If it were for true love, I would do it. But not like this, not because of convenience or to make a statement or because of my own inertia . . .
I will be in touch to work out the details. Jim, I want Liza to know her father, and I hope you’ll want to know her. Laurel, I suspect that this will be hardest for you; I know you are attached to her. But I hope that you’ll understand, if not immediately, then one day. Please forgive me, both of you, for I truly believe this is for the best.
Sincerely,
Sue”
Laurel stopped reading at last. Jessie, stunned beyond words, sat rigidly in the kitchen chair, her bare legs dimpled against the chill, her ear hot where she held her phone against it. Her mind whirled. She said nothing.
“Well?” Laurel said at last. “Aren’t you going to react? Aren’t you going to say something? Liza is gone. And you have nothing to—?”
“What can I possibly say, Laurel?” she said, cutting her mother off, her fury surging out of her. “What? You call here at five in the morning to tell me that my daughter is gone—”
“Your daughter? What do you mean ‘your daughter?’ She is my child. She was never meant to be your daughter, Jessie.”
“No,” Jessie said, suddenly eerily calm. “She was never meant to be my daughter, that’s true. But she came from my egg, didn’t she? So what does that make her, exactly?”
“Ha! Before this happened, you didn’t want her. She was never ‘yours’ before, was she?”
“Oh, just stop! It doesn’t matter.” Jessie’s voice broke. “I gave you those eggs because I wanted you to be happy. Oh God, I never thought—”
“I called you because I thought you might comfort me, Jessie. I’m the one who has lost her baby. What do you have to wail about? You gave up those eggs willingly. You knew what it meant . . . She was never supposed to be yours.”
“She wasn’t supposed to be out there in the world with some stranger either.”
“Oh, come on. Sue is hardly a stranger.”
“She is to me!” Suddenly Jessie stopped, remembering something. “Wait a second. You told me . . . Didn’t you tell me you were going to make it official? That you’d be the co-guardian?”
“We were, but—”
“You never did, did you? That’s just great.”
“We meant to. But we . . . we just never got around to it. We had a newborn to take care of, in case you forgot,” Laurel said defensively. “You have no idea how all-consuming that can be.”
Oh, spare me, Jessie thought, but she clamped her mouth shut against the words. There was no point in fighting with Laurel. She, herself, had made this bed. And now she would lie in it. Her chest ached and her face burned. How could she have done this? Sarah was right; she had been a fool.
When Laurel spoke again, there was a new, plaintive note in her voice.
“Oh Jessie. I never thought this would happen—not once in a million years. Sue was always . . . Oh, she was a rock. I never thought—”
“You never thought she might need love, too?” Jessie spoke dryly. All the shock of it had left her. She felt she understood why Sue had done what she did; she couldn’t blame her. It was herself she blamed. As inevitable as it seemed to her now, she knew that all of this should have had nothing to do with her. It was just another stop on Laurel’s train wreck of a life. She should never have climbed aboard.
“She never seemed to need it,” Laurel protested.
“Need what?” Jessie asked, forgetting her own words.
“Love. That kind of love, I mean. Oh, what am I going to do? And . . . it’s not just me I’m worried about. That poor little girl—she was attached to me, too, you know. What’s it going to be like for her? Taken from her second mother? Her father. You can’t just do that to a child.”
“You did it, Mom. You let Dad have Emma and me. I was about her age, even. And we survived.”
The silence on the line stretched so tight Jessie braced herself.
“I didn’t know you blamed me for that, Jessie,” Laurel said coolly. “It wasn’t my fault your father left Arcata. That he took you so far away. You have no idea what that cost me.”
“I don’t know whose ‘fault’ it was, Mom, and at this point, I really don’t think it matters. But I do know you gave him custody. And I know we lost our mother early, and we survived.”
“You girls had Sarah. It’s not like you didn’t have a mother to care for you.”
“Not at first, we didn’t. Sarah was our babysitter, Mom, not our—look, I don’t want to talk about all that. It’s over now. Anyway, Liza has Sue, doesn’t she? It’s not like she’ll be the only kid in the world to be raised by a single, separated mom—”
“Stop making it sound so trite, Jessie. Sue’s not like all the typical divorced moms out there and you know it.”
“It sounds to me like that might be exactly what she wants to be. And, you know, maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s better this way. That poor girl was going to have a lot of strange explaining to do.” “Better for whom?” Laurel demanded, her voice almost a wail. “It’s not better for me, for Christ’s sake. There’s only one thing in this world worse than being a motherless child.”
“And what is that?”
“Being a childless mother.”
“Oh, come on.” The words were out before she could stop them. “And that’s you, is it? A childless mother?”
“Yes! I have just lost—”
“Did you forget who you’re talking to, Laurel? I am your daughter. So just how are you a childless mother? Do you even know what you’re saying? Did you even think about who you’d be talking to when you called here in the middle of the night? I AM YOUR DAUGHTER. And not only that, I am your daughter who was stupid enough to give you what no daughter should be asked to give her mother. Did you even pause for one second to think about how all this might feel to me? A childless mother? For Christ’s sake, Laurel. If anyone’s a childless mother, it’s me.”
