Chapter 6
Abigail clutched the armrest of the SUV as Simeon steered them into Brampton. The hour-long drive from River Falls hadn’t been nearly long enough to prepare her for this.
“I think the adoption agency is around the next corner,” Simeon said. “My client said it was right by the hospital.”
Abigail nodded tightly. She never should have said yes to this. It was clear God was determined not to let her be a mother. But she’d already given Simeon more than enough reasons to reject her—it was a miracle he hadn’t already. If she gave him one more, maybe he would finally give up on her for good. Just like her parents had. Just like Garrick had. Losing them had been painful. But losing Simeon—that would be unbearable.
“It’s okay to be nervous, you know.” Simeon touched her hand, and her heart jumped as she realized he was turning into the parking lot of the adoption agency. The sign out front said Hope for Tomorrow and showed a smiling couple holding a grinning, curly haired toddler between them. Abigail peered at it more closely. A tiny grain of hope tried to poke its way into her heart. Could she and Simeon really have that?
Please, Lord. I know I don’t deserve this. But Simeon does. It was the first prayer she’d uttered in months.
Simeon pulled the vehicle into a parking spot and took off his seatbelt but didn’t get out. Instead, he turned toward her, wrapping both of his hands around hers. “Whatever they say, whatever we decide, we’re in this together, okay?”
She swallowed through the dryness of her throat and made herself nod.
“Good. I love you.” He leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss over her lips. Abigail closed her eyes. How had she never realized how much she missed his kisses? How much she needed them?
“I love you too,” she whispered past the painful lump in her throat. This had to work out. She couldn’t lose him.
He kissed her once more, then jumped out of the vehicle and jogged to open her door. He slid his hand into hers as they started toward the building, and she was grateful for the solidity, the dependability of his presence.
Inside, a bubbly receptionist gave them a folder and directed them down a brightly lit hallway to a large meeting room. At least a dozen couples filled the space with laughter and small talk. Abigail clutched Simeon’s hand tighter. These people all looked like they were completely at ease. Like they were ready for someone to plop a baby in their arms and take a picture of them for the sign out front.
Abigail tried to smile. To look like she belonged.
“If everyone could please take a seat, we’ll go ahead and get started.” A woman with silver hair and an energetic stride made her way through the crowd, smiling warmly as she passed.
Abigail let Simeon usher her to a spot near the back. He kept his hand around hers as they took their seats, and she allowed herself to lean a little closer so that her shoulder grazed his. Simeon looked to her with a smile and dusted a kiss over her forehead. Abigail closed her eyes, the contact whispering through every nerve.
Maybe Simeon had been right. Maybe this was what their marriage needed.
The silver-haired woman reached the front of the room and introduced herself as Brenda, then started her presentation with story after story of successful adoptions. As she spoke, Abigail became more and more excited. More and more sure.
Next to her, she could tell Simeon felt the same way. They kept looking at each other and grinning, and she felt a trace of the energy that had pulsed between them when they’d met in Ecuador.
She leaned closer to him. “I’m glad we came.”
“Me too.”
“So these stories are the end of the process, of course,” Brenda was saying. “Let’s talk about how to get there.” She held up a folder that matched the one Abigail and Simeon had received when they’d arrived. “In here, you’ll find a stack of forms. Don’t be alarmed. Most of them are pretty easy to fill out. You’ll need to collect some paperwork too. I’ll go over all of that with you in a minute so you’ll know what’s needed. But filling out these forms will start the home study process, which also includes home visits and interviews. It all sounds a lot more daunting than it is, trust me.”
Abigail let out a breath. That was good. Because it suddenly sounded almost impossible.
“We’ve got this,” Simeon whispered.
Abigail nodded, opening the folder and paging absently through the forms. It looked like they wanted tax records, medical records, income information, social security numbers, and—
Abigail stared at the large words at the top of the last sheet: Consent for Criminal Background Check.
No.
No. No. No.
How had it never occurred to her that before someone gave her their baby, they’d want to know she didn’t have a criminal record?
“Can I see the folder?” Simeon whispered.
She passed it to him, watching as he thumbed through the sheets until he came to the one about medical records, which Brenda was apparently explaining now, although her voice had gone all warbly and incomprehensible in Abigail’s ears.
The grain of hope she’d dared to let sprout as Brenda shared other families’ happily-ever-afters let go of its hold on her heart and blew away.
This wasn’t going to happen for her and Simeon.
She dared to glance at him, but he was listening to Brenda, nodding along to something she’d said.
He turned her way with a wide smile, and she forced herself to return it.
She managed to hold the smile in place for the rest of the orientation, through Simeon’s insistence that they talk to Brenda afterward, through his enthusiastic chatter all the way home about how easy the process was going to be since all their records were organized already.
By the time he pulled into their driveway, her cheeks hurt and her head pounded.
“We should celebrate,” Simeon said as he unlocked the front door. “I think we have some French silk pie left.”
“No thanks.” Abigail toed off her shoes. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”
Simeon’s smile slid off his face. “Is something wrong? You’ve been quiet. Do you not want to . . .”
She shook her head. “I just have a headache. Information overload.” She attempted a light laugh. “You get some pie, though.”
He studied her closely, and she had to work hard to keep her smile in place.
“Okay,” he finally relented. “Goodnight.” He brushed a sweet kiss over her lips.
“Goodnight.” She managed to keep her grip on the smile until she reached their bedroom. Then she dropped onto the bed and let herself cry silently.
But after a few minutes, she swiped at her cheeks and sat up. She’d spent months crying, and it hadn’t done any good. She’d just have to tell Simeon that she didn’t think she could handle adoption. If need be, she could blame it on her past experience with foster care.
Simeon would be disappointed. But she also knew he wouldn’t push her.
She pulled up the covers and laid back in the bed, trying not to picture the brave face he’d put on to hide how much she was hurting him.
Tomorrow.
She’d tell him tomorrow.