Vada Faith (9 page)

“So I never have to see this baby at all?”

“Not unless you want to. That will be your decision, I promise.”

“That’s grand of you,” he said sarcastically. “I know already. I don’t want to.”

“Look,” I said. I opened my purse and rummaged through it. “I went out to Crystal Springs last week and walked through the model home. I got this,” I said, handing him the information sheet and floor plan. “The Queen Anne model.”

“Good Lord, Vada Faith,” he said studying the floor plan, “this thing has four bedrooms and three and a half baths.”

“Yes,” I said, “and a galley kitchen, a breakfast nook, French doors, and a bay window.”

“Looks too fancy to me.” He studied the layout. “Wow,” he whistled, “look at this master suite. It’s sure secluded.”

I nodded. “Remember when mama stayed here.”

“Who could forget? It was after her divorce. The second? No, third. She was looking for a house with the money Boyd Cramer gave her as a settlement.

“There was zero privacy with her in the next bedroom. We were strangers for six weeks.” He checked the design. “Cathedral ceilings.” He paused. “What the heck is this? Both a verandah and a piazza. What’s this columned gallery opening into the living room?” He frowned. “This is too much house for me.”

“Look,” I said, sweetly, “this is the house I want but it’s not like we’re buying it tomorrow.” I took the paper and tucked it back into my purse. “We’re due at your mother’s at six. We have to get a move on and remember. Tonight we tell your mom and brothers about the surrogacy.”

“You tell them. I’d rather face a firing squad myself. I can already hear Bruiser and Bobby Joe. I’ll never live this down.” He rubbed his chin. “Wait and see. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He sighed. “I can’t tell you anything anymore.”

“I can handle them,” I called running up the stairs to change clothes. My voice sounded braver than I felt. In the bedroom mirror, I checked my hair. I’d just had it cut and styled. Not bad. I needed to feel good about myself tonight of all nights.

I dreaded telling his family more than I dreaded telling my own. Dealing with Bruiser, his oldest brother, was my least favorite thing to do in all the world. He seemed to live his life to make mine miserable.

I combed my hair, fluffing it with my fingers, and applied some lipstick.

Bruiser’s wife, Missy Sue, had left him for someone she met in Myrtle Beach on their honeymoon. Though that was several years ago, the man still held it against the entire female population. This dinner would be anything but fun.

When we pulled into the driveway, Bruiser’s Jeep was nowhere in sight. Louise’s dark sedan and Bobby Joe’s motorcycle were parked side by side.

“Thank you, God,” I whispered, as we walked up to the front door. With my luck though, Bruiser’s Jeep would be in for repairs and Bruiser himself would be out in the garage sharpening his tongue.

“Come in, come in.” Louise held the door open and beamed down at the children.

When my mother-in-law had extended this dinner invitation, I readily accepted. I casually mentioned there was something I wanted to discuss with her anyway.

Usually, I avoided Louise’s dinners, which were long drawn out evenings where she and I sat and stared at each other while the guys had a roaring good time watching sports on TV. I needed her on my side now. Her cheerfulness told me she was looking forward to having something to discuss and my uneasiness grew.

“Where’s Uncle Bruiser?” Charity Mae demanded, looking around the room and seeing only Bobby Joe in front of the TV. Louise leaned down and hugged the girls.

“He’s fishing in the mountains, honey,” she said, “but I’ll send him right over to see you when he gets home.”

“Thrill,” I said, under my breath, as Louise gave the girls another hug. Even though Bruiser and I didn’t agree, he was crazy about the girls.

“Now,” Louise said, putting a casserole on the dining room table and turning to me, “I hope you’ll try my cabbage rolls tonight. The cabbage, you know, comes from my own garden.”

I was glad to try her cabbage rolls, and I didn’t care where they came from. I ate two helpings. I was in heaven knowing I didn’t have to face Bruiser Waddell. Eating cabbage rolls was little payment for his absence. The longer I could put off facing him, the better off I’d be.

After dinner, I helped carry dessert and coffee to the family room where the two guys were watching a car race on television.

The girls were stretched out on Louise’s bed watching a rerun of Andy Griffith on the small television she kept on her night stand and playing with the new Barbies their grandmother had given them. They loved playing on their grandmother’s bed with its lace canopy and crocheted bedspread.

