The Birth Mother

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Nicki smiled at him through her tears. The first real smile he’d seen in eight long months. He hoped to God he was doing the right thing.

  JENNIFER SMILED her goodbyes to Ralph Goodwin, the general manager of Teal Pontiac, and his wife at the door of the Teal Automotive suite in Hawk’s Stadium. She felt good. The Hawks had won in over-time. It had been a great game. And she’d just gained Ralph’s support for One Price. He hadn’t been nearly as hard to convince as Dennis two weeks before. He hadn’t even asked why. But then, he didn’t know her as well as Dennis did.

  She was still smiling when she pulled her Mustang into the parking garage below her luxury apartment building an hour later. It felt good to be home. She’d been out every night that week, and as much as she loved the socializing that went with her job, she was looking forward to a long soak in the Jacuzzi she’d had installed in her master bathroom. Taking a moment to exchange a few words with the doorman about the Hawks’ victory, she entered the elevator, inserted her key and pushed the button for the penthouse apartment.

  Yeah, Ralph had been a much easier sell than Dennis. And tomorrow night she’d tackle Frank Dorian, the GM of Teal Ford. She was going with him and his wife to the Peachtree Celebrity Cook-off where they were going to prepare pots and pots of Celia Dorian’s chili in an attempt to raise money for the city’s homeless. Celia was a quiet woman, kind of reminding Jennifer of herself in an earlier day, back before she’d figured out that more people liked her if she reached out to them. She’d discovered a whole new side to herself, a happier side, when she’d learned to be a little more outgoing. She’d also found out that a talkative gregarious teenager had much less chance of hearing the voice in her head than a quiet introspective one.

  But that time in her life was long behind her. There was only so much grieving a body could do, only so much self-loathing. The past was sealed as tightly as the records that gave proof to it.

  Soft lights were glowing in the foyer as she. let herself in, and Jennifer took a moment to soak in the calm cool atmosphere of her spotlessly clean, professionally decorated home. She’d surrounded herself with the same blue-and-white color scheme that was found in all the Teal Automotive offices and showrooms.

  Leaving the lights on, she headed across the plush white carpet to the master suite. She’d check messages in the morning. Right now she just wanted that soak.

  And some music. The house was too quiet. Backtracking, she slipped her original recording of Rogers’ and Hammerstein’s Sound of Music into her compact-disc player. And then ejected it. Not that one. Too many children. She glanced down the rack. Oklahoma was too much of a love story, Carousel too noisy, and The King and I too surreal. Irritated by her indecision, she grabbed the double CD set of Phantom of the Opera, dropped the discs into the player and jabbed the play button. Phantom suited her mood. The phantom was in control. He lived alone. He didn’t fall in love and live happily ever after. And he was fiction.

  Taking one more detour, Jennifer poured herself a glass of chilled white wine before finally heading for the bedroom. She hadn’t been so restless in ages. She assured herself that it meant nothing, that with the deliberate fullness of her calendar over the next few weeks, the feeling would pass.

  She’d make sure of it. She didn’t have time to be sidetracked. Not even for a second. Because the byroads she traveled were all the same—they led to the same deserted place. She’d spent years learning how to stay on course; she was not going to let The Day, which was looming, send her hurtling back, not like it had last year.

  But she took her wallet with her when she went into the bathroom. She laid it on the marble vanity as she brushed her teeth and removed her makeup. Routine. Control. They served her well. Detours did not.

  She meant to undress, to take her wine and step into the tub. But Christine’s hauntingly beautiful voice floated to her from her built-in sound system. Christine. The Phantom’s one true love. Think of me… Remember me…

  Jennifer froze, her eyes glued on her wallet. Slowly, as if of its own accord, her hand reached for the wallet, unfastened it, her fingers searching unerringly beneath her health-insurance card. She slid the battered hospital photo out of hiding and gazed at it. Remember me... It never got easier. It never got better. Never.

