Three Weeks to Say Goodbye (6 page)

I felt violated by his knowledge. Our careful staging for the meeting was gone just like that. Poof. I shot a look at Melissa. Her face was an alabaster mask. Her eyes were pinched and hard, a look I’d never seen. A look that emboldened me and terrified me at the same time. I was amazed she had remained silent. I’m amazed I didn’t leap across the table at him.

“It’s not about money,” I said. “It’s much, much too late for that. Maybe if you’d come to us before Angelina was born…”

“I didn’t know,” Moreland said, his voice rising with anger, but not at us. He looked at his son with pure contempt. “Garrett was out of the country with his mother for several months. He never told us anything about it. If he had, we wouldn’t be here now.”

Melissa said to Garrett, “Where were you?” Her voice was leaden.

Garrett didn’t seem to realize she was talking to him.

“He was in the Netherlands and England visiting relatives,” Moreland answered for him. “Kellie’s extended family and just being tourists. We learned of this,” he gestured to us, “only two months ago.”

In my peripheral vision, I saw Garrett roll his eyes.

“Did you know she was pregnant?” Melissa asked Garrett.

Garrett looked at Melissa with a half smile and shrugged in a way that said, “
What ever.
”

I leaned forward in my chair until I had Moreland’s attention, and said, “This is not about you. It’s not about your son. It’s not about us. This is about Angelina and what’s best for her.” Trying to drive a wedge between father and son.

Moreland paused a long time before saying, “It is about the baby, I agree. But the baby is part of my family, our family, despite my son’s behavior. The baby is our blood and our responsibility, not yours. We must right this wrong.”

It was later when I realized Moreland, the entire time he was in our home, never once said “Angelina.” Always
the baby.

I looked at Garrett. He was ignoring us, his eyes fixed on Melissa, who had caught him this time and stared back. The intensity of their gaze seemed to sizzle through the air. I couldn’t stand it another second.

“Garrett,” I said.

Nothing.

“
Garrett.
”

Slowly, he turned his head toward me. Contemptuous.

“I have to ask you a question.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Do you really want to be a father? Do you really want to change your life right now? Do you realize how much work it is to be a father, to care for and support a baby?”

Moreland spoke for him once again. “Kellie and I will raise the baby. She will be our granddaughter and our daughter. Garrett will go to college to become a lawyer or a doctor, and when he’s married and has a home, he will take the child in with him.”

“I asked Garrett,” I said.

“He has nothing to say about it,” Moreland said, heat in his voice. “We have discussed this in our family, and that is the way it will be.”

Garrett watched me as his father spoke to read my reaction.

“So where is your wife in this?” Melissa asked Judge Moreland. “Why didn’t she come with you?”

“She was too uncomfortable,” Moreland said, tight-lipped.

“She doesn’t want to meet us?” Melissa asked, bitterness in her voice.

Moreland flushed and looked at his shoes. “She’s embarrassed.”

It sounded like a lie.

He changed the subject, saying, “I’d like to see the baby.”

Melissa said, “She’s asleep.”

“I won’t wake her.”

Melissa looked to me with horrified desperation.

“Maybe it would be best not to see her now,” I said.

“I want to see her. I want to see what she looks like,” he said firmly.

Standoff. And no one spoke for a full minute. My insides churned, and I realized the palms of my hands were icy cold and dry. The confidence I’d had when the meeting began was gone. It seemed as though the room we sat in had tilted slightly and become unfamiliar.

Melissa sighed. “I’ll take you up there.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. Were we conceding anything? I wasn’t sure. Maybe Melissa thought if Moreland saw Angelina asleep in her crib, in her room, in our house, he would soften to our position. After all, the discussion so far had been abstract. Seeing the baby might help us.

“Sure,” she said.

I turned to Garrett. “Do you want to go?”

Garrett shook his head. “That’s okay,” he said. “I’d like a Coke or something, though. Do you have a Coke?”

He didn’t want to see her. That buoyed me. While Melissa led Moreland up the stairs, I went into the kitchen for the drink. Melissa kept a stash of Diet Coke in the back of the refrigerator. I filled an empty glass with ice from the icemaker and took the can and glass back into the living room. Garrett was standing at the mantel, looking at photos of our wedding, my parents on the ranch, Melissa’s family at their reunion last summer at the Broadmoor in Colorado Springs, Angelina as an infant in Melissa’s arms.

Over the baby monitor, I could hear the door to Angelina’s room open.

I handed the can and the glass to Garrett. He took the can without a word. That he’d stayed downstairs gave me an opening.

“You don’t really want to be a father, do you?”

“Not really.”

“So it’s your father?”

“He has ideas of his own.”

“Can you talk him out of it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Will you try?”

Garrett looked at me blankly. Something in his eyes disturbed me. It was as if he saw me as someone who couldn’t possibly understand him, and I was not worth an explanation.

“Just sign the papers,” I said. “There’s nothing your parents can do if you sign them.”

He smiled that half smile.

“I’ll do what I can for you if you sign them,” I said, having no idea what I could possibly do for him.

“My father is very rich,” he said. “I don’t need you.”

“You might if you sign the papers,” I said, trying to engage him man-to-man again. “Look, we’ve all made mistakes. None of us is perfect. Being a father changes your life, believe me. It’s a good thing, but you need to be ready for it. There’s a lot you need to give up. Your life is no longer your own. You lose your freedom. Plus, it’s the right thing to do, and I think you know that.”

