by L. L. Akers
“You know what? You should have just stayed with Dad. At least with him you knew exactly who he was and where he was,” Gabby spewed out, finally finishing her tirade.
Gabby could see Mom’s hands grasping the arms of her chair, her knuckles and fingertips turning white with the pressure it took to anchor them from flying up and slapping her own daughter unable to defend herself in a hospital bed. Good, Gabby thought, let her feel some anger. Maybe she’ll slap me and I can show her how she cannot even restrain her drama in front of her newborn grandson, thus proving my point. Then I’ll have her physically removed by hospital security. I’d love that—keep her out of here until this is done and over.
“Okay, Gabby,” Mom said then, taking a deep breath and blowing it out before continuing. “I’m going to let that go because I know the pressure you’re under right now to make the right decision. But you are wrong about Mark—way wrong. He loves you, and he loved that baby without even seeing it yet. He watched it grow in your belly right under his eyes. He did his best to try to get you to eat the food he cooked so you and the baby would be healthy. He’d be a good father to him... but if your answer is no to us and no to raising it yourself, then I’m going to have to ask you to find somewhere else to live,” Mom said firmly.
“What? Why?” Gabby asked in disbelief.
“Here’s where the rubber meets the road, Gabby. You want to make a big grown-up decision all by yourself, then be prepared to be a grown-up afterward. You are welcome to come home—with my grandson in your arms—but without him... don’t come home.”
“But, Mom, that’s the point. I’m not an adult. I’m not ready to raise a baby like a ‘grown-up’ yet, so where am I going to go?” Gabby answered back, the desperation finally seeping through the edges of her anger.
“I don’t know, Gabby. You’ll have to figure that out... I have to let you go sometime.”
Gabby was stunned into silence. She knew who was pulling Mom’s strings, but she was shocked by the viciousness Mark was capable of and the hold he had over Mom. They both knew the doctor had spent hours sewing Gabby back up because the baby had been almost nine pounds traveling through Gabby’s narrow hips—she had to lay up and recover somewhere for at least a few weeks until her stitches healed—and her only options were a thousand-mile road trip to Olivia or six hundred miles to Dad, who was already gone to make the drive back and be at work by Monday. Neither option was possible in her condition; she could barely sit up for five minutes as it was.
Even if she hadn’t been in bad shape, she still had nowhere to stay if she wanted to keep her job—and Jake—if she still had him... Gabby didn’t want to pull up the delicate roots she’d been tending and move again. She had all intentions of staying here in this town the rest of her life. She couldn’t just pick up and go like Olivia or Dad; she’d had enough of being transplanted... She loved it here. She had to stay.
But Gabby was too proud and stubborn to grovel or beg.
“Fine, Mom. If that’s how you feel. I guess this is good-bye, then,” Gabby answered, an expression of defiant self-righteousness on her face.
And with that, Gabby’s mom got up and walked out the door.
The next twenty-four hours were hell, the worst in Gabby’s entire life. Alone now with the baby, the silence of the room crowded in on her. She spent her time tending the baby when he needed changed or fed, or when he slept, staring at the ceiling, trying not to look too long at him but unable to sleep herself.
She was beginning to doubt her decision now, but not willing to admit it out loud. She felt sure it was just the stress and the hormones lending credibility to the questions in her brain. She had been so sure for so long, no doubts at all... until she saw him. She wanted to claw the unspoken “what if” and “maybe” nonsense out of her head, smash them so no one would see they were ever there. She cried non-stop and cursed her life until her face was so swollen and blotchy she didn’t recognize herself in the mirror, and then she cried some more.
She could stay strong in the presence of her mother and father and the nurses—even Mr. Sparrow who had popped in periodically—all constantly examining her through shuttered eyes for any crack in her armor, looking for the slightest hint she would change her mind. When anyone walked through the door, she was careful to turn her face away toward the window, keeping her distance from the baby and answering their questions with cold formality, in monosyllables when she could.