  THE WOMAN hadn’t signed up with any register. At least none in the state of Georgia. Bryan didn’t know whether to be glad about that or not. He only knew he had a knot in his stomach that wouldn’t go away.

  He couldn’t leave it like that. He couldn’t just tell Nicki that her biological mother hadn’t even thought of her enough to register in the slim chance Nicki might be looking. But he also knew, considering the fact that the woman was making no effort to be found in these times of open adoption, that chances were good she wasn’t going to be receptive to having her eleven-year-old castoff suddenly show up in her life— if and when he did find her. Nicki wasn’t strong enough to handle that. And maybe the woman had a right to her privacy. Not sure what he was going to say, he walked slowly toward his niece’s room.

  She was sitting on her bed, brushing her hair. Just brushing it. Over and over. The new fashion magazine he’d brought home for her lay unopened beside her. At least she’d carried it that far. He was pretty sure the last one had never made it off her desk.

  “Hey, Nick, can we talk?”

  She looked up, her hazel eyes filled with alarm. “What?”

  For the life of him Bryan couldn’t understand that look. He’d been seeing it more and more often lately. He understood Nicki’s grief, but what in hell did she have to be afraid of? He stayed in her doorway.

  “I did what I promised. I looked for your biological mother in the registries.”

  “Did you find her?” Nicki’s face lit up; the knot in his stomach grew tighter.

  “She wasn’t listed, Nick.”

  She looked away and went back to brushing her hair. “Oh.”

  Bryan entered her room and sat down beside her. It was tearing him up to see her hurting. “Maybe it’s best this way, honey.”

  She shrugged—and then sniffled. Hell.

  “She loved you enough to give you a good life, Nicki, but in doing so, she had to say goodbye to you. That had to have been a really hard thing, going on with her life without you. But if she hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had your mom and dad, or your grandma or grandpa, or me. We need to be really thankful to her for giving you to us. And maybe the best way to thank her is to leave her alone. If she’s gone on with her life, made her peace with the past, said her goodbyes, then she has the right to continue as she is. That’s the right she got when we got you.”

  Nicki started turning the pages of the fashion magazine.

  Lori, help me out here. What in the hell do I do now?

  “You said you needed to know who you are, but you don’t need to find some stranger to know that, sweetheart. You’re Nicki Hubbard, the little imp who stole my heart the first time I ever laid eyes on you.”

  Her lips twitched, almost smiling, but she still wasn’t looking at him.

  “We’re a team, Nick, you and I. You’re all the family I have left in the world. You just stick with me and we’ll come through this. I promise.”

  She glanced up at him, but didn’t look convinced.

  “Have I ever let you down before?”

  She shook her head.

  “Remember the time you wanted to go on that roller coaster that went upside down and your mother wouldn’t hear of it?”

  She nodded.

  “Who came through for you? Who explained the physics that convinced her to let you go? And then held your hair back when you threw up afterward?”

  Nicki did grin then. “You did.”

  “That’s right. And who helped you out that year you wanted to surprise your mom and dad with a new puppy for Christmas?”

  “You did.”

  “And.what about that birthday party when Miss Debra What’s
-her-name was inviting all your friends to her party at the same time you were having yours— and was promising them a magician if they’d come. Didn’t I come through for you then? Taking all those little girls up in my plane so they’d come to your party?”

  She nodded, but her eyes were getting cloudy again. Damn. I’m losing her.

  He took her brush and turned her back to him, pulling the bristles through the thick chestnut locks. “Have I ever lied to you, Nick?”

  “Uh-uh.” Her voice was so soft he could barely hear it.

  “So trust me, honey. I said we’ll make it just fine, you and me, and we will. I know I can’t take Lori’s place, or your dad’s, either, but I love you with everything I’ve got.” And they would make it, no matter how penned in he might someday feel, because he’d die before he let Nicki down.

  She sniffled again. “I love you, too, Uncle Bryan…”

  He continued brushing. “But?”

  Her thin shoulders lifted in a shrug. “But who gave me my hazel eyes? Mom’s were brown like yours, and so were Dad’s. And what about my hair? No one in the family has red hair.”

