Ashes of Fiery Weather (37 page)

“With regard to biological children,” Charlie said, “it hasn't worked out for us.”

Laurel stirred her coffee and looked at Maggie.

“We started trying almost four years ago. At this point, we feel we've exhausted our medical options,” Laurel said.

Danny cleared his throat. “Are you are planning on adopting again? I know you said so on the phone, but I'm the youngest of three and Maggie's the oldest of four. Brothers and sisters are important to us.”

“Yes, absolutely. Siblings are definitely something I want for my child,” Laurel said.

“My parents have been married for almost forty years. I have two older sisters, and they both have kids, so there are lots of cousins,” Charlie said. “But we do intend to adopt again. At least once, but ideally, we've always said three children. We live in the city right now, but we plan to move to Long Island once we start a family. We both grew up there.”

Maggie asked where they met, and Charlie explained about a lecture called “Women in Law, from the Mid-1950s Through the Present” and how he and his friend were the only two men in the audience. After the lecture, Laurel approached him, curious as to why he'd attended. The answer? To score points with a professor on the panel.

Maggie was disappointed. Too dry to make the
New York Times
Weddings section.

“So, what do your parents do?” Charlie asked.

“Our fathers are both firemen,” Maggie said quickly, before Danny could correctively put her father in the past tense.

“My mom stayed home with me and my brothers. She died of cancer a year ago,” Danny said. He glanced at her. But she would not add that her father was also dead. She did not want them branded as screwed-up teenagers.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Charlie said. Laurel nodded.

“You've had a lot to deal with,” Laurel said.

Danny shrugged. Maggie touched her foot to his. See? Pity.

“And your mom?” Laurel asked Maggie.

Maggie liked that she was tactful enough not to dwell on Danny's mother.

“She co-owns a travel agency that does trips to Ireland. She was born in Galway.”

Charlie offered Monaghan, on his father's side. Laurel had Mayo.

“We've been talking about taking a trip to Ireland and Italy,” Charlie said.

Laurel glanced at him. “But everything is on hold these days,” she said.

Maggie guessed Laurel meant they were waiting to see what happened with their ad. She was curious about how many answers they'd gotten, and of that number how many were promising. Not many, Maggie sensed. There was something running between the McKennas, some tension that wasn't only nerves.

“How would this work, if we decided that we want you to adopt the baby?” she asked.

Danny glanced at her, startled at the direct question. But this wasn't the adoption agency, with its rules and contracts and  “decision counseling,” which she and Danny hadn't done because they'd never actually chosen adoptive parents.

Laurel folded her hands on the table. Charlie said, speaking carefully though his voice shook, “We'll have our lawyer draw up the papers for you to sign after the baby's born. You should also have an attorney look them over. We would like to offer to pay for that. We can recommend someone who's well versed in adoption law, but feel free to choose your own lawyer if you're more comfortable with that. We'll absolutely still cover the cost. There's a medical questionnaire we would ask you to fill out. Just basic information.”

Danny nodded, and Maggie could tell he liked the offer to pick their own lawyer.

“As far as contact . . . ,” Laurel ventured.

“This is not the sort of thing where you're there in the delivery room,” Maggie said.

“Really? We'd thought we'd videotape it,” Laurel said.

Danny sat back in his chair, and Charlie said, “Laurel, hey.”

But Maggie laughed. Laurel grinned at her.

“We mostly want some way to reach you,” Danny said. “Like if something medical did come up that we thought you should know about.” Danny glanced at Maggie. “We wouldn't expect to meet until he's eighteen and can decide for himself if he wants to. Maybe we could get pictures every now and then.”

This time Maggie stepped on his foot. They had never talked about pictures.

“That's very mature of both of you, I must say,” Charlie said.

“Brave,” Laurel said.

Maggie nodded. Oh, the bravest. It's in the blood.

“If you ever needed to contact us, you could do it through our lawyer's firm. Even if our guy someday moves on or the office physically moves, they'll have the information. Does that sound good?”