“Oh, Jessie . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . . I just wanted another . . . I wanted to . . . I wanted to get it right this time . . .” The words were almost inaudible between her sobs.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Jessie said, and she hung up the phone.
In the bedroom, Jessie’s side of the bed had given up its warmth, but when she raised the blankets she could feel the heat of Heath’s body rushing out, heavy with the scent of him. She pushed her chilled limbs against him, shivering.
“Jesus, Jess,” he muttered, waking. “You’re freezing.”
He rolled over and put his arms around her. “Where have you been? Oh honey, what’s wrong?”
Jessie pushed her face into the coarse hair on his chest and began, silently, to cry.
“Jessie? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, God, Heath. You’ve married an idiot. I did such a stupid, stupid thing.”
He held her while she cried, not saying anything. When, at last, she had calmed, he spoke into her hair. “Now, can you tell me the supposedly stupid thing my brilliant wife has done?”
She told him everything, murmuring the words into his chest. When she was finished, he stroked her hair and sighed.
“Well, it’s a mess all right,” he said. “But want to know how I see it, Jess? Yeah, maybe it was foolish of you. But that’s not the main thing. The main thing is that you did it to be kind. You did it to be generous. And it was. The bottom line is this. You didn’t really give those eggs to Laurel, even if that’s what you were thinking at the time. You gave them to Sue. She wanted a child, and you made that possible for her. It was extremely generous of you.”
Jessie groaned. “I just don’t know, Heath. Now that little girl is out there in the world by herself. She has no connection to me whatsoever now—”
“She’s not by herself, Jessie. She’s with her mother. Hey, you must have known when you gave the eggs . . .” he went on gently. “You must have known you wouldn’t be the mother?”
She si
ghed. “Yeah, I knew. But I thought I’d be her . . . her something.”
“I know.” He was silent for a moment, thinking.
“Well, I would hate to be accused of sounding mainstream but—”
“But what?”
“Well, maybe it is for the best. I always thought it was kind of a weird situation.”
“You did?”
He studied her for a moment before answering. “Yeah. I mean, anyone would, wouldn’t they? And wasn’t that sort of the point?”
“It wasn’t my point. I was just trying . . . I was just trying to be nice. To give Laurel what she wanted. I wanted her to be . . . I wanted her to have the chance, at least. To be happy.”
“And it was very kind of you, Jessie.”
“It was stupid.”
He smiled grimly. “Maybe a little.” Heath raised himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “Want to know what else I think?”
“What?”
“You might have been foolish to agree to it, I’ll grant you that. But Laurel never should have asked you. She never should have put you in this position. I am sure that on some level she knew you loved her and would do it because you loved her. But no mother should ask that of her kid, period.”
Jessie sighed and closed her eyes. “That’s almost exactly what Sarah said.”
“Yeah, well, great minds and all that . . . Plus, it shouldn’t be your job to make your mother happy. What about you? You deserve to be happy, too, you know.”
At that, Jessie’s tears began anew. Heath held her close, neither of them speaking, until at last Jessie’s eyes closed and she slept.
CHAPTER 50
Jessie
When, a few days later, Jessie saw the envelope in their mailbox, unmistakable among the bills and junk mail, her stomach dove. She stuffed the other letters back into the mailbox and sat down on the overgrown grass in their small front yard. Then she tore the envelope with trembling fingers and pulled out the single sheet of folded paper inside.
Dear Jessie,
I imagine that by now you have heard from Laurel the news about my leaving, and I hope that you can understand why I decided what I did. Please know that I have only the best interests of Elizabeth at heart.
I thought that you should know that I do not intend to tell my daughter of her biological origins until she is older. The circumstances of her birth are confusing even for mature adults; I do not now believe that it is appropriate information to share with a child. If she asks, I will tell her that her egg came from an incredibly kind donor who wanted to make it possible for me to have the child that I wanted so much.
Thank you again for your generous act. Please know that I will always be grateful.
Sincerely,
Sue
Jessie read it twice, then let it fall from her fingers. She lay back in the grass and closed her eyes. There was nothing surprising in it, and yet Jessie felt as if she had just heard the news for the first time. Her mind reeled. Her stomach churned. She felt as she did during a terrible dream, when the world seemed to spiral out of her control in unimaginable ways. Jessie was a scientist at heart; she was used to looking for solutions. But here there was nothing to be done.
Jessie’s whole body ached with the inescapable fact of it—that child, out there in the world, yet unknown to her. Before, she hadn’t thought of Liza as hers; she hadn’t, in fact, thought of her much at all. Jessie’s mind was used to categories, and it had been easy to designate Liza not to herself, but to Laurel. But with that connection severed, the little girl whirled in her mind as if in a vacuum, until she came to rest, again and again, with her.
The irony of it was not lost on her. She had given those eggs to try to heal, in some small part, the damage done by her own parents’ divorce. She had done it to try to ease Laurel’s persistent loneliness, to fulfill her desire for a second shot at motherhood. Instead, she had cast yet another soul into the bedlam of another separation, one more family’s failure to hold together.