  “Neither do you. It’s auburn.” Great answer, Chambers. Way to come through.

  “And what about how tall I am? Mom and Grandma were both short.”

  “And what about your ability to see the good in people? Even when old Debra What’s-her-name tried to steal your party, you still invited her. You said she’d only done it because she was lonely and wanted friends. Remember? You used to do stuff like that all the time, Nick, and you know why? ‘Cause that’s how your grandma was. It used to drive me and Lori crazy when we were growing up ‘cause anytime we complained about anything she’d find something good about it. You know how hard it is to get riled up when everything’s so rosy?”

  Nicki turned around, nodding, a sad little smile flitting across her lips.

  Bryan tapped the brush against the fashion magazine in her lap. “You’ve always been interested in dressing well, and that came straight from your mother. As long as I can remember Lori claimed that just because she lived in a small town didn’t mean she couldn’t look as good as the girls on TV. And your love of science? That came from your grandfather. I can remember when you were about a year old, barely walking, and he had you up on the kitchen counter, showing you how he could mix things together and make them fizz. You used to make him do it over and over, until Lori finally complained about him wasting all her cooking ingredients.”

  “Did he stop?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Did Mom get mad?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “You’re right, she just stood there and watched right along with you. And look at this room, Nick. You’ve always kept things neat. Just like your dad. He made a game out of picking up your toys with you when you were still a baby. When he played with you he’d race you to see who could put away one toy first before getting out another. By the time you were three, you were driving your mother crazy insisting she put the lid back on the shampoo before you’d let her wash your hair.”

  Bryan thought of his sister, how happy she’d been every day of her life after she got Nicki, what a great mother she’d been. He felt that familiar pang, the crushing weight he got every time he thought of his family. God, he missed them.

  “But…but what about other things?” Nicki’s tentative question interrupted his thoughts. She was crying again. “You know, like medical stuff you can get? Diseases and things. And maybe…”

  “Maybe what?” He was brushing for all he was worth.

  “Maybe other stuff, too. What if my mother was crazy or something and that’s why they gave me away? What if I take after her?”

  Bryan was beginning to get the picture and he didn’t like it one bit.

  “You’re not crazy, Nick. And I’ll find her if I have to, just to prove it to you.”

  IT TOOK SIX WEEKS and a professional search consultant, but Bryan finally had Nicki’s answer. Or at least he thought he did. He sat in his office after hours on Thursday, Nicki’s packet in front of him, and knew he could no longer put off opening it. It was stupid to feel threatened by a few pieces of paper. Knowing the name of Nicki’s biological mother wasn’t going to change anything. Nicki was his legally, and every other way that counted. He wasn’t going to lose her. He couldn’t. She was his family.

  He opened the packet, read for a few minutes, then stared. He couldn’t believe it. According to these reports, Nicki’s mother was Jennifer Teal. The Jennifer Teal. Of Teal Automotive.

  Everyone in Atlanta who watched television or listened to radio had heard of Jennifer Teal. Her ads were memorable if for no other reason than Ms. Teal claimed to be an honest car dealer. And judging by her success, Bryan figured she might just be.

  Or else she had one hell of a sales staff.

  Balancing on the back two legs of his chair, Bryan shuffled through the forms until he found Nicki’s original birth certificate, listing Jennifer Marie Teal as the mother. No name was listed for the father. Nicki had been born at one in the afternoon. Her mother’s birthdate was…Bryan read the date, then looked again, doing some quick calculations. Good God, she’d been barely sixteen when she’d had Nicki, which would have made her barely fifteen when she’d conceived. That was just four years older than Nicki was now.

  His chair came down with a crash and he reached for the phone.

  “Sandra, Bryan Chambers here. Sorry to bother you at home, but I was just going over these papers.”

  “Yes, Mr. Chambers.” The search consultant’s tone was as sympathetic as it had been for the entire six weeks she’d been working for him.

