Vada Faith (11 page)

“Come here little babies,” Dottie was calling. She chased first one baby and then another all around this white room. I thought it was heaven. “Oh, aren’t you cute, little baby,” she called. “Come to mommy.”

I was exhausted the next morning and my eyes were swollen from lack of sleep. I looked as though I’d cried all night. I sat in the bathroom with a cold cloth on my face for a few minutes and then dragged myself downstairs while John Wasper banged around in the bathroom shaving.

I went to get the newspaper from the front stoop. Leaning down, I saw my own face staring back at me. I came wide awake as I read the headlines. “Local Woman Inseminated with Sperm of Mississippi Man.” There was a fuzzy photo of me entering the clinic the day before.

The story centered mostly on the Kilgore’s troubled home improvement business. Thankfully, my name wasn’t mentioned. My identity wouldn’t be hard for people to figure out. The article said I was a local beautician, married, with a set of twin girls.

Next to the story was a big ad for the Volunteers of America requesting donations of cars and boats with the caption, “Don’t Sell Your Baby.”

“Don’t sell your baby,” repeated like a mantra in my head.

I wondered if that ad was an omen for me? Was I about to sell a baby? Midgy Brown’s story was also front page news. She was chairing the committee to clean up the mess out at Our Lady Cemetery. They’d stuck a tiny photo of her in the far corner. Blowing my picture up as big as the sky didn’t leave much space for her. The photo wasn’t at all flattering, showing me from the side and making my rear end look big as the entire state of West Virginia.

I went inside and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. When I heard my husband coming down the stairs, I quickly hid the newspaper under some magazines on the kitchen counter. Then I realized he’d hear the story from someone at work before the end of the day and I didn’t want that. After all this was big news. I placed the paper by his coffee on the table.

“Did you see this?” He unfolded the newspaper, groaning. “What a mess.” He stared at my picture and then crumpled the newspaper. “Everyone in the world will know what you’ve gone and done. He glared at me. “They won’t get it from this newspaper.” He shredded the paper into the trash can.

“What I’ve gone and done,” I said, handing him the bank receipt from the day before, “is added money to our bank account.” I stared down at the shredded newspaper hanging half out of the can, with my picture in a dozen pieces.

“I don’t care about money,” he said, throwing the bank receipt down on the table. “I told you before. I care about you. You and the girls. That’s all. I want our life back. I don’t want you making the news for being inseminated with the sperm of another man.” He cringed. “This,” he jerked his finger at the trash can, “this is not what I call good news. I call that a ruined day. Maybe a ruined life!”

He grabbed up the thermos of coffee I’d just fixed him and slammed out of the house.

“I thought you’d support me!” I called. He was already gone. The day was off to a bang. It couldn’t get any worse.

I half expected him to stick his head back in the door and say, “Girl, why can’t you bloom where you’re planted.” In which case, I would have whacked him in the head with Grandma Belle’s old plaque. I knew this was too serious for my husband’s old standby remark.

I went up to the bedroom and sat down on the chair by the dresser. I took out the diamond bracelet and slipped it on my arm. For a moment, I felt better.

“Mommy,” Hope Renee said from the doorway, still wearing her Winnie-the-Pooh pajamas and with her thumb in her mouth, “can I wear your sparkly bracelet?”

Charity Mae was right behind her sister, wearing her Peter Rabbit pajamas, her thumb in her mouth as well. She held out her arm for the bracelet, just like her sister.

Two miniature dolls, both thumb suckers from birth. Before birth according to the doctor, though I couldn’t see it on the ultrasound. These little girls were the best part of my life. They had been since their birth. I gathered them both up in a bear hug. I wanted this couple to experience the joy I had with my own children and certainly we could use the money. What was it all going to cost?

I hadn’t told the girls yet what their mommy was up to. I wouldn’t until I was pregnant. I wasn’t sure how much they’d understand, and thankfully, they were far removed from the news media. If John Wasper didn’t start cooperating I didn’t know what I’d do.

I unfastened the bracelet from my arm and put it on Hope Renee’s little arm. “You can wear it five minutes,” I said, looking at my watch and tousling her blonde curls. “Then Charity Mae gets a turn.” They dropped quickly to the floor to examine the bracelet.

