8. SOPHIA
8
SOPHIA
It’s out there.
I’m convinced of it.
I stand on a rise overlooking the ocean. The lights of Virginia Beach twinkling like Christmas lights several miles away. There is just a hint of a chill in the normally sultry air. It’s a beautiful evening.
The “it” I refer to is the Esmeralda del Mar, or Emerald of the Sea .
When I was in elementary school, my teacher told the class a tale of a Spanish galleon that sank in a storm in 1577, not far off the coast. It was supposedly filled with treasure from the West Indies, gold and precious jewels, and was following the East Coast before turning east toward Spain.
I’ve never been able to find it on any maps of local shipwrecks, but I am sure it’s out there somewhere.
I suppose the reason that I’m so invested in the truth of this story is that it is a perfect metaphor for my life. The way it’s always been.
Everything, it seems, has always been so close, but just out of reach.
Take my brother. I love Liam, and he loves me, no one could ask for a better big brother. But with the four-year difference between us and the fact that he was a guy, he never really got me or understood what I was going through.
In high school, I worked so hard to get straight-As. My goal was to be class valedictorian. My folks were so proud of me. When it came down to myself and another girl, the plan was to make us co-valedictorians, which would have been fine with me.
One week before graduation, the school board came back with a decision that there could only be one valedictorian. The girl was chosen ahead of me because she worked with some sea turtle rescue program, and they gave her credit for that.
Now, I have a guy that makes me feel valued, and that changed my whole opinion about him. Only, maybe he’s not really the guy I think he is.
I’ll soon find out.
That’s why I’m here.
I’m curious as to why he asked to meet me here rather than at his place or somewhere else.
It’s lovely here, quiet, secluded, almost romantic. Still, for some reason, I don’t think I’m going to like what he has to tell me.
He was very vague and said he couldn’t just explain it over the phone.
My dad once told me that if a person can’t explain what he wants you to do in one sentence, don’t trust him.
He believes that if someone has to put a spin on something, there has to be something wrong with it. That lesson has served me well over the years.
I have no doubt Ethan has had plenty of experience spinning things. He learned from the best.
I hear the low growl of a powerful engine approaching and recognize his car as it pulls into the little parking lot.
When I see him emerge, I feel a little jolt.
God, he is handsome.
Dressed in a pair of gray chinos and blue and white striped button down with the sleeves rolled up, he looks like he just stepped out of a Brooks Brother catalog.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he says, walking up and giving me an affectionate peck on the lips.
So classy ... and obviously an act.
I get it. We all play a part in life, and he plays his to the hilt. It’s part of what makes him so charming. But as Melanie so accurately noted, you have to be careful.
“I have a ...” he pauses, apparently choosing his words carefully, “proposition for you.”
“A proposition?”
He knows I’m wary.
“Before you pass judgment, please listen to what I have to say,” he requests.
“You haven’t said anything,” I point out. “But when you start out like that, you don’t inspire confidence.”
It suddenly hits me that this is what he brought me out here for. The seclusion, the beautiful scenery, him driving up in his fancy car. It's all a fucking seduction!
I should have known!
... and as the Esmeralda del Mar sinks beneath the waves ...
It was too good to be true.
I wonder how many other women he's brought up here in the past, running the exact same scene.
Furious, I attempt to walk past him.
He grabs my arm as I pass. Tightly.
Oh, no, you did not just do that!
I'm about to lash out in fury, but he loosens his grip.
"Just—hear me out," he says softly. "If you want to leave and never see me again after that, I'll get out of your life, but I think you owe me that."
"Owe you?" I spit out. "Owe you for what? I don't recall you giving me anything."
"I did give you what's left of your life when I pulled you out of the surf."
That stings.
Despite my best attempt not to, the tears start to flow.
Was he going to hold that over my head for the rest of my life? Better if I had drowned.
With a sniffle, I stand up straight and pull myself together. I cross my arms, trying to appear defiant. "OK, say what you have to say."
"Hypothetical question. If a woman was pregnant and had decided to give her baby up for adoption, should the biological father, who is no longer with the mother, be allowed to be first in line to adopt that child?" he asks.
It's a trick. Hypothetical questions are always a trick, asking you to give an answer with limited information. I refuse to be led into that situation.
"I don't know," I reply. "Impossible to say. What kind of man is the father? Why is she putting it up for adoption in the first place? Who else wants to adopt the child? It's not a cut and dried situation, and you know it."
"Fair enough," he says. "I didn't expect anything less."
I have no idea what this is all leading up to, but if this has anything to do with his family, it's going to be a firm no from me. It can't possibly be legit, can it?
"OK, so there is a guy my parents know," he begins to explain, "or actually quite a few people know. He was in a relationship with a young woman. It didn't end well. He later discovered she was pregnant with his child. She wants to give it up for adoption, but she's still angry with him, so she refuses to let him adopt the child.”
“He would be a great father and has all the resources to ensure the child is well cared for, but her desire to get back at her ex is apparently more important to her than her child's welfare."
So far, no problem, but I know there has to be more to the story.
"So why doesn't he fight for custody, you know, in court, like normal people?"
"That's the catch," he continues. "This guy is kind of a recluse. He doesn't like the publicity. Dragging this through court would damage his reputation, but more importantly, it would destroy this poor young woman. He's not a monster. He still has some feelings for her. He wants her to be able to move on."
"Great," I say, "but what does any of this have to do with you, or more importantly, me? I feel bad for the guy if he is as good as you say, and she's really a bitch, but how do you fit in?"
"That's where it gets tricky."
"Mm hm, yeah, that's what I thought, I'm outta here."
I begin walking away again.
"You promised you'd listen," he complains.
"Yes, but this already sounds wrong, and if this hurts your feelings, I'm sorry, but your family is dirty."
"You don't think I know that? It does bother me that after what we did together, after I opened up to you, you would think I would do anything that would violate my moral code."
"What is your moral code anyway?" I say, raising my voice, my anger bubbling to the surface.
"Listen, I've done things I'm not proud of, but being in the Navy taught me something. There is no black and white, everything is some shade of gray. Sometimes good people do bad things and vice-versa.”
“But I also learned that people are generally mostly good or mostly bad, and my goal is to make sure the mostly bad people don't take advantage of the mostly good people. My family, mostly bad, but every once in a while, even they are capable of doing a good thing."
As much as I hate to admit it, he does have a point. He still hasn't told me what role he has in this whole thing, but I'm willing to at least listen.
"This girl is dead set on making sure that a good, young, financially secure family adopts her baby. My role with a female partner would be to pose as said couple and legally adopt the baby. From there, we would then adopt out the child to the biological father."
I actually laugh out loud at that. "You can't expect me to believe that is legal."
"It is legal. The attorney handling this whole thing is an expert in child and family law. He's done this kind of thing before."
"It still doesn't sound ethical," I observe.
"How about if I take you to meet the father and let him explain it to you? You can ask as many questions as you want. If you still don't want to do this, I'll understand, but at least let him tell you his side of the story." He pauses.
“I also should add, and I know this really is not important to you, but you would be entitled to a very large fee for participating. It would definitely tide you over until you nail down your dream job – or heck, even open your own company – whatever you want to do."
As much as I want to resist, what harm can there be in at least meeting the man? Ethan is right that money doesn't trump ethics for me, but if this can be done and it's mostly above board, why pass up the opportunity?
It would allow me to see more of Ethan, which I really want to do, and maybe even act as his conscience. Maybe if it isn't as innocent as it seems, then I can try to steer him away.
I waited for a long time, considering my answer, my friend Melanie’s warning ringing in my ear, “Be careful, that’s all I ask.”