A Mother's Choice

by Kristin Noel Fischer

  Ruby was interested in the class, but she didn’t like the idea of leaving her high-spirited toddler with a babysitter.

  “What about Angela?” I suggested. “She’s a fabulous sitter and adores Eric. I’m sure he’d behave for her.”

  Ruby laughed. “Have you met my son? The little boy who’s obsessed with throwing my makeup in the commode? The little boy who’s on a first name basis with the police and fire departments?”

  I laughed. “He’s a good boy. Just a little spirited. I’m sure Angela can handle him, and I’ll be right across the yard if she has any problems.”

  “I don’t know.”

  I could see the wariness in Ruby’s eyes, and I didn’t want her to miss this opportunity. As a mother myself, I knew the importance of having a little something for yourself. I didn’t make a lot of money teaching piano lessons, but it was something I enjoyed that was separate from being a wife and a mother.

  “You’d actually be doing me a huge favor,” I said, taking a different approach.

  Ruby raised her brow. “How?”

  “Angela is so boy crazy it scares me. I think watching Eric for a few hours might make her think twice about wanting a boyfriend.”

  “She’s twelve.”

  “Yes, and if I can convince her at this age that having children is a huge responsibility, then I’ll be ahead of the game.”

  Ruby frowned. “So you want to use my son as a form of birth control? The poster child for why you shouldn’t have children?”

  I smiled. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound very good.”

  “No,” she said, laughing, “but it’s true.”

  Eventually, Ruby agreed to try the class on a temporary basis. It took only one lesson for her to fall in love with painting. As much as she enjoyed home renovation projects, painting on canvas was an entirely different experience.

  Her eyes lit up when she talked about the class. “Painting reminds me of being young, when I believed life was full of possibilities. I love Eric, and I adore being a mother, but painting inspires me. It makes me feel whole. Is that bad to say?”

  I shook my head. The two of us were sitting in our usual spots on my back porch, sipping raspberry tea and watching Eric play hide and seek with Dan. The endless Seattle rain had persisted all week, but today the sun fought its way through the clouds, warming the weather.

  “Being a mother is the most wonderful thing in the world,” I said, “but it’s okay to have something of your own.”

  Ruby set her tea on the table and added more sugar. “Then I shouldn’t feel guilty about enjoying the class so much?”

  “Not at all.”

  Eric jumped out from behind the cherry blossom tree Jude had planted in honor of Angela’s birth. Dan screamed as though scared to death. He fell to the ground and Eric jumped on him, cackling like it was the funniest thing in the world.

  “Be careful, honey,” Ruby called. “Don’t hurt Dan.”

  “It’s okay, Mrs. McCoy. He’s not hurting me.” Dan gently tackled Eric and threw a few fake punches at him, which only caused the little boy to laugh harder.

  Ruby picked up her mug and held it against her chest. “I really am happy to be a mother. I can’t imagine life without him.”

  I took a sip of my tea and smiled at my own son. “I know what you mean.”

  Chapter 18

  Having Kyle come home from Haiti when I hadn’t even asked him was wonderful. He’d explained the situation to his adviser, who’d been able to make arrangements for him to finish the rotation here at a hospital in Austin, just an hour away.

  “But you were looking forward to working in Haiti,” I said.

  We were in the kitchen, making chicken and corn quesadillas for dinner as the rain continued. He placed an arm over my shoulders, and I leaned into him. “I was looking forward to the rotation, but this is where I need to be right now.”

  And what about next year?

  I pushed the angry thought away because all that mattered was my husband had come home when I needed him the most.

  After dinner, Kyle studied while I cleaned the kitchen and bathed the boys. When they were in their pajamas, Kyle declared it was Wrestling Mania in the living room. For the next half hour, I took pictures of Logan and Zane attempting to pin their father to the ground. I vowed to print out the photos and frame them so I could remember this moment the next time Kyle and I argued.

