Marie Sexton - Coda 06 - Fear, Hope, and Bread Pudding (8 page)

“Probably for the same reason he made the nanny comment. The two of you work in cycles, hurting each other and then blaming each other. The only way it stops is for one of you to do the right thing.”

“I wanted to, but there was the present. He didn’t like it—” “He was caught off guard.”
“And the thing about inadequate parents—”
“He was right, you know. You said it. Not him.”
“He didn’t deny it.”

I sighed in frustration. “You didn’t get the validation you needed, so you decided not to give him any either?”
She shrugged in defeat. “I guess so.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous. It’s selfish and childish and just plain stupid.” She blinked at me, stunned at my bluntness. I knew it hurt. She’d wanted sympathy, but I was done with that. Sympathy was for people who had lost their children through no fault of their own. She and I had no claim to it. “Nobody ever said being a parent was easy, and if they did, they obviously didn’t have children. He hurt your feelings. So what? Get over it. That’s part of raising a child. That’s part of being a parent.”

“We’ve already established that I was never a very good mother.” “Then stop repeating your behavior and be one now. The two of you can go round and round forever trying to decide who’s to blame, or you—
you
, Grace, and you alone—can be the adult. You can be the one to say, ‘Enough’.”

She swallowed hard. “What about him? What’s going to stop him from repeating the cycle?”
“Cole’s a good man. Eccentric and fruity, but good. It’ll take a bit of time, but if you give him the benefit of the doubt and make an honest effort to fix things, he’ll eventually give it back.”

“Do you really think so?”
“I do.”

She thought about it for a bit. I thought that was a good sign. It would have been easy to say the words, to pronounce that this was the day everything would change. But to follow through? That would require effort and more than a little patience. I admired her for taking the situation as seriously as she did, and for thinking about what her commitment would really mean.

Finally, she looked up at me. She wasn’t crying anymore, but she was obviously scared to death. “I don’t want my son to hate me, George. Tell me what I need to do.”

I reached out and took her hand. “We’ll make it work.” One down.
One to go.

Part Three:
Hope
Chapter Six

T
HE trip home was a blur. Cole had been in such a hurry to get us on a flight that he hadn’t stopped to think about layovers and connections, which meant it took us even longer than usual. He checked his watch constantly, and by the time we landed in Phoenix, he was crankier than he’d been in ages. He was worried the delay would cost us our first shot at adoption, so I did my best not to take him seriously. After sleeping only a few short hours in our own bed, we were up again and out the door. I was still reeling from jet lag when I took my seat across from Thomas in his downtown office.

“When do we meet her?” Cole asked.

Thomas held up his hands, patting the air. “Slow down,” he said. “I know this has been a long time coming, but give me a minute to tell you what’s come up.”

After waiting so long, it annoyed Cole to delay even one more second, but he took it well. He nodded stiffly and tucked his hands under his thighs as if to anchor himself to his seat.

“The woman you’ll be meeting is named Taylor Lewis. It’s funny, really. No matter how long I work in this business, it never ceases to amaze me how things always come back to word of mouth. I believe you know a woman named Julia Dawson?”

“Yes,” I said in surprise. “She was my neighbor.”

 

Thomas nodded. “Taylor apparently works for Julia’s husband’s sister. Do you know her?”

“No.”
“Well, she knows about you, and she must have had good things to say, because Taylor contacted me.” He pulled a file folder toward him and opened it. “The first thing I want to tell you about Taylor is that she’s currently employed and has full benefits.”
Cole and I looked at each other, and I could tell he was as confused as I was. “So?” I asked.
“You may remember me telling you how your money could

attract a certain type of person. The truth is, I’ve had two other women ask to meet you before now, but I didn’t call you on any of them because they both sent up red flags.”

Cole sat quickly forward in his seat, and I reached out to put my hand on his shoulder to keep him from flying across the desk. “Are you telling me we could have had a baby by now?”

“As I said, they both raised red flags.”
“But you could have been wrong!”

