Adirondack Audacity (36 page)

Tee suggested before starting legal proceedings to
contact the private detective employed by her law firm.
She assured me the man was tenacious at ferreting out
information. The firm used him exclusively due to his
high rate of success. But he was very expensive.

With a little luck and good timing, I hired Richard
Harsonge on retainer…and not only was he
expensive…..he was
very
expensive. Even Vic’s eyes
widened at the cost. No Jimmy Choo shoes for me.

And finally, one night about a week ago, as Vic and I
relaxed in front of the fireplace at the ranch, the phone
rang. It was Harsonge, informing us he obtained the
requested information. He refused to go over his findings
on the phone, suggesting an appointment be made with
Tee in New York City. A copy of his investigation would
be forwarded to the Manhattan office by courier. In
addition, he proposed we allow Tee to open the
paperwork, and review the contents from a legal
perspective before our meeting.

Since the phone call, V
ic and I can’t eat, can’t sleep
and had our first fight. Over what flavor of ice cream to
buy! We’re going nuts. He started running, I stopped
eating, I lost three pounds, he lost five……..except he
lost the weight off his stomach, I lost it off my
boobs……life isn’t fair.

At last the day arrives and Tee ushers us into her
office wearing her professional lawyer demeanor, all
business until she relaxes back in her chair, a barely
suppressed smile on her face, eyes twinkling with eager
anticipation.

I take one look at the file on her desk and want to
launch myself at it. Vic must have read my mind because
he places a restraining hand on my arm.

“Actually, if you want to wait, we can do this
some…other time?” She says, pointing to the file with a
nonchalant air, a puckish grin on her face. “Hey, I heard
of this new bistro on 25
^th
, what about lunch first?”

“Tee, I love you, but if you don’t open that
immediately,” I say, between clenched teeth. “I may have
to kill you.”

