“When does she get to see other children?” Tia asked.
“She goes to a play group twice a week. At the library.” Caroline didn’t mention that it was Nanny Rose who brought the girl. “We’ll probably look into something more regular now that it’s almost summer. But, like I said, she has the library play group. And we have kids from the group come over the house.”
Play group, indeed. Listen to her fancying up story hour. And it was Nanny who invited the other little girls over, not Caroline. In just a few moments, Tia had demonstrated how much better a mother she’d have been. Caroline had been content with too little for Savannah. She’d made Savannah into a lonely little girl with no one but Nanny Rose and the Bitty Twins for company. She promised herself she’d find a summer program for Savannah.
“She has playdates, right?” Tia asked. “When I was growing up, the mothers were always dumping their kids on each other.”
“Well, our neighborhood isn’t that conducive to . . . running in and out of each other’s homes.”
“Right.” Tia laughed. “Not unless five-year-olds have started driving.”
“What else do you want to know?” Where had Caroline’s head been all these years? She hadn’t even wondered about Tia. Had she truly convinced herself that it was a big relief for Tia to give away Savannah?
“Is she happy?” Tia studied Caroline. “What kind of temperament does she have?”
“She’s sort of studious. No, that’s the wrong word. She’s solemn.”
“You mean she’s sad?”
Caroline saw heartbreak on Tia’s face and hastened to correct this impression. “No, no, not sad. She’s thoughtful. I don’t think she’s a carefree sort—not genetically. What was her father like?”
Tia drew back. “I told you. I don’t know who her father is.”
Caroline gripped the edge of the table. She hated lying. Peter should have come. She got as close as possible so she wouldn’t have to speak loud. “I’m sorry, Tia, but I know that you do.”
“What’s this about, Caroline? Why are you really here?”
“The wife of the man . . . ” What words were there for this? “Savannah’s father, his wife contacted me.”
“Nathan’s wife sent you?” Tia looked horrified. “Juliette? Juliette sent you?”
CHAPTER 27
Tia
“History proves that adoption laws favor the biological parents,” the lawyer said.
Bobby had given her this lawyer’s phone number—someone he’d sold an apartment to last year. See, that was the beauty of Southie. Everyone helped everyone. They weren’t too busy earning buckets of money to support one another.
Who the hell did Caroline think she was? Keeping her daughter locked up all day with some damned nanny; she couldn’t even get it together to send Honor to nursery school. In Southie, even the dumbest mothers knew enough to let their kids see other kids.
“On the other hand,” the lawyer said, “it’s been a long time. The chance of a court reversing an adoption after five years is practically zero. It would be considered only if there were extraordinary circumstances. If someone lied, or consent wasn’t given.”
Tia ran a hand over the scrapbook of Honor she held on her lap. “What if the father hadn’t known; hadn’t given his permission?” She gripped the phone tighter. “Would that count?”
“It would still be a hell of a long shot, a million to one—but if that’s true, I’d at least consider your case. The father would have to be on board, of course. On top of that, there’d have to be compelling evidence as to how and why it would be in the best interest of the child to take her from the parents she’s known since birth.”
The thought of talking to Nathan about this made Tia queasy. The thought of disappointing Bobby made her want to cry. Anger that Nathan’s wife had been in contact with Caroline made her brave.
“Let me get back to you,” she said.
• • •
“Come over,” she’d said. “Tonight.”
She refused to tell Nathan more than that. When questioned, she simply repeated her words, hung up, and then, with a fast email, canceled her plans with Bobby.
“I have to take care of old work business tonight,” she wrote. “Nothing bad, don’t worry. Will call tmw.”
She paced her apartment as she waited for the hours to pass until Nathan arrived, switching the television on and off, hopping from site to site on the computer, even doing jumping jacks at one point, but none of the frenetic activity calmed her.
The last time she’d seen Nathan, she’d put on makeup and fussed over her clothes. This time she didn’t bother. Screw him. She’d spent enough time putting on pretty dresses and smoothing magic powders on her skin. Now she wanted to cover herself with war paint, smear jagged lines of red down her face. Greet him with a whoop of hate.
Nevertheless, impulse drove her to shower, open the windows, and let in fresh air. Run a vacuum over the rug. Tia told herself it was for her own self-esteem, as though dusting would improve her mood.
Soon, but not soon enough, the doorbell rang.
She took a deep breath and looked in the mirror hanging by the side of the door. Anger brightened her eyes in place of eyeliner.
Tia opened the door. Nathan stood still and quiet.
More than anything, she hated that she still wanted him.
“Guess who I saw last week?” Tia asked.
“Did I miss the beginning of this conversation?” Nathan came toward her. “Can I come in?”
Tia wanted to say, “No. We can talk just fine right here in the doorway.”
She moved back, and he entered.
“How about I come all the way in, okay?” Nathan pointed toward the living room.
“Let’s sit in the kitchen.” Tia turned, and Nathan followed.
He sat at the table.
“Do you want anything to drink?” She forced these words out, determined not to come across as foolish.