I felt my flat stomach. I was beginning to wonder if Roy Kilgore’s sperm and any of my eggs had managed to do anything more than mingle or had they gotten sidetracked with all the upheaval?

On Friday, mama came to the shop to take us out to lunch. It was the first time I’d seen her since she’d returned from her trip.

“I’d better stay here,” I said, sipping on a warm Coke. “We may have some walk ins.”

The morning had dragged by with only a few regulars. The temperature was hovering at 95. Most of the women I knew were over at the city pool or out at Shady Creek Reservoir trying to stay cool. I ran my fingers through my short hair which was limp from the humidity. I was feeling at my lowest.

“Vada Faith, we haven’t had a walk-in all week.” Joy Ruth had her purse on her arm already. “Let’s go eat. If someone is dying for a haircut they’ll come back. My next appointment isn’t until 1:30.”

I was hungry. So hungry I could eat the sunflowers hanging off mama’s denim hat. I was free until 2:00. The topic of conversation was sure to be me. I didn’t want to hear what either of them had to say. Yet, if I didn’t go they’d talk behind my back and I didn’t want that either.

“Okay,” I said, picking up my shoulder bag, “Where to?”

“Memory Lane. I could do with some comfort food.” Mama smiled.

The place was crowded but once we were seated I was glad I’d come. We ordered their famous Memory burgers and cheese fries and I leaned back in the booth and felt cooler than I had all day.

“Vada Faith,” Mama said, pulling a tube of lip gloss from her bag and running it over her lips, “we need to talk.” She looked from her compact over to me. “Now, don’t get that oh-poor-me look.” She snapped the compact closed. “I’m not here to crucify you. You’re a big girl and can do anything you want.”

“Whoa there,” I said, making the peace sign with my fingers. “I was only admiring your hat.”

“Well, you can borrow it sometime.” She smiled showing her deep dimples. It was the one thing my sister and I had inherited from her. Her dimples. “I want you to know, honey, I’m not mad at you for not telling me. I do understand.” She smoothed back her long blonde hair. At 47, Helena could pass for our older sister.

“I did bring you girls something from my vacation. These are for you two,” she pulled out shirts that said HAWAII, “and these,” she said, beaming, “are for my babies.” She pulled out tiny hula skirts for the girls.

“Oh, those are too cute.” My sister held up the skirts.

“Thanks.” I leaned over and hugged mama. She might have gone off and left us when we were young but she loved her grandchildren and that made up for some of the hurt.

“Excuse me. Vada Faith?” A man stopped at our table. “Vada Faith Waddell?”

“I’m her mother,” Mama said, irritated at having our hug interrupted.

“Stewart Silverberg.” He put his hand out to Helena.

She took it and fluttered her eyelids. The woman could not resist the attention of a handsome man wearing gold jewelry.

“I saw your story on the news.” He shook hands around the table. “I’m an attorney.” He glanced out the window at the town square. “Great town, Shady Creek.” He turned to me. “How’re you doing today?”

“Fine.” I inspected the dessert menu. I intended to have dessert since Memories made them from scratch. “What do you want?” I asked, unable to take my eyes off the dessert special which was double chocolate pecan pie.

“I specialize in surrogacy law. I’m offering my services to you.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “No charge, of course. From what I hear, you could use some help.”

“I don’t need any help. I’m sick of people telling me what I need. I don’t need an attorney.”

“You do need legal advice. Roy Kilgore isn’t anyone to tangle with. How did he find you, anyway? Never mind.” He saw the look of fury on my face. “Have you thought about keeping your baby?”

“I’m not pregnant yet. If I do get pregnant the baby will belong to the couple I’m having it for.”

“If he goes to the federal pen, you may not want to give him your child.” He opened his briefcase and took out some papers. “This is a surrogacy contract.” He put some papers in front of me. “Look it over. See what you think. My number is on there.”

“I don’t need a contract.” I folded the dessert menu. My appetite was gone.

“Would you like to order, sir?” The waitress asked as she placed our orders in front of us.

“No, thanks,” he said, “I’ve already eaten.”

I picked up a fry and ate it while everyone else dug into their burgers.

“Why would I want to keep a baby that belonged to someone else? What business is it of yours?”

“He may be indicted. If he goes to prison, do you want his wife to raise your child?”