Vic puts both hands on the desk, looks her in the eye
and growls, “Tell us for Christ sake!”
“Sorry,” she says, looking contrite, “I’m just so
excited, I don’t know where to start.”
“Teeee,” Vic says, his voice raising an octave.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes!” We shout in unison.
“Okay, here we go,” she opens the file, arranges the
papers to her satisfaction, picks up a pair of reading
glasses, and begins………she’s either going to break my
heart or make my life complete in the next few minutes.
“Richard Harsonge delivered this to me a few days ago.”
She places a protective hand over the paperwork. “I did
review the information, as requested from a legal stand
point. I know how important this is to you.”
I cast a worried glance at Vic, and he gives my hand a
reassuring squeeze. Our lives and the life of our son
forever changed based on some papers in an envelope;
just a small thin envelope. Would he want to see us? How
will our children react to a half-brother? Will the
adoption parents feel threatened? Should the past have
remained buried? A litany of doubts plays in my head, I’m
clenching Vic’s hand so tight;; my nails dig into the soft
flesh of his palm. A wave of anxiety sweeps over me. So
many years of asking…where are you? Do they love you?
Emotion overwhelms me, a sob escapes my throat.
Vic glances nervously at me. “
Mia,
are you all right?
We said we wanted this no matter what.” I mutely nod.
Taking a deep breath he gives Tee the nod to proceed
“Ellen, relax, I’m happy to report, it’s all good news.”
Tee’s face finally breaks into a grin as she holds out the
first sheet of paper. “We’ve waited a long time to find
this baby. And now here he is…a fully grown man.”
Did she say a man? I’ve always thought of him as a
baby, a little boy. A surreal feeling washes over me.
“Joshua Westland,” she looks up, tucking a lock of
sleekly coifed hair behind her ear. “Your son’s name is
Joshua Westland. Ironically, he lives near Old Forge in
the Adirondacks.” Tee says with a glimmer of mischief in
her eyes. “Not far from where he was conceived.” She
wiggles a finger at us, a goofy grin on her face. “Yes?”
Sometimes……Tee’s sense of timing is not the best, her
comments occasionally off the mark, creating awkward
moments, like now. She stops short at the look on our
faces. “Okay then……to continue on,” She reverts back
to her professional demeanor, “He’s a biology teacher at
Blue Mountain High School. In addition to his teaching
duties, he heads up the ecology and photography clubs at
school.
Hmmmmm.
” She taps the side of her face with a
finger. “I wonder how he inherited those talents. His
adoptive father is a civil engineer, working for the Army
Corp of Engineers. Together he and his wife ran
Westland’s Canoe Outfitters in Old Forge. They are avid
backpackers and members of the family compete in the
Adirondack Canoe Classic held every September.”
I vaguely remember hearing about the ADK Canoe
Classic, it’s some ninety mile race held over a three day
period in September. One of Jack’s nephews competed in
it a few years back. Vic and I dare not look at each other
for fear of breaking this spell of good fortune. The grip I
have on his hand is crushing.
“He is married,” she looks up removing her glasses,
and smiles. “This is the best part. He has two children.”
She gushes, “A girl named Isabella, who they call Izzy,
she is five and the little boy just turned three, his name is
Ansel, like the photographer.” Tee pauses for dramatic
effect, with a flourish of her hands, she announces.
“You’re grandparents! Get it, Grandma and Grandpa!”
I’m stunned. I look at Vic shaking my head, not
comprehending this information. A son……and two
grandchildren magically appear and most likely a
daughter-in-law too. We never thought any farther than
finding our son, the fact our child was close to thirty, and
married with children never occurred to us. It’s quite
feasible and logical;; we’re just unprepared for this bounty
of blessings. Vic releases my hand, leans back, rapidly
blinking in an effort to control the deep well of emotion
breaking to the surface from a core of hurt and misplaced
guilt. He hurriedly wipes a tear from his eye, while I
unabashedly weep. This can’t be happening. Am I
dreaming? For good measure I pinch my arm, this is
reality, we’ve found our son. It’s true. The puzzle pieces
from the past, fall into place, and fit so perfectly.
“Tee,” Vic pauses in askance. “How can we be sure
this is our son? The paper trail for finding adopted
children is often vague and full of speculation, not facts.
Without a DNA test, how can we be positive Joshua is
our son?”
Not saying a word, a small secretive smile plays across
her face as Tee reaches into the envelope and removes a
photograph. Slowly and deliberately she pushes it toward
us. In a quiet voice she asks, “What do you think?”
I stare at the image of our son on her desk, as the air
is sucked from my lungs.
“Sweet Jesus!” I hear Vic expel, leaping up to get a
closer look at the picture on the desk. “It can’t be; it just
can’t be.” Oh, but it is……there smiling up at us from
the glossy eight by ten photo is a picture of our son,
looking slightly older than Vic when I met him the
summer of my seventeenth year. The face is Vic, the
square lean jaw accented by chiseled cheekbones, the
same tousled dark hair…….and the eyes…….. deep with
amber lights of gold. No denying whose son this is…and
no need for DNA testing.
A cold clammy sweat breaks out over my body. My
heart’s racing, and those little stars that dance in front of
your eyes before passing out, are twinkling and whirling
in the foreground. The room spins and fades before
going dark. And for someone who has never fainted
before, this is twice in six months……thank God for
strong arms to fall into………but as I go down I take out
Tee’s prized Oak Wood Country Club Tennis Award of
2005……….Vic catches me…… but the trophy falls and
shatters into pieces………..it was made of Swarovsky
crystal
. Oh boy……..

Once recovered from the shock of finding Josh, the
reality of contacting him occupied long discussions into
the night. I wanted to jump on the first plane and throw
myself on his doorstep as his long, lost mother. Vic on
the other hand, cynical from many years of celebrity
status suggested we proceed slowly, showing up on his
doorstep announcing ourselves as Mom and Dad seemed
radical and preposterous. And he cautioned, while Josh
may be our son, we don’t know anything about him. We
need to protect ourselves. As far as we know, he never
tried finding us; maybe he has no interest in meeting his
biological parents.

In the end, we opted for a plan that will give us time
to acquaint ourselves with him from a distance, let him
meet us as people before introducing the fact we’re his
parents. And pray he doesn’t think we’re creepy stalkers.

We contacted a real estate agent in the Old Forge area
inquiring about rental property. The owners of the camp
called it Camp Sky Haven. We called it perfect for our
needs. The camp was forty-five minutes outside of Old
Forge, located within close proximity of the town but far
enough away for privacy.

We rented Sky Haven from May through September.
The camp overlooks a private lake with a gargantuan
kitchen, four bedrooms, multiple porches, balconies, a
boat house with an antique Chris Craft boat, a canoe, two
kayaks and the lake comes with a licensed pilot on call for
the….
seaplane………with pontoons! A fricking Seaplane!

