Nothing But Trouble (31 page)

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Authors: Bettye Griffin

BOOK: Nothing But Trouble
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His expression softened at the thought of his wife. All Norell needed was a chance to be a mother, and she'd be complete. But he had to come up with a believable explanation of where the baby came from.
Which might be difficult if, as Cécile pointed out, it came out looking like him.
 
 
Cécile fumed as she threw her purse on the passenger seat of her car. Damn that Michie! Never doing what she was supposed to do, and not doing the expected.
Cécile expected Vic to know all about her relationship to Micheline. She thought Michie would spill the beans the first chance she got after their encounter in the Publix parking lot yesterday, but that look of shock on Vic's face had been genuine. He'd had no idea. That told her Michie's scheming nature was in play.
She had something up her sleeve.
Chapter 43
“
D
o you really like it?” Norell patted her hair. After two years of having it bleached a reddish blond, she had returned to her natural dark brown.
“I think it looks great,” Dana said. “It's been so long since you've been a brunette. You almost look like a different person.”
“I decided I was spending too much time at the salon. Between touch-ups, coloring, manicures, pedicures, eyebrows ... At least this way I won't have to run back to them two weeks after my touch-up to have my roots bleached.”
“Besides, all that bleach really isn't good for your hair,” Dana added. She turned to Cécile. “Doesn't Norell's hair look nice?”
Cécile agreed, but Norell noticed that she quickly averted her gaze. She'd been doing that ever since their partners' meeting began. What was the deal with her, anyway? It didn't make sense. After everything they'd been through, all of a sudden Cécile couldn't look her in the eye. She thought they'd put all the bad stuff behind them the other week. She'd had a hard time hearing about Cécile's new house, sure. Hell, she was only human. It was perfectly natural to feel a little envious watching someone's dreams come true when you had the same dreams, and yours hadn't. She knew it was wrong, but nevertheless it gave her a small degree of satisfaction to know the Rivers family lived in cramped quarters. She reasoned that they had already been blessed with six children, soon to be seven; why should they have a nice spacious house, too? But the twinge had passed, and now she was happy for Cécile and Michael. She and Vic had even offered to help them with their move next week.
So she just didn't understand why Cécile acted so strangely, like she wanted to avoid her.
“If that wraps up our business, I'd like to make an early exit,” Cécile said, rising. “I'd like to get some more packing done, and of course I've got to finish work.”
“Sure, we're done,” Dana said. “Run along. And try to take it easy, Cécile. You're doing a hell of a lot these days.”
“Oh, I'll be fine. I'm healthy as a horse. But that first buyer losing his financing at the last minute really hurt us, time-wise. We should have been in and settled by now. This is going to make for a haphazard Thanksgiving. Michael and I are seriously talking about skipping the big dinner and just sending out for pizza.” She chuckled. “See you guys later.”
Dana waited until the front door closed behind Cécile. “Is it me, or is she wired?”
“She's wired,” Norell said. “But like you said, she's got a lot on her plate, plus she's eight months pregnant. But at least she'll look you in the eye. Whenever she had to look at me from the time she got here she focused on something just beyond the top of my head.”
“I didn't notice. I thought all that uncomfortable stuff was over with you two.”
“So did I. Ever since she and I had that heart-to-heart on your patio. I don't understand it. I almost want to ask her what's wrong, but I'm sure she'll deny there's a problem.”
“Maybe she just feels a little guilty at being pregnant around you.”
“Maybe. But it's awfully strange timing to feel guilty less than a month before her due date, don't you think?”
Norell looked at the brochures Vic had brought home. “A cruise, Vic? That's wonderful, but the timing is bad. You must have forgotten we promised to help Cécile and Michael move into their new house next week.”
“They can manage without us. I thought it would be nice to be away this Thanksgiving.”
“And what about my work?”
“That's one reason why I chose this week to surprise you. Doesn't the workload drop over the holidays?”
“Traditionally, yes, but—”
“But nothing. You deserve a vacation. I got a great deal on seven days in the Southern Caribbean, but we have to leave from San Juan. The ship leaves next Sunday. I made arrangements for us to fly to San Juan on Saturday.”
“I just wish you'd talked to me about it before you booked it, that's all.”
He moved in close, wrapping his arms around her and reaching down to cup her buttocks. “But then it wouldn't be a surprise.”
She giggled, slipping her arms around his neck. “Oh, Vic. It does sound wonderful. I guess Dana and Cécile can manage to keep CDN running. I just feel kind of bad about reneging on Cécile and Michael.”
“Like the two of them can't afford three or four hundred bucks to hire a moving van to bring their belongings a few miles. Believe me, Norell, they'll understand that you'd rather take a seven-day cruise than stay in Jacksonville to help them move. They'll even be a little envious. With all those kids they've got, the only vacation they'll get to take for the next fifteen years will be going to theme parks.”
“Vic, you are so bad.” She giggled.
 
