by Michele Hauf
“Grrr,” Gloria groaned. “She’s the reason I hate the name Victoria so much. The name on her birth certificate read Vickie but she hated it. ‘Vickie’ is such a common name,’ she argued. ‘It really should be Victoria. I’m like a queen – I’ll be remembered long after I’m gone.’ She whined so much about it that Dad changed it legally to Victoria for her twelfth birthday. I think it may have been part of the reason our mom had a heart attack. She loved her Grandma Vickie so much that it was an emotional slap in the face to just throw out the name like that. You couldn’t prove to me that Victoria didn’t agitate her on purpose with stunts like that. She knew Mom had a weak heart. Damn Victoria still!” she said with disdain.
“You won’t hear me argue that one,” Roger said. “I lost my favorite cousin and best friend in the whole world because of her, but as I was just saying, we have a fresh start, right?”
Gloria reached up and patted her husband on the shoulder. “You may have been second in line for my hand, but you were and still are the best man for me, Roger Stillwater Thornwhistle.”
“And you for me, Gloria Lynn Thornwhistle.”
“Oh, dear,” Gloria fretted, pacing back and forth, trying to soothe the squalling baby. “I think I need to call the nanny right now. Something’s wrong. She won’t quit crying.”
“Hold on a sec,” Roger said patiently, holding back his frustration. One of them losing it was one too many.
Ding!
Roger took the bottle of water out of the microwave, stirred in the suggested amount of formula, swirled it around, and then capped the bottle.
“Here,” Gloria said, grabbing for it.
“Nope,” he said, pulling it away. He tipped a small amount of formula on the inside of his wrist, verifying the temperature, then handed it to her. “Perfect. Body temp.”
Gloria snuggled Vickie close then clumsily tried to feed her the bottle. “Damn! I think I need my reading glasses just to find her mouth!”
The baby’s mouth turned and latched onto the nipple that had struck her cheek, leaving a milky mess. Roger grabbed a tissue and wiped it clean. “Smart girl. She’ll find the food. Just get it in the general area, but make sure it’s not too hot or too cold.”
“How did you know that?”
“I read up on it, plus I did hang out with my sister’s sons every once in a while. Just keep her warm, dry, and well-fed and she’ll soon be our little princess in satin and lace.”
“She can be our princess in satin right now,” Gloria said, “but lace will have to wait until her skin isn’t so tender. See. I hung out with your sister a bit, too.”
Two weeks before Christmas, 1995
Nearly four years later
“Where’d she go?” Gloria asked in a panic.
“What do you mean, ‘Where’d she go’?” Roger huffed. “I thought you had her!”
“I did! She said she was going to see you. I looked up, there you were, and now she’s gone!”
“You go that way; I’ll check over in the toys,” Roger said. “I don’t believe in tethers, but I wish I had her on one right now.”
Near the carousel
“I remember when you were little,” Hal said, his arm around Grace’s shoulder. “I’d bring you here to ride the pink unicorn. No matter how long I let you ride, you’d always ask for ‘one more turn.’ It’d irritate your mother to no end if she was here with us, too.”
“I think I remember that,” Grace said. “She’d stomp her foot and walk away when you gave into me.”
Hal chuckled at the memory but didn’t add to the story.
“And if I remember right, you’d let me ride until I wet my pants.”
“Hey, that wasn’t my fault. You didn’t tell me you had to go.”
“Yeah, well, you should have known. When we’d come here, you’d let me have anything I wanted. I wonder if they still have those orange juice and ice cream milkshakes…”
“Here you go, Dad,” Dusty said, handing Hal his ‘orange-sicle’ drink. “And I got the largest size they made for Grace.”
“You remembered!” Grace said, accepting the giant cup.
“It’s still good for you: juice and milk. Add a few bacon bits and strudel crumbles and you have all four food groups,” Hal said, smiling.
Grace looked toward the carousel and blanched in horror. She clumsily set her cup down and rushed to the flimsy security fence, swooping up the little blonde, sparing the tyke a disastrous tumble into the twirling ride.
