Vada Faith (8 page)

“Great,” I said, “glad you like it.” I finally wound the last piece of Marge’s hair onto a roller.

“I have to get Marge under the dryer and I’ll be right with you.” I directed Marge to a dryer and found the magazine she’d been reading earlier and handed it to her. “Coffee?” I asked, but she shook her head and opened the magazine.

I motioned for Dorene. She took her time waddling over to my chair and making herself comfortable.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, picking up a Coke I’d been sipping on all day and motioning for Dottie to follow me. “I’ll show you our products.”

“I want you to see what I bought in the baby shop next door, Vada Faith,” she said, excitedly, hurrying along behind me. She pulled something from the bag she carried. “For our little one. Can you believe it. This is for our baby.”

I turned and stared at the baby outfit she held in front of my face, tiny white pajamas with a fuzzy yellow duck on the front.

“I thought we could bring him home from the hospital in this. What do you think?” She rubbed the material between her fingers.

I could feel my facial muscles drawing taut and a tension headache building.

“Too heavy?” She asked anxiously. “Should I go back and get the lightweight one? This is so soft.” She held it next to her cheek. “Should I get pink or blue or one of each? I simply cannot wait for the baby. Can you?”

Was it my imagination or were all eyes in the shop on me? Was there a lull in conversation? I was afraid to look around to see who was listening.

“Joy Ruth,” I said, and she looked up from the appointment book, “would you finish Dorene for me?” I put the Coke can on the reception counter with a slight bang and went across to the display cabinet that held the products we used.

Surprisingly, Joy Ruth hurried off to work on Dorene without any questions.

“What’s the matter?” Dottie asked, trotting along behind me like a wounded puppy. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” I snapped, looking at the array of hair products. I was furious at the woman. For showing up here unannounced and for talking about the surrogacy. Then pulling out that baby outfit. What was wrong with her? She might as well announce my intentions on the evening news.

“Dottie,” I said, trying to calm myself down, “it’s just not appropriate for you to come in here and talk about me having a baby for you. This surrogacy is very personal and private to me.”

I turned to say more and then I really looked at her. Her eyes were filling with tears and she looked pathetic. I just couldn’t be mad at her. After all she’d been through. Wanting a baby and trying so hard to have one. Then being discouraged and being childless.

Maybe there was something wrong with me if I didn’t want to discuss the surrogacy.

“Listen,” I said, sighing, “I haven’t told anyone yet, that’s all. I wanted to wait. Look,” I patted her arm, “it doesn’t matter, okay.” I picked up a bottle of the expensive hair spray and handed it to her. “Here’s what I used. You take it and try it. If you like it next time you can buy it.”

“Oh, I’m glad you’re not mad at me. Honey, you are the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” She beamed at me. “I’m happy you’re having our baby. I can’t believe it yet. Within a year I’m going to be a mother.” She leaned over and hugged me. “It’s all because of you, honey. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me and Roy in a long time.”

When I got the woman out the door with her parcels, Barry came up to me, snapping his fingers, “Hey,” he lowered his voice, “I heard what she said. You’re going to be a surrogate mother.” He ran his fingers through his thinning hair and smiled brightly. “Tell me I’m right. Come on, girlfriend.”

Barry was the nosiest person I knew and of course he’d been eavesdropping. “Give, now,” he said with the same Richard Simmons perkiness he’d had all his life.

“I’m only thinking about it, Barry,” I said, wearily. I was tired of trying to keep it quiet. “I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“This is a great story.” He put his arm around my shoulder as I walked back to my station. “I could break it on the evening news,” he said, in my ear. “Then, you could appear on Live with Maddie Magill and explain what you’re doing. Her talk show is fun. People will love you for doing this.”

“No!” I pulled away from him. I was afraid everyone in the shop was talking about Dottie Kilgore. I glanced around and could see that most of the women had gone back to what they were doing before she had arrived. Most of them were buried behind magazines. “John Wasper would never want this on television.”

I took the broom and swept around my chair then picked up the small pile of hair with a paper towel. I thought of John Wasper who was putting up an oak shelf for Midgy today. “He’s not keen on this anyway.” I lowered my voice. “You just keep quiet about it for now. You hear?”

