Corey slowly slid her chair back from the table, but the telephone interrupted her snail’s-pace progress to the stove where Sam was stirring homemade vegetable soup.

  “Stay right there,” Sam told her when Corey looked longingly at the stairs. “I’ll be back.” She squeezed past the little girl on the way to the phone. The voice on the other end of the line was familiar.

  “Samantha?”

  Sam had talked to Dinah Ryan so often in the past months that now they were collaborators, never adversaries. “Hi, Dinah. Any news?”

  “Are you going to be home for a while?”

  Sam’s heart beat faster. Usually Dinah’s answer was no, nothing important to report. “Sure. Joe’s going to be late. Corey and I are making soup. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

  “Not tonight.”

  Sam’s heart beat a little faster still. She lowered herself into a chair. “Are you coming right over?”

  “Just as soon as I can get away.”

  “Fine. I’ll be waiting.”

  “Find something for Corey to do while we talk.”

  “I will.” Sam hung up. She pasted a smile on her face. “That was Miss Ryan.”

  “Are you gonna look at my math?”

  “You bet.” Sam got up and told herself to be calm. She took Corey’s paper and stared at it, but the numbers blurred in front of her eyes. “Looks good.”

  “I’m not finished.”

  “Thanks for telling me. I didn’t notice.”

  “Why’d Miss Ryan call?”

  “You know how she is. She likes to come over and see us whenever she can. She’s on her way over now.”

  If Corey knew Sam was lying she didn’t contradict her. Sam imagined she didn’t want to hear the truth. “Mr. Joe called earlier. He’s going to be home late, but he said he has something good to tell you.”

  “What?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

  Corey didn’t even pout. She seemed miles away.

  Sam knew Joe’s news. The local music store had found a man in the Smokies who made dulcimers, banjos and mandolins. For a sizable bribe he had been willing to make the repair of Joe’s mandolin his first priority. According to the music store, the man was a superb craftsman. Best of all, the mandolin was now on its way back to Foxcove. If it wasn’t the same instrument, it was probably nearly as good.

  Joe was most pleased that soon he could give Bear back to Corey. More than once he had complained about the way Bear stared at him in the darkness.

  Corey went back to the table to finish her math and Sam poured too much salt into the soup. By the time she heard Dinah’s car in the driveway she was about to explode.

  “Did you clean your room when you got home?” Sam asked Corey as Dinah parked.

  “No.”

  “Well, after you say hi to Miss Ryan I want you to pick up your toys like we talked about. Then you can finish your homework up there, while Miss Ryan and I chat.”

  “Don’t have any more.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to read a book and tell about it in class next week?”

  Corey mumbled something. By then Sam was on her way to answer the front door. She passed through the living room, decorated with the biggest pine tree that Joe had been able to get through the front door. They hadn’t talked about reasons, but this year the Christmas tree had gone up earlier than usual. There were still almost two weeks before the holiday, but the house was in full regalia.

  She and Joe had both wanted Corey to have some part of Christmas with them, even if she was gone by Christmas Day.

  Dinah’s expression was always as no-nonsense as her clothes. But today there was something different and impossible to read on her face. She greeted Corey with affection and listened to her report about school. She took a tour of the tree and the fireplace mantel with its collection of antique, hand-carved toys nestled among spruce boughs and sprigs of holly. She exclaimed over the candles that Corey and Sam had made the previous weekend and the gingerbread house that was suspiciously less ornate than before Corey had decided to eat the licorice fence. But when Corey finally went upstairs to clean her room, Dinah grew solemn.

  “Let’s talk in the kitchen,” Sam said. “I made a fresh pot of tea.”

  Dinah settled herself at the table as Sam poured. When her cup was in front of her she just stared at it.

  “Go ahead,” Sam said. “I’m braced.”

  “I don’t know if the news is good or bad,” Dinah said.

  “I won’t know until you tell me.”

  “We found Corey’s father, or at least the man that Verna Haskins always claimed was Corey’s father.”

  “You mean he’s not?” Because of confidentiality Dinah had never told Sam or Joe the name of the man they had been looking for, and Corey had never mentioned it. Sam had never wanted to know.