“What do you have?” he asked.
“What I have is a feeling of being played by everyone, including you and your wife. She wants to see Honor. You want to see Honor. And somehow I’m expected to help the two of you?”
Nathan held up his hands as though blocking her from coming closer. “Whoa! Can I have that drink? Or at least a glass of water?”
Tia threw open the refrigerator, grabbed a beer and slammed it on the table, then splashed some Jameson into a glass.
“What’s this about?” Nathan looked nervous.
Tia gulped half her whiskey. “Caroline, the woman who adopted Honor, came to see me. Because guess who went to see her?”
“Jesus,” Nathan said.
“Exactly. Apparently, your wife has a deep interest in my child. Now, why would that be?”
“What did this Caroline say?”
“ ‘This Caroline,’ Nathan? That’s what you call her? This Caroline is the woman mothering your child.”
Nathan looked down. He pressed his lips together as he traced the circular design in the linoleum with his foot.
“What?” Tia asked. “What are you trying to not say?”
“ ‘My child.’ Juliette says it, and you say it, but I can’t make it feel real. My sons, they’re my children. I don’t know this little girl, so is she my daughter?” Nathan held up a hand at her. “Don’t jump down my throat. It’s true.”
“No. It’s not true. Feelings don’t make or not make her your child. She is your child. That’s your problem, how quickly the conversation is about you.”
He pressed his fingers to his forehead until the skin looked bruised. “What now?”
“I need to know why Juliette went to Caroline.” She walked to the counter, shuffling mail to keep from shaking him, touching him. “Please. The truth, Nathan.”
Nathan ran his fingers up and down the neck of the green beer bottle. “She told me that she’d looked up some stuff about these people: Caroline and her husband. Honestly, I don’t know why she act
ually met with her or what she said. Anything I say is only a guess.”
“Then guess. I need to know.”
“Probably something to do with throwing me out. I didn’t tell you before. I’m sorry.” He gestured toward the chair next to him. “Sit. Let’s talk like people who have a child in common, no matter how badly we’ve done for her or each other.”
Tia returned to the table, her legs suddenly wobbling. “You left your house?”
Tia’s world contracted to Nathan once again. He nodded, affirming her words, a gesture too small for such a momentous announcement. He didn’t speak for a few moments. “I have no idea what she said to her. To Caroline.”
“Why does she care?” she asked again. “Be honest.”
“Juliette thinks the child is part of our family,” Nathan said. “The pictures tore her apart in more than one way.”
“Our family? You and her?”
“And our sons.”
Tia could barely get words out. “Your sons.” Her vocal cords didn’t want to respond. Her words were barely audible. “She thinks Honor is connected to your sons?”
“And my parents.”
Tia was stunned at the thought of Nathan’s wife wanting to connect to Honor, folding her into Juliette’s family, folding her over and over, making Honor the filling in the Soros omelette, until Tia’s parts disappeared forever.
“Opening your letter and seeing Savannah was a shock for her. Can you understand that?”
Tia gripped her arms. Calling that lawyer had been the smartest thing she could have done. Not telling Nathan about it would be the second smartest. Jesus, how hatefully vulnerable she still was to him.
Nathan placed a hand on her knee. “It’s okay. Really. It’s going to be okay.”
She rocked herself in the hard wooden kitchen chair. Nothing coordinated in her apartment. Everything was as unstable as her life. Wobbly unmatched chairs ringed an oak table that bore gouges left by the previous owners.
She bent, trapping Nathan’s hand between her chest and her thighs, and let tears spill on his skin. She felt the wiry hairs on his hands, the protrusion of his knuckles. She smelled and felt his familiar skin.
He pulled her from the chair and led her to the couch. His firm touch on her back felt like yesterday, and like coming home. Wrapping her arms around his waist offered the hard leather of his belt and the feel of rough denim. His stomach was a bit softer, but still Nathan’s.
Wanting Nathan hit her hard and fast. All the years of hope and need bubbled up and just about knocked her over. All blood and sensation rushed to her core. She loved and wanted this man like no other.
She tugged at his belt.
He put his hand over hers, pressed, and then pulled away, pushing her gently until she stood. Legs shaking, she walked back to the kitchen, to the chair she’d left.
“We can’t,” he said.
Cold enough to shiver, humiliation stole her words. Everything in her became bound up in not crying. The horror of being pushed away, unwanted, left her without a tether, until only mortification existed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything. I don’t know if you can believe this, really, I want nothing but happiness for you. But I can’t be the one to provide it.”
“What if?” she asked. “What if we’d met another time, a time when you weren’t married, would you have wanted me then? Would you?”
He met her eyes. She watched him struggle.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t know.”
• • •
The ringing phone jarred Tia from a sodden sleep.
“Did I wake you?” Robin asked when she heard Tia’s hello.
Tia turned to look at the clock, a dull whiskey headache turning with her. “It’s three in the morning. Yes, you woke me.” She smelled a faint aftermath of Nathan on her arm. He’d left as quickly as he could, not meeting her eyes after hugging her good-bye.