“Now,” Louise said, passing around slices of pound cake, “you had something to tell us.” She sat down on the sofa and folded her hands primly in her lap. She looked as though she’d stepped out of the 50’s photo of herself that stood on the piano. The only difference was that her blonde page boy was now gray.

Clearing my throat, I said, “I’m going to be a surrogate mother.”

“A surrogate mother.” She pressed her cotton dress down with the palms of her hands as she considered this piece of information. “A surrogate mother.”

“Yes,” I said, easily, sitting down beside her on the sofa, pleased that this was going so well.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and took a piece of the cake on my fork. The guys were stretched out in recliners, but when the word surrogate came out of my mouth they both sat up straight.

“Oh, dear.” She took a sip from the china teacup. “Exactly what does that mean, dear?” She peered at me over her glasses.

“I’ll have a baby for another couple.” I should have known I’d have to explain it to her. My mother-in-law gardened. She rarely watched television and when she did she watched gardening or sports. The rest of her time was spent quilting. She didn’t even read. As for the guys, they weren’t interested in anything unless it involved sports. The Waddell family was in a time warp over here on Elm Street.

“I’ll do this for a couple who’s infertile, Louise,” I said. Bobby Joe was eating his cake and John Wasper was staring into space.

She gave this some thought. My knees were beginning to knock together.

“Have a baby for someone else?” She repeated.

“Yes, that’s about it.” I gazed down at the gray fabric of the sofa. Bobby Joe clicked the remote and cars now zoomed around the track in silence. Someone’s heavy breathing filled the room. It took me a minute to realize I was the heavy breather.

“Say, what’s that you’re doing?” Bobby Joe sat up straighter in the recliner, and kicked the footrest down. He was twenty-eight going on five. “A surrogate mother. Is that right?”

“Yes, a surrogate mother.” I stood up. “I’m going to have a baby for a childless couple.” I picked up my cake plate and cup and put them on the tray.

From the bedroom, I could hear the girls voices mingling with that of Andy Griffith and Aunt Bea.

“James,” Louise said, using John Wasper’s first name, “how do you feel about Vada Faith having this baby?”

“Don’t count me in on this discussion.” He rubbed his hands together as if they were numb. “She’s her own person. She’s a big girl. Making her own decisions now.”

“Well.” She picked up her cup and placed it on the tea tray. She stood up. “You know I want what’s best for James and you.” She looked from me to her son. “This is your decision, the two of you. I hope you can work it out.”

I knew this was serious. She rarely called her son, “James.”

“Look, Roy and Dottie Kilgore are good people. They deserve to have a child. It will work out.”

Louise busied herself putting things on the tray.

“Here,” I said, “let me help you.” She’d already finished and was heading to the kitchen at a fast clip.

“That’s a mighty big present to give someone.” Bobby Joe grinned up at me as I passed him on my way to the kitchen.

“Oh, shut up,” I said under my breath. I wasn’t fooled by his smile. He sided with the winning team. Always. Today it was me. Tomorrow it would be his older brother. Tonight I wasn’t going to worry about any of them. I was basking in the hurdle I’d cleared. Telling my husband’s mother.

Late Monday afternoon, my husband ignored me by taking the girls to play at his cousin’s house. They lived outside town on a 20 acre farm and had a black horse named Midnight, which the girls loved. I’d just polished my nails when someone knocked on the door.

“Hello there.” Mr. Kilgore stood at the door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” I unlocked the screen and ushered him into the kitchen. “Have a seat.” I indicated the table where I’d been doing my nails.

“I came to apologize for my wife.” He sat down heavily. “She told me about coming into your shop. About bringing up the surrogacy. I’m sorry about that.”

“Forget it,” I said, blushing, a bit uneasy with him there in my kitchen.

“I can’t forget it. She put you in an uncomfortable position. She shouldn’t have. I wasn’t pleased and I asked her not to come in again.”

“Really, Mr. Kilgore, it’s all right.”

“Please. Call me Roy.”

“I know how much she wants a baby. I love my own girls so much. I understand.” I looked up at the snapshots of the girls on the refrigerator door. They wore their purple outfits. I kept myself from pointing out the adorable photos which mama had taken. Mr. Kilgore had been hurt enough. No sense making it worse. “How about some iced tea?”