“Whoa there, honey,” Grace soothed, holding her close. “You have to wait until it stops to get on.”
“I want to ride the pink ooni-corn,” Vickie said, reaching out.
“Okay. Let’s wait for it to stop, and then I’ll ride with you. Will that be all okay?”
Vickie looked up at Grace and squinted, studying her features, then back at the twirling ride that was slowing down.
“Again?”
“Well, for me it will be again,” Grace said. She looked back at her dad and Dusty. “Call security and tell them they have a lost little girl at the carousel. Maybe they can find her parents.”
Hal stared at the duo, frozen in shock at the resemblance of the little blonde beauty to Grace when she was that age. She could have been a pint-sized clone of her.
“Um, Dad? Do you want me to go tell them or do you want to?” Dusty asked. When Hal didn’t respond, he said, “Okay. I’ll go.”
“This was my favorite when I was your age, too,” Grace said, hoping she didn’t scare the little girl. “How old are you?”
“Vickie Lynn.”
Grace realized the girl was confused, so she tried the other oft-asked question. “What’s your name?”
“I’m this many tomorrow,” she said, holding up four fingers, using her other hand to keep her thumb from popping up.
“And what’s your Mommy’s name?”
“Vickie Lynn January Third.”
The carousel came to a stop beside them. “Here’s the unicorn,” Grace said, hoisting her up. “This was my favorite one, too. So, is your name Vickie Lynn?”
The little girl in the pink satin coat trimmed with a real white fur clung to the bronze pole in the middle of her magical creature, rising up and down, oblivious of the questions trying to intrude on her quest to find the rest of the unicorns in fantasy land.
Grace put her interrogation on pause, letting the little girl enjoy the ride. Certainly, her parents would be found soon. Who would let someone so precious out of their sight? Then again, she’d never let anyone get in her way of riding the pink ‘oonicorn’ when she was that age, either. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized that her twins would have been this age if she had kept them. Why had she balked? Given up on them even before she let them know her? Maybe they wouldn’t have died if she had had them in a hospital, not at Dr. Buddy’s birthing center?
Her smile dropped as the reasons smacked her in the gut like one-two punches. Those threats to Dusty and his father were why. Victoria – she refused to even think of her as Mother – was long gone now, a resident of Costa Rica thanks to Dad’s not-too-subtle threat of blackmail. Dusty was back in her life – safe – and her husband for almost four years now. If she would have known that circumstances would be in her favor, she wouldn’t have given up hope and the twins. No looking back on that now. Hopefully, the fertility specialist had a solution to her recent sterility and they could start anew with more children.
“Again! Again!” Vickie Lynn demanded, bouncing up and down.
“I got it,” Hal called from below, nodding to the carousel operator who had been given a healthy tip to keep the ride going for the blonde pair clinging to the magical animal of fiberglass and pink resin.
Hal sighed at the beautiful blondes, so much like a mother and daughter in looks and favorite animals. I wonder if the twins were girls? I know it shouldn’t make a difference because they’re dead, but it does. If I had only seen them for a moment, even an ultrasound of their little
feet kicking, their little bodies twisting and turning, their little bottoms showing off which gender they were…
“Oh, thank God!” Roger said, stopping short at the sight of his young daughter with a beautiful blonde supporting her on the carousel.
“I take it she’s yours,” Hal said, then blanched as he looked back and saw who was speaking. “Roger?”
“Hal?” Roger asked. He glanced back momentarily to verify the voice belonged to his cousin, then was focused back on Vickie. “It’s been… Yes, that’s my daughter. She bolted when my wife looked away.”
“Gloria?”
“Yes, Gloria,” Roger said, looking back at Hal, his eyes narrowed.
“She’s a wonderful woman. I’m glad you could have children. I know she always wanted them,” Hal said, swallowing hard. And if she’s the mother, I wonder who the real father is!