She’d learned long ago how to keep her grief private, and she’d managed to do that in spite of the lack of privacy and constant interruptions of her mourning. But she loved her baby, no matter how she acted to her mom and the nurses. He was beautiful—dark, curly hair and shiny blue eyes, a perfect miniature dent in his chin that would grow to mirror his father’s cleft chin that she first noticed the night they met. Tiny miniature fingernails and toenails dipped with flawless crescent moons. He was amazing—perfect. She wanted him. Not because he was so flawless, but because he was hers. But she wouldn’t let her heart melt her resolve. She had already decided. She may be young, but she felt wise beyond her years and knew she had made the right decision for him.
Mr. Sparrow had included a pad of blank lined paper and an envelope in the folder with the final adoption papers for her to look over. The paper was for a letter to her son, if she decided to write one. He’d told Gabby to place it in the envelope when she was finished and he would add it to her son’s permanent file. Gabby had put off reading the papers and writing the letter for almost three days and she couldn’t avoid it any longer; it was almost time for Mr. Sparrow to arrive. He and Gabby would be signing the papers together, his paralegal coming along to witness and notarize them. With the baby sleeping quietly, she finally picked up the pen and pad and tried to think how to even start. It seemed like such a long story. She had an idea. Instead of a letter, maybe she could do exactly that—write him a story, a fairy-tale. That might work. She was very good at coming up with stories for Emma when she was younger.
Her thoughts coming quickly now, she began feverishly writing:
Once upon a time, there was a young maiden who lived with her beautiful mother and an evil tyrant in a sometimes dark and scary forest. The maiden was very lonely, so to win the favor of the maiden's beautiful mother, the evil tyrant brought home a handsome young suitor late one evening. The maiden was twitter-pated with the dashing young man, so much that she mistakenly gave him a gift, one she had kept her entire life for her intended. The suitor, in return, gave her a tiny bundle, and then took off on his shiny black horse, never to be seen again. When the maiden unwrapped the bundle, she saw a perfect, precious baby boy and immediately knew he must be a prince! She kept him close to her, protected for nine long months, but knew this dark place in which she lived was not good enough or safe for such a special child—
Gabby's tale was breaking her own heart, making it hard to continue. She quietly cleared her throat and began to write again.
So the young maiden spoke to a Healer, with a heart for the people, and her mystical husband—who was said to fly... like the birds up in the sky! It was well known this couple lived in a grand castle and wanted for nothing, except that which could not be bought. They had for many years suffered a magical spell placed upon them: They would forever be in love, but never able to bear their own children. So the young maiden gave this nice couple the baby prince freely for safe-keeping in their beautiful castle and asked only one thing in return: to raise the child as their own, surrounded with only love and sunshine, until one day, many moons from now, when he was grown and strong enough to traverse the dark and scary world on his own, they would tell him of her and let him find her again, if he so chose.
Gabby hesitated, not able to bring herself to write “The End.” Instead, she scribbled at the bottom of the page:
Please, little prince, don't forget me.
The paper blurring so much through the tears, she was barely able to see to finish.
I'll be waiting...
to tell you how the young maiden’s story ended.
Forever waiting with love,
Your Birth Mother
Gabby folded the tear-stained letter and placed it in an unsealed envelope inside the folder with the unsigned final adoption papers. She knew the attorney would probably need to read her letter before sealing to be sure there weren’t any untruths indicating this decision was against her will or anything. But she trusted Mr. Sparrow to keep his word and leave the letter in the file that would be awaiting her son.
The period of her forced time with her baby was almost up and she would be signing the papers soon and relinquishing him to the attorney, who would hand him over to his new mom and dad. Against her better judgment, she finally picked him up and snuggled him to her chest, breathing in the smell of him, running her lips across his silky smooth curls.
