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I step aside so she can enter and it’s so difficult not to reach for her. I want to take her in my arms and tell her that I always wanted her. That she never left my mind or my heart.
The guy she’s with stands at the threshold, waiting for an invitation. “Come on in,” I say and he nods as he steps inside.
“I’m Caleb,” he says as I push the door closed.
He holds his hand out to me and I grab it firmly. “I’m Chris and this is also Chris.”
Chris Jr. and Caleb nod at each other and I can’t help but notice that Junior’s grinning. It has to be the Barracuda. He’s probably dying to ask this Caleb guy if he can check out his car.
I shoot Junior a look, warning him not to get any ideas, then I turn back to Abby. “Do you mind waiting here for just a moment? I need to go upstairs to get…” How should I refer to Claire when speaking to Abby? My wife? Claire? Your mother? My heart clenches at that last thought. “I have to get my wife. I’ll be right back. Please just stay right there.”
She nods and I head for the staircase. I glance over my shoulder a few times as I climb the steps, fully expecting her to vanish like an apparition the next time I turn around. But she doesn’t. As I head into the upstairs hallway, she’s still there. Right where I always imagined she’d be.
Hope: The biggest four-letter word in the English language. It’s bigger than despair. Bigger than resentment. Bigger than skepticism. Four letters that, when combined, can hold a broken heart together for eighteen years.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
POSITIVE. The test is positive.
I stare at the pregnancy test stick on the marble bathroom counter and shake my head. I can’t have another kid at the age of thirty-seven. And I know Chris doesn’t want any more kids. He’s already planning all the vacations we’re going to take once Ryder goes off to college. The honeymoon we never really had after our wedding, when we had to return for Tristan’s grandmother’s funeral.
Positive.
Are the manufacturers of pregnancy tests trying to tell me that being pregnant at thirty-seven is a positive thing?
No. This is definitely not a positive thing. I thought our days of changing diapers, researching nannies, and struggling through hours of homework help were over.
I grab the pink and white test stick off the counter and hold it up close to make certain that it’s a plus sign I’m seeing. It’s definitely a plus sign. So that’s it. I’m pregnant.
I grab a large wad of toilet paper and wrap it around the test, then I throw it in the waste bin. I don’t want Chris to find it. I want to be the one to break the news to him.
“Honey, remember that time twelve years ago when you wanted one more child? Well, better late than never!”
Oh, God. You’d think I’d know better by now. I decided to switch from the IUD birth control to pills. I was getting a lot of cramping and I was afraid of possible scarring. I understood that getting pregnant after having an IUD implant for so many years would be very difficult. We were just waiting for my first menstrual cycle to arrive so I could begin taking the pills. It never came and now here I am.
I grab another large wad of toilet paper so I can push the wrapped test stick to the bottom of the waste bin, but a knock on the bathroom door startles me and I drop the paper into the toilet.
Shit. “Who’s there?”
“Babe, it’s me. You have to come out here. Now!”
I pull another wad of toilet paper off the roll and hastily stuff it in the waste bin to cover the test stick. As I wash my hands, he knocks again and urges me to hurry up. I dry my hands on a towel then open the bathroom door, ready to yell at Chris for being impatient with me. Then I see his face and I know something is wrong.
“What happened?”
I reach for his face to feel the tears on his cheeks, to know they’re real, but he pushes my hand away. I haven’t seen Chris cry since he found out I was pregnant with Jimi. His eyes got a bit misty when Joel had a heart attack and Jackie was crying uncontrollably. Just like her son, Jackie rarely cries, so it’s always difficult to watch when either of them is overwhelmed by emotion. I almost don’t want to know what has Chris this upset.
Chris reaches for my hands, his eyes fixed on them as he pulls my hands together and holds them against his chest. “She’s here.”
I can’t speak or breathe. My chest tightens and I open my mouth, trying to gasp for air, but I feel as if my throat has closed. As if every emotion I’ve felt over losing Abby these past eighteen years has suddenly welled up inside me and I’m about to burst.