“Yes, please.” He watched while I poured two glasses of the tea and added lemon slices and ice. I put the drinks on the table and sat down across from him. I was self conscious in my old shorts and a baggy shirt that said, “Beauticians do it with style.”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” He rubbed a finger around the rim of his collar. He still wore a dress shirt but his tie was hanging loose. “We should have told you this before.” He seemed nervous and kept rubbing moisture from his glass. “We went to a fertility clinic in Mississippi. If we seem desperate, this is why. Dottie’s eggs were fertilized in vitro with my sperm. Then it was transferred to a gestational mother. The procedure failed.” His face turned bleak.

“Time after time it failed. That’s when I placed the ads. You were one of the first to respond, Vada Faith. It was like a sign. My wife felt it, and so did I. We are so thankful for you, honey. We know you’re the woman meant to have this baby. Our baby.” His eyes met mine and I felt as though he could see inside my soul.

“I’m glad you told me this,” I said. I was sure now I was doing the right thing. With the procedure scheduled for the next morning, I was more than a little anxious.

“Well,” he said, turning his damp glass around in his hand, “it’s what I came to tell you. That and to say good luck to us.” He smiled, lifted his glass in a toast. “May we make a baby tomorrow, Vada Faith. You and I. To our baby.”

“Yes,” I said, and giggled self-consciously. I lifted my glass to his. The very idea of the two of us making a baby seemed suddenly humorous to me. Even with the help of Dr. Fine. Then, we both took long drinks from our iced tea.

“Vada Faith,” Roy said, finally, as he stared across the table at me with his deep blue eyes, “I hope someday you’ll know what this means to me. It’s beyond comprehension. This gift of a new little life.”

I didn’t feel like laughing anymore. I started to speak but he said, “No. Don’t.” He leaned over and touched my lips with his finger. “There’s something magical about to happen here. Don’t ruin it with words. Until tomorrow. When our baby will be conceived.”

Then he was gone, leaving me behind to wonder if I was doing the right thing. Our baby? He had said our baby. Did he mean his and Dottie’s baby? Or, his and mine?

Was this going to get complicated?

Driving into the clinic parking lot the next morning, I noticed there was a crowd gathered outside the door. A van from Channel 3 zipped into the parking space next to me.

I dashed from the car to the clinic in record time. I didn’t want to get caught in any excitement. A robbery might be in progress at the mini mart next door or there could be one of those out of control hostage situations I’d seen on the news lately.

As I went through the clinic door, I saw a young camera man aiming his camera at me but I was inside before he could focus.

I’d come alone today because John Wasper conveniently had a load of building supplies to haul to Kentucky.

“Well, this is it,” he’d said that morning as he got ready to leave for work.

“Yes, this is it.” I said. “It will work out. You’ll see. I’ll make it work out.” I changed the subject. “Are you sure Louise doesn’t mind watching the girls?”

“She said she didn’t. She’s making them her special blueberry pancakes.”

The girls didn’t care about blueberry pancakes as their father carried them out to his truck after giving me a quick peck on the cheek. They were half asleep and still in their pajamas, but they each were clinging to a pink bunny, bought on their last outing with my mother.

Inside the clinic, a nurse directed me to a room where she helped me into a gown. When she’d gone I sat there staring at the white walls. I looked up to see Roy Kilgore standing in the doorway.

“Did you see the news this morning, Vada Faith?” He was dressed in khaki pants and a blue knit shirt, looking casual and completely at ease.

“No,” I said, “I’m not a big fan of the news.”

“I’m afraid the news media is on to us, honey.”

“On to us?”

“A local reporter called the house last night. He asked Dottie if we’d found a surrogate yet. She hung up on him, but our story was on the news first thing this morning. I was followed here today by one of those news hounds. I’m sorry. We were big news back in Mississippi. I thought people here would have something better to do than chase down innocent people and broadcast their problems on the news.”

“You don’t think I’ll be on the news?”

“I hope not. We have to be prepared. Yes, we do.”

My thoughts raced. There had been a news truck outside. A story about my surrogacy on TV? That certainly wasn’t in my plans.