“How does the birth mother feel about me? Does she mind that I'm single and older?” Paris asked, feeling humble. In a way, it was worse than dating, because there was so much at stake. A child for the rest of her life.
“She's going to talk to two other couples. So this isn't a sure thing. Let's get your home study complete as fast as we can do it. Have you told your kids?” Alice asked.
“My daughter won't be home from her honeymoon for two more weeks.”
“That's soon enough. Let's see where this goes.” And on Saturday afternoon, she called Paris at home. She was sitting in her living room, in front of the fire, reading a book. And for some odd reason, she'd been thinking of Jean-Pierre, missing him, and wondering how he was. She hoped he was happy and well.
“The birth mother wants to meet you,” Alice told Paris. “She's going to see the other couples too.” This was auditioning big time. “Are you free tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” She was having dinner with Wim, but she had no other plans. Her life was quiet these days. Quieter than it had ever been.
Alice named a restaurant in the heart of town, where they could meet and talk for as long as they wanted. She said the birth mother was coming alone. They agreed on two o'clock, and Paris said she'd be there. And when she showed up exactly on schedule the following afternoon, the young woman walked in at almost exactly the same time. She was a beautiful girl, with a lean athletic figure, and the baby was a tight neat ball that hardly showed, despite her seven months. The birth mother looked strikingly like Meg.
They were given a quiet corner table, and the girl looked uncomfortable, so Paris spoke first. She asked how she was feeling, and she gave Paris a shy smile.
“Stupid mostly. I should have figured it out. My periods are so irregular, I just missed it.” She told Paris afterward that her parents were extremely upset, especially her dad. She was an only child, and the apple of his eye. Paris wanted to ask her if she was sure of what she was doing, but Alice had suggested she not do that. The girl said she was certain she didn't want the baby. She talked about her boyfriend then. She said it had been a very acrimonious breakup, and they didn't want to see each other again, for the moment.
“What if you get back together?” Paris asked quietly. “Do you think you would want the baby back?” Legally, they wouldn't have a leg to stand on, Alice had said, once the papers were signed, but Paris was worried about it anyway. What if they harassed her, or tried to overturn the adoption in court? They were all normal fears for her to have. It was all unfamiliar to her.
“No, I wouldn't. I don't want a baby. I want to go to school in Europe next year, and finish school. I can't do anything I want with a baby. And he wants to go to law school and doesn't want it either. I just can't take care of a baby, and my parents won't.” She sounded as sensible as any nineteen-year-old girl, and sensible enough to know that she wasn't responsible enough to bring up a child. She was still one herself. She was the same age as Wim, and Paris couldn't imagine him with a baby for a long time to come. The birth mother's name was Jennifer, and they sat and talked for two hours. It was obvious that she liked Paris, and she said so when they left. And after that Paris went home and cooked dinner for Wim. They had an easy quiet evening, and she was dying to tell him about the baby, but she didn't want to tell him before she told Meg. She wanted to tell them together, it only seemed fair to both of them.
She spoke to Alice again on Monday, and she said it was looking good. The birth mother liked her a lot. And after she hung up, Paris was beaming when she came out of her office, and Bix looked upset.
“What's wrong?” She looked at him with a warm grin.
“You tell me,” he said, and asked her to come into his office and sit down. “Paris, what the hell is going on?” She suddenly wondered if she'd screwed something up for a client, and was worried by the look on his face.
“With what?” He looked furious with her, but in truth he was scared.
“Either you're having an affair, or you're looking for a new job. And since you insist you won't date, I figure it's the latter. Every time I walk past your office, the door is closed, and you look like a Cheshire cat.” He looked profoundly upset, and Paris felt badly to have caused him concern.
“I'm sorry, Bix,” she said gently. “You're going to have to drag me out of here, if you ever want to get rid of me. I'm not going anywhere.” She wanted to reassure him, but he only looked more confused.
“Then what the hell is it?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. And she smiled, just as he had said, like the proverbial Cheshire cat.
“It's something very wonderful. I think so anyway,” she said proudly. “I'm going to adopt a baby, Bix.” He just sat there and stared at her for endless minutes and then shook his head in disbelief.
“Oh my God. You're not.” It was all he could think of to say.
