Vada Faith (27 page)

“I want to sleep close to you then. How about that.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, at last, moving over to make some room for me. “I love you, but sometimes you make loving you hard.” He put his arms behind his head.

“I know,” I said, content to be near him.

I snuggled close. I let my hand wander over to feel the hardness of his body.

I snuggled closer. Before morning he would make love to me. I knew that for certain. He still loved me and I loved him. I hoped that before it was over, he would love the little baby that now lay between us.

The next day I was leafing through a magazine and munching on an apple when Roy Kilgore walked into the shop dressed in dress jeans and a casual white shirt. It was lunch time and my sister was out for a stroll. I’d given up our midday walk when I got pregnant. My feet and legs were already starting to bother me.

“You’re alone, I see,” he said, smiling, his eyes taking in the empty shop. As he came closer I could smell his expensive after shave.

“What can I do for you?” I asked, putting down the magazine and standing up. I didn’t trust him at close range.

“I just had to see you,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I can’t sleep anymore for thinking of you and our baby. It’s driving me nuts.”

“I’m sorry you can’t sleep,” I said, dropping the apple core into the trash. “My husband has been having that trouble.” I thought of the night before. He hadn’t had any trouble sleeping then. After making love we both slept deeply and woke in each other’s arms.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he said, impatiently. “I want to talk about us.” He reached out and took my hand and caressed it which caused me to panic and my hormones to go into a frenzied uproar.

“Mr. Kilgore.” I jerked my hand away self conscious of the white eyelet maternity top and tight black stretch pants I wore.

“I love you, little girl,” he said, “and I want to marry you.”

“No,” I snapped, my panic turning to rage, “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m married and I love my husband.”

“You can love anyone, sweetheart, when you put your mind to it.” He came closer. “Why, you could learn to love me. I know you could. I’d give you anything you wanted.”

“I have everything I want.” I moved away from him.

“You don’t have a house out in Crystal Springs,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I do.” He pulled a key from his pocket. “This is to the biggest house out there. Better than the Queen Anne.” He held a brass key in front of my nose. “Just say the word. It’s yours, sweetheart.”

“No!” I said, dropping into a dryer chair. “Can’t you understand. Nothing would make me leave my family. Not a million houses. Not the Queen Anne. Not even the biggest house in the world.”

“Look at that out there,” he said, pointing out the shop window. He was ignoring everything I’d said.

Reluctantly I stood and glanced out the window. A little red convertible sat at the curb.

“See that baby,” he boasted. “It’s yours if you want it. Anything else you can think of that you want. It’s yours.”

Suddenly he grabbed me. I pushed hard against his muscular arms but I couldn’t budge them. Before I could stop him, he kissed me on the mouth, long and hard.

When he finally eased his grip, I pulled away gasping and there in the doorway stood John Wasper staring at me, dressed in his best jeans and the new beautiful blue L.L. Bean shirt I’d bought him.

“John Wasper!” I broke away from the older man and rubbed my lips to get the feel of him off me.

“I came by to see if you were okay,” my husband said, icily, “And to see if you wanted to go with me to choose the paint for the upstairs.” His face was an unhealthy red as he looked from me to the man beside me. “I can see you don’t need me.” He turned on his heel and was gone and with him went the hope of this surrogacy ever turning out right.

“John Wasper!” I called, running to the door where his fresh soapy scent still lingered. I watched as his truck shot from the parking lot and into the noontime traffic.

“Now look what you’ve done.” I rushed at the man wanting to scratch his eyes out and then I stopped myself. I felt sick to my stomach and didn’t need any more stress. “My husband thinks there’s something going on between us,” I said, through gritted teeth.

“There is something going on, little girl, if you’d only admit it. You feel something too, honey. Stop denying it.”

I started to cry.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry,” he said. “Come on now. I’m sorry, Vada Faith. You’re upsetting yourself and the baby. You won’t regret leaving him, honey,” he added. “I promise you that. He’s small potatoes.”

“I am not leaving him!” I screamed at him between sobs. “Why can’t you understand that? As for the baby, I’d never upset it. This baby is mine.”

