The Choice (35 page)

Jessica paused at the door long enough to scratch Nelson's head. Sandy put on a pot of water to brew some tea. The women sat at Sandy's kitchen table.

“How is your pregnant student doing?” Jessica asked.

“I'm doing more than I should to help her.”

“What do you mean?”

Sandy shared with Jessica what she'd told Ben.

“Yesterday I drove her to Tryon so she could meet with a lawyer who could explain her legal rights to her.”

“Tryon?”

“Yes, it was somebody Ben suggested.”

“Who?”

A lump suddenly rose in Sandy's throat.

“Jeremy Lane,” she said, trying to sound casual. “He's in his thirties. Very smart and compassionate. He has a beautiful family of his own.”

“You met his family?”

“No, but he had pictures of them on his credenza,” Sandy replied awkwardly.

The teapot whistled and rescued Sandy. While she brewed the tea, Jessica went to the bathroom. Sandy poured the tea into cups. Jessica liked her tea sweet, so Sandy added an extra spoonful of sugar.

“Sandy,” Jessica said when she returned. “Who is this?”

Jessica had a photograph of the Lane family in her hand. Sandy dropped the teapot on the stove so abruptly that tea sloshed out onto the burner and hissed.

“Where did you—” Sandy asked.

“The printer on your computer was beeping, and I checked to see if something was wrong. This was lying beside the monitor—”

“I know.” Sandy leaned back against the kitchen counter and closed her eyes for a moment. “That's Jeremy Lane's family.”

“Why do you have pictures of his family at a soccer game?”

“Jeremy Lane is my son.”

Jessica took a few steps forward and collapsed into a chair.

“How?” Jessica mumbled.

The women sat down, and Sandy told her the story. Jessica started to cry. Sandy got up to get her some tissues.

“Does your mother know?”

“No. I haven't told any of my family.” Sandy paused. “I wasn't ready to tell you but didn't have much choice after you snooped around my computer and found the pictures.”

“That was an accident.”

“And you're closer to me than a sister. I don't mind you being the first to know.”

Jessica reached across the table and squeezed Sandy's hand.

“Does Jeremy have any idea?”

“How could he? If I'd not seen the Charleston house in his parents' file years ago, I wouldn't have made the connection. But once I realized the truth, there's no denying the family resemblance.”

Jessica put on her reading glasses and studied the picture.

“It's hard to tell at this distance, but he looks like Jack, and you, of course. His daughter is a Lincoln, but the little boy—”

“Favors Brad Donnelly.”

“Yes.” Jessica nodded.

“It was strange seeing Brad in miniature, but Zach also picked up a lot from his mom.”

Jessica shook her head. Suddenly she sat upright.

“Does Jeremy know he has a twin?”

“I doubt it,” Sandy replied. “The adoption agency placed the boys with families on opposite sides of the country and sealed the records.”

“And I won't breathe a word to anyone about this, not even Rick.” Jessica looked again at the picture. “When are you going to tell Jeremy who you are?”

“Do you think I should?” Sandy asked. “Most of the time it's the child who tries to find the birth mother. He may not want to meet me. The woman who raised him sounds like an amazing woman.”

Jessica sipped tea while Sandy told her about Jeremy's adopted mom.

“That tells me you made a good choice at the adoption agency,” Jessica said. “And it's not like Jeremy is a sixteen-year-old boy who wants to run away from home and find his birth mother. At thirty-three, he has his own life and family and can relate to you as an adult. He should be thrilled to find you, and it's neat that you've ended up living so close together. I think it's meant to be.”

Sandy smiled. “I had an urge to hug him and kiss his cheeks as if he were a little boy.”

“That makes sense to me. Your last memory of him was in a bassinet in a hospital nursery. But you'll move past that.”

“Yeah, and I need to think this over from every angle before doing anything. I don't want to be selfish.”

“It would be selfish if you barged in and tried to push his mother out of the way. Tell Jeremy the truth and let him set the boundaries for your relationship with his family. That wouldn't be your responsibility.”

Sandy got a faraway look in her eyes.

“When I saw his children, I thought my heart would come out of my throat,” she said. “Maybe it was suppressed maternal instinct, but I've never felt that way or thought I could.”

“You'll be a wonderful grandmother.”

“But what if Jeremy doesn't want to have anything to do with me? In his mind, I abandoned him.”

“If he feels that way after he hears your story, he's not the outstanding young man you think he is.”

“And if he wants to meet his father?”

Jessica raised her eyebrows. “That's something I hadn't considered. Do you even know where Brad is? He's never been back for a reunion.”

“Jimmy Caldwell pulled me aside when he was in town for Coach Cochran's retirement party and told me Brad was living near Pittsburgh and working as a salesman for a chemical company. He'd been married a couple of times and was recently divorced.”

“Any children?”

“Jimmy wasn't sure.”

“You didn't tell me about that.”

“Did you really want to know?”

“No,” Jessica admitted. “My mother prayed for Brad when we were in school together, but I never did. I guess I'm still mad at him for how he treated you.”

“If you could see Jeremy and his family, you'd believe it worked out for good.”

Jessica pointed to the photo.

“Do you have any more pictures? I'd love to see them.”

Sandy brightened up. “Wait here.”

Sharing the photos with Jessica was more fun than Sandy could have imagined. They pored over every detail. Sandy told her about Zach's fall and the trip to the hospital emergency room.

“Ouch,” Jessica said. “I bet he broke his collarbone. There's not much they can do about that except put the arm in a sling and send him home. The good news is that he'll heal in no time.”

