by Nicole Baart
Of course, she hadn’t always felt that way. Evan came to her, already convinced, when the grass on Charlie’s grave was still patchy and sparse. “There’s a baby . . .” he said. And Jess had said, just as quickly, no. Never. I could never do that.
But Evan held it before her in his gentle way. Bringing it up in conversation, looking so hopeful she could almost believe.
It was a unique situation that caught Evan’s attention, an adoption that had fallen through. A tiny baby waiting in a hospital for someone to call him son. Evan had been the attending physician, and he spent long hours in the hospital nursery praying his orphan would find a home. When the boy was three days old, a family was found. Or the paperwork went through or some mysterious legal process was completed. Whatever happened, they descended in a flurry of blue blankets and footie pajamas and plush brown puppies. There was a dad and a mom, a little girl with two matching braids who skipped into the hospital singing. They gathered him up in their arms, sobbing and laughing and rejoicing at a life more precious than gold. One instant he was alone, and the next he was theirs. Forever.
Evan had witnessed a miracle. A father for the fatherless, a mother to rock him to sleep. It was a mystery, a wonder, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And somehow, he convinced Jessica to try.
Six months later, Meredith called. “So there’s a boy . . .”
Jess could pluck that day from history, crisp and clear as cut glass. The smell of the hospital: bleach and the sweaty, desperate tang of fervent wishes. The way the air shimmered like a dream. It didn’t feel real until she peered down into the bassinet and saw him, a comma of hope, the very thing that joy was made of. He fit perfectly in her arms.
Gabe’s birth mother wasn’t there. Jessica never met her and they were both more than happy to leave it that way. She had never questioned the arrangement. There was never any reason to.
Six years. Jess had spent the last six years of her life loving Gabe with every ounce of her being. Flesh and blood and heart and soul. She knew every square inch of his body, still soft with folds of baby fat, and had wiped every tear that had fallen from his eyes. Jess had kissed bruises and bandaged cuts, cleaned up his vomit and the toilet seat when he forgot to put it up and peed all over it. She had sat through meetings with the special ed teacher and the sensory therapist and the speech pathologist, had tucked him in bed with a weighted blanket and pressed a cool cloth to his forehead when he was overstimulated and couldn’t calm down. He was home. He was hers. Why was Max bringing up Gabe’s birth mother now?
And why did Max know anything about her in the first place?
Jess didn’t even realize where she was going until she turned into the parking lot of the little strip mall on the outskirts of Auburn. It was an attractive building, fronted by stonework pillars and tall windows that glowed in welcome. Of course, the glass was frosted and you couldn’t see inside the businesses that were housed there, but the overall effect was of warmth. A dental office in the corner proclaimed pain-free dentistry; a travel agency boasted gorgeous, framed prints of exotic locations; and at the very end was a nondescript sign that said simply: Promise Adoption Agency.
It had been years since Jessica had darkened the doorstep. Back when they were going through their home study process, Meredith came to them, inspecting their house with a well-trained eye and taking careful notes of everything they said. At first Jessica had felt ridiculously uncomfortable. She chose her words so deliberately she sounded stiff and wooden, nothing like herself. Evan would take her hand underneath the kitchen table and squeeze it in comfort or warning—Jess couldn’t tell. But Meredith had a way of breaking down her defenses, and it wasn’t long before they were chatting like old friends. Jess wondered sometimes if their friendship was what precipitated Meredith’s departure from Promise Adoption. Mixing business and pleasure and all that. Shortly after they had brought Gabe home, Meredith had quit to strike out on her own. Now she was an independent home study provider and adoption consultant, helping to facilitate private adoptions for families who didn’t want to go the agency route. She also volunteered at school and was currently providing anchor for Jess’s storm-tossed life.
Meredith or no, the Chamberlains’ paperwork remained at Promise and always would. Somewhere inside that building was a file marked with their name, thick with all the things they said and did in the days and months leading up to Gabe’s adoption. Somehow they were given the official stamp of approval; they were deemed fit to take home their squealing, gorgeous bundle of pure joy. It still baffled Jess. In many ways she felt like the blushing twenty-two-year-old who had blissfully said “I do” so long ago. How was she the adult? Who put her in charge and what were they thinking?
