The Unfinished Child (31 page)

She took a seat across the room, beside a woman with a baby on her lap. Elizabeth picked up a magazine and glanced surreptitiously at the child—sure enough, it bore the tell-tale signs of Down syndrome. She glanced at the mother again and noted how young she was, maybe only a half-dozen years older than herself. The baby sucked its fist while the mother clucked her tongue encouragingly and caressed the baby’s tiny, stockinged feet.

“Elizabeth Crewes,” a nurse called, and she gratefully followed her into an examination room.

Dr. Maclean looked almost exactly the same as when she’d last seen him, except that his hair had a bit more grey in it and he had the slight beginnings of a paunch. Other than that, he looked good, although he was more nervous than she’d remembered him.

“Hi,” she said.

“It’s good to see you again, Elizabeth. It’s been some time,” he said, clicking his pen open and shut, open and shut.

“Yes, since I was twelve, I think.”

“And now you’re . . .”

“Almost eighteen.”

“My, time flies,” he said, continuing to click his pen open and shut. “You’re finished school now?”

“I’ll be going to university in the fall.”

“Wonderful. What will you study?”

“I’m enrolled to do a Bachelor of Arts.”

“How are your parents?”

“Good,” she replied. “Nothing new to report.”

He laughed.

Why was he looking at her like that? Had she forgotten something?

“Is something wrong?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

The doctor smiled and laughed. “No, of course not. My apologies, I’ve had a busy week. Now, what brings you in today?”

He’d known her since she was a baby. He’d treated her for chicken pox, measles, bronchitis, strep throat, and eczema. He’d also, she suddenly remembered, known her parents’ secret that she was adopted.

She was glad she was sitting down because her legs felt unusually weak. For the first twelve years of her life, she’d believed she was her parents’ daughter, but then, out of the blue, a new narrative was placed before her, and Dr. Maclean would forever be linked to that discovery.

A cough interrupted her musings. Dr. Maclean was staring at her, a prescription pad in hand.

“Oh, sorry,” she said. “What was your question?”

“Are you already sexually active?”

Elizabeth felt her face redden. She knew it was silly. It was his job to ask personal questions.

“No, not yet.” But soon, maybe. She was dating a nice boy, and he’d been hinting about wanting more, but given her personal history, she knew that a girl could get pregnant when she was young and have to make some hard decisions.

“Anything else?” Dr. Maclean asked, handing her the piece of paper and hanging on to it a bit too long.

She shook her head, suddenly eager to get out of the doctor’s office. “No. Everything’s fine,” she said, standing and smiling. “Fine.”

“Well, you know where to find me if you need anything,” he said, extending his hand and smiling. “It was good to see you again.”

She filled her prescription on the way home. Tiny pink and white pills housed in their own plastic wheel. One pill a day, every day. The seven white pills were for when she was having her period. Just to keep in the habit of taking the pill daily. And she did. Responsibly. Religiously. Even when she’d stopped seeing the nice boy she kept taking the pill, just in case she met someone new. Then Ron came along and after their marriage they no longer needed them. Oh, happy day! She remembered flushing three months’ worth of pills down the toilet.

Such glorious optimism.

Elizabeth pulled the pasta from
the oven. She moved with a nervous energy, wanting everything to be perfect. She tossed the salad and put the breadbasket on the table, along with some butter. Ron opened a bottle of red wine and lit the candles.

“You look nice,” he said, coming up behind her and circling her with his arms.

She’d brushed her hair out after work so it hung loosely down her shoulders. Then she’d dabbed some perfume behind her ears before slipping into a pair of leggings and a long black silk shirt.

She moved her head to direct Ron’s kiss to her cheek. “Sit,” she said, motioning toward the table.

She turned the kitchen light off and let her eyes get accustomed to the semi-dark. The flames on the candles flickered back and forth with the invisible air currents that circulated in the room. Soft music filtered in from the stereo in the front room. It was their first quiet meal together since she’d moved back home.

Caught up in the festive mood, Ron lifted his wineglass. “To us,” he said, smiling. They clinked glasses and drank.