Thomas shook his head. “I wasn’t. Neither one of those mothers ended up releasing their child to the adoptive parent.” Cole slumped in his seat. “But,” Thomas went on, “I think Taylor’s different. She already has medical coverage, so she’s not just hoping to have her bills paid. She’s twenty-two years old. She’s young, and she’s found herself in a bad spot, but she’s not stupid. Before contacting me, she’d already talked to several adoption agencies and half a dozen potential couples and turned them all down. She’s determined to do this right.”

“So there’s a good chance she’ll turn us down too?” Cole asked.

Thomas tipped his head in acquiescence. “That’s a possibility, yes. But she really likes the two of you on paper. She’s excited to meet you.”

“How far along is she?” I asked. The earlier it was in her pregnancy, the more time she had to change her mind.
“She’s at thirty-five weeks.”

“Almost at term already!”

“Yes. She wasn’t sure at first if she was keeping the baby or not, but three months ago, she decided it would be in the child’s best interest to give her up.”

“What about the father?”

“The father is significantly older than her and is already married to a woman who wouldn’t be pleased with his indiscretion. I’m not at liberty to divulge his identity, but believe me, it wouldn’t be in his best interest to claim the baby. He wants nothing more than to pretend this entire incident never happened.”

“But he could still contest the adoption down the road, right?”

Thomas shook his head. “No. As per Arizona law, he was served with a notice of Taylor’s intent to relinquish the baby. He had thirty days to file a paternity action.”

“But he didn’t?”
“Correct.”
“And so he can’t come back and claim the baby later?”

“No. Under Arizona law, he has now waived any paternal rights to his daughter, which means you’re dealing solely with Taylor now.” Cole reached over and took my hand. His grip was unusually tight. “Daughter? The baby’s a girl?”

 

Thomas smiled at him. “Yes.”

 

Cole turned to look at me, and the excitement in his eyes nearly broke my heart. “We could have a daughter!”

I put my other hand on top of his and stroked his fingers. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Cole ignored me and turned back to Thomas. “What happens now?”

“We set up a time for her to meet you both and see your home.” “And after that?”

Thomas smiled, the calming smile of a man used to dealing with impatient people. “One step at a time.”

A
FTER a bit of discussion and a couple of phone calls, it was decided that Thomas would bring Taylor to our house for dinner. The day we were to meet her, Cole sent me off to the store for a dozen different last-minute items, including one of every kind of juice or soda they had, since he couldn’t serve her wine. He was more nervous than I’d ever seen him, but it wasn’t until I returned home that I realized how bad things were going to be.

“Cole?” I called when I didn’t find him in the kitchen. I wondered briefly at the unattended pans on the stove and the food strewn across the countertops. “Cole?” I left the bags of groceries on the counter and went in search of him. I finally found him in our bedroom, standing in front of the closet, swaying in the breeze. “What are you doing?”

He turned to stare at me with wide, scared eyes. “I have no idea what to wear.”
I laughed, although it died in my throat when I saw the hurt expression on his face. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with what you have on?”

He looked down at himself. He was dressed as he often was— slim-fitting pants and a silk V-neck sweater in pale green. He’d been wearing a scarf around his neck earlier, but it was nowhere in sight. And I was surprised when I glanced down at his feet. He was wearing both socks and shoes.

“I think what you’re wearing is fine.”

“Don’t you think I should find something more”—he waved his hand in circles—“appropriate?” He turned to face our closet again. “I wish I had a real suit.”

I flashed back nearly three years to the night we’d gone to the theater. I’d expected him to wear a suit, and he’d said, “not even if this was my own funeral.” And yet now here he was, suddenly wanting one. His unease was contagious. A dark sense of foreboding began to bloom in my chest. “You don’t need a suit.”

He turned to face me again. He reached up to touch the hair that fell across his eyes. “This too. I think I should have had it cut.”

“No.”
“But Jonny—” He flipped his bangs out of his face, and what I’d thought was only a shadow on his right temple revealed itself as a small bruise.
“What happened to your eye?”
He put his fingers on it. “I ran into the pantry door.”
“You
what
?” It was so unlike him to do anything clumsy. It was proof of how flustered he was. “How did that happen?”

“I was cooking dinner and—Oh my God!” He put a hand to his cheek. His expression of dismay was so comically dramatic, I might have laughed if I hadn’t known how serious he was. “Good Lord, I forgot all about dinner! I hope it’s not ruined!”