“I just want you to know, there was never a baby more loved and wanted than you. But your new parents will love you to the moon and back too. And they will be able to give you so much more than I can right now, but they will never begin to love you or want you more than me—and that won’t change... ever,” Gabby whispered, her silent tears running rivers down her cheeks, holding him close to her heart one last time, swaying with him side to side—as close to a first and last dance as she could have with her son. Please come back and find me one day, she thought. I promise I’ll have my life straightened out by the time you can.
Gabby wished for the thousandth time she’d let Jake come to the hospital. He had repeatedly offered to stand beside her every step of the way, even during the delivery. But Gabby hadn’t wanted him to feel in any way responsible for her decision, or to be swayed by his presence, so he had respectfully honored her wishes.
Now she had said her good-byes to her baby, signed the paperwork, and was packed up and rolled down to the lobby, where her nurse reminded her to buzz someone when her ride arrived so they could roll her out—hospital rules.
But there was no one coming. Gabby was truly alone with nowhere to go. She sat there, time seeming to creep by in slow motion but actually passing by the hour, staring at the incoming and outgoing people: happy couples strapping their bundles of joy into their new car seats, ready to take them home to their new life; fast-walking fathers rushing to get back in to their wives’ side to gaze again at the new life they had made together, scrutinizing their fresh faces, trying to decide whose eyes he/she had... whose nose, whose ears; anxious mothers-to-be waddling in or being rolled in with big round bellies, their husbands beside them.
“Great day, Gabby! Why didn’t you call me?” Jake asked, startling Gabby out of her stupor.
“What are you doing here, Jake?” Gabby answered, embarrassed to be caught by Jake looking such a mess, hair matted and eyes hallowed with dark circles. She knew she looked absolutely terrible. “Umm, how’d you know where to find me?”
“Your nurse called me. She got buzzed from the reception desk sayin’ you’d been sittin’ here staring at the doors for hours and no one had come to pick you up. They got my number from the emergency contact sheet you filled out when you got in here. Couldn’t get to you by phone, so I called your mama to see if she forgot to come get you. She told me the rest,” Jake said, sympathy rolling off him in waves.
“Oh.”
“You coulda called me, Gabby. I know you got nowhere to go. You know I would have helped you figure it out,” Jake reprimanded gently.
“I know, but I can figure it out on my own—just not making much progress yet. I just didn’t have the energy to even begin to look for a free place to live before I was released, and now... Well, I don’t know, Jake. I’ve got no money, no car... and I can’t go back to work until my stitches heal. The only thing I can think to do is call a shelter to start with and maybe someone there can point me in the right direction. I was going to use their phone and make some calls, but I got distracted and lost track of time,” Gabby was embarrassed to admit all this to Jake.
“You don’t have to call no shelter, Gabby. You’re comin’ home with me, girl.”
“Seriously? What about your parents? They would freak out... wouldn’t they?” Gabby asked, not able to keep the hope and relief from her voice. I got a place to go, and I still have Jake?
“You don’t worry ‘bout my parents—they’re very understanding,” Jake said as he grabbed Gabby’s bags, throwing them over his shoulder and rolling her wheelchair out of the lobby straight to the fancy car parked in the breezeway.
“Let me help you in,” Jake said, taking her arm while Gabby crawled into the front seat of his mom’s car, where someone had been kind enough to pad the seat with layers of soft towels. “Mama insisted I drive her car so you wouldn’t have to step up in my truck, and she made you that silly pallet for your bottom. Said you’d be needin’ it and that’s all I needed to know...” He blushed and turned his face away.
“That’s really sweet of her, Jake. I can’t believe she’s taking this so well. I’m excited to finally meet her and your daddy.”
“Well, it’s not like she was goin’ to let you be homeless or somethin’ when you just had a baby—and dang, Gabby, you are my girlfriend. I wasn’t surprised at all she offered for me to bring you home when she found out about your Mama’s crazy crap. Mama’s always been one for taking in strays,” Jake joked while pulling out of the hospital parking lot.