“Sorry. It’s only midnight here.” Robin’s voice sounded pleasantly toasted. Not too much. They could instantly measure each other’s alcohol intake.
“Midnight is already too late,” Tia said. “What’s up?”
“I’m in love.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I can’t think of anything else but her.”
“Sometimes I feel that way about Oreos. Should I marry them?”
“See, you’re in Massachusetts—you can marry anything. Me, I can’t even marry the love of my life.”
“So move back.”
“Are you kidding? I adore California. Just have to change the laws.”
“I almost slept with Nathan,” Tia confessed.
“Oh God, no. Why?”
“Because he was here. Can’t even say I was drunk.”
“Why was he there?”
“She threw him out.”
“Why?”
“I’m not positive, but I think it had to do with those pictures I sent. She found out about Honor.”
“You should be looking for a job, Tee, not sleeping with that dickwad.”
“I didn’t sleep with him. Almost; I said almost.”
“Well then, I am very proud of you.”
“Screw that. It’s him you have to be proud of. He pulled away from me. He was the saint, not me.”
“Stop that,” Robin said. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for anything. He pulled away? That means he got close enough to try. Screw him. Who cares if he had some latent crisis of conscience?”
“He doesn’t care anymore. He probably never did. Now he’s not even attracted to me.” Tia pulled the covers closer around her, winding the sheet between her thighs. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You believed in him. You thought he was some sort of savior saint, but, sorry, he thought of you as an exciting lay. Nothing’s changed, Tee.”
“Actually, something very big changed. Before he left, I got him to agree to go with me to see Honor.”
“Are you kidding? Is that a good idea? Did they—the adopters, whatever you call them—did they agree?”
“They will. I know they will.” A stray desire for a cigarette shot through Tia. “Tell me about your love.”
“Come meet her,” Robin said. “Tee, I don’t think this is such a good idea. Seeing Honor. What good can come from it?”
“Isn’t meeting my daughter good enough? I’m her mother. No one can take that away from me.”
Silence rang loud from across the country.
“What?” Tia asked. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m just not sure if that’s a good enough reason,” Robin said.
“Don’t you think it’s right that I check up on the people I gave her to? They wrote a letter and that’s that: here you go, take my daughter? Was that right?”
“That’s the decision you made, Tee. You have to stop torturing yourself about it.”
“Well, if you don’t like that I’m going to see her, you’re really going to love this one. I called a lawyer.” Tia pulled the covers tighter around her shoulders. “To find out about the adoption.”
“To find out what about the adoption?”
“Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe she should be with me.”
“This is a big, big mistake.”
“You think everything I’m doing is a mistake. I think my mother would be proud of me.” Tia wished she could see her friend’s face. “I’m sure of it.”
CHAPTER 28
Juliette
Loneliness so overwhelmed Juliette as the weekend approached she’d decided to take the boys to Rhinebeck, despite knowing they’d be there for their annual Memorial Day trip in just a matter of weeks. The idea of the three of them being alone in the house one more day made her determined to run away from home. Either the boys watched her as though she were some fragile chemical mix about to boil into oblivion, staring and motionless while she placed breakfast on the Nathan-free table, or they acted out every angry thought that entered their adolescent bra
ins.
Last week Max melted down when they were late to Little League practice. “Dad would have gotten me here on time!” he’d shouted before marching away. Three days later, she overheard Lucas tell Max he was an asshole for siding with Nathan.
Siding? Worse yet, Juliette had been so weary that she pretended she didn’t hear.
She exited the Mass Pike, gripping the wheel as she drove onto the Taconic State Parkway, a road where deer often darted from the woods. She wasn’t used to being both driver and watcher any more than being both mother and father.
Nathan saw the boys often, which was good for them, but every visit in the weeks since he’d left brought her pain. Having him ring the doorbell instead of using his key just about killed her. Max shuffled out to the car wearing careful comb marks in his hair, while Lucas dressed sloppier every week.
Each time Juliette saw Nathan, she watched for signs that would tell her what to do.
Had he gone to her?
Did he love her?
If he and that woman got together, would they take Savannah back and become their own little family?
Not that Juliette thought it worked that way. Adopting a child wasn’t like borrowing a snow blower. “Oh, we’d prefer you give that back now, please.”
“Mom, are we there yet?” Max asked.
“If we were there, would we still be on the Taconic?” she answered.
“You don’t have to snap at him,” Lucas said.
After Nathan left, Lucas appointed himself Juliette’s judge and conscience as he tried to fill the father role. She glanced in the rearview mirror. He had a new crop of blemishes. Max’s hair was so short that he looked like a war victim. His last haircut had been a disaster.
She shook her head at seeing her sons through her own mother’s hypercritical eyes. Juliette never felt worse than when she found herself adopting her mother’s harsh views.
“How about we go to the fair tonight?” Juliette wanted to make it up to them for being sad and short tempered. “We’ll be in Rhinebeck by three.”
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