“I think so.” Danny looked at Maggie. Now he put his foot over hers.

“We have to talk this over alone,” Maggie said firmly.

Charlie grimaced and Laurel pressed her lips together.

“Before we make a final decision,” Danny said.

The word “final” seemed to comfort them. They both managed smiles and murmured quick agreement.

Danny said that they'd give them a call tomorrow. Maggie was annoyed about the secure deadline, but she knew he was right. They had to settle this.

Charlie asked them both about college and what they were studying. Maggie excused herself to go to the bathroom while Danny answered.

She was washing her hands when Laurel came in.

“I'm not cornering you,” Laurel said. “I just wanted to talk to you alone for a minute. This is the only place to do it.

“First of all, Maggie, whatever you decide to do, thank you for talking with us.”

Her sincerity made Maggie uncomfortable. She liked the Laurel of the videotape remark.

“We're just trying to figure out what's best,” Maggie said.

“I was thirty-four when we decided to get pregnant. Your fertility isn't supposed to fall off a cliff until you're thirty-five.” Laurel blew out a hard breath. “I'm not sorry I became a lawyer. With regard to my job and my hours, I feel like we were skirting the issue. Charlie's paranoid about it, with the birth mothers. But I'm well established now. Once we have a baby, I'm going to take some time off.”

“Oh, well—”

“Not forever. I will go back to work. I've always planned to open my own practice.” Laurel smiled ruefully. “Charlie doesn't like me to talk about this. To be blunt, I make more money. The law isn't Charlie's passion. His grandfather, his mom's dad, owned a family restaurant and that's what Charlie grew up wanting to do. But his father didn't approve. Charlie figured he would practice law, save money and then, for a second career—well, I'm getting off track here. My point is that Charlie thinks the birth mothers will worry about our financial stability if I say I'm quitting my job and that his goal is to open a restaurant someday. Just so you know, we have enough. Plenty,” Laurel said. “We're savers. We're prepared to start a college fund the day the baby comes home.”

“That's good,” Maggie managed to say.

“I want to be a mother very, very much.”

Maggie nodded. “I'll think about that. About everything.”

“Thank you,” Laurel said. “Thank you.”

By the time Danny helped her out of the car, Maggie wanted nothing more than a nap, such as naps were these days. What she really wanted was to wake up alone in her body. For the past month, she'd been convinced she'd go early—this couldn't possibly drag on for weeks and weeks. The doctor shook her head when Maggie mentioned this. All women said that. It was August 17. Her due date was still four days away. First babies were usually late.

Danny said he'd call her later and they would talk. He had to return Brian's car and take the subway back from Bay Ridge. It was not until he'd pulled away that Maggie realized he'd inadvertently dropped her at her own house, not her grandmother's, and she hadn't noticed either.

It was almost three o'clock and probably still ninety degrees. If she tried to walk to Delia's house, Maggie figured, she would go down on the sidewalk. Somebody would call an ambulance. The Glory Devlins would respond too.

She went inside. The house was marginally cooler. A fan hummed near an open window. The living room was cluttered with Brendan's and Rose's things. Housekeeping had never interested her mother much, even before she was working. Rose's library books were scattered all over the coffee table. She always chose five, six books at a time and then never read any of them. Maggie stacked them neatly. She picked up an open bag of pretzels and rolled it closed. A pair of Brendan's sneakers were in the middle of the rug, as though he'd just stepped out of them and kept going. She couldn't bend over, but she kicked them beneath the table, one enormous shoe at a time.

She was about to collect two dirty glasses, one that had been drained of orange juice and one that had a puddle of chocolate milk on the bottom, when she heard laughter from the kitchen. Aidan? she thought. The baby began kicking hard enough to make her skin ripple, probably a reaction to her own quickening heartbeat. She stood still for several seconds before slowly heading into the kitchen. Brendan was standing at the table, leaning over the newspaper.