Jess pulled into a parking space across from the front door of Promise and put the car in park. She angled the rearview mirror and surveyed the damage her tears had done. Her smudge-proof mascara had held up, but there were salty trails down her cheeks and she smoothed these away with the palms of her hands. A bit of lip gloss, a finger comb through her hair, and a deep breath. She was ready. Or not ready at all, but what choice did she have?
Turning off the car, Jess pocketed the key and headed toward the office. Be calm, she told herself. Collected.
When the door chimed at her entrance, the woman at the front desk looked up with a smile already on her face. “Welcome to Promise,” she said. “How can I help you?”
The heels of Jess’s boots clicked on the wooden floor as she crossed the spacious room. There were plush chairs arranged in semicircles around mahogany coffee tables. Brochures of smiling families. A woven basket filled with toys. On a child-sized picnic table there was a jigsaw puzzle half done, and Jess wondered if it had been staged. It was all so pretty, so perfect.
Including the receptionist. She had periwinkle eyes and cropped chestnut hair that brushed against her apple-pink cheeks. She was probably thirtysomething, but she looked younger than that. Healthy and whole in a way that made Jess put a self-conscious hand to her throat. She quickly pulled it back down.
“Hi,” Jess said, trying out a smile. It didn’t work. “My name is Jessica Chamberlain. Several years ago Promise facilitated an adoption for us.”
“How wonderful!” The receptionist seemed genuinely pleased. She stood and offered Jess her hand. “I’m Samantha. I’m new here, but I love meeting all the families.”
Jessica held out her hand and Samantha clasped it in both of her own. Promise did an excellent job of employing the best kind of people: sincere, compassionate, friendly. Samantha was no different, and Jess felt her limbs go dangerously soft. She had made it here on willpower alone, and it wouldn’t sustain her if she gave in to a stranger’s kindness. Jess squared her shoulders.
“I’m actually here because I need to see our file.”
Samantha’s smile faded the tiniest bit, but she brightened again almost immediately. She sat down and typed something into her keyboard. “I’m afraid I don’t have you scheduled for an appointment, Mrs. Chamberlain.”
“Jessica.”
“Yes, Jessica,” Samantha amended. “Who was your social worker?”
“Meredith Bailey, but she doesn’t work here anymore.”
A small wrinkle appeared between Samantha’s eyes. “I’m not familiar with Ms. Bailey, but I’m sure her cases were assigned to new social workers. Do you remember who took over your file?”
“No.” Honestly, Jess had wanted to leave the agency and the entire adoption process behind completely. It wasn’t that it had been a bad experience—in fact, it had been very good, healing even. But after everything was finalized and the post-adoption reports had been filed, she wanted to focus on Gabe, to do the hard work of knitting their family together and make up for lost time. In the months she and Evan spent preparing for Gabe, Jess learned that a baby in utero could not only recognize his mother’s voice but could identify her smell, too. Babies were born intimately knowing their mothers. Really, the first nine months of Gabe
’s life had been without her, and she wanted nothing more than to somehow reclaim those days. The nuts and bolts of paperwork and parenting classes were finally behind her. She intended to leave it that way.
“Look,” Jess said as Samantha continued to type and squint at her computer screen. “I just want to see my file. It’s my file, right?”
Samantha bit her bottom lip. “Well, technically, no. I’m sure you remember that after an adoption is complete, the file is sealed. Why don’t we take a look at our calendars and schedule a time for you to come in and talk with one of our social workers? I’m sure Delilah or Anthony would love to connect with you.”
“I don’t want to see the full file,” Jess clarified, struggling to keep her voice even. She put both her hands flat on the countertop to ground herself. “We have a closed adoption. I just want to see the communication file.”
Samantha’s eyebrows knit together, forming a deep V in her unlined forehead. “We discourage closed adoptions,” she said, apparently before she could stop herself.