Five minutes later, I knew without asking that dinner was a mess. The stovetop was spattered with sauce, the air tinged with smoke. Cole’s normally unflappable demeanor was in shambles by the time the doorbell rang. “I can’t meet her like this!”

“It’s too late to change anything now.”
“We could reschedule!”
“Are you serious?”

No, he wasn’t serious, but he was panicking, something I hadn’t actually thought Cole was capable of. I wished like hell my father was around. I was sure he would have been able to defuse the situation.

I let Taylor and Thomas in while Cole stood wringing his hands behind me.
Taylor Lewis appeared older than her twenty-two years. Then again, it might have been the enormous belly and waddling walk that threw me off. She had long hair that was too dark to be called blonde but too light to be called brown. She was average height and had probably been average in weight as well, but now her stomach stuck out ahead of her in a way that had to be horrendously uncomfortable. It made my back ache just looking at her.

“Have a seat,” I said. Our living room wasn’t very homey, but given her condition, it seemed rude to make her walk all the way through the house to the family room at the back. She sank into one of the chairs, although she didn’t look much more comfortable sitting than she had standing. “I’m Jonathan.”

She shook the hand I held out to her. “Taylor,” she said. “But you know that.”

 

“Nice to meet you.”

I let go of her hand and stood there for a second, feeling awkward. What was I supposed to say now? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so uncomfortable. In social situations, Cole was usually ahead of me, talking a mile a minute and charming people before I had a chance to speak, which begged the question, where was he now?

I turned to find him still frozen in the middle of the room, staring at Taylor. “Cole?”
He jumped into motion as if I’d slapped him and came forward with his hand out. “I’m Cole. Welcome to our home. Can I get you something to drink?” But even as he shook her hand, I sensed there was something wrong. He was too stiff, and the cadence of his voice was all wrong. “I have Sprite, or ginger ale, or apple juice.” He turned to me. “What else?”

“Or there’s San Pellegrino or some sparkling cider.”
“Sprite would be great.”

Cole went to get it, not bustling and fussing like he normally would have, but slowly, his paces deliberate. Taylor, Thomas, and I sat there in silence. I glanced around our spartan living room. Like nearly everything else in the house, the furniture had been chosen by Cole long before we met, but it hadn’t been chosen for comfort. Despite being expensive, it was barren, the cushions thin, the lines of the room sleek and unforgiving. I wished I’d invited them into the family room, but I hated to ask them to move again now that Taylor was sitting.

Cole emerged from the kitchen. I watched him cross the room again, holding the glass in his hand. It was strange to see him wearing shoes in the house. Maybe that was why he was walking differently. “Thomas,” he said as he handed the drink to Taylor, “I didn’t even think to ask what you wanted. I’m so sorry, swee—” He stopped short on the word “sweetie,” pulling himself up straight as if he’d been slapped. “Can I get you anything?”

And in that moment, I realized what was wrong—he wasn’t acting like himself. He wasn’t swaying, or swishing, or using pet names. He wasn’t gesturing or flipping his hair. He was speaking slowly, the upbeat cadence of his speech restrained, and he was holding his hands still at his side. He was, in a word, trying to act straight for the first time since I’d met him. Quite possibly for the first time in his life.

I knew instinctively nothing good could come of it, but now that I’d put my finger on the problem, it seemed I had no power to stop the train from wrecking.

“Nothing for me,” Thomas answered. He gestured toward Cole’s face. “What happened?”
Blushing, Cole put his fingers on the faint bruise. “I was moving too fast in the kitchen and ran into the pantry door, if you can believe that. I’d hoped it wasn’t noticeable.”

Thomas frowned at him, then over at me. There was something disconcerting in his gaze, and I found myself shifting uncomfortably in my chair.

“Is it time to eat?” I asked Cole.

“Yes, but….” He wrung his hands some more. “It’s a mess, Jonny. I’m so sorry. The sauce is scorched, and the pasta is far past al dente. Practically mush. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He stopped short and shook his head. He touched his slender fingers to his lips. “What should we do?”

“We could go out?”
He nodded. “Okay. Yes. We could, couldn’t we?”