He looked up and his grin changed to an expression of alarm.

“You okay?”

“It's just—it's hot,” she said.

Brendan grabbed a chair and brought it to her. Even as she sat down, harder than she'd intended to, she was impressed that he'd thought of it.

“When did you get taller than me? ” She smiled weakly, realizing that the answer was this summer. He was almost fourteen.

“Should I get Mom? She's in the basement doing the laundry.”

Maggie lifted her hair off her neck and shook her head. Monday was her mother's day off. If she'd remembered that, she probably would have tried walking to their grandmother's, and right now she'd be prostrate on the sidewalk.

“Get me some water?”

Brendan ran to the sink and filled a glass. He brought it to her, then went back to the freezer and got an ice cube.

“No practice today?” she asked, to distract him.

“Canceled because of the heat,” he said in disgust.

He played soccer in Holy Rosary's summer league. Maggie was ashamed because she had no idea what position.

“Where's Rosie?”

“Bowling with the McAleers.”

“Bowling. Of course.”

Maggie pressed the glass to her cheek. Brendan shifted from foot to foot.

“I shouldn't get Mom?”

“No, no. I feel better.”

She was about to tell him that he didn't have to stay with her, when he said, hesitantly, “It's going to be soon, right?”

“What gave it away?”

Brendan didn't smile. His blue eyes were troubled. He sat back down in his chair.

“End of this week,” Maggie said. “I hope.”

Again he hesitated. “Aidan says it's wrong to give the baby up.”

Maggie drew in a deep breath, the kind that was supposed to ease labor, or so she read.

“Aidan is not the one who will be giving up his whole future. Aidan is not the one who would have to be raised by a mother who gave up her whole future.”

“He says you'll change your mind when you have him,” Brendan nearly whispered.

He looked like he might cry.

If Aidan had been in the room, Maggie might have slapped him across the face, such was the flash of her anger.

“And live where?”

Brendan looked puzzled, then said, “Here.”

“This is Mom's house, not mine,” Maggie said. “I can't just crash in on her with a baby. She's already spent years and years supporting us on her own. Now I hand her another kid to take care of? It doesn't work that way.”

“You'd be the one taking care of him. And you could get a job too.”

“And then who would watch the baby? What about college?” Maggie said. “I've thought this through. Don't ever think I haven't, Bren.”

He was silent, his eyes on the floor. “You're going to do it?”

“Yes.”

“Will it be the people you met today?”

Was it wrong, she thought, to hand your baby over to a couple you met once in Buckley's?

“I think so. Me and Danny have to finish talking about it.”

“What if you and Danny got married?”

Danny hasn't asked, Maggie nearly said. But she only shook her head. “We're not ready for that either.”

Brendan pushed himself into a slouch. Maggie finished the water and dumped the ice cube into her palm. She wanted to drop it down her shirt, but settled for rubbing it along her forehead.

“What were you laughing at when I came in?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh,
The Far Side.
”

Maggie dropped her hand. The ice cube began to burn her palm. “You sounded like Dad.”

“What?”

“
Dad.
Daddy. You laugh just like him. Has anybody ever told you that?”

“No.” Brendan sat up straight. “I do? Really?”

Nobody had noticed, Maggie supposed. In the context of their father's death, it was Rose everybody thought of first, the child he never got to see. Then Aidan, the firstborn son. Then Brendan, who was the athlete his father had been. Then herself. Possibly.

“You do,” Maggie told him.

Maggie woke up to see her mother folding the laundry. The clothes were in four neat piles on the couch.

“Well, hello,” Norah said.

“What time is it?” Maggie had no maternity clothes here, so she'd taken a pair of scissors and hacked her jeans into shorts. Then she'd gone into the living room and settled in her father's easy chair, figuring it might be easier to sleep half sitting up. She'd positioned the fan so it would blow right on her.

“Almost six.”

That was nearly two hours without jerking awake like she was in a car that slammed to a stop. But she had to pee, and badly.