“You’re just upset, sweetheart. Calm down now.” He smiled, broadly, “I’d better warn you, little girl.” His eyes twinkled. “I’m used to getting my way.”

My life was falling apart and this man, worm that he was, stood there looking all gleeful. Smiling. Rocking on his heels.

“Now you call me, honey, and just say when. That big new house is waiting for you and that little car can’t drive itself.”

“Go,” I said, wearily, pointing to the door, “go away.”

I watched from the window as the little red convertible roared to life. The man behind the wheel threw up his hand as he drove away as though everything was right with the world. Well, maybe with his world. Certainly not with mine.

I looked up and down the street for some sign of my sister or a customer. Anybody to come inside and fill up the shop. Anybody besides the man who’d just left.

It was past time to take things into my own hands. I had to try to fix things. I only hoped it wasn’t too late. I hoped too that my family would eventually understand. I wasn’t counting on anything anymore.

The note was on the kitchen counter when I got home that afternoon from work. At first I couldn’t comprehend it. I was tired and had to read it twice to understand it and then the tears of sadness came.

Vada Faith,

I’ve moved my stuff to Bruiser’s new place. If the girls need anything call me there. If you go away with that man, I will raise the girls. Maybe he can love you better than I can. I don’t know you anymore. I don’t know me anymore. Come to think of it, I don’t know anyone or anything anymore. I put your vitamins out on the counter and the note from the doctor reminding you to cut down on salt. Tell the girls where I am. John Wasper

After I cried until I couldn’t shed another tear, I called Joy Ruth and she came to stay with us for a few days. I knew I had to hold things together for the girls and it was the last thing I felt like doing. The girls of course thought it was one big slumber party eating popcorn night after night and watching reruns of the Dukes of Hazzard, my twin’s all-time favorite show, and playing beauty shop using the little wooden shop their daddy had made them. They thought he was out of town and I didn’t have the heart to tell them any different.

Eventually my sister had to go back to her own life which I was sorry to hear included Bruiser Waddell and I had to go back to mine. Sorry as it was.

The day my husband left, I called his brother’s house but when the phone started ringing I hung up. I was relieved because I didn’t know what to say anyway. However, a few days later, I got up enough nerve to call again and my husband answered.

“Hey,” I said, my heart jumping with joy when I heard his voice.

“Hey, yourself,” John Wasper said. There was dead silence. He didn’t say another thing. I was left fumbling for words.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” I said, finally, and it was. I wanted to be in his arms but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“Good to hear yours, too,” he said, a little cheerier.

“You know I don’t love Roy Kilgore,” I said, the words tumbling out. “You can’t believe I do. I love you, John Wasper.” I took a deep breath. “I have since the first day I laid eyes on you. I remember the day like it was yesterday.”

I sat down on his side of the bed and pretended he was right there beside me.

“I remember too,” he said, his voice softening, and I knew he was thinking back to the day that changed our lives, the day he showed up on his bike when we were kids. “You had on those red shorts,” he sighed deeply, “with that majorette shirt.”

“You smelled like soap and Colgate,” I added, moving into an Indian style position with the phone under my chin. I picked up my husband’s pillow where the smell of him still lingered. “You know I don’t love that man,” I said again. “I never will.”

“I don’t know anything anymore. I know you love his baby.” He paused for what seemed like forever. “I don’t know what to do about that. You made the decision to be a surrogate and give away a baby and now you want to keep it.”

“It’s my baby. Couldn’t you love it for that reason alone?” My plea was futile and I knew it.

It was too late to wheedle him and for some reason I no longer wanted to. I wanted him to love this baby. I couldn’t make him. “Please come home,” I pleaded.

“I can’t,” he said, without wavering. “Not now, anyway.”

“Are you ever coming home?” I asked, dreading his answer.

“I don’t know. That’s all I can tell you. I just don’t know.”

I didn’t want to end our connection. I finally put the phone down. There wasn’t anything I could say to make things better or to change them. I felt worse than ever.

Later, I stood on the apple rug in the kitchen letting its softness nestle my bare feet as I did the dishes. My sister had put the rug down the day before when she swept for me. My husband hated that rug. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t home and he might never be again.

