Screwed. Part 9

That did it. The blood drained from Nick's face as he realized Grace wasn't quite the simp he'd taken her for. She knew how to play hardball, and she wasn't afraid of him anymore. He decided he'd better watch his tongue. "Why can't you just go to another agency? You can just say you don't know who the father was, that it was a one-night stand and you never knew his name."

"All the agencies I spoke to require both parents to sign off. Maybe some less reputable ones don't care, but I want our baby placed with the best family, and this is the agency I want to use."

Grace hadn't looked at any other adoption agencies, so she didn't actually know if what she said about the rules was true, but there was no way she was going to tell anyone that she'd had anonymous s.e.x with some stranger just to protect Nick. Up until this moment, Grace had let him have his way, given him the gift of anonymity, but now she was drawing the line. This wasn't about him and it wasn't about her - this was about the poor, innocent life they had so stupidly and cavalierly created together, and they both owed it to this child to redirect its life from its inauspicious beginning.

"Fine." Smart enough to know when he was beaten, Nick turned around and stared out the windshield. "So where's this piece of paper?"

"You have to come to the agency, because your signature has to be witnessed by a notary public." Grace handed him one of Mrs. Olson's business cards. "Here's the address. You need to be there tomorrow afternoon at four."

"Okay. That's all I have to do?" In the back of his mind, he wondered if this was a setup, whether Grace's dad would jump out from behind the door, flanked by her mom and the pastor of their church, ready to make Grace an honest woman and wreck his life.

As if she had read his mind, Grace said, "Don't worry, it's not a trap. After you sign, we're done. I never want to speak to you again."

If only she'd had a crystal ball back in July, had been able to see that Nick's beauty was barely skin deep and that s.e.x didn't necessarily have anything to do with real love. As she got out of the car, Grace turned once more to look into those eyes that had wielded such power over her a few months earlier. Now they were just eyes.

At 4:15 the next day, Janet turned to Grace and said, "Do you think he lied to you, that he won't show up?"

"He'll be here. He knows I mean business. I kind of told him that if he didn't sign it, no adoption agency would help us and we would have to keep the baby," Grace answered.

"Brilliant. Veiled threats. Actual threats. Whatever it takes to get the job done." When they first met, Janet had worried that Grace was so fragile she might fall apart under the stress of pregnancy and the adoption process, but she could see that under the delicate, uncertain facade, Grace was tough as nails.

As if on cue, the door to Janet's office suite opened and Nick strolled in, his posture belying his discomfiture at being so deep in enemy territory. Glancing around quickly, even checking behind the door, he was relieved to see that Mr. Warren and Reverend Halvert were not present, wedding rings and Bible in hand. Maybe Grace wasn't trying to ambush him after all. Janet stood and walked towards him slowly, hand out, as if approaching a wild animal. No wonder Grace's common sense went out the window, she thought. Embarra.s.sed that she could be so physically attracted to someone who could easily be her son, Janet hoped that the heat she was feeling wasn't evident in her cheeks. Even though she knew what a lowlife he was, she couldn't control the visceral response to his broad shoulders and sculpted features. Janet's heart broke for poor Grace - she'd never stood a chance. But one thing was certain: it was going to be a beautiful baby.

"You must be Nick. I'm Janet Olson." She couldn't say it was a pleasure to meet him or that she'd heard a lot about him. Either one would be inappropriate, and she didn't want to rile this kid up. From what Grace had told her, he was a loose cannon, and now that he was here, she didn't want to risk him bolting.

"Hi."

For the first time in his life, Nick was standing in front of an attractive woman and had nothing to say. He had a little thing for cougars, though he hadn't yet nailed one. According to a couple of guys on the lacrosse team, it was a good time: they tried really hard, were incredibly grateful, and even paid for dinner. But this particular cougar was all business. Usually women of all ages gave him an appreciative once-over, but Mrs. Olson never looked away from his face. He realized Grace must have told her everything, and his natural urge to charm would be a total waste of time. He just needed to sign the paper and get the h.e.l.l out of there.