“I had coffee with Marie today,” she began tentatively.

“Oh yeah? That’s nice.” Ron finished a mouthful of lasagna and buttered another piece of bread. “How’s she doing?”

“Not very well, actually.”

He raised his eyebrows to show he was listening.

“In fact, she had some bad news to share. Remember how I told you she’d gone to have an amnio done? Well, she got her results back, and it turns out the baby has Down syndrome.”

Ron looked up from his plate and stopped chewing. “You’re kidding. That’s awful.”

“I
know
. And now they have this big decision to make and Marie’s feeling terrible about it. She was talking as if they might terminate the pregnancy.”

Ron shook his head. “God, I feel for them. That’s a tough one, for sure. It’s not a decision I’d want to have to make.”

Elizabeth’s mouth filled with saliva. She swallowed hard and watched Ron return his attention to what was on his plate.

“It’s a little girl,” she added.

Candlelight reflected from Ron’s glasses. The lower half of his face was in shadow. From where she sat, Elizabeth felt as if she were looking directly into the flames. She picked up her wineglass and swirled the red liquid around. Then she took a big mouthful and enjoyed the feeling of the heat flowing down her throat.

“She was really in a state about things. She didn’t feel that she had any options.”

Ron nodded and continued eating.

“Either she has to terminate the pregnancy or have the baby. I asked her if there wasn’t any other option, and she said she didn’t think so.” Elizabeth hesitated. Ron shook his head in sympathy, clearly imagining the pain involved with such a decision.

“I was feeling so badly for her. I shut my eyes and tried to imagine what she was going through. It was strange, actually. I felt as if I had left my body or something, and suddenly I had this thought. Without even knowing what I was going to say, I told her I would take the baby if she didn’t want it.”

Ron stopped chewing.

Elizabeth looked down at the food on her plate and felt the kitchen walls close in. When she looked up she saw Ron put his cutlery down and wipe the corners of his mouth with the thumb and index finger of his right hand.

“Say that again,” he said.

“I told her I’d take the baby,” she whispered.

Ron pushed his plate away and nodded as if he got it now, the special meal, the candles, the bottle of wine. She could tell he felt set up. “I see.”

A minute passed in silence before he spoke again. “And were you planning on discussing this with me? Or doesn’t it matter what I think?”

“Please don’t be angry,” she begged, reaching across the table for his hand. “I honestly have no idea where the words came from. I didn’t even know when I went there that Marie had gotten her results back.”

“And did you wish you could take them back once you’d said them?”

She looked directly into his eyes. “No. I didn’t. It felt like the most right thing in the world.”

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t say anything. She was probably as shocked as I was. She just grabbed her coat and mumbled something about talking it over with Barry.”

Ron shook his head. “Here we go again.”

“But she didn’t say no,” Elizabeth added hurriedly.

“I really don’t know what to say. You were never interested in adopting before. What’s changed?”

“This is different. We’ve got all this shared history. Her kids are the closest thing I have to nieces—they’re almost like my
own
family.” Elizabeth struggled to make Ron understand the emptiness she’d always felt in not knowing any of her real family. She moved to the edge of her chair to minimize the distance between them. “I sat there and listened to Marie talk about how guilty she felt for not wanting the baby, and I thought, there must be another way. She shouldn’t have to go through so much pain. And then it was as if I
knew
that I was supposed to have that child. I knew it was up to me to give her that choice.”

Ron didn’t look convinced.

“I guess in offering to take the baby I assumed that you’d be here with me.”

He took a deep breath and then took her hand. “Elizabeth. Listen to me. It’s not going to happen. They’re never going to give up their baby. Please don’t get your heart set on this. I’ve seen you so disappointed in the past.”

“But if she does agree . . . ?”

His face registered a mixture of disbelief and compassion. “Do you honestly think she’ll give us her baby? What would she tell her family? It’s way too complicated.”