The camp, new by Adirondack standards was
constructed 50 years ago in the tradition of the Great
Camps. As much as I loved the mystic of renting an older
historic camp, the reality of drafty rooms, erratic electrical
service and limited communication lines enticed us to
rent a modern version of a Great Camp. Face it, I’m all
for going nature girl. Give me a backpack, some stout
hiking boots and let’s head for the back country.
Otherwise, a hot shower, down feather beds and a fully
stocked refrigerator set the standard. I believe the hand
lettered sign over my bed reads,
Former Purist……gone soft.

Well off the main road, nestled in a forest of balsam
pines, the house sits on a small rise facing the mountain
lake. The two-story timber frame lodge was built using
logs and indigenous stone work from the local area. A
shingled roof with broad overhangs covers multiple
porches. A large expanse of windows overlooks a
shoreline bordered with mountain laurel, alder and
clumps of willow. Loons call out over the water at dusk
and dawn, and the wings of osprey flash as they dive for
fish in the afternoon sun.

Ferns and shade loving plants landscape the gardens
surrounding the house while the decks boast a mixture of
Adirondack chairs and tables built from twisted twigs and
branches.

The kitchen is a gourmet cook’s paradise;; at least, I
think it is…I don’t recognize half of the appliances or
culinary gadgets in there…sooo, it could be a hardware
store for all I know.

My stomach misses Bridget, but my expanding waist
needs a remote location with limited access to food
prepared by someone who actually knows how to cook. I
need to rely upon my own culinary talents…how long
before a person starves to death?

Holding a steaming mug of coffee, I lean against the
porch railing watching the sun rise over the lake. Beams
of golden light glitter through the trees, the riparian
plants growing along the water’s edge glisten in the
morning sun. The month of May in the mountains is a
time of rebirth after the long Adirondack winters.

My recovery from the miscarriage in November was
neither swift nor easy. There are reasons women in their
forties don’t get pregnant…our bodies suck at it…..it’s
kind of been there….done that…..and
not
going there
again. So exhausted and emotionally spent, I’ve taken a
leave of absence from my job at school and moved
myself into Camp Sky Haven. Standing on the balcony
overlooking the lake, breathing in the crisp spring air, I’m
reminded of the tuberculosis patients at the turn of the
century coming to the Adirondacks in hopes of finding a
cure. The mountains hold a healing power.

And while renting a camp in the mountains for an
entire summer may seem drastic, the idea involves us
moving into the Old Forge area and becoming part of the
community. Actually, I become part of the community.
After Vic’s last movie, half the magazine covers in
America carry his picture. And despite the fact he had
plastic surgery after the motorcycle accident years ago,
the resemblance between Vic and our son remains
astonishing. He needs to stay undercover…..for a while.
With my leave of absence from school, I have time to
walk the dog through town, join in on town events, and
volunteer for a committee or two.

Hence, the idea of renting a house, where I can live
full time, instill myself in town while getting acquainted
with Josh and his family. Vic will commute back and
forth depending on his schedule.

Due to a PR event in Miami, Vic left camp this
morning at first light on the seaplane. Pressing business,
his publicist said, it couldn’t wait.
Really?
Florida, the font
of unlimited sun, oceans of retired people, mecca of the
early bird special…can’t wait. Since when is anything
pressing in Florida, I once saw a gopher tortoise beat an
old lady riding a three wheel bike across the road. If they
have anything…..it’s time…..they can wait. I miss him
already.
Selfish.

Setting the mug on the railing, I inhale deeply raising
my arms in a yoga stretch, enjoying the luxury of the
serene mountain morning. A sense of peace and
contentment pervades my body. Alone in the mountains.
Tranquility, until a wet nose followed by a thumping tail
nearly knocks me over. About a year ago, my children
suggested, Jack’s parents insisted, and finally, the family
took matters into their own hands….and bought me a
dog. A big scruffy tri-colored collie named Cyrus. After
Jack’s death, everyone decided I was spending too much
time alone. Trey involved in school and sports, Lani on
the West Coast, I needed companionship. No one gave
me credit for having a life of my own. And none of us
bargained on Cyrus. Seventy-five pounds of boundless
energy, unfettered by the multiple dog obedience classes
we attended. The last one asked us to leave after Cyrus
tried humping a Pekinese. It was like trying to wedge a
compact car under a moving semi-truck. As the instructor
pointed to the door, she suggested tranquilizers, I wasn’t
sure if she meant for me or the dog.