"Let's get this taken care of, shall we?"

As much as she wanted to launch into a tirade about s.e.xual responsibility and respect, Janet held her tongue. She understood that as much as this boy deserved a dressing down, he would merely be a stand-in for the now-middle-aged man who had violated both her body and her trust in the back bedroom of a frat house. Years of therapy had taught her that nothing she could do could erase the past, and blaming others for one's own situation only delayed one's recovery. This kid would get his. The next girl he knocked up might not be as civilized as Grace, or maybe he would catch a nasty STD that would permanently take the lead out of his pencil. One could only hope.

"Yeah," he said softly. Grace was sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Janet's desk. Nick nodded at her but said nothing.

"Okay, have a seat. Nick, when you sign these doc.u.ments you are giving up your parental rights to this child. That's forever. Under no circ.u.mstances can you rea.s.sert your rights. This piece of paper effectively trumps your biological connection. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Nick said with a little smile.

"Fine," Janet said, handing him a piece of paper. "Read this over. Take your time. If you have any questions at all, now is the time to ask."

After a couple of minutes, Janet spoke. "I'll a.s.sume your silence means you fully comprehend what you've read. Please sign and date the doc.u.ment." It was such an emotional moment, but it was important to remain businesslike, at least until the paper was signed and she had put her notary stamp at the bottom.

Nick scribbled his name casually and sat back. His nightmare was over. One stroke of a pen and he'd gotten his life back. He paused, certain that anything so easy had to have a catch. "Is that it?"

"You're all done," Janet said, wanting to add, until you knock up the next one, you self-centered putz. "Grace will sign after the baby is born, and that's it." Although she had hoped this scare would change Nick's att.i.tude toward s.e.x and girls, make him understand that s.e.x was more than just a carnival ride, the vacant look in his eyes and the way he slouched in his chair told Janet that this kid was still thinking with his p.e.n.i.s, and nothing she could say was going to change that.

"Okay, see you later," Nick said to the room, barely able to keep the smile off his face. "By the way, do you know what time is it?"

"It's five to five," Grace offered, realizing as she said it that those were probably the last words she and Nick would ever exchange. They had made love - well, they had had s.e.x - made a child, and now their last conversation was about the time. It had truly ended with a whimper.

"Thanks," he said as he opened the door to leave.

He was late to meet Amy, but she wasn't going anywhere. Their late summer thing had continued into the fall. She was the best f.u.c.k he'd ever had, and she had this little stick implanted in her arm that meant there was no way she could get pregnant. Sometimes he didn't even wear a condom, even though he knew she was probably s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g other guys, which he knew was stupid on his part, but doing it bareback was amazing. Willing to try any freaky thing he suggested, Amy was like a female version of himself, and he was under her spell. Instead of waiting for the elevator, he ran down the stairs.

CHAPTER 13.

Dear Baby, Happy Thanksgiving! You're twenty weeks old. The doctor says you're six inches long, and you can hear things. So now you know what my voice sounds like and that I listen to the Beatles in the middle of the night when I can't sleep, which happens a lot. I can feel you wiggling around inside of me. It's not time for you to come out, so just relax. The doctor told me that you're a girl, and I cried. Not because I was sad, but because now I know I'm having a daughter.

I know I'm not keeping you, but I need to call you something other than Baby. Can I call you Molly for now? I know that your adoptive parents will give you a name, but for now it's just you and me. Remember how much I love you and how sorry I am that I did this backwards, but I'm going to make it right. You're going to have the best mommy and daddy I can find. I promise.

