Lottery (15 page)

“Is this Jenee?” the female voice asked.

“Yes,” Jenee answered in a reserved tone, not recognizing the voice. She glanced into the living room and saw Baileigh was watching cartoons.

“This is Ling Jameson O’Toole in San Francisco.”

“Okay.” Jenee walked back into the kitchen, trying to place the name.

“You put in an application for adopting a child from China,” Ling said.

Jenee’s heart fluttered. “Yes.”

It had been over a week ago that Jenee had pushed the send button and submitted their application.

“Is this a good time to chat?” Ling asked.

“Sure.” Jenee sat down at the kitchen table and pushed her naturally curly hair back off her forehead. Was this a hoax?

“My husband and I just got back from China a couple of days ago, so I’m still suffering a bit from jet lag. If I say something weird, just let me know.”

Jenee laughed. “No problem. I’m good at being weird without jet lag.”

“First of all,” Ling began, “I wanted to explain that there will be no cost for you and your husband if you are chosen to adopt a child.”

Jenee braced her elbow on the table and rested her head into her hand. “I don’t understand.”

“My husband Caleb and I will take care of all the costs.”

She sat up straight. “Is this a joke? Because, I don’t think it’s very funny if—”

“Not a joke.” Ling said. “I’ll just say that we have the means to help people and I’m half-Chinese. It’s been a dream of mine to place orphaned Chinese children with America parents.”

“Is this like a reality show or something?”

“I know,” Ling told her. “It was a bit overwhelming for me to believe this could really happen, too.”

Jenee’s throat suddenly felt parched. “But I don’t quite understand.” She stood, walked to the cupboard, and took out a glass.

“For now, let’s just chat if that’s all right. And then I’ll tell you how this all came to be.”

Was this really happening? There had to be hundreds, maybe even thousands, who’d filled out applications. Jenee had so many questions, but if this was legitimate, she needed to listen, not talk. “Sure.” She glanced out the window and saw her neighbor hurrying to her car. Jenee put her palm up as a wave.

“You said in your application you have a little girl. Baileigh? Is that correct?”

“Yes. She’ll be four in December. She is such a sweetheart.” If Ling O’Toole was telling the truth, this could be once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to adopt a child. Please God, don’t let me blow it, she thought to herself. Jenee turned on the faucet and filled her glass.

“And your husband Justin, he owns his own business, right?” Ling asked.

“He started it right out of high school.” Jenee took a sip of her water.

“Mommy.” Jenee heard Baileigh and hurried into the living room to check on her. “Mrs. O’Toole?” Jenee asked.

“Ling, please just call me Ling,” Ling replied.

“Okay, Ling. Could you hold on for a sec?”

“No problem.”

Jenee covered the mouthpiece. “What honey?”

“I’m thirsty,” Baileigh whined.

“I’ll get you some juice.” Jenee brought the phone back to her ear. “Sorry.”

“Do you need a minute?” Ling asked.

Jenee took out a cup from the cupboard. “Nope. I became a multi-tasker when Baileigh was born.” She sandwiched the phone between her ear and shoulder and opened the refrigerator. “That was when I learned how to put a roast in the oven and talk on the phone, while feeding my daughter.”

Ling laughed.

Jenee heard the faint voice of someone in the background when she handed Baileigh the cup.

“Just a minute, Caleb,” Ling called back.

“Do you need to go? Because we can chat later if you—”

“No, no, my husband can wait.”

Did Jenee hear a bit of a reservation in Ling’s voice?

“Before we go any further, I do want to tell you that the orphanage I’m working with has many children with mental and physical handicaps,” Ling said.

Jenee stopped what she was doing. “Handicaps?”

“There are some who were born without limbs, or have Cerebral Palsy or Down syndrome. But they also care for children who don’t have those types of challenges.”

“Before our daughter was born,” Jenee said, trying to pull her thoughts together, “my husband and me talked a lot about how we would feel if our child was born with a handicap.”

“Many children in China are discarded because of physical or mental limitations,” Ling explained.

Jenee massaged her forehead with two fingers. “I’ve never understood how a parent could turn their back on an innocent child.”