Roger quickly moved to Hal’s side. “She’s adopted and if you tell a soul, I’ll hunt you down and castrate you,” he whispered harshly.
“I see the family resemblance,” Hal said, non-plussed by the threat. “That’s my Grace up there with her now.” He patted Roger on the shoulder. “Your secret never left my lips,” he whispered, “and never will. No hard feelings, I hope.”
Roger’s shoulders slumped in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Really, I am, Hal. I heard through the rumor mill that she is gone. I never should have let her get between us.”
“Divorced and it didn’t cost me a dime,” Hal said softly. “Other than a one-way ticket to Costa Rica. Congratulations on having a daughter. They’re the greatest joy but can give you the greatest scares, too. I lost Grace for a while there, but she’s back. That’s her husband coming over to watch them now. Come on. Let me introduce you.”
“Daddy!” Vickie squealed, lunging for her father, ignoring the gap between him and her pink pony.
Grace caught her and held her tight, memorizing the feel of the soft yet sturdy body in her arms, the scent of shampoo and excitement, the sound of her squeals at being reunited with a parent. A sound she’d never hear from the children she’d lost.
The group walked away from the carousel, Vickie now clutching her daddy close. “Join us for a drink?” Hal asked. “We have plenty.”
“I’ll go get some little cups,” Dusty offered, then went back to the concession stand.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Roger scolded Vickie, his face furrowed with concern, a tear escaping from the corner of his eye at the thought of losing his treasure. “You scared your mother and me… Oh, shoot. Stay here with Uncle Hal and Cousin Gracie. I have to call Mommy and let her know I found you.”
Grace held onto the four-year-old as they watched Dusty pour the thick peach-colored confection into the cup. “Be careful,” she warned. “It’s messy. And don’t drink it too fast.”
“Brain freeze!” Vickie said, then giggled. “That really hurts, huh?”
Hal sat back and watched the pair interact, fantasizing of how it would be when Grace and Dusty had their own child. Or would have been if Grace’s twins had survived…
He shook his head. No bad thoughts today. Reunited with an estranged cousin: one huge blessing. Grace and Dusty discovering a new relative, another big blessing. Maybe this encounter would kick Grace’s hormones into gear, or realign whatever was keeping her from getting pregnant. Dusty had already been tested and verified as potent. The results from her visit with the fertility specialist this morning would be back in less than two weeks. Now all they could do was wait. And pray.
Roger handed Hal his business card that he had added his home and cellphone numbers to. “Call me anytime. We can get together. At least, if it isn’t too uncomfortable with you and Gloria.”
“Um,” Hal stalled, trying not to think of the woman he had wanted to marry but instead thinking of the opportunity for Grace to have ‘good’ family to get to know. “I think it would be fine. I know Grace has had some trouble conceiving. Maybe she and Gloria can share a few secrets. Or not. I’ll leave it up to you.” Hal pulled a card out of his wallet, scribbled his personal contact info on the back, and handed it to Roger. “We’re still just outside of Plymouth. I let the kids have my place. I’m up the road at the bachelor’s pad. You remember Doc Armstrong and Silas, right?”
Roger paled, then nodded. “Doc had three sons, didn’t he? And didn’t they start calling him Papa Doc after one of them became a doctor, too?”
“Yup. But a heads up if you come out to see us. He’s kinda, sorta out of sons. The first one was murdered by the second one – who’s in prison doing life – and the third one has been missing for four years. A little family drama there; not worth going into. I’m sure Chuck will come around again one of these days.”
“Yeah, family is family. When you least expect it, we’re there for each other. How many years has it been for us?” Roger asked.
“Way too many,” Hal said. “Tell Gloria I said hi, and congratulations to both of you for having one of the most beautiful daughters in the world. I’m a little prejudiced there, though. I don’t think you saw Grace when she was that age, but your little Vickie could be her clone. They’re identical all the way down to those little ears that stick out just enough to be precious. Little angel ears, I call them.”