  Eventually, Kyle let the boys win, then he tossed them over his shoulders like sacks of potatoes and carried them to bed. I followed and watched all three of my guys kneel beside Zane’s bed to pray for my mom.

  “Hey, when is Grandma getting out of the hospital anyway?” Zane asked, clenching his dinosaur egg in his fist. Vilda had brought the egg over to Darlene’s house, assuring us it’d been well cared for by her and Aubrey.

  “I bet Grandma is better tomorrow,” Logan said.

  I cringed at his optimism. His only experience with hospitals had been when I’d given birth to Zane, which had been a happy experience. He’d brought me balloons and a notebook full of pictures he’d drawn showing him playing war with the new baby.

  Kyle placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “It might be awhile, so we’ll just have to be patient and hope for the best.”

  Satisfied with the answer, Logan crawled into bed.

  “Don’t forget the two pennies,” Zane said.

  Kyle placed two pennies on the dresser for Zane and two for Logan. Then he took me by the hand and led me down the hall to our bedroom.

  Once in bed, I asked Kyle if he’d talked to Jim about my mom. “Yes,” he said, spooning me and kissing my shoulder. “That’s when I decided I needed to come home.”

  My throat clogged. “Because you think she might not make it?”

  He hugged me tighter. “Because I wanted to be with you.”

  “Thanks.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  He let out a huge yawn, patted my hip, then rolled away from me. “Sorry, babe. I’m just so tired. Can we talk in the morning?”

  “Sure,” I said, turning over and rubbing his back.

  He moaned appreciatively, then promptly fell asleep. I’d always been envious of his ability to sleep so easily. Both my mother and I suffered bouts of insomnia, and already, I could tell it was going to be one of those nights.

  Instead of fighting the inevitable, I got out of bed and opened the hall closet where I’d left the box of photos I’d found in my mom’s attic. I carried the box to the kitchen table and sifted through random pictures of my family’s life.

  There were endless photographs of my siblings, including Angela, the sister I’d never known. Dan once told me I looked like her, but other than our red hair, I couldn’t see the resemblance. Maybe in the eyes since they were the same color as our father’s.

  One picture showed Angela building a sandcastle on the beach with my brothers while Eleanor sat on a towel, reading a book. I chuckled, imagining Eleanor probably hated going to the beach because of the messy sand.

  I continued digging through the box of photos until I found a white photo album engraved with the words, Jude and Nadine. Opening the album, I read the inscription written on the inside cover.

  June 1981

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  Happy Fifteenth Wedding Anniversary! We’re so lucky to have you as our parents. Please enjoy this walk down memory lane and know that we love you.

  Love,

  Angela, Dan, Michael, and Eleanor

  P.S. We couldn’t have made this album without the help of Ruby. So thank you, Ruby!

  I knew from Eleanor that Ruby had once been my mother’s best friend, but something had happened, and they no longer spoke.

  Was Ruby still alive? Should I try contacting her about my mom’s accident? I imagined she’d want to make amends—especially if the worst happened, and Mom didn’t make it.

  I leafed through the album, looking at pictures of my family and their friends. There was a photogr
aph of my parents, Ruby, and a goofy-looking kid with red hair brighter than mine standing in front of the Space Needle. Below the picture was a newspaper clipping announcing that Elvis Presley would be filming his next movie, It Happened at the World’s Fair, in Seattle.

  I continued turning pages, growing more brokenhearted over the early photos of my parents skiing, dancing, and holding babies. They had no idea my father’s life would be cut short. No idea that despite my mother’s incredible health, she too might meet an untimely death.

  Stop, I told myself. She’s going to be okay.

  I pressed a hand to my chest, grief-stricken for my family. I thought about Eleanor, who’d only been nine when my dad and sister died. No wonder she had control issues. I shouldn’t be so hard on her. If I’d suffer such a horrible tragedy when I was nine, I’d probably be just as neurotic.