“Fine,” he said in almost a whisper. He took a card from his wallet and handed it to me. “I won’t tell a soul until I hear from you. I promise. Call me, honey, and let us do this story. You’re the first person in Shady Creek to be a surrogate mother. This is big. People will be interested. This is exciting, historic. Women who can’t have babies will love it. You may persuade someone else to be a surrogate.” He was rocking back and forth on his feet, proud of himself.

He was the kind of person you couldn’t help but like even when he was driving you nuts. John Wasper would never want me appearing on television telling people what I planned to do. He didn’t like what I was doing and he wouldn’t want the world to know it.

“Can you work me in on Tuesday?” He asked, louder now. “I’m desperate for a trim.”

“Sure,” I said, and penciled him into the appointment book. “See you at 11:00.” I didn’t tell him I hoped by Tuesday he’d be completely bald and I’d have nothing to wash or comb but his shiny head.

Wearily, I put away the appointment book and went to take my last customer.

“Are you really going through with this?” Joy Ruth asked, as she swept up hair around her chair. It had been a long day and we were both ready to go home.

“Yes.” I stifled a yawn.

After spending the day on my feet and listening to customers complain about the ills of the world the thought of being a surrogate mother seemed like a breeze. How hard could having this baby be, anyway? I emptied the small trash can from the shampoo area into the large one by the back door.

“Women are surrogates because they like being pregnant.” My sister’s voice took on a school teacher tone. “Have you forgotten that you didn’t especially like being pregnant?”

“How could I forget anything when you’re here to remind me? Seven days a week. You’re like mama’s warped Elvis record that keeps repeating hound dog. Only you like to repeat all my faults.”

“Not your faults. I wouldn’t need to remind you of anything if you’d just listen the first time around.”

“You’ve been wanting to talk all day. So, go ahead,” I said, wearily, “talk.”

“Authentic surrogates are selfless women who really want to help a childless couple. You don’t want to do that. You just want the glory or the money. I never knew you to be so mercenary. How could you do this for, for pocket change?”

“Oh, give it up,” I snapped, wondering if some of what she said was true. “It’s been a long day. I want to help Roy and Dottie. Can’t you understand? Besides in a few years this will be a common practice. It’s in the Bible.”

“Are you telling me surrogacy is sanctioned by God?”

“Don’t you remember the story about Abraham and Sarah. She was infertile. Her maid, Hagar, bore them a child. And,” I said with emphasis, “Abraham and Hagar had to get intimate to do this. Do you see me being intimate with anyone? No, this is strictly clinical. Now, I’m not going to discuss it any further.”

“Clinical, crap,” she said, emptying the dust pan into the big trash can.

“It’s just another way to build a family,” I said. “Roy Kilgore wants a child. Is that so wrong? He wants a biological link to his family. He’s older than his wife. Maybe he’s afraid he’ll die and he wants to leave an heir. Besides, I want a new house out in Crystal Springs while I’m young enough to enjoy it.”

“Do you have to have a baby and give it away, Vada Faith? I’d never do that.”

“That’s your problem.”

“How can we be so different? We shared the same space in mama’s womb.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m tired already.”

“You’re doing this to hurt me. Admit it.”

“Why do you personalize everything? Believe it or not, this has nothing to do with you, Joy Ruth. It’s about me. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help me. There’s a difference. According to you, everything I do has a negative affect on you. Get over it. Get a life of your own and stay out of mine.”

I was sweeping now, pushing the broom back and forth with more energy than I’d had all day. She hurried about picking up magazines that were scattered all around the shop. People could be so messy when they were using someone else’s stuff. I was glad the next day was Sunday and we were closed. I intended to sleep all day with the phone unplugged. I didn’t want to talk to my sister or anyone else.

“Surely you wouldn’t go on television and talk about this?” She picked up Barry’s card from the counter. “Would you?” Her eyes narrowed accusingly.

“No.” I’d say anything to get her to shut up. I put the broom away.

“Good.” She dropped the card into the trash can.

I puttered around while she gathered up her things. I intentionally let her leave ahead of me.

