Custody (37 page)

Kelly shifted in her chair. “Jason, listen to me. I was
glad
about it all. I was
glad
to help people. I’ve always had this thing about wanting to make things right, and God knows nature is
hair-pullingly arbitrary. I felt I was balancing some kind of universal scale.”

Jason watched her face carefully. “Go on.”

Kelly realized her hands were pressed against her belly. She forced herself to rest them on the arms of the chair. “Lots of women do this, Jason. It’s a wonderful thing to do. It’s a gift.”

“But?” Jason whispered.

“But nothing. I gave birth to a child, and she was healthy, and the nurse took her away, and I had the money for law school. That’s it.”

“I don’t think so.” Jason’s voice was soft but firm.

Kelly looked away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do me the favor of believing that I do know you a little bit, Kelly.”

She stared at him, then looked away. “Jason, she was so—beautiful! She was so new, and yet so much herself. And yet, so much
mine
. They said they’d take her right away, but it was busy in the hospital, and her birth was so—so amazing! It was like sailing a boat through the heart of a storm and living to tell the tale. It was like being snatched off the earth by a tornado, and spinning out of control and then suddenly being set down safe, and all at once everything that before in life was gray now is in brilliant Technicolor!”

Jason poured them each another glass of wine, emptying the bottle.

“Go on.”

Kelly lifted her eyes to him. The words seemed torn right out of her heart. “She was so beautiful, Jason.
My daughter
was so beautiful. She was as pale as frost, with funny silver fuzz all over her head, and a rosebud mouth, and the most wide, searching eyes. I held her, they let me hold her, and when our eyes met, it was like falling into the most wonderful love. It was like meeting someone I’d been looking for all my life.”

They sat in silence, the kind of silence that fills the air in a sacred place, in a church or concert hall, after the music has ended.

Her voice was tight with self-hatred. “I was so stupid. So
arrogant
. Thinking I could carry a child around with no more connection to her than to a bag of groceries. I thought I could conquer nature. Well. Nature surely did bring me to my knees.”

“You never saw her again?”

“Never.”

Jason reached out his hand. “Come sit next to me.”

She moved over onto the sofa, and he pulled her against him with one arm, and stroked her hair with his hand.

“I think you were brave and resourceful.”

She sniffed. “You do?”

“Absolutely. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

She pulled away. “I’m not
ashamed
! I never said I was
ashamed
!”

“Hey, cool down! I’m at sea here.”

“I didn’t tell you so you could
forgive
me.”

“Did I say anything about forgiveness?”

“To tell me I don’t have to be ashamed means you think I
should
feel ashamed.”

“Well, if you didn’t feel something like shame, why didn’t you tell me all this sooner?”

She glared at him. Then she nodded. “Good question.” Rising, she began to pace the room, as she often did when thinking hard about her cases. “Because.” Steepling her hands, she brought them to her mouth. “Because I thought it was all over.” She nodded, as if agreeing with her own words would spur her thinking process. “Because I thought it—
she
—was irrelevant to my life.”

“And now?”

“I want to see her. I want to be sure she’s happy. Healthy. In a good home. I want to see what she looks like, know what she likes to do.”

Jason shook his head. “Kelly, you know that’s entering very complicated territory.”

“God, don’t you think I
understand
that? But that doesn’t change the way I
feel
.”

He asked, very quietly, “What about the way I feel?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if I told you that I have a child somewhere out there. A daughter I wanted to bring into my life.”

“Then I’d support you. I’d help you.”

“I don’t think so. I think first of all you’d make me spend some time contemplating the consequences of such actions. There are other people to consider, after all. Not only your birth daughter, but her parents, with whom you made a legal and personal pact. You’re thinking of dishonoring that agreement. You’re thinking of bringing chaos and confusion into the lives of three people you’ve never met.”

“Oh, I’ve
met
my daughter!”

“All right,
technically
—”

“There was nothing
technical
about it!”

“Look. You haven’t seen her for twelve years. She’s seen you once, if babies can even
see when they’re born. She won’t remember you. She may not even know about you. Her parents might not even have told her she’s adopted yet.”

“They should have.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. It’s not your decision. They might be waiting for a special moment. You have no idea. And no right to interfere with their lives.”

“Why are you so contentious?”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

“Kelly, I don’t know what you want from me. I’m trying to respond to you as honestly as possible, and quite frankly, this is a hell of a lot to take in.”

“You want me to pretend it all never happened?”

Jason buried his head in his hands. “I don’t know what you want me to say right now, Kelly.”

She sank into a chair. “I don’t, either, actually.”

“You seem angry with me.”

“I know I do,” she agreed ruefully. “And I know it doesn’t make sense.”

“What brings all this up now?”

She was silent.

He answered for her: “This is all stirred up because of your new duties as a judge.”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose. I’m seeing things I never saw before.”

“So this is what’s been bugging you the past week or so.”

“—Yes.”

“How can I help you?”

“I don’t think you can. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Kelly. I’d like to help you. I’d like to think you want my help.”

“Jason, I can’t handle your emotions right now. I can barely handle my own.”

“Maybe I’d better go home.”

“Yes. Maybe you’d better.”

They stared at one another, tired and wary. Jason rose, crossed the room, bent toward her to kiss her good-bye. She turned her head away so that his lips found only her cheek.

“Kelly.”

“I’m sorry, Jason. I’m behaving strangely now. I know it. I just—we both just need some space, I think.”

“Fine.” Jason touched her shoulder gently, with consolation and affection, then went out the door.