 
To Norell's surprise, Cécile didn't seem particularly disappointed when she broke the news in a phone call the next day. “Wow, a cruise! What ports will you be visiting?”
“Oh, Saint Maarten, Antigua, Barbados, maybe one other place. I'm not sure.”
“That's wonderful, Norell. I'd grab it in a minute.” Cécile sighed. “I've got a secret vacation fund to surprise Michael with. I'd really like to get out to Las Vegas. I figure there's plenty out there for the kids to do during the day, and for Michael and me at night. Of course, it'll probably take three or four years to get enough money for all of us to fly.”
“It would probably make a great drive, Cécile. Just think of all you and the kids would see. And in a few years Jonathan and Damon will have their driver's licenses, so they can help drive.”
“You might have something there. Getting a second hotel room every night we're on the road should still be cheaper than buying nine round-trip airline tickets.”
“Just picture yourselves driving through the desert, looking at all those rock formations with the theme to
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
playing on your CD player. It won't be that long, either, before you can afford it. Remember, you'll be getting an annual check for your share of CDN's profits starting next year. Why not treat yourself?”
“Yeah, maybe. I'll have to see how things work out.”
“I'm glad you're not angry with me for backing out, Cécile.”
“Hey, it's fine.”
 
 
Cécile chuckled as she hung up. So Vic had booked a cruise to prevent him and Norell from spending an afternoon in their company, which would be uncomfortable for him. His expenses were racking up like the shell of a skyscraper. Seven-night Caribbean cruises over the holidays didn't come cheap, and he'd already agreed to fork over thousands of dollars to Micheline for her living expenses.
Keeping his dirty little secret a secret just might bankrupt him.
Chapter 44
O
ne look at Norell, and Vic could tell something had upset her. She sat on the sofa, her bare feet resting on the coffee table. The immaculate kitchen showed no signs of cooking activity. When he came home from work he always found her either working in the kitchen or upstairs in her office. Her state of just sitting, listlessly staring into space, suggested she'd received bad or shocking news.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“No. I'm just sitting here thinking.” She sighed. “Cécile had another girl. Eight pounds, three ounces. They named her Regine.”
“Hey, that's great! She'll be home in plenty of time for Christmas.”
“Yes, today's only the eighteenth.”
“You want to go by the hospital to see her?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I'd rather wait until she goes home. They'll probably release her the day after tomorrow.” Her eyes grew wide as he stood opposite her and beckoned with his index finger. “What?”
“I think you need a hug, and I can't give you one if you're sitting down.”
She swiveled her feet off of the coffee table and stood up. Vic felt her relax against him.
“You're right,” she said. “I needed that.”
“Norell, I was saving some news as a surprise for you, but I know how hard it'll be for you to watch Cécile holding her new baby, so I think I'll tell you now.”
“What?”
“I put out some inquiries through Henry Nelson.”
“Your attorney? What kind of inquiries?”
“Baby inquiries. I'm sure that somewhere out there is a female, whether a frightened young girl or a mature woman on the verge of menopause, who is coping with an unwanted pregnancy and would be interested in giving up her baby for adoption.”
“That's noble of you to try, Vic, but I'm afraid you're unlikely to meet with any success. In black families, if someone is unable to raise their child, somebody else usually steps up to help. A mother, a sister, an aunt ... even a grandmother. We don't like the idea of giving up our flesh and blood.” She looked at him strangely, realization dawning. “Wait a minute. Did you say you had a surprise for me? Have you actually found someone willing to give up her baby?”
“I did. The baby is due in April. I've been paying her living expenses, including her deductibles on her insurance, for the last couple of weeks.”
Norell's heart swelled with excitement. “Oh, Vic, that's fabulous news! What was it, a change-of-life baby? A woman past forty-five would probably have a harder time finding a family member to help her, because they're all older, too.”
“No, it's actually more of an inconvenient pregnancy for a younger woman who didn't have it confirmed until her second trimester. I think Henry said she's in her mid-twenties.”
“It sounds like she just wants to have the baby and turn it over so she can get on with her life.”
“It sounds that way, but Norell, before you get too excited, you have to keep in mind that these types of arrangements are never carved in stone. The terms of the contract state that she will hand over the baby and disappear forever, but if she changes her mind and wants the child back, judges just about always give the birth mothers custody. The only thing I might be able to enforce is financial restitution. I had it put into the contract that if she reneges, she'll have to pay me back every cent I put out for her.” It pained him to watch the joy fade from Norell's face. “It's just a possibility you have to be aware of, Norell. When it comes to adoption, nothing is a sure thing. The birth mother can come back for a period after placement and demand the baby back. I think it's something like six months. Henry will know for sure. So you might want to hold off on telling your girlfriends, or if you do, tell them there's a chance that it might not work out if the birth mother changes her mind. It doesn't hurt to have a couple of friends pulling for you.”
 