When she was gone, I pulled Barry’s card out of the trash and pushed it into the side pocket of my purse. I was tired of her running my life.

As I locked the shop, I noticed the baby store next door. From the window a baby boy stared up at me with solemn blue eyes. He wore a sailor suit and navy hat, his blonde hair curling around the edges of the hat. He reminded me of my own fair-haired girls when they were babies.

Walking past the display, I felt the baby’s eyes following me. I looked back cautiously. Of course, his eyes hadn’t moved or had they? Was this a sign I was going to give birth to a son? What a silly thought. I was letting my nerves get the best of me.

I was relieved when I finally turned the corner. Dottie Kilgore was beginning to rub off on me, thinking that the mannequin baby was watching me. Still, I hastened my footsteps and ran the last block home. The insemination was growing closer. Was I coming unglued at the thought?

“I don’t know about this surrogacy,” John Wasper said, as he carried the wooden jelly cabinet into the kitchen from his workshop in the garage. It was late Sunday evening. He had worked on the piece all weekend. “I like it less since meeting the Kilgores.” The muscles in his arms rippled with the weight of the cabinet as he strained to move it himself.

“Perfect,” I said indicating the corner of the big country kitchen where we’d placed the cabinet. “The light from the window falls on the cabinet here.” The double windows were long and lace covered. The sun dappled the cupboard as he put it in place.

“I wish you’d move this rug,” he said, catching his foot on the red apple rug I’d placed by the back door. “Someone’s going to fall and get hurt. Probably you or one of the girls. You’re always falling.”

“I love it.” I ran my hand down the beautiful cabinet, ignoring his remark about the surrogacy and the rug at the door. The surrogacy was still a sticking point and we’d been over the issue of the rug before. He didn’t like throw rugs. Period. The color scheme in my kitchen centered around red apples and the rug worked well. Besides it kept dirt from being tracked into the kitchen.

Right then I was more interested in the placement of the jelly cabinet. The piece matched the oak farmhouse table and chairs he’d refinished a few months back. He bought all our stuff from garage and estate sales. He could take a piece of furniture and make it look new. Better than new, really. Everything in our house had been refinished or made by him. He was as good at making things from scratch as he was at refinishing old things. The house had the kind of interior that could be featured in Southern Living. Even the exterior of the old house, with its wraparound porch, would make a magazine cover with the lush flower beds he’d planted. We couldn’t afford to update everything. Not all at once and I was tired of piecemeal. The place needed serious repairs. John Wasper was doing it himself, and at the rate he was going the place wouldn’t be finished until our golden anniversary. I couldn’t wait that long.

Since the days of trailer living, I’d looked forward to having a new home. I’d fallen in love with the beautiful homes out in Crystal Springs. I longed for French doors and a bath off the master bedroom.

“Can we talk a minute?” He asked, pouring a cup of coffee and sitting down at the table.

“Sure.” I opened the dishwasher and started loading dishes into it.

“Have you thought about every angle of this surrogacy? How it will affect the girls? Your job? What about us, honey?” He gave me a serious look. “We still have a marriage here.” He lifted his cup to take a drink but put it back down.

“There’s your health to think about.” His tone grew serious. “What if you have trouble?

Just because you didn’t last time don’t mean you won’t this time. What if you miscarry, or something worse? Stuff could go wrong. There’s a lot to think about. I read about this young woman going in to give birth to her first child and getting a blood clot on the delivery table and dying. Right then. Gone. Leaving her baby and husband, Vada Faith. We have two girls of our own to think about. That’s a risk to take to give someone else a baby.”

I sat down across from him, not wanting to think about a new mother dying on the delivery table. “I’d be giving life to a baby who wouldn’t otherwise be born. A child that would never exist without me.”

I’d read that in one of the surrogacy books. I thought it made a good sound argument.

“Well,” he said, after a few minutes, “I’m not convinced it should be you who does this.” He leaned back in the ladder back chair and took a drink of coffee.

“This will be their baby, honey. Not mine. I may not even see it when this is over. Dottie and Roy may not stay here. After this is over we won’t have to see them if you don’t want to.”