Love, Grace When Grace walked into the kitchen on Thanksgiving morning, Vera was rolling out a piece of pastry for a piecrust and Helen was sitting on a stool at the counter polishing the silverware. An a.s.sortment of copper pots bubbled away on the oversized range, and the air smelled like cinnamon and coffee and vanilla. As much as she tried to block the thoughts, Grace couldn't help wondering what her parents were doing. It was nine o'clock, so they were probably already at the soup kitchen, up to their elbows in vats of mashed potatoes and gravy, full of empathy for those less fortunate than themselves. Their ability to sympathize with strangers and not their own daughter made Grace both sad and angry. Maybe if she were living on the street, strung out on heroin instead of pregnancy hormones, they could find it in their hearts to forgive her. No, don't go there, she warned herself. Determined not to ruin the day, Grace stomped on all her bad thoughts and vowed to live in the moment, to appreciate all the good things she had. It was Thanksgiving, after all.

"Good morning, Vera. It smells amazing in here. Mrs. T., thank you for inviting Jennifer over. She's going to join us for dessert."

"I'm so glad. I know this must be a difficult day for you, and having your best friend with you seemed like a good idea."

Earlier in the week, Helen had ventured across the street to invite Grace's parents to Thanksgiving dinner. This silent treatment was going on way too long, and it was time for the Warrens to start acting like adults. Thanksgiving seemed like the perfect opportunity to put the past behind and make a fresh start. But although Helen could hear footsteps on the other side of the door, no one answered, and after ten minutes of knocking and doorbell-ringing, she gave up and went home. Grace's parents had to be crazy - there was no other explanation.

Grace shrugged. "I'm okay. Every day it gets easier being away from them."

That was a lie, but Grace was committed to making it true because she didn't have a choice in the matter, and it was a waste of time and energy ruminating over a situation that was out of her control. She had begged, literally on her knees, for their forgiveness, and they had slammed the door in her face. Since that awful day, she had left three notes in their mailbox saying that she loved them and was sorry for what she had done, basically repeating what she had told them that very first night, hoping that the pa.s.sage of time might have softened their seemingly impenetrable outer sh.e.l.ls. But there had been no response, and it looked like the cold war was going to continue through the winter.

"I'm sure that's not true, darling, but you've done your best to mend the rift, and now we simply must wait for your parents to find their way out of the woods. As Dr. Needleman used to tell me every week, the only behavior you can control is your own."

"I know, but I just wish I could make them understand why I'm doing this. Why don't they get it? They raised me to think this way, and then they went and changed all the rules." Grace's voice cracked and she turned away, swiping at her tears with her sleeve.

Putting down her polishing cloth, Helen came around the kitchen island and put her arms around Grace. "Shhh. They'll figure it out eventually. Come, sit down and have a little breakfast. Vera and I were about to take a coffee break."

"Thank you, Mrs. T., for everything," Grace whispered into Helen's soft sweater, feeling the stamina of every one of Helen's eighty years in those narrow but st.u.r.dy shoulders.

"It is my privilege, mamala, and my pleasure," Helen whispered back.

"Good morning. Happy Turkey Day, ladies. Did I miss the group hug?" Charlie put his arms around Helen and Grace and kissed each of them. The feel of his hand on Grace's back and the smell of his soap made her pulse speed up just a little bit. It frightened her.

"Good morning, darling. Grace and I were just having a moment. Holidays are kind of emotional. Speaking of which, we should call your parents sometime today. What's the time difference in Moscow? I always forget."

"It's eight hours later there. I already Skyped them. They're doing Thanksgiving at the emba.s.sy."

"That sounds exciting," Helen said. "I'm afraid I can't compete with that."

"Last year, we had Thanksgiving at the emba.s.sy in Paris. You've seen one, you've seen them all. I'm much happier here with you, Aunt Helen. You're way better than any amba.s.sador." Charlie was talking to Helen, but he was looking directly at Grace. "I wouldn't trade my time here for anything."

Grace blushed, picked up the silver cloth, and started rubbing vigorously at the tines of a serving fork, trying not to look fl.u.s.tered, and failing. Charlie poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from Grace.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" he asked, sounding more parental than he intended.

"Not yet." Grace blushed again, not sure why such a neutral question would provoke such a response. "I'm going to have some cereal. I'm fine. I just woke up."