He nodded while I spoke, and his eyes glistened. He was hearing me, and it seemed like he wanted to hear more. I got the strange feeling, though, that he wasn’t offering me encouragement as much as egging me on.

Over the monitor, I heard Melissa say, “Don’t touch her.” Her tone startled me.

“I just want to turn her over and look at her face,” Moreland said.

“I’ll do it,” Melissa said.

I could hear Angelina’s covers rustle, and heard a murmur.

“There,” Melissa said.

I realized both Garrett and I were staring at the monitor, straining to hear every word, every sound.

“Ah,” Moreland said. “She’s beautiful. She looks like her father and me.”

Silence from Melissa.

“See that little birthmark on her calf? I have that birthmark. It’s a sign of being a Moreland.”

“No!” Melissa said.

What was he doing?

He said, “I want to pick her up.”

“I said no.”

“Okay, okay,” Moreland said. “I’ll let her sleep. Can I take a photo of her at least? To show Kellie?”

“Please, I’d rather you didn’t,” Melissa said, sighing.

“Just a photo? Just one?”

Her silence was taken as acquiesence by both Moreland and me. I heard the click of a digital camera.

“I want to look at her for a few more moments.”

Melissa said, “Just look. That’s all.”

I put the glass of ice on the coffee table and prepared to go upstairs. My hands were trembling and knotted into fists, and I felt myself on the verge of losing control. If he said anything more, took more photos, touched her …

“Please, Mrs. McGuane …” the judge said. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Melissa said, “She’s my baby, and you want to take her away from me.”

“I understand how you must feel,” he said gently.

I took a deep breath, tried to calm myself. It had been a long time since I’d been as angry. I wondered what I would have done up there. I thought again of the Colt .45. And I knew that Melissa and I had entered a whole new place, where everything was different.

I noticed Garrett watching me, a smirk on his face.

“What were you going to do?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“I bet nothing.”

“You don’t want to see the baby, do you?” I asked.

“No,” he said, with that lazy curl of his lip.

“Sign the papers,” I said.

“You have a nice wife,” Garrett said. “I like her.”

His demeanor changed from the smirk back to stoic as Melissa and Moreland came down the stairs. His eyes were on Melissa, not his father.

“Maybe I’ll come over and watch the Bronco game with you,” Garrett said.

“What?” I was stunned once again.

“I should probably get to know you better,” he said, his eyes still on Melissa. “We should hang out.”

I didn’t know how to react to that. I could tell by their faces that both Melissa and Moreland had missed the exchange.

Moreland stopped on the landing and shook Melissa’s hand.

“Thank you,” he said. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is,” Melissa said, letting a tiny smile escape despite herself. “And she’s ours,” she added.

“Ah, we need to resolve this.”

“No,” Melissa said. “There’s nothing to resolve.”

Damn, I admired her for her toughness. Simply no.

Moreland turned to me. In response, I nodded toward Melissa as if to say,
It’s out of my hands. The answer is no.

“Come along, Garrett,” Moreland said. And to us, “Thank you for the coffee. It was nice to meet you.”

Garrett drained his Coke and handed the empty can to me, letting Moreland walk by until he was out of earshot.
He had an incredulous look on his face, as if he couldn’t believe his sudden good fortune.

“What?” I asked.

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards and his pupils dilated and I could almost hear him say to himself,
I own you people now, don’t I? You don’t dare do anything or say anything that will make me mad, or I won’t sign the papers.

Then he smiled outright, and something danced behind his eyes. I felt a chill roll down my back.

“Son?” Moreland opened the front door and Garrett ambled out, shooting a look at me as he went by. “Later,” he said.

Moreland said to Melissa, “I need to do some thinking. You are very impressive people. But…”

There it was again, that
but.

“The circumstances of this issue are black-and-white. I’ve reviewed the case law, and met with lawyer friends well versed in family law. The birth mother signed away her parental rights, but the father—Garrett—didn’t. Garrett should be the custodian of the baby, simple as that. No court would disagree. Regardless,” he said, waving the legal argument aside though he’d made his point, “I still feel we can work together. You obviously have feelings for the baby, and you’ve acted in good faith. There may be some wiggle room we’d agree to. Maybe you could visit her occasionally and be a positive part of her life, like an aunt and uncle. But the fact is the baby is our blood, and she legally belongs to us. One can’t diminish that fact. Blood is blood, the law is the law. Any judge can see we have the means to take excellent care of her and a wonderful home environment.”

“What does that mean?” Melissa asked. “That we don’t?”

“Of course you’ve done your best,” Moreland said, not without sympathy.

“We love Angelina,” Melissa said, a note of panic showing.

John Moreland nodded and pursed his lips.

“Think about having Garrett sign the papers,” I said. “You say we can adopt another baby and Garrett needs to accept responsibility. Maybe
he
can visit her on occasion. Maybe Garrett can be the uncle.”

I felt Melissa’s eyes bore into me. She wanted nothing to do with either of them.

“Ah, compromise,” Moreland said, toasting me without a glass as his way of acknowledging what I’d said. “That’s not going to happen. I just hope we can resolve this among ourselves, without a protracted legal struggle you’d eventually lose. That would make it tougher and more emotionally draining on you and the baby. In fact, it could be cruel to her, since the outcome is certain, and your ability to pay lawyers is finite.

“Look,” he said gently, “I know this is tough on you right now, and your head is probably spinning. But my offer still stands. There are other babies to adopt, and I can help make that happen. There are thousands of babies out there who could be nurtured and loved in a home like yours. My offer still stands to make things right for you.