  Yawning, I glanced at the clock. Three a.m.! I would never be able to get up by seven unless I went to bed right now. I closed the album and started to return it to the box, but as I did, a manila folder, marked Angela’s Medical Records, caught my attention.

  Curious, I opened the folder and leafed through my deceased sister’s documents. There was nothing too exciting, but then—wedged between Angela’s shot record and the bill from her broken arm when she was eight—was something I couldn’t believe. Something nobody had ever told me about.

  My hand trembled as I read the information over and over and over.

  Angela had been pregnant!

  Pregnant!

  And more shocking than the pregnancy was her due date.

  September 15, 1985.

  The exact day I was born.

  Chapter 19

  In the spring of 1985, Angela wanted money to go shopping for a prom dress. Jude stipulated she earn the money by cleaning out the garage, but our strong-willed daughter wasn’t interested in manual labor.

  When Jude refused to give her the money, she responded by stomping out of the living room and slamming her bedroom door. “I can’t wait to graduate and move out!”

  “Neither can we,” Jude said under his breath.

  I threw one of the couch pillows at him. “The two of you are so stubborn. Go talk to her, please. She’s your daughter.”

  Our old, worn-out couch creaked as he scooted closer to me. After eighteen years of marriage, four kids, several dogs, and cats, everything in our house needed replacing. Jude groaned. “She’s just been so grumpy lately. All she wears these days are those baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirts. Why does she even want a prom dress?”

  I patted his strong arm. “Every girl wants to feel like a princess and wear a prom dress. It’s our job to help her find one that flatters her figure, regardless of her weight. Before long, she’ll be graduating and going off to college. Let’s make these last few months special, okay?”

  Jude sighed. “I’m not relenting about making her pay for part of the dress. She doesn’t have to clean out the garage, but she has to do something in exchange for our help.”

  “I agree. I don’t want her to think we have an endless supply of money.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, I doubt anyone would ever make that mistake.”

  In the end, Angela helped me reorganize and paint the kitchen. Well, she helped me pick out the paint color. When it came to the actual painting, she insisted the smell made her sick. I thought she was faking until she threw up in the bathroom.

  Nevertheless, I agreed to take her shopping to find the dress of her dreams. I realized I was basically buying my daughter’s love, but I refused to feel guilty. Angela’s last year of high school had been rough with her on-again off-again boyfriend. She’d put on a lot of weight from emotional eating.

  A new boy had asked her to prom, so if an expensive dress could put a smile on my moody teenager’s face and allow me to be the hero for once, I didn’t mind the slightly unethical practice of bribery. Besides, what was motherhood without a little bribery now and then?

  *

  On a rainy Saturday morning, I woke Angela, who would’ve slept all day if given the chance. Lately, sleeping, eating, and watching television were her only activities.

  That morning, however, I didn’t criticize. Ruby had lectured me on keeping my mouth shut if I wanted the shopping trip to be successful. “Unless she asks for your opinion, don’t make any comment on the dresses she likes or doesn’t like.”

  I grimaced. “What if she chooses one that’s hideous and accentuates all the weight she’s gained this spring?”

  “Just bite your tongue.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “You have to.”

  At the store, I stood outside the dressing room as Angela tried on several dresses with no success. She wouldn’t let me see any of them on her, so I couldn’t help in finding one that fit.

  “How are you doing in there, honey? Can I see what the blue one looks like?”

  “No,” she said on the verge of tears. “I just want to go home. All of these dresses are stupid.”

  “Let me see.” Without waiting for permission, I slid open the dressing room curtain and peeked inside.

  “Mom!” she shouted, covering herself and turning her back to me. But it was too late. I’d already seen what she was trying to hide.

  Angela hadn’t gotten fat. She was pregnant!

  “Everything okay?” the sales lady asked, passing by. “Do we need any more sizes?”