All Gabby could hear echoing in her mind was, Gabby, you are my girlfriend... over and over. Jake still wanted her! After withholding sex from him for months, then finding out she was already pregnant with someone else’s baby, looking as ugly and haggard as she did right now, homeless and broke too, and on top of that, no wheels to get her back and forth to work. Shee-it, as Jake would say, I am a lucky girl, Gabby thought.
CHAPTER 17
Gabby felt her stomach clench as the phone rang. It had been weeks since she’d left the hospital and she had yet to call anyone to tell them where she was, not even Dad or Olivia. Gabby wasn’t sure if Mom had told Olivia yet about kicking her out, so as far as she knew, Dad could still think she was at home, since he never talked to Mom.
“Dad. It’s me, Gabby.”
“Hi, Gabby! How are you feeling?” Dad answered, seeming happy to hear from her.
“I’m good. Well... I’m up and about, so I guess I’m healing okay,” Gabby answered. “Dad, I’m not at home anymore. Mom kicked me out,” she said quickly, feeling her throat strangling with grief over those last four words.
“What? When? For what, Gabby?” Dad answered angrily.
“For not bringing the baby home... for not keeping him,” Gabby sobbed.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, she already knew you’d planned all along to give that baby up... How long have you been gone?”
“Since the day I got out of the hospital. She never came to pick me up,” Gabby said, sniffling.
“Well, where the hell are you, then?” Dad asked.
Gabby paused.
“Dad, I’m okay. I’m staying with a friend and she’s taking very good care of me while I heal. That’s all I want to say right now. I don’t want Mom coming over here embarrassing me with her drama,” Gabby explained, hoping her dad wouldn’t try to force the answer.
“Gabby, I’m sorry you’re going through that on top of what you just did with that baby. You are always welcome here, you know that. Is there anything I can do from here? I know your eighteenth birthday is coming up in a few months... What can I do for you or get you?” Dad offered.
“No, nothing for me. You did enough just by driving all the way from Mississippi to come to the hospital and be with me. Thank you for that, Dad.” Gabby sucked in a big breath, trying to clear her emotions about herself to deal with the next issue. “But Emma needs you now. She needs you to move back here and spend time with her... lots of time.”
“Did she say that?”
“No... I just know. Look, Dad, she’s still eleven years old—almost twelve—but she seems like she’s a lot younger than that
. She still needs looking after and I’m not there anymore to do that, and I’m worried about her. She’s... she’s not herself lately,” Gabby said, walking a delicate line, not wanting to make any accusations but needing Dad to take this seriously.
“Gabby, I have a job here, a good one. I hadn’t planned to leave any time soon,” Dad answered. “She seemed happy when she visited last summer and fine when I popped in to visit her when you went in to have the baby. Has something changed since then?”
“No, not exactly... I mean, I don’t know... I’m not there—with her,” Gabby answered choppily. She needed to redirect this away from Emma and back to Dad before he wiggled the truth, or what Gabby thought was the truth, out of her.
“Dad, you know you can’t stay put for too long with your itchy foot. Why not come back and try again to find a job here so Emma can stay with you on the weekends while Mom works?”
“Hmm, it would be nice to be close to you girls. But I’ll have to think about it, Gabby,” Dad promised. “And if you’ll send me your address, I’ll send you a card and some money for your birthday.”
“Okay, thanks, Dad. Love you. Bye.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
Gabby paced her temporary bedroom at Jake’s parents’—their spare bedroom normally—looking around again in amazement at her surroundings. Jake’s mom had been shopping since the day Gabby had arrived and never seemed to stop “picking things up” that she thought Gabby needed. The room itself had been redone with the bed covered in luxurious baby-blue sheets with a soft, yellow chenille spread. It was finished with assorted bright accent pillows of different shades of white, blue, and yellow and a thick white fur throw at the foot of the bed for cuddling up in. Gabby had never slept in a bed dressed up so beautifully.
