She’d be doubling the grocery bill she’d anticipated, the after-school care bill, the back-to-school shopping bill.
She didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified. No, she did know. Terror was winning. What if these children didn’t like her? What if one or both had big emotional problems? What if they whispered with each other and shut her out? What if, what if, what if.
“You haven’t made a commitment,” she said aloud.
She hadn’t. She’d talk to this Melissa Stuart. Find out more about the children. Maybe she wasn’t right for them.
Ashamed of the trickle of relief she felt at the idea that she would have a justifiable reason for rejecting two children who needed a home, Suzanne finally hung up the phone, grabbed her bags and left.
Was she not as committed as she’d thought? Had she been enamoured with the idea of a fairy-tale adoption and not the hard reality of older children traumatized by dysfunctional parenting, loss and rejection?
Or did anyone in her situation feel these mixed emotions? This was a huge step, without the phasing in you got when you had a baby in the normal way. Maybe panic was natural and normal.
Call Rebecca, she decided. She’d know.
Suzanne was ten minutes late unlocking the door of her small business, but fortunately—or unfortunately—no customers stood on the sidewalk with their noses pressed to the glass. The first hour was usually slow, even in this pre-Christmas season. In fact, she’d already decided that, once she had a child, she’d change her hours. Nine to five-thirty was too much. She could open at ten, close at five. And close two days a week instead of just one. Sunday and Monday, she thought.
Two women wandered in shortly thereafter and wandered out again without buying anything, but with copies of Suzanne’s class schedule tucked in their tote bags. They might be back. They might pass on the schedules to friends or daughters who would sign up. She never knew, but she hoped each time.
After the bell tinkled and the door closed behind the two women, Suzanne grabbed the phone and dialed Gary’s number in Santa Fe.
Rebecca answered on the second ring. “Suzanne! How nice to hear from you. I’d been meaning to call to find out if Melissa has been in touch.”
“She called this morning.” Suzanne repeated what the caseworker had said. “I have an appointment to talk to her this afternoon, but I’m petrified. And that makes me wonder if I really want to do this, and I’m ashamed of even wondering, and…”
Rebecca laughed. “Well, of course you’re scared. This isn’t like adopting a newborn. And, believe me, even those couples are nervous as well as thrilled. They aren’t sure they’ll know what to do. What if the baby won’t quit crying? What if they don’t feel instant love?”
Her heart lurched. “Oh, God. I didn’t even think of that. What if I don’t?”
“Then it will take time,” Rebecca said practically. “It’s kind of like an arranged marriage. Plenty of those ended up blissfully happy, but I’ll bet virtually every bride and groom was scared to death when they said, ‘I do.’”
“I guess that’s true.”
“And remember, the adoption won’t be final for some time. If you’re really a poor match, a better one can be made, for the kids as well as you.”
“Will Melissa think poorly of me if I decide I can’t take these kids?”
“No, of course not! She’ll just look for the right single child for you.”
Her palms were still sweaty, but Suzanne said, “Okay. I feel a little better. You know, my first reaction was to be excited, but then this wave of panic just crashed into me! I tried to tell myself it was normal, but I was ashamed of myself for even hesitating.”
Rebecca soothed her for a couple more minutes, then said, “I was also meaning to call you to let you know that Gary and I are talking about getting married while we’re there over Christmas. Maybe the first week in January?”
Pure delight overcame Suzanne’s panic. “Really? Oh, Rebecca! That would be wonderful. Where? Have you made plans?”
The doorbell rang again as a group of four women entered. She smiled at them, then said into the phone, “I’d better call you this evening. Business is picking up.”
“I’ll be waiting to hear how your meeting with Melissa went.”
“Oh, what a darling sweater!” one of the women cried, as Suzanne hung up the phone. They’d all stopped in front of a mannequin that wore a cropped, electric-blue and hot-pink off-the-shoulder angora sweater that Suzanne had designed as part of her planned book of styles meant to appeal to women in their twenties.
“Hi,” she said, coming out from behind the counter. “Are you knitters?”
Two were, two weren’t, but one of those decided on the spot to sign up for the next session of the class for beginners. All helped one of the experienced knitters choose yarn for an afghan, and they left declaring, “You have an amazing selection. I’ll tell everyone I know who knits or crochets.”
Feeling gratified, Suzanne squeezed in a quick call to one of her customers who was happy to fill in for a day or a few hours now and again. An older woman, she liked earning a little extra income.
“I’ll be there by 2:45,” Rose promised. “No need for you to hurry back.”
Suzanne’s afternoon class, now in its fourth week, was her largest yet, with a number of the women determined to knit a Christmas present for someone in their family. They’d started out making scarves, then had moved on to projects of their choice. One was doing baby booties and a hat for her soon-to-be-born grandson, another a simple afghan, several others sweaters. One seemed to be a natural; the sweater she was knitting for a ten-year-old was nearly done, arms and body proportional. Another was struggling with constant dropped stitches. She made jokes about the name of Suzanne’s store.
“It’s all your fault,” she declared, laughing ruefully.