"Sit," Helen ordered. "Vera and I made a quiche this morning, and we're all going to have some."

After breakfast, Helen excused herself. "I think I should give your folks a call myself. Just say h.e.l.lo. We e-mail, but I haven't spoken to them in a bit, and as long as I'm looking after you, I should probably let them know that you're thriving under my tutelage."

"I'm sure they would love that. Do you want me to set you up on Skype?" Charlie asked.

"No, dear, the telephone is much better for someone my age. I'm sure your parents don't want to be staring at my prune face right before they have dinner."

"Aunt Helen, don't say that. You're beautiful, and timeless."

"Just like the Sphinx, my love. Now, while I do that, why don't you and Grace set the table. The cloth is already on. The dishes are on the sideboard. You just need to rinse the silver first. Otherwise everything will taste like Tarn-X. There will be five us - the three of us, and George and Vera - make that six, since Jennifer is coming for pumpkin pie."

"What about Ada?" Charlie asked.

"Ada has taken a couple of days and gone to visit her family, so it's just us."

In the dining room, Grace and Charlie walked around the table, arranging cutlery, plates, and gla.s.ses. "Your aunt has such lovely things." Grace held a cut crystal winegla.s.s up to the light.

"She does. It's nice that Jennifer is coming over," Charlie said, not particularly interested in Helen's dishes or her guest list, but feeling awkward in Grace's presence. Small talk set his teeth on edge, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Mrs. T. thought having my best friend here would make the holiday a little easier ... since my parents aren't around."

"That's a good idea."

"It is, but she didn't need to. I feel so close to you ... and to your aunt. It's weird, but you've become my family these last few months."

The pause wasn't lost on Charlie, and he smiled, although when she said family, he prayed she didn't think of him as a brother. "I'm glad. When we finish here, do you want to go for a walk?" Maybe his tongue would untie itself if he exposed it to a blast of cold air.

"Before ... my dad and I always used to go for a long walk on Thanksgiving Day."

"We don't have to, then. I don't want to stir up bad memories."

"No, it's all good. I'd love to go for a walk with you, Charlie Gla.s.s."

The sky was a silvery gray, and only a few brave leaves still clung to the branches as Grace and Charlie walked up the trail by the old reservoir. It was the same hike Grace used to take with her father.

Grace looked up at the sky. "It feels like it might snow if it were just a little bit colder."

"Are you warm enough? Here, take my coat." Charlie started to take off his jacket.

"No, Charlie, I'm perfectly warm. But thank you. Where do you come from? No boy has ever tried to give me his coat before."

"I don't think lending you my jacket is exactly going out on a limb. It's not like I'm offering you a kidney or something." If it ever came up, Charlie was fairly sure he would, but Grace didn't need to know that right now.

"But you're so good to me. You're always thinking about what I might need or want." Grace was on a fishing expedition out at the reservoir, hoping Charlie might give her a hint as to his real feelings. Was he simply the most thoughtful person on the planet, or was it something more? Not daring to hope that it could be something more than just good breeding, Grace tried to find the right words to force the issue without sounding like she was making a play for him.

"I'm good to you because we're friends," Charlie said simply, afraid to say anything more explicit.

In the weeks and months since they had become unlikely housemates, Charlie had tried to find things wrong with Grace in a useless effort to contain his rapidly growing feelings for her. But the more closely he examined her, the more smitten he became. Her uncertainty and her vulnerability highlighted her strength of character. Her slowly blossoming body was incredibly feminine and s.e.xy. Her quiet sorrow over her undeserving parents showed how honorable and loyal she was.

"I think you're my best friend these days. I love Jennifer to death, but sometimes I think she's kind of annoyed with me for not going through with the abortion. In her mind, I made my life ridiculously complicated for no good reason. I wish I could make her understand."

They had reached a steep part of the path, and Charlie took Grace's hand to guide her. If she fell, he would never forgive himself. When the trail flattened out again, he didn't let go, and she didn't either.

