Chapter Twenty-Two Portland, OR 2009 #2
“That’s right,” Tammy said so brightly that Scarlett could hear the smile being injected into her voice.
“No need to make a decision right now. The best thing you can do at this stage is get lots of rest and make sure you follow your doctor’s orders.
Although if you did want to pursue the open adoption course, I’d suggest starting to vet the prospective parents early.
Since you’ll be connected to them for the rest of your life, it’s important to find the right social and emotional fit.
Plus, a lot of them get really excited about the delivery. ”
“Open adoption,” Chrissie echoed. She sounded less shocked now and more resigned. As if this was just one more in a long line of disappointments Scarlett had in store for her.
“Yep. That’s when the parents and Scarlett keep a line of communication open—updates and pictures, sometimes even visits. It all depends on what your friend wants.”
“Thank you. I know what it is.”
A hand slipped into Scarlett’s, the gentle fingers of her best friend intertwining with her own.
Scarlett was so surprised by this gesture that she allowed herself to look at Chrissie—and then immediately regretted it.
So far from the bitter disappointment she’d shown when Scarlett confessed her liaison with Grimshaw or the heart-wrenching shock of the positive pregnancy test, Chrissie looked… seriously pissed.
Chrissie squeezed Scarlett’s hand so hard that she felt some of the joints crack, but when she spoke, it was with the same detached resignation as before.
“You can leave the paperwork with me,” Chrissie said. “We’ll look over it and get back to you with any questions.”
“Are you sure?” Tammy turned to Scarlett with the careful look of a woman accustomed to reading between the lines. “This is a decision only you can make.”
“It’s fine,” Scarlett reassured her. She even managed a wan smile. “I trust Chrissie more than anyone else on the planet.”
“Okay, then.” Tammy got up and gently placed the folder on the seat she vacated.
Scarlett could tell she wasn’t fully convinced that Chrissie wasn’t some evil, manipulative bestie who would strong-arm Scarlett into doing her own bidding, but short of manually hauling her out of the room, there was little she could do.
“That baby girl of yours is lucky to have so many people who care about her. Remember that. No matter what else happens, she’s loved—and it’s my job to make sure she stays that way. ”
Scarlett expected Chrissie to attack the moment the door closed behind the social worker, but she didn’t.
All she did was stare down at where their hands linked—Chrissie’s perfectly glossed nails next to Scarlett’s chewed ones, the way her long fingers remained strong and supple despite the fact that she hadn’t touched a piano in months.
“She said ‘that baby girl of yours,’” Chrissie eventually said. “Is that true? You opened the envelope they gave us? It’s a girl?”
Scarlett nodded, unable to trust herself to speak. She hadn’t told Chrissie for fear of this exact reaction.
“A daughter,” Chrissie breathed.
Scarlett braced herself for the rest—the oohs and ahhs, the declaration that a daughter was all that was needed to make Scarlett happy about her pregnancy—but it never came.
Instead, Chrissie asked a question that cut right to the bone. “Did you decide what you want to name her?”
“Kathleen, I think. It was my grandma’s middle name.
” Scarlett tried not to dwell on what Grandma would say if she was in this room with them right now.
Something true, probably. Something that would make her feel as guilty as she deserved.
“Unless they won’t let me. Do they let you name your baby before it’s adopted out? ”
That did the trick. Chrissie snatched her hand away and shoved it in her lap, her gaze fixed downward.
“Scarlett, you aren’t really thinking about adoption, are you?
” Her voice was smaller than it had been in years—smaller, even, than it had been during those first few days after the pregnancy test came back positive.
“Even if you pick out the family, there’s no saying what will happen ten years from now—what they’ll do if life gets hard for them.
People don’t… They don’t always get things right. ”
Scarlett felt each word like a stab to the back. “Not everyone is like your parents, Chrissie.”
Chrissie lifted her gaze to Scarlett’s, which moved the stab wounds directly to her heart. But when she spoke, she didn’t touch on her pain. In true Chrissie fashion, she moved right on to business instead.
“We signed the lease on the apartment already,” she insisted. “We have the bassinet. I even ordered the baby shower invitations. They’re supposed to get here tomorrow.”
Scarlett wasn’t sure why that last part felt worse than all the rest, but it did.
“Who’s going to come to that? Who even cares?
Not Grimshaw. Not your parents. Certainly not mine.
” With her grandmother gone, she wasn’t even sure how to contact her mother—if it was even a choice in the first place.
Frustrated, self-pitying tears started to spring to her eyes.
“The moment this baby is born, it’s all over.
It’ll just be me and her, and the rest of the world will move on. ”
Scarlett could tell by the way Chrissie’s cheeks flooded with splotches of red that her friend was rapidly reaching her limit.
“Me, Scarlett. I care. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“Fine. Then you can have her.”
Scarlett had no idea where the words came from, but there was no taking them back once they were out.
“Scarlett!” Chrissie’s eyes widened until Scarlett could see the full circle of her irises. “That’s not funny. Don’t joke about something like that. I’m not going to take your baby.”
“You mean our baby. That’s what you keep saying, isn’t it?
That we’ll do this together? That this diaper-filled future belongs as much to you as me?
” Scarlett had the distinct impression that her voice was too loud—yelling, almost—but that didn’t seem right.
She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even upset.
In fact, for the first time in six long months, she finally saw a glimmer of hope on the horizon.
“I’ll give you money. Half of what my grandma left me, just like I always wanted to.
You could take care of her. Raise her. We wouldn’t even have to tell her who her real mom is. ”
Scarlett knew that she had no right to keep going. With every word, her own burden felt lighter and lighter—and she knew exactly why.
It was because she was heaping it onto Chrissie instead.
“I’d much rather she be with you than some stranger picked out of a file.
” Scarlett nodded toward the folder sitting on the vacated chair.
The hunger she’d been feeling since she woke up that morning disappeared under the sensation of something different—something that tasted an awful lot like brimstone.
Contrary to what most of her life choices indicated, Scarlett did possess a conscience. It didn’t prick often, but when it did, it was because she was doing the one thing she’d promised herself not to do.
I’m using her again. I’m putting my own needs before hers.
But she couldn’t stop. Now that the idea was out there and freedom was beckoning on the horizon, Scarlett had never wanted anything as much. So she gave in to the worst part of her nature—not with a whimper, but with a bang.
“Can’t you see?” she asked. “We have to do it. It’s the only way to make sure she doesn’t get parents like ours.”
Chrissie’s whole being went still. If it weren’t for the rush of blood through her head and the steady beeping of the monitor next to her, Scarlett might have thought that time had literally stopped.
But time, like life, found a way. Chrissie had barely started to blanch to the color of marble before the nurse popped back into the room.
“All right, Ms. Sanderson. Your hour’s up.
Time to draw that blood of yours and see how we’re doing.
” He snapped a pair of latex gloves on and approached the bed.
If he was aware of the tension in the room, he didn’t show it.
“Chrissie can come around to the other side and hold your hand, if you want. This might be a little uncomfortable.”
Scarlett winced. Things were already was uncomfortable and only likely to get worse. But Chrissie reached for Scarlett’s hand without hesitation.
“I’m here,” she said. “You can relax. I’ve got you.”
“I know you do,” Scarlett said and closed her eyes once again.
Not because she was especially scared of the needle and not because she was tired, but because she didn’t want her best friend to see her relief.
Because if Chrissie had her—if Chrissie was still willing to hold her hand, even after all this—she could relax.
That was the one thing in the world she’d always been able to count on.