She thought of that now, of how he always looked out for her. His caring wasn’t always done in big gestures, like the Nordstrom card. There were little things, like taking the girls.
“I would love to see the wheelbarrows this weekend,” she told him.
The girls cheered.
“Let me run upstairs and change,” he told her. “Then we’ll head off and you can start your evening.”
“Perfect.”
She took the twins to the bathroom they shared and put sunscreen on them. No doubt they would be outside at some point. There was a brief discussion about what to wear before Kenzie decided their shorts and T-shirts would be just fine.
Andrew joined them. He’d replaced his suit and tie with jeans and a deep blue golf shirt that matched his eyes.
He was still so attractive. He ran a couple of mornings a week and when he traveled, he always worked out at the hotel gym. She thought of her disastrous performance at Nicole’s studio and knew that her unexpected free time would probably be better spent going for a walk or doing sit-ups, but there was no way that was going to happen. Wine, bath and book, here I come.
The four of them headed downstairs. “You’ll pick up Makayla on your way,” she reminded him.
“Promise.”
She kissed each of the girls, then him. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll take them shopping before dinner.”
“For what?” Kennedy asked.
“Something fun?” Kenzie added. “We need more Legos.”
“You do not,” Gabby said with a laugh. “If you get any more, we’ll be forced to move and none of us want that.”
The girls laughed. Andrew grinned. “I figured we’d go get booster seats.”
The girls started dancing and shrieking.
Gabby felt her good mood fade. “What? Why? We decided they were going to stay in their car seats a few more months.”
Andrew raised one shoulder. “We also talked about replacing them with booster seats. Come on, Gabby, they hassle you daily. Can you really deal with that for a few more months?”
Yes. Of course. They couldn’t let five-year-olds dictate decisions like this. Nor did she want the twins learning that if they complained enough, their parents gave in. Talk about the wrong message.
Both girls stared at her. Gabby knew that if she told him no, he would back down. But then she would be the villain. The one who took away the new, shiny thing. That her life would be hell every time she tried to get them into their car seats. “But Daddy said” would be a constant refrain.
She battled against anger. This was so wrong, she thought. Making the decision without her. Telling the girls so that she couldn’t really say no. She hated being put in this position.
“Is it really so bad?” he asked. “The car is safe and they ride in the back.”
“You’re not helping,” she told him.
“Mommy, please,” Kennedy pleaded.
“Yes, Mommy. Please, please, please.”
Everything about this was wrong, she thought grimly. From Andrew ambushing her to her giving in. Because it all came down to, as her husband often said, her willingness to die on this hill.
“All right,” she said.
The girls flung themselves at her. Andrew leaned in and kissed her.
“Was that so hard?” he asked. “Go have fun. We’ll be home around eight. I promise the girls will be tired and ready for their bath.”
She nodded and watched them leave. She knew she’d been outplayed. Worse, she’d been weak. What she didn’t understand was why it always seemed to come down to surrender or being the bad guy. When was there any middle ground?
* * *
Saturday morning Hayley woke before the alarm. She hadn’t been sleeping well, which wasn’t a surprise. Every second of every day she felt the weight of sadness and loss pressing down on her. She tried to forget, tried to tell herself that Dr. Pearce was wrong, but she couldn’t escape the cold reality of the words.
Another specialist wouldn’t matter. Not here anyway. Unless there was a miracle, she wasn’t going to be able to carry a baby to term. And she was terrified she wasn’t going to find her miracle.
Which left only Switzerland, she thought, as she stepped out of the shower. As she reached for her towel, she was careful to hang on to the counter with her other hand. She got dizzy so easily. It was the blood loss from her last miscarriage. And the one before. The toll the drugs had taken on her system.
She dried off and dressed, careful not to look at herself in the mirror. She knew what she would see. Too many bones sticking out. Unnaturally pale flesh. Shadows under her eyes. A few weeks ago a lady had stopped her at the grocery store. The older woman had squeezed her hand and said she would say a prayer for her recovery. It took her a minute to realize the other woman thought she had cancer.
Nothing that drastic, she thought as she left the bathroom and walked to the kitchen and started the coffeemaker. Except for her body’s stubborn refusal to carry a fetus to term and her stubborn refusal to accept that, she was golden. Cancer would have been a whole lot easier.
While the coffee brewed, she put the blender on the counter and began her morning ritual. Rich coconut milk went in first, followed by a double dose of high-grade protein powder. She added flaxseeds, avocado, blueberries and a few other powders designed to help her body heal, then flipped the switch and waited while the concoction melded into something not the least bit like food.
She glanced at her phone and saw she had a text from Gabby. The other woman was checking in to say hi. Hayley answered her, then put her phone back on the counter.
Rob walked into the kitchen.
“Morning,” he said as he walked to the coffeemaker. “You sleep okay?”
“Uh-huh. You?”
“Like a log.” He poured himself a mug, then took a sip. “You’re going in to work today?”