“Must come down the mother’s line, then,” Roger said with a wink. Keep the adoption part a secret, Cousin. We can still claim these two girls are related without referring to Victoria the Viper-mother and aunt.
2
Bad News & a Birthday
Two weeks later
“Did we have to come into the city for this?” Dusty asked. “I mean, couldn’t the doctor just tell us what was wrong over the phone or call in a prescription or something?”
“I know they usually want to have a little visual going on at the same time. Posters and plastic models and such,” Grace said, then brought up her finger, ready to chew on her cuticle again.
Dusty caught her eye, then grinned. “Tabasco,” he whispered.
“Don’t you dare!” she hissed, then giggled. “Just the thought of it keeps me from doing it. But you’re right. I need a little reminder every once in a while. Nervous energy is not good. I think I’ll bring my crocheting with me next time. I can’t keep my hands still.”
“We have so many afghans now, I think we’re going to have to start giving them away.”
“I already did,” Grace said. “You only see the ones I make in the evening when you’re home. I make at least three shawls a week and take them right to the hospital for newborns and mommies.”
“Shawls for babies?” Dusty asked.
“Shawls for the mommies to use while they’re nursing the babies…” Grace sighed in longing and frustration, then huffed. “What’s taking them so long?”
“It’s a doctor’s office. That’s what they do.”
Grace looked around and saw that she wasn’t the only one with the anxious pallor and tight lips. She tried to smile at another woman whose eye she had caught, then realized they were both grimacing at what was sure to be bad news for both of them. She shrugged her shoulder and looked down at her hands, then twiddled her thumbs. Another clinic. Another doctor.
Dusty set his hand on top of hers. “Just a few more minutes, and then we’ll know. I’m sure it’s good news or they wouldn’t make us wait so long,” he said, hoping his wishful speculation was more fact than fantasy.
“Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes?” the nurse called out, scanning the room. “Come on back.”
Grace got to her feet, then faltered, nerves taking away her ability to lock her knees. “I got you,” Dusty whispered, his arm around her waist.
“That’s the only thing that keeps me going,” Grace whispered back.
The nurse ushered the couple into the doctor’s office, totally bypassing the exam rooms. “Uh, oh,” Dusty whispered. “I don’t know if this is good or bad.”
“Bad,” Grace said, covering her mouth to keep from losing the light breakfast she’d eaten.
Dusty leaned forward and looked for a trash can, but was stilled by Grace’s hand. “I got it,” she said, then sat back, composed. “It is what it is.”
The bald and rotund doctor came in and greeted the young couple. “Let me be blunt,” he said. “I see from your records that you were delivered of twins approximately four years ago via cesarean section. There were no hospital records that we could find…” he said, waiting for Grace to complete his thought.
“It was a private clinic,” she said. “The doctor told me the twins died. That’s why I know I’m not barren. I’ve conceived before.”
“Uh, huh…”
“And my husband was tested three years ago. He’s got very active sperm. They even wanted him as a donor!” Grace tried to contain her anger and frustration but it spilled out. “So, if I can conceive twins and carry them to over eight months gestation,” she said vehemently, “and my husband has swimmers that are so active that the fertility folks wanted his boys for building tall blond babies, why can’t we have a baby together? I mean, we did it before!”
“Because, my dear,” the doctor said with as much compassion as he could, “the doctor or nurse or whoever delivered you, tied your tubes when he was in there. You had a tubal ligation. You have healthy eggs but no way for them to get to the uterus.”
“I’ll kill him,” Grace hissed. “If I ever see that Dr. Buddy again, I swear to God and to anything holy or unholy, I’ll kill him!”
“Oh…Dr. Buddy…” the doctor said.
“You know him?” Grace asked, turning back to Dusty. He shrugged his shoulders, clueless.
“He was arrested about three, maybe four, years ago. He had a series of birthing clinics all up and down the east coast. He’d bring in pregnant women who wanted to give their babies up for adoption, give them a wonderful place to stay while gestating, then deliver them.”