Chris finally looks up to see my reaction and his eyes widen. “Claire, breathe. Breathe, baby.”
I pull my hands out of his grip and cover my face as the first sob spills out, quickly followed by more.
“Claire, we have to hurry up and get down there. I don’t want her to leave before you get to see her. Please, babe.”
He wraps me in the comfort of his arms and I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. I don’t want her to see me like this, but I need to get down there. Finally, I push Chris back and he flashes me a weak smile as I wipe his face clean.
“She’s really here?”
He nods and grabs my hands. “She’s really here. And she’s so damn beautiful… She looks like you and Ryder.”
I press my lips together and focus on breathing deeply to keep from breaking down again. “Okay, let’s go.”
He takes my hand in his and leads me out of the bedroom. I can feel the hope pulsing back and forth between us, surrounding us, giving everything a hazy glow. My heart is thumping so hard, my ears are aching. I grip Chris’s hand tighter as he pulls me down the first steps and I hold my breath as we descend. I let it out as soon as I see a blonde ponytail.
I try to focus on breathing, but all that runs through my mind is the one phrase I’ve imagined saying to Abby for the last eighteen years. The one thing I know I have to say. Junior’s face gets serious when he sees me, then Abby and her friend turn around.
My legs suddenly feel too weak to support me. I let go of Chris’s hand and reach for the banister to keep from collapsing. Chris reaches the bottom step and turns around. He rushes forward when he sees me teetering on the third step, but I push him away. Everything looks fuzzy as the room pulsates around me, but I’m not going to pass out. I’m just stunned.
Chris holds my elbow as I descend the last few stairs, then I push him away as I take a step toward her. She looks unsure and I’m so afraid of scaring her away. But I have to say what I’ve been wanting to say.
I take another step toward her, making no attempt to wipe the tears as they slide down my cheeks. I look her in the eye and her lip trembles as the tears begin to fall.
Chris was right. Even with Chris’s brown eyes and his nose, she looks like me. It’s her blonde hair, the shape of her face, and the uncertainty in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
I don’t know any other way to apologize for the choice I made. A choice she probably knows nothing about. But it’s all I want to say. It’s the one thing I think she’s probably needed to hear from the moment she found out she was adopted.
I wish I knew how she found out. I want to know everything about her and I want her to know everything about us. If I’m being perfectly honest, I want to pretend like the last eighteen years never happened. Like she’s been with us all along. I know that can never happen, but I want to believe that this gulf between us is not permanent.
I reach forward slowly until my hand is suspended halfway between us. She stares at it unblinking, her whole body quivering like a leaf. And she’s about as thin as one. She’s smaller than me and I’m only five-foot-six. I press my lips together as I think of how this is probably due to her heart problems.
The house is so quiet as I wait for her to take my hand or not. Finally, her hand inches forward, slowly, through the distance between us, through the years that have separated us.
I take her hand in mine and she looks up at me, unsure what to do.
I can’t shake my daughter’s hand. That would be cold, especially when I haven’t seen her in more than seventeen years. But am I allowed to think of Abby as my daughter?
I don’t know the answer to that question, and I don’t care. I pull her into my arms and she lets out a soft puff of air as I squeeze her tight, as if she were holding her breath.
She’s so thin, but soft and warm, just the way I remember her. And she smells like a peach blossom. She buries her face in my shoulder, her shoulders bouncing as she sobs silently. I hold on tighter, hoping I can convey how much I’ve longed for this moment.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper. “I’m so happy you came… So happy.”
Something about these words causes a shift and her sobbing stops. She draws in a long, stuttered breath, then she pulls away from me. The whites of her eyes are so red it makes my heart ache.
She takes a step back, shaking her head as her gaze falls to the floor. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
Chris steps forward so he’s at my side. “That’s okay. We know this must be very difficult for you.” He looks over his shoulder at Junior and snaps his fingers. “Go upstairs and get your brother.”