“Just for a few hours. I’m not staying for any sessions.”
She had a second job helping her sister with Supper’s in the Bag. She went in early and did all the chopping and arranging. Mostly she was paid in dinners, but that was okay. It meant money they didn’t have to spend on groceries. For the past four years, every dollar not necessary for survival had gone into their baby fund. Defying God was neither cheap nor easy.
“You okay?” Rob asked.
She wanted to scream at him. To cry out that no, she wasn’t okay. She was destroyed. She’d trusted Dr. Pearce, had expected her to help. Now the doctor had betrayed her, as had her body. She was alone, desperate, scared. There was only one hope left and it was thousands of miles, not to mention a continent, away.
But she didn’t say any of that. Because she knew that a happy marriage was good for a baby’s well-being. She and Rob had to stay strong. Had to be a family unit.
“I’m all right. It’s hard.”
“I know, babe.” Rob crossed to her and drew her against him.
He was warm and solid, she thought, leaning in to the embrace. Most days she was neither. She seemed to live a half life, waiting for what was really important. Waiting to have her baby.
He’d always supported her, she reminded herself. Even when he hadn’t understood, he’d been there. He hadn’t judged. He’d gotten a second job to help pay for the treatments, he’d gotten her ice chips when the hormone shots had made her so sick she couldn’t eat or drink for days, he’d cleaned up gushes of blood from her miscarriages.
The fact that he didn’t want a biological child the way she did wasn’t his fault. He didn’t get it. No matter how many times she tried to explain, he couldn’t possibly know that adoptive parents simply didn’t love their adopted children the same. But she knew. She knew what it was like to be the other. The one who didn’t fit in, physically or emotionall
y. She knew what it was like to be the decision that was later regretted.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “For all of it. Do you want to talk to someone?”
“Like a psychologist?”
“Uh-huh.”
She looked up at him. Was he insane? That was expensive. Even with their insurance, there would be co-pays. “I’m fine.”
“I worry about you.”
“Don’t. Physically, I feel great. Stronger every day.”
She waited for him to call her on her lies, but he didn’t. Instead he reached for his coffee again.
“I’m telling Russ I’m quitting.”
She poured her protein drink into the tall glass she used. It gave her something to do so she didn’t turn on him and scream.
“Okay,” she said slowly, when what she really meant was How could you?
“I’d like us to spend some time together, Hayley. I never see you. We’re both working so much.”
The translation was, they didn’t need the extra money anymore. If there weren’t fertility drugs and IVF and every other thing they’d tried, then they were fine, financially. Not rich, but comfortable. They could get by with them each working just one job.
She thought about the clinic information she’d hidden at the back of the closet. About how she checked flights to Switzerland nearly every day, hoping for a seat sale. That she’d already found a hotel where they were going to stay while she was at the clinic. It was close and cheap—both good because while Rob would only be there for a few days, she would have to stay at least two months.
“I’m working on a car with Russ now,” he continued. “When it’s done, I’m quitting.”
She wanted to tell him he couldn’t, but didn’t. When she had their Switzerland trip arranged, he would understand that he couldn’t give up the extra income. He would support her. But for now, all she said was, “Whatever you think is best.”
“I wish I could believe you mean that.”
She sipped her drink, then looked at him. “You can.”
“I’m not convinced.” He leaned against the counter. “Can we at least talk about adoption?”
“No.”
“A child—”
“I want a baby. Our baby.”
“Hayley, honey, your parents loved you. I saw them with you and they adored you. The problem wasn’t them, it was Morgan.”
“You don’t know what it was like, Rob. We’ve been over this and over this. My parents were great people. They couldn’t help loving their biological daughter more than their adopted one. I get that. I accept it, but I can’t forget it. I want a baby of my own. A baby that is truly us. Only us. Then everything will be fine.”
His expression turned pained. “Hayley,” he began.
“I know. You want me to accept it’s never going to happen.” She glanced at the clock. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
He didn’t try to stop her from leaving the room. Fifteen minutes later, she was driving to her sister’s business. Rob’s claims about her sister and her parents weren’t new. Sometimes, she could almost believe him. The problem was, her parents weren’t around to ask anymore. They’d been killed in a car accident nearly five years ago.
All she could go on now was how it had felt growing up—when everything was about Morgan and she was always thought of second. There were a thousand examples—like when she’d won the essay contest for the entire fourth grade. While her parents had said they were proud of her, the celebration dinner had consisted of Morgan’s favorite foods, not hers. Or if they were each given a doll and Morgan broke or damaged hers, Morgan was then given Hayley’s. Because Hayley would understand.
Sometimes she had but sometimes she’d held back tears until she could be alone and cry. Because it had never been fair.
She arrived at Supper’s in the Bag a little before eight. The first customers today were scheduled at ten. Most of the food was delivered relatively prepped. It was amazing what a food-based business could buy these days. Her job was to get everything ready. Put out the day’s menus and the instruction sheets. Chop up the fresh produce that was more delicate, like the tomatoes. Distribute the ingredients to each station and have it all done in two hours.