They’d been talking for almost forty-five minutes when Jenee heard Justin’s truck pull into the driveway. Suddenly, she felt guilty. She should have told Justin she’d sent in the application.

“Why don’t you talk with your husband about what we’ve discussed? And, if you both decide this is something you’d like to pursue, I’d like to come to Topeka.”

Jenee’s stomach did a flip-flop. “Really?”

“I’d like to get to know more about you and your family,” Ling said.

Feeling anxious that Justin would walk in at any moment, Jenee glanced out the window and saw him talking to a neighbor in the driveway. “That would be wonderful.” She had forgotten every question she’d wanted to ask. “Is it okay if I call you back tomorrow?”

“Ling, I need to talk to you now.” This time the male voice in the background was louder.

“That would be great. I’ll wait for your call,” Ling said quickly.

Just as Justin walked through the door, Jenee closed her phone.

“Hey.” Justin took off his baseball cap and his thick light brown hair fell over his eyebrows.

“How was your day?” Jenee asked.

“Good.” Justin walked to the half bath off the kitchen to wash his hands. “Had a helluva time getting an engine working. Took five hours.”

Jenee felt anxious and took off the lid of the pan and stirred the goulash, the aroma of hamburger, onions, and tomatoes filling the kitchen.

“Smells good,” Justin commented, and nodded into the living room. “I see our child is watching cartoons again.”

Another pang of guilt rushed through her since she and Justin had decided that cartoons would not be their daughter’s primary entertainment. “I needed to get a few things done,” she justified.

“Baileigh,” Justin said, walking into the living room. “Enough.”

“Daddy, no!” Baileigh let out a wail. “Mommy said I could.”

“Pumpkin.” Jenee heard him say calmly. “Why don’t you go draw your old dad a picture?”

“Not until after dinner,” Jenee called out. “It’s ready.” Hurriedly, she set the table as Justin helped Baileigh wash her hands. A handicapped child? She had no idea if Justin would even consider adopting a child with limitations. Wouldn’t that mean a lot of doctor’s appointments? And what about insurance?

“Lord,” Justin said, his head bowed at the kitchen table, “bless this food and our family. Keep us safe from harm. Amen.”

“Amen.” Jenee said, with Baileigh’s small voice chiming in.

“Baileigh,” Jenee reprimanded, watching her daughter scoot the macaroni around on her plate, “don’t play with your food.”

The three-year-old scrunched up her nose. “I don’t like it.”

Jenee flashed Justin a look.

“What don’t you like about it, honey?” Justin asked Baileigh.

“These yellow things.” Baileigh looked down at her plate. “They look like teeth.”

Jenee covered her mouth so as not to laugh.

“If we didn’t have those little yellow things, the whole state of Kansas might disappear,” Justin teased.

“Huh?” Baileigh’s blue eyes grew wide.

“Yep. We would be living in California or Texas, and Kansas wouldn’t be here.”

Baileigh’s lower lip started to quiver. “I don’t want Kansas to go ‘way.’”

“Justin,” Jenee said tersely.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Justin told his daughter, “I’m kidding. Kansas would still be here, but one of the best things about Kansas is those yellow teeth.” He sunk his head down so he could look into Baileigh’s eyes. “Will you just try one?” He put his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Just a little bitty one for Dad?”

Justin was great with Baileigh.

“Okay.” Baileigh said reluctantly, and picked up a kernel between her pudgy fingers. Slowly pushing into her mouth, her eyes lit up. “I like it.”

“See, Baileigh,” Jenee scolded, “you have to try something before you say you don’t like it.”

Justin took his plate to the sink. “Why don’t Baileigh and I go up and read a few books before her bath? You seem a bit … preoccupied.”

It showed? Jenee stood and started to clear the plates. “I need a bit of your time later.”

“No problem.” He swept Baileigh up into his arms. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“Can I draw you a picture?” Baileigh asked Justin. “’Member you said I could.”

“Sure,” he replied.

Standing at the sink putting the dishes into the dishwasher, Jenee wondered how she should approach Justin. He was not
going to be happy when he found out that she’d put in the application without consulting him, especially when it had to do with something this important.