 
Norell rose from her seat in the hospital lobby when she saw Dana approaching. Since Vic had revealed his surprise, she didn't feel fazed by visiting a neonatal unit full of newborn infants. Four months from now she'd have an infant of her own to care for. “Isn't Brittany with you?” Norell asked as she fell into step alongside her friend.
“No. She wants to get her homework done. Tomorrow she has a sleepover at one of her friends' houses.”
“Oh, did she and Gil's daughter make up, finally?”
“No,” Dana said sadly. “She'll be at the home of another one of her friends from school.”
Hearing the down note in Dana's voice made Norell regret having brought up the topic of Brittany's broken friendship. “I'm sorry, Dana.”
“Gil says to give it time. He says Vanessa is a very confused young lady right now. But at least Brittany is thriving with her other friends. She's on the phone a lot, and on weekends she's always going to the movies.”
They got into the elevator and headed for the third-floor maternity unit. Cécile sat in her hospital bed, bottle feeding a wizened-looking infant. “Look, Regine,” she said when they entered the room. “It's Auntie Dana and Auntie Norell come to see you.”
Norell thought the baby looked like a little gnome, much less cute than Cécile's other daughters, but she oohed and aahed appropriately.
“She's beautiful, Cécile,” Dana said wistfully. “I remember when Brittany was a newborn. It seems like yesterday.”
“It's good that she came early and you didn't have to spend Christmas in the hospital,” Norell added.
“I knew she wouldn't let me down. She's my good-luck baby,” Cécile said. She removed the bottle from Regine's mouth and studied the fill line, then placed the bottle on her bedside table. “That's it for you, young lady.” She lifted the infant to burp her. “We're going to have a nice holiday,” she said. “My parents are coming up to stay with us, to see Regine and the new house. But if we were in the hospital, it wouldn't be the same, would it, Precious?” She directed her question to baby Regine.
Norell could stand watching Cécile fawn over her infant no longer. “Guys, I've got to tell you something. Vic has arranged for us to adopt a baby.”
Dana squealed so loudly that Regine began to cry. “That's right, frighten my child half to death,” Cécile hissed. Still speaking in a stage whisper as she patted her baby's back, she said, “That's wonderful, Norell! Tell us about it.”
“When will this happen?” Dana asked with excitement. “And do you know if it's a boy or a girl?”
“The baby is due in April. But listen, guys, there might be a complication. I need you both to pray for us.”
“What kind of complication?” Dana asked.
“Vic isn't entirely convinced that the birth mother won't change her mind at the last minute.”
Dana spoke again. “Oh, gosh. I guess I could see how that could happen.”
Norell knew Dana meant no harm, even though the words stung. She looked at Cécile, hoping she would say something more positive, but Cécile wore a strange blank expression as she almost mechanically patted Regine's back.
Dana continued talking in almost a trancelike state. “If she holds the baby just once, she might decide in that instant she just can't give it up.” Then she drew in her breath, obviously realizing how painful her assessment sounded to Norell. “God knows I hope that doesn't happen in this case.”
“I'm sure it won't,” Cécile said, suddenly springing to life. “I'm very happy for you, Norell. Babies bring good luck. I know my little Precious did.”
 
