Shelter Me Home(16)

How strange it was to know who her adoptive parents would've been. And  also kind of awkward. It was like this huge elephant in the room now.  Was she not supposed to know? Or did he even mind?

"Farrah Fennel," the nurse called.

Nerves caused her to miss the table and drop the magazine on the floor.  She bent to retrieve it. Clutching her jacket and purse against her  stomach, she sidled the woman holding a pink clipboard and sat down in  the chair in room three as directed.

The check-up room was almost exactly as she remembered it as a kid. The  theme was pandas, and bamboo wallpaper snaked the walls. A net topped  the corner and held three of the black-and-white stuffed animals with a  sign that read careful, we bite in script letters.

Mom hadn't exactly been routine with check-ups at the doctor when she  was younger, as there hadn't been money for such niceties, but when  Farrah was bleeding heavily from gashes or nearly comatose from a flu  bug, she would bring her in to see a professional.

"Hi again, Farrah," Dr. Jansen said with an easy smile. He was a tall  man, lanky with thick glasses and a lab coat that brushed his knees.  Big, bushy eyebrows gave away every emotion he had, and deep set brown  eyes likely invited even the most wary to confide in him.

Flipping through three sheets of paper on his clipboard, it was those  eyebrows that gave away the good news. "Looks like your numbers are all  perfectly normal now. Are you feeling better than you were the last time  you were in?"

"I'm not as sick to my stomach, but now I'm just exhausted all the time."

"Well," he said, taking a seat on a round, rolling chair. "That's to be  expected. You're out of the first trimester, and the farther along you  get, the more that little baby is going to need from you."

"I know," she blurted.

As he set the clipboard in his lap, he asked, "You know what?"

A long, shaky breath left her. "I know you were supposed to adopt me when I was a baby."

"Oh." He was quiet for several moments. "Your mom talked to you about it?"

"I hope it's all right. I asked her. I wanted to know why she didn't  give me to someone who could take better care of me. I wanted to know to  help me make my own decision. You know, about my baby."

His eyebrows fell, nearly touching his eyelashes in an expression she  could only interpret as pain. "Yes, my wife and I were supposed to be  your adoptive parents, but after you were born, your mother couldn't do  it. She couldn't part with you."

"Was it strange seeing me around town?"

"Not strange. It was a bit heartbreaking, though. Anyone with eyes could  see you struggling, and my wife and I had such plans to give you a good  life and take care of you. And there was nothing we or anyone could do.  Your mom wasn't doing enough wrong for you to be taken by the state."

"That you knew of."

A slow nod. "That we knew of."

"Why did you tell Aanon my test results, Dr. Jansen?"

"It was wrong of me, I know. They were meant for you first, and you  could do whatever you wanted with the information. But as the man who  was almost your adoptive father, I knew Aanon would take care of you  like you needed. He's a good man. If he knew you were lacking something,  he'd make sure you and the baby got it."

She cracked a smile. "He went hunting for a bear when he got off the phone with you."

"And?"

"And he got one." She swallowed hard. "The pamphlets you gave me the  other day … about adoption? What is the next step if I wanted to learn  more?"

He rolled his chair next to the counter and propped his temple on the  palm of his hand. "The closest agency is probably in Anchorage. If you  call one of them you think feels right, then they will send you a folder  of potential parents."

"And I just pick one of them out? Like out of a catalogue?"

"If that is the direction you want to go, then yes. Sort of like that.  The agency will be more equipped to answer those questions for you."                       
       
           



       

"Can I ask you something?"

Hesitation clung to the shape of his mouth. "Okay."

"What do you think I should do?"

His chest rose with the long inhalation. "As your doctor, I'd say you  need to really think about your future. Weigh the pros and cons, and  decide not what's best for you, but what is best for the child."

Her heart sank.

"But," he said, dropping his chin. "As your almost adoptive father, I'd  remind you that you aren't your mother. She made her decisions for  reasons that aren't easy to understand, but they were her decisions to  make. This one is yours, and your mother shouldn't be allowed to taint  it either way. I've seen the way you protect your stomach with your  hands. You're doing it right now, and I know you're struggling with this  decision because you are so concerned with giving your baby the best  life you can give it. You also have a good head on your shoulders. You  have a job and a place to stay. If you decide to keep it, that's okay,  too."

Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them back. "What do I really  have to offer a child? I work at a bar and rent a cattleman's cabin. I  don't even have a father to give my baby."

"No family looks the same, Farrah," he said quietly. "Even if it were  just you to raise your baby, that wouldn't be any different than  hundreds of thousands of other families."

She couldn't speak. So choked up was she, her throat constricted until it hurt. Instead she nodded.

She left the office even more confused than when she'd entered. The  advice Dr. Jansen gave was priceless. No father figure had ever been  there to offer a different perspective, so this was a first, and a nice  one at that. But just as she'd been leaning toward the notion that she  was strong enough to let go of her baby if it meant it could have a  better future, now she thought maybe she was also strong enough to love  that baby just as much as adoptive parents would.

Damn Miles. He'd ruined everything. She wasn't supposed to be making  these gut-wrenching decisions! She was supposed to be marrying him and  planning their family together. Building cribs and shopping strollers.  And instead, he'd lied for years and left her no choice but to figure  out a future alone. And like every time she thought of him, of his smile  and the way he held her after they'd slept together, she was washed in  guilt. Guilt over corrupting a marriage. Over unintentionally hurting  his wife. Miles had been the only man she'd been in love with, made love  with, and he'd tainted every intimate moment with his lies and deceit.

How was she supposed to be trusted with such a colossal decision? She couldn't even choose a decent man.

Hastily, she wiped streaming tears with the back of her gloved hand and  crawled onto the four-wheeler. Ben waved from a small café across the  street, but she turned the key and blasted down the road toward the  homestead. The last thing she wanted was to bawl her eyes out in front  of him. She was just now getting used to the nickname, The Dweeb.  Emotional Nut Job was just too harsh to handle at the moment.

Maybe it was better that Aanon had left that morning. The alone time  would give her much needed space to sort out what she was going to do.  She could lose herself in the chores that had become routine in her life  and not worry about anyone watching her. And as nice as it was to be  able to tell Aanon about her day when he was there, she couldn't depend  on him. He wasn't hers and never would be. He belonged to another, and  she needed to learn to turn to herself in times like this.

She parked the smallest ATV next to the bigger one in the barn, hopped off, and then pulled her tresses into a ponytail.

One of the cattle, a burly black heifer with the ear tag 417, was a mean  little cuss, and she couldn't afford to lose sight of her as she spread  feed out for the small herd. Twice, she'd had to scoot out of the way  of a surly headbutt, and though the animal wasn't horned, cows had some  thick sculls that could inflict some serious damage.

The snow had all melted, but it was late October and quite chilly. The  sun hid behind a thin veil of fast-moving clouds, and every once in a  while, the faint scent of frost whipped around on the breeze. Winter  would be here soon, and the drifts of debilitating snow with it.

Exhausted after feeding and watering the animals, a nap sounded like the  closest thing this side of heaven, and she stumbled into her house. The  wood had burned to embers in the stove, so she piled on three larger  pieces from the pile near the front door.

Chilly, she stripped out of her coat and dove under the thick covers of  the bed. There was a bite to the air now, but in no time, the stove  would have the small space warmed up. The blackout curtains Aanon had  installed were fantastic for keeping out even the barest trace of  daylight, but just as she was about to fall asleep with her hand resting  across her fluttering stomach, a great banging resonated against the  front door.