The Life Intended (37 page)

Before I can second-guess myself, I pick up the phone and dial, fully expecting his work voice mail. I’m so unprepared for him to answer that I don’t know what to say when he picks up after the first ring and says hello.

“Uh” is all I manage to say into the receiver.

“Hello?” Andrew says again.

“Uh,” I repeat. Then I take a deep breath and blurt out, “Hi-it’s-Kate.” But I say it so quickly, the words mash together into one.

“Kate?” He’s surprised to hear from me. “Hey. How you doing?”

“Oh, I’m good, just hanging out in my office, so I thought I would call you, and you know, I thought maybe you’d be gone for the day, but then you picked up, and now I’m talking to you.” Okay. So I’m babbling. I hit myself on the forehead with the receiver.
Get it together, Kate.

“Thanks for the recap,” Andrew says. I can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes me relax a little.

“So,” I say.

“So,” he repeats.

I close my eyes. “I just, uh, had a question for you.”

“I’m all ears.”

I don’t say anything for a moment, because for the first time, I realize how different this is from Dan. I
never
felt this kind of jitters with him. Never. It reminds me that there are stakes here, real stakes. And that’s scary. With Dan, I just coasted along on autopilot with my emotions closed off, but if I put myself out there now and Andrew rejects me, it will really hurt.

Then again, isn’t that what life’s about? Exposing yourself to the possibility of hurt, of disappointment? Patrick once told me,
I think a life where you don’t put your heart on the line for the things that matter isn’t really a life worth living.
The words play in my head now, like Patrick himself is whispering them in my ear. Strange that it would be his voice urging me toward Andrew. But then again, maybe Gina was right. Maybe he would have wanted this for me. Happiness. A life fully lived.

“Kate?” Andrew asks tentatively, cutting into my thoughts. “You still there?”

“So what I was wondering,” I begin immediately, “or I mean, I guess what I was asking is if you don’t have a girlfriend, maybe you’d want to—”

“Kate?” Andrew cuts me off before I spiral even further into stupidity. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh.” I pause. “Well, I mean, I just assumed the girl I saw you with at the bar . . .”

“A friend set us up. We went out twice, but there wasn’t really any chemistry.”

I frown. How could he not have chemistry with a girl who looked like a supermodel? “Okay, but what about the girl I heard in the background the night I called you on the phone about Allie?”

Andrew chuckles. “An on-again, off-again girlfriend who is, and always has been, a very bad idea. I told her the next morning that we needed to end it once and for all.”

“You did?”

“I like someone else,” he tells me. “I think I realized that night just how much.”

“Oh,” I say, temporarily flummoxed. “Okay. Well, then, uh, if you would ever be interested, then maybe we could, uh—”

“Oh, I’m interested,” he says, cutting me off. Again, I can hear him smiling through the phone.

“Oh,” I repeat. I take a deep breath, knowing that with these next few words, I’ll be thrusting myself into a new phase of life, one where my decisions matter again, where my heart’s involved, where I’m living—
really
living—for the first time in years. Win, lose, or draw, I’m back in the game. “So I wanted to ask you—”

“Kate?” Andrew stops me. “You’re spectacularly bad at this. But I’m glad, because I wanted to be the one to ask
you
. I just wasn’t sure if you were ready yet. So . . . if you’re ready . . .”

He’s the one who sounds nervous now, and the tremor in his voice makes me smile as he continues.

“How about dinner?” he asks. “A date. A real date. Me and you. I—I like you, Kate. And I’d like to see what could happen between us, if we give it a chance.” He pauses and adds, “If you want.”

“I want,” I say softly. I close my eyes and smile. It’s a beginning. I don’t know what will happen with Andrew, but I know I’m ready to find out, to make Patrick a beautiful piece of my past, and to choose to live in the present and build for the future. “How’s tomorrow night?”

“I assume you mean after your class with your exceedingly charming and handsome sign language instructor,” he deadpans, “who you’ll no doubt be lusting over for the entire hour preceding the date.”

I laugh. “Obviously.”