“I know; it was a unique situation.” Jess was getting flustered. “And I guess it’s not technically closed. Semi-open? I forget what it’s called. We agreed to leave a file open at Promise for any communication. I just want to know if there has been any. Communication, I mean.” Her heart was thundering in her chest, threatening to pound right through her rib cage.
Samantha pushed back her chair and it glided away from Jess and the thick, desperate air that surrounded her. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said softly. Samantha rose in one fluid motion and disappeared down a short hallway.
Jess cupped her face in her hands. She was a wreck. What was she thinking, coming here? A quick glance at the giant, decorative clock on the wall told her that it was almost five o’clock. Surely Cara would be dropping off Gabe any minute, and she should be home to greet him, to say thank you to her new acquaintance. Max was responsible enough—he stayed with Gabe when she ran to the grocery store or forgot something at school and had to run back to pick it up—but she had left him in a state, too. Could he be trusted home alone with Gabe? And come to think of it, why had she let Gabe go home with a relative stranger? Auburn was a small town and she trusted the families that she knew, but really, she didn’t know the Tisdales. Cara seemed like a nice enough person, but what did Jess really know about her? Nothing.
Dread wrapped a cold fist around her stomach, and Jess turned to go. She’d call. Come back later. She had things to attend to at home and this crazy goose chase was poorly timed at best, foolish at worst. But before she could take a single step, someone called her name.
“Jessica Chamberlain.”
Anthony Bartels entered the reception room with a smile and his arms outstretched. He walked around Samantha’s high counter and pulled Jess into a hug before she could protest. He smelled of musk and moss, and his embrace was sincere. Gentle. “I am so sorry about Evan,” he said, only for her ears.
Jess took a shuddering breath.
“Why don’t you join me in my office? I don’t have any more appointments this afternoon.”
Because it felt so good to have someone else tell her what to do, Jess followed him down a carpeted hallway to the room where she had met Meredith for the first time over seven years ago. Anthony had been working for Promise at that time, too, but he had been new and his office was the smallest of the bunch, crammed in at the very end of the hallway. Clearly he had moved up in the world.
“Thank you,” Jess said when she was sitting in a leather chair across from Anthony. There was a small table between them and a glass bowl filled with round, green mints. Meredith had opted for chocolate. But other than that and a different set of framed family photos arranged on his desk, the office was unchanged. “Thanks for seeing me without an appointment.”
“Of course,” he said. “Anytime. And, Jess, truly, I am so very sorry for your loss.”
They had only met Anthony a handful of times, but he seemed genuinely wonderful, and Jess was glad that he was taking her so seriously now. Evan had liked him right away. In fact, Evan had liked him better than Meredith. After their first meeting he had suggested they ask to be put on Anthony’s caseload. Jess refused.
“What can I do for you?” Anthony asked. He sat back and templed his fingers together. He had dark hair and black, plastic-framed glasses above a short, neat beard. “Samantha mentioned something about your file?”
“Yes.” Jess toyed with the zipper on her coat, acutely aware that her request was oddly timed. In some ways, it came years too late. And yet, she had just buried her husband. What was she doing at Promise now? Still, she was here. She had made it this far, and a few more minutes away from home wouldn’t hurt. Jess pressed on. “I’d like to see the communication file. Is that what it’s called?”
“You can call it whatever you like,” Anthony said amiably. “We’re not picky.”
“It was a closed adoption,” Jess said, though she felt stupid as soon as the words left her mouth. Clearly he knew that. “We wanted to keep some things private,” she tried to clarify, to make him understand why they did what they did. “When it happened, I mean. And Gabe’s birth mother felt the same way.”
“But you’re wondering if she ever wrote.”
“We kept that option open. We wanted Gabe to be able to . . .” She stalled. What had they wanted for Gabe? She could hardly remember. The family that they had become seemed so far removed from that strange, unsettling time. “Just, you know, if he ever had questions when he was older.”
“That makes perfect sense.”
It was easy to talk to Anthony, and Jessica found herself letting her guard down just a bit. “I didn’t want to know,” she confessed. “I didn’t want to know anything about her.”
“But now you do?”