  “We’re fine.” I spoke politely and tried to keep my emotions hidden despite the shock surging through me.

  The bell above the boutique jingled, and the sales lady headed to the front of the store, greeting her new customer.

  “Angela,” I whispered, peeking through the crack in the curtain. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She hastily threw on her clothes and sank onto the little stool in the corner. Her body collapsed in on itself, and she sobbed. “Dad’s going to kill me.”

  I slipped inside the dressing room and took a deep breath. Then I put my arms around my daughter and held her tight. “We’ll figure this out, okay?”

  *

  When Jude learned about Angela’s pregnancy, his anger shot through the roof. “Who’s the father?” he demanded.

  “Rodney Smith. That boy who took her to the winter dance.”

  “Rodney … I’m going to kill him! I’ll make him marry her first, but then I’m going to kill him.”

  I sighed heavily, grateful I’d had the foresight to make Jude go for a drive with me instead of telling him at home. “Father Tim said—”

  “You’ve already discussed this with O’Connor?” A vein in Jude’s forehead pulsed.

  “I needed a third party’s perspective. Someone who wasn’t so closely involved.”

  Jude swore and pounded his fist on the steering wheel. I exhaled slowly. Despite the fact I’d never dated Tim, Jude was often jealous of my friendship with the priest.

  Resentment thickened my husband’s voice. “What’d he say?”

  I wrung my hands together. “We have lots of options. And as he pointed out, there are worse things in life than an unplanned pregnancy.”

  “I can’t believe this. Is that boy going to marry her?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “He better.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “The last thing either one of them needs is to be forced into a loveless marriage.”

  Jude shook his head. “She slept with him, and she doesn’t even love him?”

  I stared down at my hands. “No, honey, she doesn’t.”

  Jude swore again. “Unbelievable.”

  That had been the hardest part for me to digest. Angela had slept with a boy she didn’t even love. If love had been part of the equation, I would’ve understood. After all, Jude and I were no strangers to passion. I’d been young once, and I still felt a thrill when he reached for me in the middle of the night.

  But passion without love felt cheap to me. Maybe I was old-fashioned, but I wanted true love for A
ngela, not just some romp in the back of a dirty car with a boy who didn’t care enough to prevent a pregnancy.

  Jude was silent for a long time, but when he finally spoke, his voice was full of determination. “We’ll have Father Tim’s brother, that adoption lawyer, take care of it. I’ll give him a call when we get home.”

  I clenched my fists. “Who said anything about adoption?”

  “Well, if she’s not getting married, she’s not keeping it.”

  “I think that’s exactly what she wants to do.”

  Jude exploded, punching the roof of the car. “She lost the privilege of deciding what she wanted when she got herself into this mess.”

  I flinched, not used to seeing my husband’s temper. Placing a gentle hand on his leg, I held it there for a long time. “We’ll figure this out, honey. We’ll think about it and help Angela make the best decision for herself and the baby.”

  “Will we?” he asked, a little softer now. “What was she thinking?”

  “I don’t think she was.”

  He shook his head. “No, I suppose she wasn’t. But she can’t keep this baby, Nadine. The lawyer will find a good home for it. A loving couple who’s older and married and can actually afford it.”

  My stomach churned at Jude’s use of the word “it.” This was a baby, not an “it.”

  This was our grandchild, for heaven’s sake. How could he dismiss this baby so easily? How could he expect Angela to give up her own flesh and blood without serious consideration?

  Jude and I drove home in silence, a heavy tension filling the car. Angela was already several months pregnant, so we couldn’t wait too long before making a decision regarding the baby. How were we going to figure this out?

  My mind drifted to thoughts of Ruby and how much she wanted a little brother or sister for Eric. The idea came to me so clearly, I believed it had to be an answer to prayer. I glanced at Jude, his jaw tight as he drove through traffic. I wouldn’t tell him my idea right now. Maybe after things calmed down … maybe after he had a chance to talk with Tim …