"It's a very personal decision, and what's right for one person may not be right for everyone," Charlie said.

"You should be hanging out at the emba.s.sy with the other diplomats. What would you do if you were seventeen and pregnant? Or your girlfriend was?"

Charlie stopped walking and took Grace's other hand so they stood facing each other.

"I would love her and stand by her, whatever she decided to do, because we're in this together." He had purposely switched tenses, hoping Grace might pick up on his subliminal suggestion that he wanted to be the one standing by her.

"Oh." A single tear rolled down Grace's cheek as she stared up at Charlie, hating herself for not waiting for someone who looked at her the way Charlie was looking at her at that moment. A lifetime of thoughtful decisions abandoned on a balmy evening on a country road, and now she was looking at the face of what should have been her future, but now could never be. Even if Charlie and Mrs. T. could accept her many imperfections, his perfect parents never could.

Charlie leaned over and kissed Grace's cheek. It would have been so easy to kiss her sweet mouth, to telegraph his longing to be something more than her other best friend. But something stopped him. So disoriented, Grace would probably kiss him back, but what would it mean? Better to be patient and be sure.

When Charlie drew back, Grace exhaled slowly and looked at the ground. She had been so sure he would kiss her on the lips. When Charlie gazed into her eyes, she felt as if they were the only two people on earth, but she had obviously misunderstood. It had happened before. Nick's adoring looks had been vacant promises. Best friend would have to do. It was better than nothing.

At the top of the trail they peered over the rocky edge into the pewter-colored water. Stepping back quickly, grabbing onto a tree trunk to anchor herself, Grace made a face. "I don't like that."

"Don't like what? Do you feel sick?"

"I'm afraid of heights ... along with all the other things I'm scared of."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I shouldn't have brought you up here." What was supposed to be a romantic walk in the woods was turning into a therapy hike. Charlie felt like jumping into the icy water. Nothing he tried was working.

"No, I need to start facing my fears, so I'm glad we came here." Grace smiled up at Charlie, wishing she had the nerve to tell him how wonderful he was, how she never wanted to let go of his hand.

"I'd say you spend plenty of time facing your fears these days."

"Trust me. I've barely scratched the surface."

"Well, I think that's enough for today. Let's go home."

Charlie held out his hand and Grace took it, knowing that she should be grateful for this special friendship, instead of wasting time wishing it could be something more. No boy on earth, not even one as sensitive and mature as Charlie, would hitch his wagon to a girl who had someone else's bun in her oven. She knew she had no right to expect a miracle.

Thanksgiving dinner at the Teitelbaum home was nothing like the Thanksgivings Grace was used to. As formal and gracious as Mrs. T.'s setup was, that's how casual the meal was. Because it was a holiday, everyone was pitching in. Vera was the only one not allowed to get up from the table, because she had done all the cooking. Everyone had to say what he or she was grateful for, which ran from Grace thanking everyone a.s.sembled for treating her like a member of the family to George thanking Mrs. T. for buying a s.p.a.ce-age snow blower for the coming winter. Conversation was light, and they spent as much time laughing as they did eating.

At Grace's house, although the setting was far more casual, the meal was anything but. There was lots of talk about politics and the economy and the state of the Supreme Court. Sometimes Grace felt like she should be taking notes, because there might be a test before dessert. Having never spent a holiday with anyone but her own family, Grace had a.s.sumed that was normal. But after a relaxing meal that did not include a single reference to the president or the Middle East, Grace began to see that her parents were just serious people. Maybe they were simply unable to lighten up, which would partially explain, although not excuse, the fact that they couldn't see past Grace's pregnant belly.

Jennifer knocked on the back door as Grace was stacking dishes next to the sink. "Hey, Princess Grace. Here." Jennifer thrust a pie covered with Saran Wrap into Grace's hands. "My mother said I couldn't come empty-handed, but once you taste her pecan pie, you'll wish I had." Jennifer stuck out her tongue.