He was always so careful about everything. Slippery rugs. Loose stair railings. He cautioned the girls to walk and not run. Maybe he was too careful. Wasn’t life about taking risks? How did you know which ones to take and what they would cost?

I’d been hasty making the decision to be a surrogate mother. I should have consulted John Wasper but I’d known he would say no. Maybe I’d even known he was right. I’d wanted to do something big. At the time that was all I could think about. I wanted a big new house and I’d foolishly risked everything I loved for something that no longer mattered. Now my family was destroyed and there wasn’t one thing I could do about it.

I was still holding onto the tiniest bit of hope that he would change his mind and come home.

I was more worried than I wanted to admit. I’d gone to see him during his lunch hour one day. He was in the parking lot talking to some people. Sandy Dooley stood next to him. She was laughing and smiling up at him as if he’d hung the moon and stars. I didn’t like it and I couldn’t do one thing about it.

When she handed him an envelope and he patted her arm I wanted to get out of the car and scratch her eyes out. Instead I went home and wept for my lost life.

As I ran my toes over the shape of the apple rug I washed up the last of the dishes and gave myself a pep talk. Things would work out. They would. They just had to.

That was how little I knew.

“Please welcome Vada Faith Waddell and Dottie and Roy Kilgore,” Maddie Magill called, clapping with her audience. “Today we’re revisiting the issue of surrogacy.”

The audience cheered wildly as if she’d just said they were all getting a free trip to Cancun.

It was only one week since my husband had left. I sat there on stage with a big artificial smile pasted on my face. Maddie Magill had said when she saw my glum look I couldn’t come on the show unless I smiled.

So there I was smiling and twisting a tissue in my hands when I didn’t have a thing in the world to smile about. I felt totally alone in the world now. Even more alone in my surrogacy.

“Vada Faith,” Maddie turned to me when the audience had calmed down, “you are several months into this pregnancy. Have you felt life yet?”

“No,” I said, acutely aware of the woman’s composure as she sat calmly beside me in her navy designer suit. Unlike my cool first appearance, I now wore stretch pants and a white knit top with BABY across the front in big letters. My heart was thumping louder than the drum roll when Maggie had walked on stage.

“But you know life is there,” she said.

“Yes, of course.” I stared at her. I felt sorry for the poor woman. She didn’t know the first thing about having a baby.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kilgore,” she said, “this surrogacy of yours has stirred up some controversy and it has pushed a few buttons in the community. Help me, if you will, to understand this. Perhaps you could share with us your feelings as you await the birth of this child.”

“I’m so excited,” Dottie gushed, smoothing down her red silk dress. She folded her hands in her lap and pressed her red and white spike heels primly together on the blue carpet.

“What is that you have with you?” Maddie asked, peering at the shopping bag at the woman’s feet.

“This is the outfit I will bring my baby home in,” she said, beaming, and unwrapped a white baptismal looking dress and a cap covered with a million satin bows.

The audience oohed and aahed as the show host held up the silly outfit.

Well, I could tell them right then my baby would not be coming home in that outfit.

“This is adorable,” Maddie said, handing the outfit back to Dottie. “So I take it you have the layette and the nursery ready.”

“Oh, my, yes.” The woman laughed showing her ultra white teeth. “I’ve already had several showers.”

“Well, how many showers do you plan to have?”

“Why, as many as I can.” The woman fanned herself with a delicate handkerchief, her long blonde hair shining. “Roy’s friends from work are throwing us one. The women’s club is giving me a shower brunch. I’m flying down to Mississippi for one.” She went on breathlessly. “You can’t have too many baby things. Can you, honey?” She nudged Roy who nodded and patted his wife’s hand.

“Well, now,” Maddie said, seriously, staring over at the couple, “we need to cut to the chase here.” She winked at me as though we were conspirators in the drama that was about to unfold. “You see, when the birth mother contacted me about doing a follow up on her surrogacy I wasn’t sure there’d be much interest until the baby came. With this new development, I’m sure everyone will want to hear what she has to say.” Maddie turned to me, “Vada Faith, we’re all ears.”