All day, her mind would not settle, until at last she picked up her phone to call her sister.
“I understand how you must feel, Jess,” Emma said gently. “But maybe . . . Maybe you could try to frame it differently? I mean, in a way Sue’s just trying to protect that little girl.”
“Protect her by tearing her family apart?”
“You don’t have to see it that way.”
“What other way is there?”
“Well, that she’s giving her a chance to have a life that’s a little more . . . a life that’s not so complicated. It’s not like she’s abandoned her, Jessie. She’ll have a mother who loves her, a father who may not live with her but who is in her life, at least. She’s not going to have to constantly explain—never mind understand—why she has two moms when almost everyone else just has—”
“Emma, how can you be saying this? You of all people? You have always wanted kids. What if things had worked out with Katherine? I mean, what if you eventually end up with a woman? Are you saying you won’t have kids because you wouldn’t want your children to have two moms? That is so homophobic, Emma. I can’t believe—”
“Two mothers who love each other is a lot different from Sue and Laurel’s situation and you know it, Jessie.”
“But who cares? They’re grown-ups. Why should anyone care how they choose to organize their family? It’s their choice. Everyone should have the right to—”
“But it didn’t work out, Jessie, did it? Of course it was fine for Jim. Fine for Laurel, too. But what about Sue? It never made sense to me what was in it for her. I’m not surprised she wanted out.”
“She made a commitment. She should have honored that.”
“Did she? They weren’t married.”
“They had a child.”
“Well, at least she didn’t leave her child like Laurel did.”
There was a moment of charged silence between them. When Jessie finally spoke, she did so calmly, but even she could hear the accusation behind her words.
“You’re never going to forgive Laurel, are you? God, Emma, it was more than twenty years ago. People make mistakes. Parents make mistakes. But usually they don’t lose their children because of them. Laurel shouldn’t have left. But Dad shouldn’t have left either. Parents can’t just leave each other. It’s not fair to the—”
“Oh, Jessie. Just stop, will you? Can you imagine what our lives would have been like if Laurel and Dad hadn’t gotten divorced? Dad would have been miserable. We would have had Laurel for a mother. It would have been awful. Laurel leaving, Dad getting custody and marrying Mom—that’s the best thing that could have happened. Thank God it did.”
“Jesus, Emma. Do you hear yourself? How can you say, ‘Thank God Laurel left,’ and still blame her for it?”
For a moment, Emma was speechless. The silence that stretched between them was heavy and unfamiliar.
“You’re right,” Emma said quietly. “I shouldn’t blame her for leaving us. I just wish . . .”
“What?”
“I just wish she could have left us alone. We would have been fine with Mom and Dad. I always wished for that when I was little. I had a mom. I didn’t need Laurel. I didn’t want her.”
Now Jessie was silent. When she spoke at last, her voice was tight. “That’s why you think this is okay, isn’t it, Emma? Because Sue can do what Dad couldn’t. Sue can just leave. She can take her daughter with her. She can be the mother. The one and only mother. She doesn’t have to let Laurel be anything.”
Emma sighed. “I don’t know, Jessie. Maybe.” She paused. “It will make things simpler for her. For Liza, I mean,” she said softly.
Jessie let out her breath, a bitter laugh. “But what about me, Emma? There’s nothing I can do.”
“Jessie,” Emma said gently, “your part is over. Don’t you see that? When you decided to donate those eggs, you knew you were giving up whatever children came of them. It’s no different now. Not really.”
�
�But now there’s no connection at all—”
“There’s not supposed to be. That’s why egg donation is usually anonymous. The donor gives the eggs, but it’s the birth mother who’s the real—”
“God, I hate that word. All my life, it’s been, ‘But who’s your real mother?’ Why can’t it just be simple?”
“I don’t know,” Emma said. “But it’s not.”
“Emma,” Jessie said, her voice breaking. “It wasn’t fair. What you said about wanting Laurel to leave you alone. You loved Mom; you didn’t need Laurel. But that’s not what it was like for me.”
“I know, Jessie.”
“Emma, I should have been allowed . . .” She gasped for air, her sobs crowding out the words. “I should have been allowed to love them both.”
“Oh, Jessie. I know,” Emma said. “I’m sorry—”
“What do you have to be sorry for?” Jessie said. Against her cheek, her phone was slick with tears; she wiped her eyes fiercely with the back of one hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Em. You’re probably the only one who didn’t.”
“That’s not true. But it doesn’t matter. You said it, Jessie. People make mistakes. I’m just sorry . . . I’ve always been sorry . . . It was so hard on you, Jessie. More than on anyone, I think. It should never have been so hard on you.”
Neither sister said anything for a moment. Jessie heard Emma blow her nose.
“Thank you, Emma,” she said.
“For what? Blowing my nose in your ear?”
Jessie smiled through her tears. “No, for saying that. I think I’ve been waiting for a long time to hear someone say that.”
“Well, it’s true. Maybe it is nobody’s fault. But it should never have been so hard on you.”
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