  “How sure are you that these records are referring to my Nicki?”

  “Quite sure, Mr. Chambers. As you can see, the original birth certificate matches Nicole’s modified one exactly, with your sister and her husband’s names inserted for Ms. Teal’s as the parents. And the other documents support the same findings. Ms. Teal signed the adoption papers that were on file with the state, giving custody of Nicole to Lori and Tom Hubbard.”

  Bryan nodded. “Thank you, Sandra. You did a great job.”

  “I’m glad I could help. Have you thought of how you’re going to approach Ms. Teal? Assuming that you are, of course. I’d suggest a letter of introduction to begin with. That usually works best, giving everyone a little time to get used to the idea before actually meeting face-to-face.”

  “Thanks for the advice. I’ll think about it.” Bryan rang off.

  He didn’t want to write to Ms. Teal. He didn’t even want to accept her existence. But Nicki did. His niece was showing no signs of picking up her life. Bryan had called the counselor he and Nicki had seen right after the tornado, and she’d been concerned enough to speak with Nicki again. Nicki had gone because he’d asked her to, but the session had done no good. It was up to Nicki now. Nicki and him. And hadn’t he promised her, promised himself, as he’d seen his family’s caskets laid in their graves, that he’d do whatever it took to take care of Nicki?

  But he couldn’t just introduce Nicki to her birth mother. Not yet. Not until he’d met the woman, assured himself he wasn’t setting Nicki up for another blow. Until he was certain Ms. Teal wasn’t going to reject Nicki, he was going to keep the fact that he’d found the woman to himself.

  And until he was ready to let Nicki know about Ms. Teal, he couldn’t tell Ms. Teal about Nicki, either. Not until he was certain he could trust her with the information. Which meant he was going to have to orchestrate a meeting between himself and Ms. Jennifer Teal. He reached for the phone again. He needed all the information on Jennifer Teal he could get.

  DENNIS POPPED his head around the door of Jennifer’s office late one Tuesday afternoon. “Tanya wants to know who you’re bringing to her opening a week from Friday, because if you don’t have a date yet, she knows someone who would love to take you. And before you even suggest it, she says she absolutely won’t allo
w you to come alone because then you’ll leave early, and she hates it when you do that.”

  Jennifer looked up from the customer letter she was reading and smiled at him. “So who does she have picked out for me this time? Let’s see, we’ve done a stockbroker, two doctors, an accountant, three attorneys, and wasn’t there a professor of something in there once? What’s left?”

  Dennis shrugged. “Who knows? But you can bet he’s cover-model material and ready to settle down. You know as well as I do Tanya’s not going to rest until someone is sharing that ‘big lonely penthouse you go home to every night,’” he said, mimicking Tanya.

  “Yeah, well, tell your wife to quit her matchmaking or I’ll bring Sam, and the closest thing he has to a suit is a semiclean pair of overalls.”

  Dennis raised both hands in the air. “Hey, she was your friend before she was my wife. You deal with her,” he said.

  “She never listens to me,” Jennifer replied, hoping that one of the men she dated occasionally would be free to escort her to the opening. Because the men Tanya chose for her all had one major flaw. They were ready to get married. And she wasn’t—not yet.

  JENNIFER CONGRATULATED herself on her choice of dates. He was charming, intelligent—and no readier to settle down than she was. The fact that he’d left early to attend to a problem at his plastics plant, a problem that could probably have waited until morning, was his only drawback. Having promised Tanya she wouldn’t leave early, Jennifer was left without an escort for the rest of the evening.

  “Interesting painting.”

  Jennifer glanced over her shoulder at the man standing just behind her and nodded politely before turning back to the painting she’d been considering.

  “Tanya said you were an expert on her work. She thought you might be willing to show me around.”

  Damn. Apparently she’d underestimated Tanya’s determination. Because if Tanya had sent this man over to her, it could only mean one thing—he was her newest marriage candidate. Trust Tanya to have him around tonight just in case.

  Jennifer wondered where she’d found this one.