  “I mean he says there’s no proof. And he refuses to take a blood test, which by law we might be able to insist on but only after an expensive legal battl
e.”

  Sam stared at her tea, too. “That sounds as if he’s afraid of the results.”

  “There seems to be no real question he’s our man. But it’s almost beside the point. He’s completely unsuitable whether he’s Corey’s father or not. Apparently he’s fathered a string of kids from here to Savannah, and no court’s ever been able to get him to be responsible. He has no income. He lives off women, then he moves on when they boot him out. He’s been in and out of jail for the past ten years and seems to have no intention of improving his situation.”

  Sam looked up. “That bastard.”

  “Probably too kind a word.” Dinah played with her spoon. “The point here is that we’re willing to let him off the hook. Going after this guy for support would be an exercise in futility. And he says if we don’t prosecute him he’ll sign a statement admitting he’s Corey’s father and relinquish all his rights to her.”

  Sam could hardly breathe. “And he calls himself a man.”

  “Some men measure their manhood in very peculiar ways.”

  Sam knew Dinah wanted to say more, but years of good North Carolina breeding prohibited it. “How do I tell Corey?”

  “I think the real question is what do you tell Corey?”

  Sam looked away.

  “I won’t beat around the bush. Corey’s going to be eligible for adoption very soon, Samantha,” Dinah said. “We’re going to accept her father’s offer and terminate all his rights as soon as possible. And our thrust at the agency is to place children in permanent families. We’re not going to let Corey linger in foster care. If we can’t place her here in Sadler County, we’ll send her away, to another state if we must.”

  “Who would be eligible to take her?”

  “You would,” Dinah said. “But only if you and Joe both want her. And if you decide you really do, there’s absolutely nothing to stand in your way.”

  * * *

  THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to stand in your way.

  The words echoed in Sam’s head as she, Joe and Corey ate salty vegetable soup and biscuits for dinner. They echoed in her head as Corey fed Tinkerbelle and she and Joe cleaned up the kitchen. They echoed as she helped Corey pick out clothes for the morning, as she read her a story and tucked her into bed.

  There was absolutely nothing to stand in their way.

  Nothing but Joe.

  Sam lingered upstairs after she tucked Corey in. She knew that she had to go downstairs and face Joe with the news. She also knew what she couldn’t add. She couldn’t ask Joe to reconsider keeping Corey. She had promised she would put that possibility out of her mind. These months had been tolerable for him only because he had known that they would come to an end. She had no right to ask that they strike a new bargain. The old one still stood.

  Corey would have to go away.

  She dropped to the bed and put her face in her hands. She had always known this would be hard; she had always believed she would find the strength to deal with it. But she had no strength. She couldn’t love Corey more if the little girl were her own child, if she had come from her body as a tiny baby.

  Corey was the child of her heart. She understood how a mother giving up her newborn must feel. Sam would never know where Corey had gone, or to whom. She would never know if she was happy, or fully accepted. She would never have the pleasures of watching Corey graduate from high school and college, of watching her marry and raise her own children. Corey would be dead to her.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. She wondered how she could tell Joe. They had made a bargain, and she had no right to burden him with guilt about his part in it. From the beginning she had known his feelings on adoption. She couldn’t ask more than he could give. She couldn’t destroy her marriage with resentments. She had to be calm when she told him, and she had to be reasonable. Most of all she had to let him know that she didn’t blame him. Because if she didn’t let him know, all the good things that had slowly come back into their marriage in the past months would disappear again.

  She hadn’t heard the door open, then softly close. She hadn’t heard footsteps. The first she knew that Joe was in the room was when she felt the bed sag beside her and his arm slip around her shoulder.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.

  She didn’t want to tell him now. She wanted to be strong. She searched wildly for any explanation except the real one, but nothing occurred to her.

  “Did you talk to Dinah Ryan today, by any chance?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “They found Corey’s father?”

  She burrowed her face against his chest. “Yes.”

  “And he’s going to come and get her?”

  She knew Joe would immediately think that, because he was an honorable man. He would assume, despite constant evidence to the contrary, that other men would be as honorable. She shook her head.

  “No?”