 
“She looks different from Josie and Gaby and Eleith, doesn't she?”
Cécile didn't like the amused smile on Micheline's face. “Maybe a little. But that's only natural. She has a different father. Not that we'll ever differentiate. They're all our kids and all brothers and sisters, from Jonathan right on down to Regine.”
“That must be it. She looks more like Michael.” Micheline sighed. “One thing I can say about Louis. He was a bastard, but he was a good-looking bastard.”
Cécile let that one pass. “I'm glad you came over,” she said.
“I figured I'd better get over here before school lets out the day after tomorrow. I don't want the kids to see me this way.”
Cécile agreed that was best. The kids would ask a million questions, none of which she would be prepared to answer. But Cécile felt sorry for her sister, being forced to hide from the world lest someone she knew learn her secret. “Do you leave the house at all?”
“Of course. I have to eat, don't I? I usually go out in the mornings, when I won't see anyone I know. I like going to the mall when it opens to see all the latest clothes I'll be able to buy myself once I drop this load.”
Cécile covered up Regine, and she and Micheline left the master bedroom, where the crib was set up, Cécile pausing to adjust the monitor that would allow her to hear Regine's cries from downstairs. “Speaking of dropping that load, Michie, I have to ask you something,” she said as they descended the carpeted stairs.
“What's that?”
“Forgive me for being so blunt, but I have to know. You
are
going to go through with handing the baby over to Norell and Vic when it's born, aren't you? I mean, you aren't going to renege on the deal you made with Vic?”
Micheline sighed wearily. “You know, Cécile, I'm getting awfully tired of you accusing me of things I'm not even thinking about.”
“I'm sorry, Michie. But Vic told Norell about the arrangements, and she's both excited about being a mother and terrified that the ‘anonymous' birth mother will change her mind.”
“I can't help it if she's worried, Cécile. I have problems of my own, like coming up with an excuse about why I can't see Mama and Papa while they're here. And speaking of that, I find it strange that they're making a trip to Jacksonville now. They've been up here, what, twice in all the years you've lived here? I guess you just couldn't resist inviting them, could you, just to put me on the spot.”
“That's not true, Michie! Mama and Papa didn't come before because of all the friction I was having with Louis. They didn't come after I married Michael because we had nowhere for them to stay. You know they'd never get a room in a hotel. They've never stayed in a hotel room in their entire lives. But they're very anxious to see Regine, and the new house as well. I knew you wouldn't be coming to Christmas dinner because you don't want Michael or the kids to know you're pregnant. I figured you'd probably tell Mama and Papa that you were spending the holiday with Errol.”
Micheline exhaled loudly. “All right. Maybe I was being too sensitive. I'm sorry. It must be my condition,” she muttered. She lowered herself into an easy chair in the living room.
“How's it going with Errol, anyway?”
Micheline brightened. “Good. We talk on my cell phone every day. As far as he's concerned, I'm taking care of my great aunt, who was taken ill at her home in Spring Valley, New York.”
Cécile recognized the name of the suburban town that had been home to Yvonne Broussard, their father's aunt, with whom Micheline had stayed when she took a job in New York after college. Great Aunt Yvonne died three years ago, shortly after Micheline returned to South Florida. Yvonne had been a sweet woman who had no children of her own during her long marriage to a husband whose death left her alone in the world. She'd been eager to open her home to her recent college graduate niece, the only one of her Americanized grandnieces and -nephews who could speak to her in her native French. Cécile felt Micheline had done a gross disservice to their aunt's memory by making her part of a scheme to fool a boyfriend. “So you've resurrected Aunt Yvonne from the dead for your own selfish purposes,” she said, her voice ringing with disapproval.
“I'm sure she won't mind. After all, I was her favorite.”
Micheline's flip attitude didn't surprise Cécile. She recognized it as a dig at her because Yvonne had left part of her life insurance to Micheline but nothing to Cécile or their brothers. She decided to try another tack to ruffle her sister. “That sounds awfully lame, Michie. He actually believed that?”
But Micheline, unflappable as ever, only smiled. “Yes, he did. My great aunt and I have always been very close.”
“I guess you had plenty of opportunity to work your concerns about Dear Old Auntie into the conversation before she suddenly took ill.”
Micheline flashed a sunny smile. “Of course.”
 
 
Micheline thought about the conversation on her way home. Cécile had hit the nail dead on—she'd begun talking about her devotion to Great Aunt Yvonne with Errol the moment she learned her pregnancy had passed the first trimester, wanting to provide an out for herself once her condition became visible. Errol had been startled by her abrupt departure, which occurred as he attended a dentists' conference in Orlando the week after Thanksgiving. He said he understood that she couldn't get away, but he offered to fly up to see her. Micheline had been hard pressed to come up with a plausible reason why that wouldn't work, particularly over the Christmas and New Year's holidays, when they really should be together. She insisted that being caretaker to an eighty-eight-year-old stroke victim kept her going twenty-four hours a day. “I see all kinds of problems. There are no hotels around here, and my aunt lives in a one-bedroom apartment. Besides, she never became fluent in English. I speak to her in French. I miss you terribly, Errol, but trying to spend time with you would present a logistical nightmare. I'd rather just look forward to seeing you when I come back.” She'd said this to him just yesterday.

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