“Then the answer is yes. Tomorrow night sounds great. But don’t think you’re getting away with a casual thing just because it’s after class. I’m making a reservation somewhere, and you’re getting an actual fancy first date, young lady, whether you like it or not. Even if Amy spends the rest of the class plotting ways to knock you off.”

“Deal.” I can’t stop smiling.

“See you tomorrow, then, Kate. I’m really glad you called.”

“I am too.” We hang up, and in my stomach, I feel the fluttering wings of a hundred butterflies I didn’t know lived there anymore. I close my eyes and lean back in my chair. I’m ready for this. I know that now. “Thank you, Patrick,” I say aloud.

And then the silence is broken by a voice from my doorway. “What’s wrong with you?” My eyes snap open, and I see Allie standing there, looking windblown and worried.

I scramble to my feet. “Nothing, nothing. What are you doing
here? Are you okay? Where’s your mom? How did you know where my office is?”

Allie makes a face and steps through my doorway. “I’m capable of doing a Google search, you know. You’re right there. Kate Waithman, Music Therapist. Gave me an address and everything. Doesn’t take a genius.”

“Okay. But why did you look me up? Did something happen?” I quickly assess Allie. Physically, she
looks
okay.

“I need your help.”

My heart skips a beat. “Did your mom do something?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize I’m actually hoping the answer is no, which means I’ve turned an important corner.

“No, nothing like that. My mom’s fine. It’s my best friend.”

“Bella?” I ask, startled.

“Yeah. So you know she’s in foster care too, like I was, right?”

“Right.”

“So what happened was her grandma was her guardian, but she died like four months ago, and Bella had nowhere else to go, so she went into the system. They’re still trying to find a home for her.”

“That’s so sad,” I murmur. “So what’s wrong? Is Bella okay?”

Allie kicks at the floor with her sneaker. “Technically, yeah. Physically, I mean. But the thing is, she’s on her way to confront her mom. Her biological mom. She wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to stop her. All these years, she thought her mom was dead, but then she saw her sitting in the back at her grandma’s funeral a few months ago. Bella has been really, really pissed since then. Her mom didn’t even say anything to her!”

“That’s terrible,” I murmur.

“I know, right? So she wants to go ask her why she got rid of her when she was a baby. She wants to yell at her or something. She finally found her on Facebook or Twitter or something last
night and figured out where she works, and now she’s going to confront her.”

“Oh, no.”

Allie nods. “It’s just, I’m afraid for her. I think she’s going to get hurt. Not physically, I mean, but, like, her feelings.”

“And you want to stop her?”

Allie nods. “Will you help me? I know it’s not your job or anything, but I don’t know what to say to her, and you’re really good at making people feel better. I thought maybe you could, you know, figure out the right thing to say or something.”

“Oh, Allie,” I say. She’s come here, of her own accord, to stop a friend’s pain. I’m so proud, my heart hurts. I stand and grab my jacket. “Of course I’ll help you. Let’s go.”

Thirty-One

O
n the way, Allie fills me in. Bella’s birth mother apparently works at a bar on First Avenue, just four blocks from my office, and her shift starts at seven thirty, which is fifteen minutes from now. Allie’s hoping we’ll get there in time to intercept Bella and calm her down.

“Maybe it’s good for her to confront her mother, though,” I venture, playing devil’s advocate as we jog down the street. “Why are you so sure this is going to be a bad thing?”

Allie shakes her head. “Uh-uh. No way. Her mom gave her up when Bella was fourteen months old because she was deaf. She is
not
a nice lady. She just threw her away because she wasn’t perfect.”

I stop in my tracks, and I wait for Allie to stop too. “What?” she asks, her voice shaking a little. “We have to get there.”

“Allie,” I say slowly, “you know that to me, you’re perfect, right?”

She sniffles and looks away. “Well, that’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” I say firmly. “You’re with your mom now, and that’s wonderful. I’m glad for you. But I want you to know that I wanted to take you in. I would have taken you
in a heartbeat. I would have done anything for you to be my foster daughter.”

Allie blinks. “But . . . I wasn’t even nice to you at first.”

“I could see beneath all your tough layers, kiddo. You’re a good person, and I hope you always know that, no matter what.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a good person too,” she says, then she surprises me by hugging me tightly. “Now come on. We have to go find Bella.”