“How can I find out the details?” Sandy asked. “I was surprised the hospital told me anything at all.”

Jessica thought for a moment.

“Does Melissa Henry still teach kindergarten in Tryon?”

“I think so.”

“Maybe she could tell you.”

“But how would I ask her? I mean, she would want to know how I know Zach and why I'm interested.”

“Yeah.” Jessica nodded. “That wouldn't work.”

The women continued to look at photographs and speculate about life in the Lane household. Jessica checked her watch.

“I'd better get going. Rick is going to think I've taken up weaving with Mrs. Jackson. I'm sorry I barged in like this, but to be able to share this with you is”—Jessica paused as tears returned to her eyes—“beyond words.”

Sandy leaned forward and gave her friend a hug.

“It's made it more special for me to bring you into my new little world. It would be lonesome to look at the pictures by myself.”

Jessica touched her purse.

“You've always been willing to look at every new batch of photos of my grandchildren without complaining.”

The two women walked to the door together. Jessica put her hand on the doorknob and turned around.

“Sandy, you deserve something good like this to happen to you. And I'll do anything I can to help. Anything.”

TWENTY-FIVE

A
s usual, Sandy went to church on Sunday. Although she was surrounded by the other members of the congregation, she had a private worship service of thanksgiving to God for bringing Jeremy into her life. After the benediction, she went to lunch at a local restaurant with three women from her Sunday school class. Sandy was the youngest member of the group, two of whom were widows. The third was married to a man who often went fishing or hunting on Sunday.

“Sandy, you sure are quiet today,” one woman said when there was a lull in the conversation at the table. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I'm just listening.”

“No you weren't,” another said. “You've been sitting there daydreaming about a new beau.”

“That would be worth hearing about,” the third woman said.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Sandy said, “but nothing's changed in that part of my life.”

“Well, something exciting is going on with you,” the second woman insisted. “I can feel it.”

Alarmed that she was so transparent, Sandy laughed nervously.

“I promise, if I pick up a boyfriend on the side of the road, this group will be among the first to know about it.”

“That will be a lucky boy,” the first woman said.

“Oh, did you hear about Bess Gibbs?” the third woman asked, perking up. “She met a fellow. They've gone out to eat four times in the past three weeks.”

The conversation veered away from Sandy. As soon as she could politely do so, she excused herself.

Monday morning Sandy's normal routine was hectic enough that she didn't have time to daydream. After her third-period students left the classroom, Carol Ramsey entered.

“Sandy, please come with me,” the counselor said.

“Can't do it right now. I have an honors composition class that is going to be here in the next ten minutes. I have a planning period immediately after lunch. Maybe we can—”

“Dr. Vale is sending someone to take your next class for you.”

Sandy's mouth went dry.

“Does this have to do with Maria Alverez?”

“Should it?” Carol answered coldly.

“Who's going to be my sub?” Sandy asked, trying to regain her composure.

Coach Bestwick appeared at Carol's shoulder.

“Hello, Ms. Lincoln,” the basketball coach said cheerily. “Dr. Vale ordered me to help a group of functionally illiterate kids learn about the finer points of English composition.”

Sandy didn't smile. She handed John a folder.

“Here's an in-class writing assignment. There are four topics based on their outside reading assignments. Tell each student to choose one and then write a three-hundred-word essay with at least five paragraphs.”

“Do I have to read these things?”

“No, that's my job.”

Sandy and Carol left the room. The counselor stared straight ahead as they walked side by side. Instead of going to Carol's office, they went into the administrative suite. Dr. Vale's secretary looked up.

“Go in. He's waiting for you,” she said.

Everything was happening so fast. As she followed Carol into the principal's office, anger boiled up in Sandy. She clenched her teeth.

Russell Vale was a former history teacher who preferred staff meetings to the classroom. The thin, balding man was a few years younger than Sandy and had been recruited to Rutland High by the chairman of the local school board. He never addressed a teacher by his or her first name.

“Ms. Lincoln,” Dr. Vale said, rising from his chair behind a glass-topped desk. “Thanks for coming in on such short notice. Have a seat.”

Sandy nodded and sat down. Carol scooted her chair a few inches away from Sandy before she sat.

“Ms. Ramsey has been keeping me abreast of the situation with Maria Alverez,” Dr. Vale began. “It's a serious matter.”

Sandy didn't say anything, and the administrator cleared his throat.

“Would you agree that counseling a pregnant student is within the purview of Ms. Ramsey's duties at the school?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And do you recall my comments about this during fall orientation?”

“Yes, but if a student—” Sandy began.

Dr. Vale held up a bony finger to silence her.

“Don't jump to any conclusions,” Dr. Vale said. “A student certainly has the right to talk to any teacher. It's up to that teacher to keep the relationship within the proper boundaries. I'm here to help you know where those boundaries lie in this situation.”

Dr. Vale opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a business card. He leaned forward and placed it on the edge of the desk in front of Sandy. It read, “Jeremy Lane, Attorney at Law.”

Sandy swallowed.

“Ms. Ramsey took this card from the student at a meeting earlier today. I interviewed the girl, and she informed me that you took her to see Mr. Lane at his office in Tryon on Friday. Is that true?”

“Yes. We left after the school day.”

“Was this meeting scheduled at the request of the student or did you initiate it?”

“I made the appointment. Given the totality of the circumstances, it seemed appropriate for the student to have access to independent legal advice.”