Nine

S
UNDAY MORNING
K
ELLY WOKE BEFORE THE ALARM
. Snuggling down deep into the bed, she turned onto her side, pulled the blanket up over her ear, and tried to recapture the blurry pleasure of her dream.

In her dream she’d also been in bed—with Randall. They were making love. He was inside her, and on top of her, and she had her legs and arms wrapped around him, clutching him to her. He was saying her name.

Gradually the dream faded, but as Kelly padded into the kitchen to make coffee, the warmth of the dream remained. Leaning against the kitchen counter, cradling the cup in her hands, she realized she was smiling, and smiled at herself for it.

Something amazing happened when she was with Randall. He had said so; she had felt it. Sometimes miracles did happen. The French have a word for it:
coup de foudre
. Thunderbolt. Already he was talking to her about a future together, a future with children, their own children … the thought nearly made her dizzy.

But they had to talk. Well,
she
had to talk. She’d lied to him, telling him she was a lawyer, or rather, she’d told a half-truth, afraid he’d back off if he knew she was a judge.

Did she want their relationship to remain in secrecy and shadows? Certainly there was a kind of deliciousness about it, a sense of risk and mystery. And a kind of abandon, as well: she could be anyone, free from all the liabilities of her past. Free from reality.

She had seen how love, or lust, or whatever her mother had fallen into with René Lambrousco, had beguiled her mother, wrecking her judgment and ruining Kelly’s life. She’d seen countless divorces over the past few years, she’d heard numberless stories of people who had once experienced that magic, that sense of communion, that longing to be together for all eternity … and who ended up in divorce court, bitter enemies.

How could she think it would be any different for her?

She couldn’t know that. She couldn’t know the future.

She only knew that she wanted to be with Randall. Somehow she belonged to him, and he to her. She would tell him everything and let real life fall upon them, and then she’d find out if
this magic was real.

She had to hurry if she wasn’t going to be late. Fortunately she knew what she would wear … a brief elegant slip of white linen that fit her like a kidskin glove. Too hot if she were going to be outside for long, but she didn’t intend to be outside for long, or, for that matter, inside the dress.

She drove quickly along the Jamaica Way and finally beneath the stone arch into the cemetery.

The big green Jeep was there, idling, windows closed against the heat.

She parked next to it, jumped out, opened the passenger door.

“Hey,” Randall said.

He stopped the world right in its tracks. Everything else fell away—all rules, laws, logic, continents, mountain ranges, seas. Nothing existed but this moment, this man, with his Viking blue eyes, his shaggy hair, his body, as present and undeniable as truth.

Climbing into the passenger seat, she said, “Hey yourself.” Suddenly she was flushed with shyness.

“I can’t stay.”

“Oh. Well. Oh.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t think I don’t want to. I want nothing more than to drive you to the nearest bed and spend all morning in it with you. But my daughter called last night. She has to spend this afternoon with her mother. Door-to-door campaigning, and it can’t be done in the morning when people are in church. So I promised Tessa I’d take her to breakfast this morning. What about this afternoon? I’m supposed to go visit my father, but I can postpone that.”

Desire drenched her. Shameless, she said, “This afternoon is all right—”

“Good. I’ll call you, okay?”

“Yes. Okay.”

“I’ll come to your apartment.”

“All right. But Randall, we have to talk. I have things to tell you.”

“And I, you. We
will
talk. We’ll have our whole lives to talk.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course I do. Look, Kelly. I was expecting to be with you this morning like we were last Sunday, in a room shut away from all the rest of the world. And we will be that way again, but we can’t be that way now.”

“I understand—”

“No. Listen to me. Today I’ve got to be with my daughter. She will always be my first priority. If you and I are very lucky, someday you’ll meet her. Someday you’ll become part of our lives. If we’re very good and very lucky, someday my daughter will be your stepdaughter and a half sister to a child of our own, of yours and mine. That’s what I want, Kelly. I want to make love to you here and now … but more than that, I want a future, with you and me and all of ours in it together.”

“You sound so sure.”

“I am sure. I married the first time because of my head. This time I’m following my heart.” With an abashed smile, he added, “And, I must admit, certain other parts of my anatomy.” He kissed her fiercely. “Let me come to your apartment this afternoon. I’ll spend the night.”

“I have to go out of town tonight, for a week. I won’t be back until next Friday night.”

“All right. We still have this afternoon.”

“Yes.”

“Give me your number. I’ll call you after I’ve returned Tessa to her mother. And I’ll give you my numbers, home and pager, and cell phone.”

Randall took a small leather notebook from his hip pocket. Opening it, he took out a narrow silver pen.

Next to the notepad was a photograph of a girl with blond braids, blue eyes, and a leaf-shaped birthmark on her neck.

Her heart kicked at the sight.

“Kelly? What’s your phone number?”

She told him.

“Here’s my card. All my numbers are there.” He frowned. “Are you all right?”

The notebook was still open in his hands. The little blond girl gleamed from the glossy paper.

“Is that your daughter?”

“Tessa. Yes.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She is. Kelly, I want to see you today—”

“Is that a birthmark?” Kelly touched the photograph with the tip of her finger.

“Yes. She’s very self-conscious about it. Usually wears her shirt collar up. Wants to have it removed. I’ve convinced her to wait until she’s a little older. I like it, myself.”

“Do you remember the story by Hawthorne, about the woman who was perfect except for a birthmark on her face, and when she had it removed, she died, because nothing perfect can exist on this earth?”