I nod, and we break into a jog once again. I wish I’d worn better shoes for this; I’m in kitten heels, and the balls of my feet are beginning to ache. Allie, in Converse sneakers, is oblivious to my pain and focused on finding her friend, so I struggle to keep up.

Finally, we round the corner onto First, and Allie points. “There it is. The bar where Bella’s birth mom works.”

I look up as I catch my breath. A sign with
NICKEL NELLIE’S
in peeling paint hangs above the doorway of a place that reminds me a bit of the dingy restaurant Allie escaped to in Queens in July. There’s something about the place that feels familiar, something that tickles the far recesses of my memory, but I’m sure I’ve never been here before. “Have you mentioned this place to me?” I ask Allie. “I feel like I know it already.”

Allie shakes her head. “I never heard of it until today. Neither had Bella.”

“Weird,” I murmur.

“So should we just wait out here on the street to see if Bella comes by?” Allie asks. “Or should we go inside? What do you think?”

I open my mouth to reply, but the words get caught in my throat as a familiar-looking woman rounds the corner of First and Fifty-Seventh, headed toward us and the entrance of Nickel Nellie’s. Her hands are shoved into her jacket pockets, her head is down, and her stringy hair frames her drawn face. It takes
me a moment to place her, largely because she’s aged far more quickly than I would have expected. But when I realize who it is, my heart nearly stops. I gasp aloud at the same time the woman reaches the door of the bar and looks up, noticing me. Recognition flashes across her face, followed quickly by a look of disgust.

“Kate,” she says flatly, stopping dead in her tracks.

I nod, stunned, my mind flashing back almost thirteen years, to the last time I saw her.

“Candice?” I finally manage to say. “Candice Belazar?” It’s Patrick’s old girlfriend, the one he’d dated right before he met me, the one we fought about the night before he died. In a way, even though Patrick and I had made up, I’d never forgiven the woman for causing any pain or strife between us on our very last night together.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” she says, looking me up and down with a strange lack of surprise, like she’s been expecting me. “It only took you twelve years,” she continues. “But, gee, you must have been busy.” Her voice drips with sarcasm.

“You’re still angry with me?” I ask. Patrick had broken up with Candice two months before he met me, but still, she’d always acted like I’d stolen him right out of her hands.

She ignores my question. “So is that your kid?” she asks, jerking her chin toward Allie, who’s following our exchange with wide eyes. “That figures.”

I shake my head, completely baffled by her anger, which seems wildly misplaced.

Allie is tugging on my arm now, trying to tell me something, but I hardly notice; I’m too busy staring at Candice, trying to puzzle out what’s happening here. “Candice, I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say.

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Right, just like you had no
idea that what I had with Patrick was more than just some fling. Not that you cared.”

Anger sizzles inside of me, along with a rush of possessiveness. “I’m sorry you got hurt. But you and Patrick were over before I met him. You weren’t with him that long, Candice. You’ve got to let it go.”

She laughs. “Oh, do I? Thanks so much for your advice.” She shakes her head, and for a split second, I see sadness there before a smirk takes its place. “Anyway, it’s too late, you know. I have no idea where she is.”

I’m completely lost now. “You have no idea where
who
is?”

She rolls her eyes dramatically, and finally, Allie tugs my arm so hard that I have no choice but to look at her.
She is Bella’s mom,
she signs quickly.
Why do you know her?

I stare at Allie, completely perplexed.
Bella’s mom?
I sign back. I know from Allie that Bella is thirteen, which means she would have been born a whole year before Patrick died. I’m absolutely positive that if Candice had had a baby, Patrick would have mentioned it to me. We didn’t keep anything from each other, and surely he knew I would have been mildly amused to know that his ex had gotten herself knocked up so soon after they’d broken up.

It’s true,
Allie signs back.
I saw her picture on Facebook. It’s her.

Candice interrupts us then with a derisive snort. “Really?” she asks bitterly. “You learn sign language now because
you
got stuck with a deaf kid, but you couldn’t be bothered when my kid needed you?”

I ignore her insult, because I’m so confused by her words. “You have a child?”