No Kind of Hero (Portland Devils Book 2)
Page 34
April had tears in her eyes, but she was laughing, too. “Oh. That’s so good. Thank you.”
Beth looked down at Gracie. “Your mama brought you a present. Let’s sit on the couch and open it. Good times.” She let April help the baby with the box, but Gracie ripped open the white tissue paper inside all by herself.
“Oh,” Beth said. “That’s beautiful.”
April said shyly, “I thought . . . maybe she could wear it tomorrow. Do you think? I thought, maybe for Christmas, too.”
The dress was purple velvet with a full skirt and a white lace collar, and April had tucked a pair of white tights in amongst the tissue paper. “It’s perfect,” Beth said. She gave April a hug, because how much would it hurt not to be with your baby on her first birthday? To miss her second Christmas and think about the first one, when she’d been three days old and brand-new? To wonder what might have been?
April wiped the tears away from under her eyes and said, “I need to . . . tell you something. Ask you something.”
“Go ahead.” All Beth’s happier feelings disappeared just like that. Here it came. What she and Evan had expected and dreaded all this time while April had been growing stronger, had moved out of the shelter and into an apartment with a roommate, had found a job as a waitress, and had found her feet.
She wanted more visitation. And that wasn’t just a bad thing. It was a good thing, too, because it meant Gracie would grow up knowing her mother.
“Could we . . .” April said. “Is your mom home?”
“My mom?” All right, this wasn’t what she’d expected.
“I want to talk to her. And to you. To both of you. Your mom’s so smart, and I need to know. I need to be sure.”
“All . . . all right. Hang on.” Beth put Gracie down on the floor, next to her shape-sorting ball and next to Henry. “I’ll go call her right now.”
She went into the kitchen to do it. Fortunately, her mother picked up. “Hello, Elizabeth. How are you?”
“I’m not sure,” Beth said. “I need you to come over. Right now. April’s here, and she wants to talk to you. I think it’s important.”
“On my way.” Her mom hung up, and Beth had to smile a little despite her pounding heart. There was nothing her mother loved more than being needed.
“On my way” was what she’d meant, too, because Michelle was walking in the door less than ten minutes later. Red sweater, skinny black jeans showing off her still-perfect figure, coordinated earrings. And a great big hug for Gracie and one for April, too.
“Don’t you look better,” Michelle told April. “Don’t you look strong.” She sat down beside her, picked up her hand, squeezed it, and said, “Tell me.”
April wobbled, but she went ahead. A bit like Gracie walked. Unsteadily, but with determination. “I think,” she said, “that I should let Gracie go.” Her blue eyes filled with tears, but she kept going. “I want to think I’m doing what’s best for her, but I can’t tell. I don’t feel like I can take her. I don’t feel like I can keep her. She’s turning one, and I can’t come to her party, because I can’t . . . handle it. She has people who love her, and I . . . I think I need to let her . . . go.”
The last word was a whisper, and Michelle said, “Oh, honey,” pulled her into her arms, and held her as April cried.
“Do you think,” April asked when she was able to talk again, when Michelle had pressed tissues into her hand, “that I’m wrong? Am I doing the right thing? Do you think?”
“I think,” Michelle said, “that only you know that. I think you need to listen to your heart. I think, as long as you’re choosing out of love, it’ll be the right choice.”
“Then I want to do it,” April said. She looked at Beth. “Will you help me? Is it hard?”
Beth was in two places at once. She’d wished for this, but now that it was here, she was aching. “I can help you,” she said. “Or rather, my partner Joan can. There’s a paper you sign to surrender your parental rights, but after that, you need to talk to a judge so they can make sure you know what you’re doing and that nobody’s pressured you into it. You can start today, but starting doesn’t make it final. You’ll have time to think about it every step of the way. You’ll have time to change your mind. I promise.”
“I don’t have any money for a lawyer,” April said. “But maybe I could do a payment plan, if she’d take that. And maybe Evan could . . .” She swallowed. “Send me a picture of Gracie sometimes. Maybe he could tell me how she’s doing.”