Jess thought about the book, the way Max had reacted to it. Could it really have come from Gabe’s birth mom? It didn’t make sense, and yet her son had been so sure. So angry. About what? “Yes,” she said after a few seconds. “I want to see the file. Evan’s death put a lot of things into perspective for me.”
Anthony nodded as if he understood. “Well, as you already know, the agreement that you reached when Gabe’s adoption was finalized stated that any and all communication would flow through Promise. Neither parties wanted direct contact.”
He wasn’t saying anything that Jess didn’t already know, and yet she found herself sitting forward in her chair. “But did she write letters?” Jess asked. “Do you know?” She was gripped with the sudden need to bite her fingernails, a habit that she broke years ago. Instead, she threaded her fingers together and held on tight.
“Yes,” Anthony said. His voice was level, his eyes trained on her. “She did.”
Jess waited for him to say more. But he didn’t. “Can I—” She paused to clear her throat. “Can I see them?”
“They came once a year in sealed envelopes,” Anthony told her. He paused. “And once a year Evan came to pick them up.”
For a second the room went dark. Jess blinked and then shook her head a little as if she were dislodging an errant thought, something wild and unpredictable. Risky. “Excuse me?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Are you telling me you didn’t know?” Anthony was smooth as glass, professional. Jess knew he had to be dispassionate, but his manner suddenly rubbed her the wrong way.
“Of course I didn’t know!” she all but shouted. “I wouldn’t be here if I knew.”
Anthony said nothing, just leaned forward with his arms on his knees, hands clasped casually between them. Jess knew what he was doing. He was trying to be warm and approachable, to let her know that she could talk to him about whatever had brought her here in the first place. Maybe Evan would have opened up to him, but she couldn’t. Suddenly, she didn’t trust him at all.
“I’d like to see the file,” she said.
“There’s nothing in it,” Anthony told her. “I checked. The file is empty.”
“We don’t photocopy private correspondence, Jessica. That would be illegal, not to mention unethical.”
Jess bolted up, gripped with the need to be out of his office and away from the cloying scent of spearmint and old books. “Thank you for your time,” she said, and moved to hurry past him.
But Anthony was also on his feet, and he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Jessica,” he said, his gaze earnest, just a little sad. “I’m sorry. Maybe Evan didn’t tell you about the letters because he was trying to protect you.”
She had so many questions. How many letters were there? Did Evan write back? Was there ever a return address on the envelopes? But she swallowed them all and forced herself to say, “I’m sure you’re right.”
Then she swept out of his office and hurried down the hallway, through the reception area, and out into the cold. The world had gone dark, the sky laced with long, wispy clouds that stretched wide across a pewter sky. Jess wanted to scream at the hidden moon, kick her car, lose it. But there were two boys waiting for her at home. And whether she liked it or not, she was all they had left.
Jess wrenched open the car door and slipped inside, then started the engine and turned the heater on high. She was itching to get home, but she had to do something first. Taking her phone out of her purse, she opened the folder marked “Evan” and found the document she was looking for. It was a list of names, now a dozen long. Tapping carefully, she added Anthony Bartels to the bottom. Jess knew she was being paranoid, but she couldn’t help it. Something felt off about Promise.
* * *
March 18, 2018
I met LaShonna at the Starbucks in Mankato one last time. She begins her sixteen-month sentence on Monday. She’s five months pregnant. I meant to snap a picture of her, but I forgot. This is for Gabe’s sake.
LaShonna Tate has dark, curly hair that falls just below her chin. When I saw her this morning, she wore part of it pulled up on the top of her head. It suited her. I don’t think she was wearing makeup, or if she did it wasn’t much. A little something on her lips, maybe. She has brown eyes and they remind me of Gabe’s. Extra wide and long lashed. She wore dark pants—I don’t think they were jeans, but I don’t remember—and a button-down shirt with pinstripes. She’s average weight and height, but somehow none of this adds up to average. She is a very pretty young woman. Mixed race, I think, though I wouldn’t dare guess which ones. She looks healthy and put together, but sad. And scared.