“If I have this baby,” I said, crumpling my napkin in frustration, “it will belong to them. I didn’t get into this to have a baby to keep. I don’t want more children, Mr. Silverberg.”

“Don’t you know this is your baby whether you raise it or not? You will always be its biological mother.”

“Hold on a minute.” The color drained from my mother’s face as she put her Memory burger down and looked at me. “You are just going to carry this baby. Isn’t that right, honey? They used the wife’s egg.” Her eyes narrowed. “Right, Vada Faith?”

“I don’t believe that’s the case.” Mr. Silverberg looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Is it?” He stared over at me.

I turned away and didn’t answer.

“Tell me I’m dreaming,” Mama said, collapsing backward in her chair. She pulled off her denim hat and started fanning herself.

I didn’t say a word. My sister stared at me as though my head had toppled off my shoulders. Mama rummaged through her tote bag and unearthed a wadded tissue. She dabbed at her eyes and looked away. “That baby will be my grandchild. My very own grandchild.”

I hadn’t expected this reaction from her. When had she become the consummate mother grandmother anyway? From the look on my sister’s face it was her very own egg being hijacked for the procedure. I was relieved the truth was finally out.

“Here.” Mr. Silverberg put a business card on the table. “Call me if you change your mind. I’ll help you any way I can.”

“You’ve already done enough,” I muttered as he walked away. I had known that using my own egg gave this surrogacy personal significance. I had counted on it remaining a secret. Maybe not forever but until I was dead and gone anyway.

“If I did need help,” I said, trying to still my thumping heart, “and I don’t, why would a big city lawyer want to help me? I’m a nobody.”

“You’re a nobody who just became a somebody, Vada Faith!” My sister snapped at me. “Not just in Shady Creek, either. You’re big news. How can you be so slow to pick up on this?” She pushed her plate away. “The story has been on national television, girl. If he hooked up with you, he would be on the news too. Get it?” She shook her head sadly. “You’ve lost your mind and I’ve lost my appetite.”

For once I didn’t know what to say.

“What has my little girl gotten herself into?” Mama’s face was the color of Elmer’s Glue. “Dear me, dear me.”

I pushed away my Memory burger and dashed to the restroom where I threw up my breakfast. I was sick inside and out.

“Surrogacy is a sin!” A man shouted into a megaphone as he walked back and forth in front of our beauty shop.

I rolled down the window of my sister’s car as she sped past the shop to park. I wanted to yell back at him I was so enraged but changed my mind. I wouldn’t lower myself.

“It’s adultery,” he shouted so loudly we could hear him in back of the parking lot where she was parking her car.

“Breeder woman!” A man beside him chanted. They carried NO SURROGACY signs. One man held a sign that read, “Come to the Tabernacle of the Righteous. Be SAVED.”

“It’s a good thing mama drove herself home.” Joy Ruth glared at me, putting the car in park. “She doesn’t need any more stress. You’d better do something fast. Those crazy people are going to ruin our business hanging around here. This surrogacy has become a circus and you’ve dragged us all along for the ride.” She shook her head as we hurried toward the shop. Because she had a new car, she parked it as far back in the lot as possible.

This was only the second time I’d been in the car. She acted like it was pure gold. She didn’t allow any roughhousing when the girls rode with her. They didn’t mind. They loved going with their aunt.

She was lucky she could afford a new car every year. She was single and had only herself to think about. I had a family and drove a Metro with nearly 100,000 miles on it. I had little hope of ever replacing it until this surrogacy came along. What I’d thought was going to be something good was turning into something disastrous, a nightmare for me and everyone else.

“Are you going to do something about these demonstrators?” She scowled over at me and pushed her hair away from her face as we strode toward the commotion.

“Yes!” I screamed, “I’ll handle it.”

“Get away from here!” I screamed, running toward the men and swinging my purse. One old man held his hands over his head.

“Skinny coward.” I swung my shoulder bag at him again. I missed and knocked the straw hat off an old woman who sat in a green webbed lawn chair selling baked goods from a table. “Cupcakes. Fifty cents,” the sign taped on front of the table read.

My sister unlocked the shop door and hurried inside. “If this parade continues,” she called back over her shoulder, “we won’t have to worry about our customers. We won’t have any.”