Elizabeth felt a surge of anger. Why couldn’t he just go along with her for once and imagine something positive? Couldn’t he tell that she was excited by this? “You’re avoiding the question,” she said irritably. “If they agree to let us raise their baby, will you help me?”

Ron sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. “I’m kind of in shock, to be honest. Do you need my answer right now?”

Elizabeth felt the sting of disappointment. She tried to smile to hide her longing. After all, she had sprung it on him, and he hadn’t reacted too badly. He just needed some time to get used to the idea. She reached for her fork and began eating again.

Best of all he hadn’t said no, and in her mind that was as good as a yes.

“Drs. Knowles and Podnosky’s office.
How may I help you?”

Elizabeth froze for a moment before finding her voice. Even though her office door was closed she felt as if the entire world was eavesdropping. “I’m actually looking for Dr. Maclean. He used to practise at your location I believe.”

“He retired a few years ago, but Dr. Knowles has taken over all his files. Is there something in particular I can help you with?”

Elizabeth shook her head, forgetting that she had to speak. She didn’t want to talk to just anyone, she wanted Dr. Maclean.

“Hello?”

“Uh, sorry, I used to see Dr. Maclean when I was younger, and I was hoping to see him again.”

“Well, if it’s important I can get a message to him. He is in contact with some of his older patients still.”

“Yes, thank you,” she said. How could she say please hurry without sounding like she was crazy? But she didn’t have much time. Marie could be making her decision right now. “Does he still live in the city?”

“Yes, he does.”

Elizabeth gave her name and both her home and work phone numbers. “It’s not exactly an emergency,” she added, “but it
is
very important.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him.”

She hung up the phone and cursed herself. It
was
an emergency. A child’s life was on the line. She opened her desk drawer and removed the phone book. If Dr. Maclean still lived here, then maybe his number was listed. She leafed through the thin pages until she found the Ms, then looked more closely at the incredibly small type for Maclean. There were a lot of listings, but only three Dr. Macleans. She should be able to figure it out by process of elimination. Since his office had been at the University Hospital for years, she guessed he likely lived on the south side. That eliminated one possibility.

Elizabeth scribbled down the two remaining numbers and put the phone book away. She felt as if she’d had a lifetime of thoughts in the last day. It was hard to believe she’d only met with Marie the day before.

She glanced at the phone numbers before her with some doubt. What would she say to Dr. Maclean? How would she explain herself?
Hi, doctor, it’s been twenty years. The last time I saw you I wanted birth control. This time I want my best friend’s baby because I was never able to have my own. But it’s not just any baby, it’s a baby with Down syndrome, a baby that will need even more attention. And I can do that! Since you’re an expert in the field, I thought maybe you could help me . . .

She dialled the first number.

On the fourth ring a man answered in a soft voice. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Elizabeth said. “I’m looking for the Dr. Maclean who worked with patients who had Down syndrome.”

“Well, you’ve found him. That would be me.”

“I’m not sure if you remember me,” she began slowly, “but I used to be a patient of yours many years ago. I just phoned your office and left a message for you, but then I thought I’d look you up in the phone book because I wasn’t sure when you might get back to me and it’s sort of an emergency.”

“May I ask your name, please,” the doctor inquired.

“Oh, yes, of course. Sorry. I’m Elizabeth Crewes.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes,” came the quiet reply.

“I know it’s been a long time,” she continued, “just over twenty years, to be exact, but I need your help.”

“Go on.”

“My friend just found out from her amniocentesis results that her baby has Down syndrome and I’m afraid she’ll abort the baby.”

“Does this have anything to do with your mother?”

“My mother?” she asked. “No, my mother has nothing to do with this and she doesn’t even know I’m calling. I was hoping, given all the work you’ve done in the field of Down syndrome, that you’d talk to my friend and help her to know it’s not the end of the world. I thought maybe you could help.”

“Does your friend want to talk to me?”

Did she? Probably not. Elizabeth recalled the look of panic on Marie’s face when she ran from the café. “I’m not sure, to be honest, but if she does, I wanted you to know she’d be calling. Is it okay if I give her your number?”