She’d busied herself with the grocery list and then went to the bottom of the stairs. “Baileigh,” Jenee called out, “when you’re ready for bed, come give Mommy a kiss goodnight.” Five weeks had gone by since the operation, and Justin was adamant that Jenee was not going to lift anything or take the stairs without her physician’s approval.

After she kissed Baileigh goodnight, Jenee sat down at the kitchen table and waited for Justin. Her stomach was tied into knots. She hoped Justin would be open to finding out more.

“What’s going on?” Justin asked, coming through the door into the kitchen.

She folded her hands and put them down on the round oak table. “I sent in the application.”

“Huh?” He pulled out a chair and sat across from her. With only the overhead light over the sink on, the room was dimly lit. “Like for a job?”

Her eyes met his. “Like for an adoption.”

Justin stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes blank. “You talking about that ad you saw at the hospital?”

“I know I should have asked you, but I was so excited to find out more and—”

“You sent it in without discussing it with me?” His face crimson, he pushed a hand over his head. “You’ll never hear from them. It’s not legit. No one pays for an adop—”

“But … I did.”

“You did what?”

“Hear from the woman who placed the ad.” Jenee held her breath.

Justin crossed his arms across his T-shirt. “And?”

He was starting to tick her off. “Her name is Ling O’Toole … the lady who put the ad in. And she asked—”

“Whoa!” Justin put his hand up and leaned forward. “First you fill out an application, and then you
talk
to someone about adopting, without even so much as giving me a clue as to what you’re doing?”

Jenee pushed back her chair and stood.

“Who the hell is this woman? And, even if this
is
on the up and up, how many Chinese live in Topeka?” He tossed up his arms. “What if we did adopt and the kid is discriminated against? Hello? This is Kansas, Jenee, not California.”

Jenee put her hands on her hips. “Stop talking to me like I’m Baileigh.”

“Then think before you do something.”

She bent over toward him. “I’m just as much a part of this marriage as you are, Justin. Just because I don’t work outside the home doesn’t give you the right to—”

“Now, wait just a minute,” he interrupted and stood. “If I recall, that was a mutual decision.” He slapped his hand over his chest. “I work. You stay home with the kids.”

“Kids!” Jenee shouted, her eyes brimming with tears. “Not kid.” She took two steps to the door and thrust it open.

“Jenee.” She heard him call after her as she walked quickly down the driveway. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Fair?” She stopped in her tracks, turned and saw him standing on the landing of the steps that led up to the back door. “
I’m
not playing fair?”

“Don’t just walk away.” Justin sat down on the top step, his long legs sprawling almost to the bottom of the five steps. “Come talk to me.”

“Not if you’re going to play the I’m ‘de’ man game.” She swiped a tear way underneath her eye. “No way.”

He crossed his heart. “Promise.”

Slowly, she meandered back to him, her head down. “I’ll withdraw our application,” she whispered sadly. “I know I should have talked to you about it.” Although her heart was breaking, it wasn’t worth driving a wedge between her and Justin.

He patted the concrete beside him. “Let’s just see what happens.”

She walked to the top step and sat down beside him. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, let’s just see what happens.”

“We don’t have long to find out,” Jenee said, without looking at him.

He stared at her blankly. “Now it’s my turn to ask you … what does that mean?”

“I’m supposed to let Ling know tomorrow if we’re interested.”

He blew out a breath.

“She wants to meet us.” She gathered her courage to look over at him. “And …”

“And?”

“The orphanage Ling is working with has handicapped children.”

Justin brushed his hand over the three-day stubble of whiskers on his chin.

“But,” Jenee added quickly, “they also have perfectly healthy children.”

A few seconds later, Justin looked over at her. “If I sense that
anything
is wrong, I’m going to put my foot—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I’ll talk to you about it.”

Jenee smiled. “And I’ll listen.”

She stood, opened the door, and walked back into the house. Standing at the sink with her back to him, she felt Justin wrap his arms around her waist.

“When will I be able to make mad, passionate love to you again?” he whispered in her ear.

She turned around, stood on her tiptoes, and put her arms around his neck. “Well, sailor,” Jenee flirted. “What are you doing right now?”