“Of course he will,” Beth said. “Of course. And let’s find out. I’ll call Joan. If you want to start the process now, we’ll do that.”
Gracie was playing with her blocks, oblivious and happy, and around her, three hearts were breaking. Beth went into the kitchen again, and this time, she called Joan.
“You’re kidding,” Joan said.
“I know. But she says she wants to.”
“Right.” Joan was her usual brisk self. At least somebody wouldn’t be emoting all over the place. “I’m at Capistrano’s with my walking group. We’ve been snowshoeing around Spirit Lake. What a time for it. Bring her down here, because I’ve had a glass of wine. I’ll run over to the office in the meantime and get my notary stamp. Do you still have the paperwork?”
“Yes.” Beth went and got the document Joan had drafted all the way back in September, back when April had seemed dangerous and this had seemed like the only answer. It was still there, tucked into a folder in the home office Evan had made for her, a built-in desk and shelving in the corner of their bedroom. “We’re coming down now,” she told Joan. “My mom, too. And April wants to know if you can take a payment plan.”
Joan said, “Oh, I think this one’s pro bono. If anything was ever pro bono, it’s this. And remind me to thank God tonight that I didn’t have to let my kids go to do right by them.”
“Yes,” Beth said. “Thanks. We’ll be right down.” She hung up, but she didn’t head straight back out. She texted Evan, Taking Gracie out for a bit. You can come home anytime. And I’ll have something to tell you.
She didn’t say any more, and when she had her coat on and was putting on Gracie’s, she knew she’d been right. April said, zipping up her own coat with fingers that trembled, “Please. Can you not tell Evan yet? I can’t stand to know he knows, to know what he’ll be thinking. Of me. Can you tell him after I’m gone?”
“Yes,” Beth said. “I can.”
“Do you think I’m being selfish?” April asked.
“No,” Beth said. “I think you’re being loving. I think you’re doing what a good mother does, what my mother did for me. You’re putting your daughter first.”
The whole thing took less than half an hour.
When April hugged her daughter goodbye beside her battered little car, Beth had to swallow past the lump in her throat. And when Gracie waved goodbye?
Please, Beth prayed. Let this be the right thing for April. And please, please let me know how to be a mother. Let me be able to fix my mistakes. Let me love my babies forever.
The car turned the corner and Michelle sighed, her breath frosty in the gray light of a cloudy winter day. “Well,” she said, “that’s that.”
“Yeah.” Evan’s van was in the driveway again. They needed to go in.
Michelle said, “You can be sorry for her. I know I am. But go tell Evan. Every minute you don’t is a minute he has to wait.” She kissed Gracie, and then she kissed Beth. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And in case I don’t tell you enough—I am very proud of you.”
Beth took Gracie into the house, got Henry’s usual welcome, as ecstatic for a return from the garbage can as for a homecoming from the Himalayas, set Gracie on her feet, took her hand, and said, “I hear your daddy banging things in the kitchen, don’t you? Let’s go find him. We can walk.”
Evan was on his back under the sink replacing the garbage disposal, so she couldn’t see all of him. She saw feet in work boots, legs in brown Carhartts, a broad torso in
a blue-checked flannel shirt not that different from the one he’d worn on their first date, and muscular forearms. She stood over him and said, “Evan. Slide out. Now.”
He slid out. He was holding a wrench, he had a smudge on his cheek, and she loved him so much it hurt. She couldn’t stop smiling, either. So much emotion. She was a hot mess, and that was fine. “This is your baby girl,” she said. “She’s your baby girl.”
“What?” He’d gone still again. On his back, holding the wrench, his eyes on hers.
She pulled the document out of her purse and handed it to him. Gracie plopped down on her bottom and crawled over to him, and he set the wrench down, sat up, and put his arm around his daughter. And he read.
Beth watched the tips of his ears get red, the hands holding the document begin to shake. He read it once, and he read it again. And then he set it down and rubbed a hand over his face.