Suzanne helped her unravel and get started again, one eye surreptitiously on the clock. Rose came in quietly before the end of the class, and at 2:50 on the dot Suzanne stood up.
“Don’t feel you have to hurry out. I have an appointment, but Rose is here to help you with your projects or purchases.”
She thanked Rose, an older woman who was fast becoming a friend as well as an occasional employee, took her purse from the drawer and hurried out. She’d been able to park less than a block away that morning, and she took a back route up the hill to Lynnwood.
Melissa Stuart came out to the reception area the moment Suzanne’s arrival was announced. Perhaps in her early fifties, she was a plump, attractive woman who was comfortable letting gray creep into her dark, bobbed hair. She had a nice smile that immediately set Suzanne at ease.
“How nice to meet you.” Melissa extended her hand. “Have you talked to Rebecca? How is she?”
They shook hands.
“Really good,” Suzanne said. “She just told me she and Gary are planning a wedding right after the holidays.”
“Not exactly a shock. They didn’t waste any time, did they?” She turned. “Let’s go on back to my office.”
Following her, Suzanne agreed, “They were in love within days of meeting.”
Her office was simple, decorated with children’s artwork on white walls. Only one manila file folder lay atop her desk.
Sitting, Suzanne couldn’t take her gaze from the folder.
Seating herself behind the desk, the caseworker said, “Let me tell you about Sophia and Jack.”
The names alone made them more real. Suzanne leaned forward.
“As I told you on the phone, Jack is seven and Sophia ten. Nearly eleven. She’s in fifth grade, he’s in second. Sophia is very bright and did quite well in school until this past year, when she’s done some acting out. Jack is good at math but is having trouble with reading. His most recent teacher isn’t sure whether he has a reading disability or whether, once again, this past year has been so difficult that he can’t concentrate.”
“This past year?”
“Their m
other died. She had MS and received poor or no health care because she didn’t have insurance. She’d been raising the kids on her own, and once she could no longer work they moved between shelters and motel rooms at the kind of place that rents by the week. The past couple of years were disruptive for the children. As a result, they’re very mature in some ways. After all, they had to care for her. I gather that Sophia even did the grocery shopping toward the end. In other ways, they’re lost in a normal school or home situation. They’ve not been able to have friends the way other kids do. They had no home to invite other children to play at, no parent to pick them up at anyone else’s home. They changed schools five times in the last two years.”
“Oh, dear,” seemed inadequate, but it was the only thing she could think of to say.
“Indeed,” Ms. Stuart agreed. “Sophia had to call for an ambulance when she got home from school and found her mother dying.”
“How long ago was that?”
“In early September. Unfortunately, that meant yet another change in schools when they went to a foster home. In late October, we had to move them to a second foster home.”
“Their father?”
“Hasn’t seen them since Jack was a baby. He’s been moving regularly to avoid having to pay child support. I understand that, when told his ex-wife had died, he said, ‘You don’t expect me to take the kids, do you?’”
Rage for children she had yet to meet tightened Suzanne’s throat. “How horrible.”
“He gladly relinquished his parental rights. At least the children were quickly freed for adoption. So often they’re stuck in the foster-care system for years.”
Suzanne’s brother had lived in a succession of foster homes for nearly two years before he’d been adopted. She nodded.
“Their foster mother says Sophia is fiercely protective of her little brother but also displaying some generalized anger. He’s reverted to some behaviors typical of much younger children, including bed-wetting.”
No, these children wouldn’t be easy. Suzanne let go once and for all of her vision of that perfect little girl who leaned so trustingly against her and who giggled with uncomplicated joy.
“Naturally,” the caseworker continued, “it’s important that they stay together.”
“Of course!”
At least Suzanne’s sister and brother had been young, able to forget each other and her. Only she had carried the memory of them through the years.
“I know these two may not be at all what you had in mind….”
“As I told Rebecca, I didn’t have any particular ideal. Somehow, the idea of shopping for a child with a wish list strikes me as repugnant.”
“Good for you.” Ms. Stuart’s smile was warm and approving.
“My parents died when I was six.”
“I know. I have to admit, that’s one reason I thought you might be just right for these particular children.” She lifted a hand, hesitated with it over the file folder. “Would you like to see their pictures?”
Suddenly unable to breath, Suzanne could only nod.
Opening the file, the caseworker removed two five-by-seven school photos and laid them on the desk, facing Suzanne.
She took one look at the two faces, both so hopeful, so wary, and felt a painful squeeze in her chest she was astonished to recognize as the first symptom of falling in love.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “When can I meet them?”
CHAPTER TWO
THE CASEWORKER HAD PREPARED the kids for Suzanne’s visit. Younger children could be fooled into thinking the visitor was a friend of the foster mom’s, or another social worker. Kids the ages of Sophia and Jack would see through the lie and feel betrayed.
Melissa had arranged for this visit only two days after their initial meeting, scheduling it right after the children got home from school. Suzanne was once again depending on Rose.
Now, parking in front of the shabby rambler and setting the emergency brake, Melissa said, “I’ve introduced two other sets of potential adoptive parents to Sophia and Jack. In both cases, they felt the fit wasn’t right.”
“Why?”