She unlocked the front door, then locked it behind her. After flipping on lights, she put on an apron and studied the menus for the day.
By nine-thirty, she had six of the eight stations set up. Everything was diced and in place. She heard keys unlocking the door and knew that Morgan had arrived.
“Oh my God, you simply won’t believe it,” Morgan said by way of greeting. “I swear, that husband of mine is a complete idiot. He knows I work every Saturday morning and week after week, he claims he forgets he’s responsible for the kids until I can get home. I just want him put to sleep.”
Hayley kept working. She checked the spice bottles she’d brought out of the industrial-sized pantry. The company bought in bulk, then she poured smaller amounts into restaurant-sized bottles for each station. The same with olive oil, soy sauce and other pantry staples.
“Did Brent think you’d use Cecelia to sit for them?” Hayley asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t stay to listen. I just left. How’s it going?”
“Good.”
Morgan walked over to the unfinished station. “You’re going to get to this, right?”
“I am.”
Because Morgan didn’t believe in doing work herself.
When their parents died, she’d used her half of their small inheritance to buy the franchise. She’d said she wanted something of her own. But when it came to running the business, she hadn’t wanted to do anything with it. She’d hired a manager, but that had been a disaster. The company had lost money steadily until Brent had gone through the books and figured out the woman was stealing from them. He’d told Morgan to either run it herself or sell it. Morgan still complained about that ultimatum.
“The kids are making me crazy, too,” Morgan continued, snatching up a cherry tomato and biting into it. “Amy has reached the whiny stage. Everything is about her. It’s exhausting.”
Hayley and Morgan couldn’t be more physically different. While Hayley was small-boned, blonde and of average height, Morgan was tall, curvy and dark-haired. She had a vibrancy about her. When she walked into a room, she commanded attention. Usually it was just to complain, but still. People knew she was there.
Hayley was eleven months older. All through school, she’d heard the same thing. “Hayley was such a smart girl. So quiet. I had no idea Morgan would be so different.” That was usually followed by a knowing chuckle. Sure, Morgan didn’t get the grades, but she was a pistol. Stubborn, difficult, yet compelling. Morgan had a way of getting everything she wanted. It was a lesson Hayley wished she’d also learned—maybe then she would have a couple of kids of her own. As it was, she had a failing reproductive system and a niece and two nephews.
“Sometimes I wish they’d all just go away,” Morgan admitted. “And leave me in peace.”
“You don’t mean that,” Hayley said, as she put out the spices for the chicken cacciatore station. “You love your family.”
“I do, it’s just something... I don’t know. I guess we all want what we don’t have.” She walked toward the office. “I need to do some paperwork before the idiots arrive. You’ll have the stations set up?”
“I will.”
“Good. It’s nice to know there’s someone I can depend on.”
Chapter Eight
The giggling from upstairs was loud. Amazing, considering there were several layers of wood, drywall and even full rooms between them, Gabby thought. But here she was, in the kitchen, still able to hear the teenagers giggling.
She and her siblings were close enough in age that her mother had had as many as thr
ee teenagers at a time in the house. How had she stood it?
“Mom, you’re even more amazing than I’d realized,” she said, as she pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven.
The twins were watching a movie in the family room. Both girls had played hard at camp that morning and were exhausted. A happy state of affairs, Gabby thought. Jasmine and Boomer were both enjoying the Disney retrospective going on, as well. Makayla was up in her room with a couple of girlfriends. Gabby was caught up with laundry, she’d gone for a walk that morning and had yet to eat a cookie. All in all, it had been a spectacular day.
Now she put two peanut butter cookies onto a plate and took it in to the twins.
The girls thanked her, as did Boomer. He thumped his tail enthusiastically.
“Please don’t give him too much,” she told the girls.
She filled another plate and headed up the stairs. As a rule, teenage hunger seemed to grow in direct proportion to the fun they were having. Based on what she’d been hearing, Makayla and her friends had to be starving.
But as she approached the closed door, she realized there wasn’t any sound at all. It was as if everyone had left. But wouldn’t she have heard them go? They usually called out that they were leaving, plus just a few minutes ago, she’d heard the laughing.
“You girls must be starving,” she said as she opened the door.
Only there weren’t the three girls she’d let into the house two hours ago. There was only Makayla and Boyd. Sitting on her bed. Kissing.
They immediately jumped apart. Boyd stood and took several steps back. Makayla rose and got between Gabby and the boy.
“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you knock?”
This wasn’t happening, Gabby told herself. It couldn’t be.
“When did you get here?” she asked Boyd, trying to appear calm. “I didn’t see you come in.”
Nor had she heard the other girls leave, she thought again. Had they snuck him in and then disappeared?
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
The Friends We Keep (Mischief Bay) Page 9
