“Oh my God,” Bix said, and turned away from the photograph. “Tell me this isn't happening. Paris, I'll marry you myself if you stop this nonsense.” He was horrified by her adoption project, and said so whenever he got the chance.
“It's not nonsense,” she said, looking at him. She was so calm it frightened him. He had never seen her so determined. “And I don't want to get married. Except for you, I might make an exception. What about Steven? Should we adopt him?”
Bix stared at her, it was a nightmare happening, as far as he was concerned. “I need a Valium.”
“Do you want me to call your doctor?”
“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I have about four hundred of them in my office. Would you like one?”
“No, thanks, I'm fine.” And two hours later she called Alice and told her she had decided against the Russian orphan. She felt more comfortable about a newborn.
“I thought so. I just thought I'd ask. I think I have a lead on another birth mother for you, by the way. I'll know more in a few days. I'll call you.”
And that weekend Meg and Richard came back from their honeymoon and called her. She invited them to come up and visit. She wanted Wim to be there with them, but they said they were busy. And Bix and Paris had Halloween to contend with.
It was early November when they finally made it up. They decided to have early Thanksgiving with her, since they were flying east to spend it with Peter. And shortly after they arrived, Richard mentioned to her that Andrew said he had called her. Paris looked faintly embarrassed.
“I know. I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I never called him.” But she really didn't want to.
“I think he was afraid he had offended you. He's a hell of a nice guy,” Richard staunchly defended him.
“If he calls again, I'll talk to him. I promise.”
“I'll tell him.”
And after that they sat down to dinner, and had a traditional Thanksgiving meal. But there was nothing traditional about the look on their faces when Paris told them she wanted to adopt a baby. Both her children looked like they were going into shock.
“You what?” Meg stared at her, for the first time not willing to support her. “Mom, that's crazy. You're too old to have a baby.”
“That's possible,” Paris conceded, “although I'm not entirely sure of that either. But that's not what I have in mind. I want to adopt one. And I'm certainly not too old to take care of a baby. Women older than I am are having them by in vitro fertilization.” She defended her position, but so far hadn't convinced them.
“They have husbands.” Meg was almost shouting, and she was looking to Richard to be her ally. So far he had said nothing. And Wim looked horrified. His whole family was going crazy. His parents had divorced, his father had married a girl almost half his age, now they had a six-month-old baby, he had two stepbrothers, and now his mom wanted to adopt a baby. Neither he nor Meg was enthused by the project, and they made no bones about it.
“Single women adopt babies, and so do single men,” Paris said calmly.
“Let them,” Meg said childishly. “I think it's stupid for you to adopt a baby. Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I'm lonely,” Paris answered quietly, and both of her children stared at her. “You two are grown up, and have your own lives. I don't. Except for my job. You were my life. And I'm not your responsibility. I have to make my own life worthwhile. I want to have a baby, to love and take care of, and keep me company, until it grows up too. It doesn't mean I don't love both of you, of course I do. But I don't want to be alone either.” There was a deafening silence, and Richard looked at her with great compassion, as though they were the only two adults in the room, and he got it. He put an arm around his wife and tried to explain it to her.
“Your mom has a right to do anything she thinks is right to make her life better. It's not easy being alone. This is hard for her. And it would be a wonderful thing to do for a baby.”
“Why can't you just get married?” Meg asked plaintively.
“Because I can't, or I haven't,” Paris answered, “and I'm not going to sit here and wait for the Messiah to come and improve my lot in life. That's pathetic. I need to take responsibility for my own life,” Paris said, and Richard admired her for it.
“What if I have a baby? You won't even care about it, if you have your own,” Meg asked, sounding pathetic, and Paris smiled at her. In her own way, Meg was still a baby herself. And so was Wim. Alice had been right. This wasn't as easy as she had thought.
“Of course, I'll care about your baby, sweetheart. And I'll care about both of you, and all the children you have. But I need to do something to make my own life better, and this is what seems right to me.”