  “He doesn’t want her.” She fought her tears. This was exactly what could not happen. She had no right to put Joe through this.

  “What happened, exactly?”

  His voice sounded strained. Hers sounded worse. She heard herself saying exactly the wrong things. “Oh, he’s a real man, Joe. A real stud. He’s fathered a bunch of kids. He doesn’t have any problem getting women pregnant. Of course, he skips out on them and leaves them to raise their babies alone. But he’s done his job, right? He’s shared his fabulous gene pool. That’s enough. He knows he’s got what it takes.”

  “What are you trying to say?” He moved away from her.

  She sat up straight and tried to wipe her face with her fingertips. “I’m telling it like it is. Apparently Corey’s father has prided himself on populating the southeast U.S. He doesn’t support the kids he fathers, and when push comes to shove he doesn’t even acknowledge them. He’s happy just to do his manly thing and send a part of himself into the future.”

  “He won’t admit he’s Corey’s father?”

  “He’s not her father!” She stood. “Oh, he’ll say he is if the state promises not to require anything from him. And he’ll gladly relinquish all rights to her. But he’s not her father! Maybe he’s the man who got her mother pregnant, but he’s no more her father than Verna was her mother. Even less so, because Verna at least tried to be a parent. She was a miserable failure, but at least she gave it a shot.”

  “Is that why you’re crying?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re furious.”

  “Yes. At him!” She faced him. She was still trying to control her voice, her thoughts.

  “And those comments about real men, about sending gene pools into the future, they had nothing to do with me?”

  She swallowed. “No.”

  “You’re a damned lousy liar.”

  She saw anger in his eyes. She knew that she had said too much already, and that there was still so much more to say.

  “I’m upset. I’m not thinking very clearly,” she said. “We can talk about this later.”

  “We’ll talk about it now.” He stood and took her by the shoulders. “Make your point. Say what you really want to say.”

  “No.”

  “Do it, Sam.”

  She knew they had come too far, but not quite far enough. Worse, she knew that it was too late to turn back. “He has what you want, doesn’t he, Joe? Corey’s father? He can impregnate any woman he takes to bed. And does that make him a man?”

  He dropped his hands. “It makes him an animal!”

  “Joe...”

  “Don’t you think I can see the difference?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He turned away from her. He was silent for a long time. It was a silence she knew she couldn’t break.

  “I always thought I’d grow up and make a
houseful of babies.” He didn’t turn around. Instead he went to the window. He touched Corey’s bear, stroking it lightly as he talked. “I thought I’d be the kind of father my old man was. I was only ten when he died, but I remember him as if he was here today. He was never too busy to throw a baseball or go to one of Teresa’s tea parties. Every Sunday he stood us in the hallway, tallest to smallest, and checked us over to be sure we’d do him proud at Mass. We were Giovanellis, and that was something special.”

  “It still is.”

  “You know what? Maybe it isn’t. Or maybe somewhere along the way I got screwed up about what that meant. We weren’t the kind of family you hardly see anymore just because he and Mama had one baby after another. We weren’t happy just because we could trace our family tree back to a village in northern Italy. We were happy, we were special because he cared and Mama cared, and they let us know. They gave us strength. They gave us the desire to make something out of our lives. My old man was a real man. And he would have been a real man even if he’d never been able to make a single baby. He was a real man because he was a good man. It’s that simple.”

  She wanted to cheer; she wanted to cry harder. “You’re a real man,” she managed. “You’ve never been anything else.”

  “No, that’s where you’re wrong. I haven’t been a real man since the moment I found out I was the one with the fertility problem. You asked me once what I would have done if I’d discovered the problem was yours. You know what?” He faced her. “I would have accepted it, Sam. I would have been sad. I would have felt as if we’d lost something. Then I would have accepted it. And I would have gone out and studied all the options that were left to us.”

  “Adoption?”

  “Especially that.”

  “But it wasn’t my problem.”

  “No. And I couldn’t face myself. I was unhappy I’d failed you, but I was more unhappy that somebody up there had failed me. Somebody snatched my manhood away the day I found out the problem was mine. You know who that somebody was?” He put his fist to his chest. “Me. Only me.”

  “Oh, Joe.” She wiped her cheeks.