Beth crouched down and got her hands on his thighs. “It’s all over,” she said. “She’s yours.”
Gracie pounded on his leg. “Dada,” she said. “Up.” So he picked her up, of course. And then he looked at Beth and said, “Is she OK? April?”
“Yes,” she said. “I think she is. This is such a hard step for her, and she can still change her mind. But I don’t think she will. And by the way?” She was starting to get teary again. “This is why I love you. Because that was the first question you asked.”
Gracie was squirming, so Evan set her down. He told Beth, “Thank you. I wish I could do something for you. Say something better.”
“Well, you know.” She swallowed hard. Here it came. Jumping once more, out into nowhere. Out into the future. “There is something you could do. You’ve got a job vacancy here. I’d like to apply for the job.”
“What job’s that?”
She took a breath, and she said it. “Mom. Maybe something else, too. Maybe so.”
He stared at her for a long moment, and it was a good thing she’d taken that breath, because now, she couldn’t breathe at all. Finally, he stood up, said, “Just a minute,” and left the kitchen.
Well, that wasn’t exactly what she’d been going for. She told Gracie, who was pounding on her tool bench now with Henry patiently enduring the noise, “We’ll call that ‘slow to warm up,’ I guess. Maybe I was still too chicken, do you think? Maybe I should have bought a ring.”
Gracie kept pounding, and Beth tried not to feel rejected and pretty much failed. Evan did things on his terms, though, and he never spoke until he was sure. That was what she loved about him. But she knew why she’d never asked a guy out, too. Rejection sucked.
All that was breezy, but breezy was better than weeping. She’d done that enough today. She opened the dishwasher and put away a couple coffee cups, wiped the counters down, and thought, OK. Process.
Evan came back into the room, and she said, “I’m going for a walk.”
“No,” he said. “We need to talk.”
“Oh, boy. Famous last words.” She tried to make it jaunty even as her heart sank. Her mind was nothing but confusion.
No.
“All right,” she said. “I spoke too soon. Well, too bad. I can live in fear, or I can move forward in hope. I choose hope. I love you, and I know you love me. If it’s not the right time yet? Too bad. I’m sticking. I’m not running out on this. If you want me to go, you’re going to have to throw me out.”
He stared at her. “What?” And then he started to laugh. “Oh, man. This had better be one of those memories you talk about on your golden anniversary, that you tell your kids. One of those family legends. Because I’m screwing this up bad.”
That you tell your kids. “What?” Her heart had done too many gymnastics today. Right now, it was trying to beat out of her chest. “Evan. This needs to be good, because I’m . . . I’m . . .”
“Yeah,” he said. “I know. Me too.”
It wasn’t supposed to have been like this. He’d had a plan.
But then, he’d had lots of plans in his life. And somehow, the best things had come out of nowhere. Like Gracie. Like Beth.
“Come here a minute,” he said. “I’m going to do this right.”
He didn’t think she was breathing too well, but then, he wasn’t either. He took her hand and took her over to the back of the kitchen, to the wall that had French doors in it now, because it opened onto the patio and pergola he’d spent all September building her. But she was the one who’d painted it white.
In the spring, they’d have roses. Pink ones. He’d picked them out already.
He told her, “I was going to do this on December twenty-seventh. The day I watched you come in the door of the theater and smile at me like I was all you wanted to see. The night we walked by the lake, and you were wearing your fluffy white hat, and I kissed you for the first time. The day I fell in love. It would have been ten years, and I thought that would be good. I had it all planned out. I’ve been . . .” The hand holding hers was shaking. “I’ve been waiting. Praying.”
“Praying for . . .”
Her cheeks had gone white, and then they’d gone pink. He got himself as focused as he could manage, which wasn’t much, and then he did it. Sank down on a knee and reached into his shirt pocket for the box.
“I was going to write down what to say,” he said. “I should have, I guess, because this is going to come out confused.”