“I believe it’s Sophia. She’s almost eleven, and, um…” The caseworker hesitated. “Well, she’s precocious.”
Puzzled, Suzanne said, “You did mention that she’s mature beyond her years.”
“Yes, but what I’m trying to tell you is that she’s also ahead of most girls her age physically.”
“Physically?” For a moment, Suzanne didn’t get it. Then understanding dawned. “Oh. You mean, she’s getting breasts.”
“Yes, but it’s more than that. Part of the trouble is her choice of clothing. She looks like a thirteen-year-old who’s pretending she’s sixteen.”
“Oh,” Suzanne said again. She frowned. “You mean, the two couples were okay with a ten-year-old who looked like a little girl, but not one who’s essentially a teenager?”
“Exactly.”
She wanted to say that was lousy, but she remembered the few parameters she’d given Rebecca originally. She’d wanted a child who would come to think of her as a mother, not a teenager who’d be gone in no time. An almost-eleven-year-old who looked older… No, Sophia definitely wasn’t what Suzanne had had in mind, either.
But then, from the beginning she’d vowed to be open-minded, to take a child who needed her. It sounded like these two did.
She nodded, and the two women got out of the car, walking in silence up the driveway.
On the way over, Melissa had told her this foster mother was having health problems and had given them a deadline of the first of January to find alternative placement for Jack and Sophia.
“They’ve had so many disruptions already,” she’d said. “I’m really hoping to find them a permanent home now, so that they don’t have to adjust to yet another temporary one. I want you to feel free to take your time to get to know them, but if you decide they might be right for you, I can also accelerate the steps we usually go through.”
Suzanne was so nervous, she felt light-headed by the time Melissa rang the doorbell. What if they were unfriendly? Disinterested? Wild? What if she didn’t like them?
How horrible it must be to be looked over like apples in the produce section, put back when buyers saw a bruise. She didn’t want to do something like that, but it would also be disastrous if she took on something she couldn’t handle.
Someone, she reminded herself. Not a situation. Kids.
The door opened without warning. It had to be the foster mom who smiled and pushed open the screen. “Melissa. Hi! The kids have been waiting. You must be Suzanne. Hello.”
She was in her sixties or perhaps even seventies, and overweight. She moved as if she hurt.
The television in the living room was on, a well-known talk-show host grilling someone to the shrill encouragement of the audience. She turned it off and called, “Kids! Melissa is here!”
There was a moment of silence. Then one of the bedroom doors down a short hall opened and two kids came out. The boy had his head hanging, but the girl ignored the other two adults and studied Suzanne with frightening intensity as she sauntered behind her brother. Suzanne could see right away why Melissa had warned her. It was more than the breasts. It was that hip-swinging walk, the curl to her mouth, the ferocity of that stare. No, this wasn’t your average ten-year-old. She might have had trouble fitting in with other girls her age even under normal circumstances.
“Sophia, Jack,” Melissa said. “I’d like you to meet Ms. Chauvin.”
The boy stole a quick look up at her, then ducked his head again. The girl stopped and appraised her.
“Hi,” Suzanne said. “I’m glad to meet you after Melissa told me so much about you.”
“Why don’t you have kids of your own?” Sophia asked, with a tone of insolence. Why are you such a loser? she seemed to be asking.
“Sophia!” the foster mom intervened. “That wasn’t very polite.”
“No, it�
�s okay. My husband and I hadn’t started a family before we got divorced. Since I’ve always wanted to have children, I chose to adopt.”
“So how come us?”
It was as if no one else was there, just Suzanne and this dark-haired girl with riveting blue eyes.
“Because Melissa told me about you, and I thought we might be a good fit. My parents both died when I was six years old, so I know better than most people how you feel right now.”
The girl’s mask slipped. “Did you get adopted?”
Suzanne shook her head. “My aunt and uncle took me in, even though I don’t think they really wanted any more children. They had two of their own. But they surrendered my little brother and sister. They were adopted by other families.”
Sophia cast a shocked glance at her little brother, who had finally lifted his head and was watching Suzanne and his sister with eyes that were a paler blue than hers. His hair was lighter, too, the shade of brown that might become blond after a summer in the sun.
“So you never saw them again?” the girl asked.
“Not until this year. I hired a private investigator to find them.”
“Oh.”
When she fell silent, Melissa smiled and moved forward. “Why don’t we all sit down so you can get acquainted?”
The kids went docilely to the sofa and sat next to each other. The boy leaned against his big sister.
Jack was small for his age, Suzanne decided, and made smaller by a posture that suggested he wanted to disappear. In contrast, his sister was nearly as tall as Suzanne already, and with that disconcertingly curvaceous body, no one would have guessed that only three years separated the two children in age.
Suzanne chose the recliner facing them. Melissa spoke quietly for a moment to the foster mother, who said, “I’m going to lie down for a few minutes. You just call me when you’re done.”
“Tell me about your mom,” Suzanne suggested.
Jack ducked his head again.
Sophia jerked her shoulders. “She was sick. She couldn’t walk. Sometimes she, like, fainted or something and wouldn’t wake up for a long time.”
Kids by Christmas Page 2