She had a hand at her mouth, and he was trying to smile at her, to tell her it would be all right, that he’d make it all right. That was what he was there for. He didn’t know how to say all that, though, so he didn’t. He opened the black velvet box with a thumb, and she was sinking into the wicker rocker like her legs wouldn’t hold her up.
Surely a heart couldn’t hold all this. Surely not. He said, “It’s a sapphire, baby. I hope that’s OK. But the wedding band has diamonds. It sort of . . . matches. I wanted you to have both. I know I can’t give you what your mom and dad wanted for you. I can’t make you a princess. I can’t buy you the biggest diamond or build you the biggest house. All I can promise is that every day, I’ll be trying my best to make your life better. That’s what I can give you.” He expelled his breath. “That part, I practiced. That’s what I’ve got. Oh. Except, OK, this. I love you. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she said. She was shaking. Not just her hand. All over. “Oh, Evan. Yes. And I love my ring. And I love you.” She shook her head and laughed at herself. “I don’t have words either. I can’t . . . I can’t say. Except that—yes.”
He’d started to smile, and he was sliding that ring onto her finger, closing his hand around hers. “By the way,” he told her. “Maybe this sapphire is about Gracie’s eyes, and yours. Because you’re right. She needs a mom, and she needs that to be official. I told you, Gracie’s kind of conservative. She wants a mom and a dad, and she wants roses and a dog and a white picket fence.”
Now, Beth was downright crying, and he couldn’t have that, so he got to his feet and wrapped her in his arms. She cried all over his flannel shirt. It soaked in, and he didn’t care.
“One more thing,” he said. “She needs a baby sister. Or even a brother. What do you think? Think we could do that if we tried hard enough?”
Beth stood back, and she had his face in her hands in that way she did. She was crying, and she was laughing. She wasn’t one bit perfect. She was a mess.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. We don’t have the biggest diamonds. We don’t have the biggest house. We’ve got the most important thing, though. We’ve got love.”
On the fifth of June, Beth Schaefer married Evan O’Donnell, and everybody’s mother cried.
The peonies were blooming at the edges of the lawn that sloped down to the lake, and the snowball bushes and bleeding hearts added more white and pink to the mix. The rows of white folding chairs were trimmed with pink ribbons and bows, and Evan stood under a white arbor beside Russell Matthews and waited for his bride.
It was girly. That was OK. He liked his girls.
He loved Dakota. He did. But he couldn’t look at her too long, because Gracie was right there behind her. Her blonde hair, grown out into flaxen curls now, sported two pink flowered barrettes. They’d tried for a wreath, but she’d kept pulling it off, and Beth had said, “Never mind, baby girl. You do what you want.” Her dress was pink, and it fluffed out at the bottom like a tutu. Michelle and Beth had shopped for it, and they’d done a good job.
Gracie wasn’t doing such a great job, though. She got a few yards down the aisle with her basket, and then she turned around.
She was saying something, but Evan couldn’t hear what it was over the music. There was a long pause, and then Beth’s mom got up from her seat and made some sort of signal. Taking charge.
The music changed. Strings and piano. “Arioso,” it was called, by Bach. Beth had chosen it with her mother, had come home, played it for him, and asked, “Is it all right with you?”
“If it means you’re walking down the aisle to me,” he’d said, “it’s going to be fine by me.” He’d meant it then, and he meant it now.
He was good at calm. He was good at steady. But everybody was standing up, Gracie had run back up the red carpet, and Beth was bending down, picking her up, and putting her on her hip. Talking to her, smiling at her, and then taking her father’s arm. And walking to him.
A slim white satin dress that was nothing but elegant, nothing but beautiful. Her blonde hair in a knot, a few tendrils floating free. Pearls around her neck that had been a wedding present from her parents, and a serenity in her face that was love.
He was going to lose it.
She came to him, and she must have seen it, because she kissed Gracie, handed her to Evan’s mom, kissed her dad, and then turned to Evan and took his hand. His was shaking. Hers wasn’t.
Gentle, and so strong. Sweet, and so fierce. She smiled at him and mouthed the words.