A Daughter's Trust

“It’s gotta be difficult, getting infants like this, midstream, with no idea of their history,” he said, willing his body to relax. “You don’t know if he was colicky when he was born, or if crying out in his sleep is normal for him.” Rick paused, and when Sue just stared at him, longing and gratitude in her eyes, he kept talking. “Most parents get a sense of those things from the second a baby is born. Before even. Some are restless in the womb. Some aren’t. And with parents, even if they have a houseful of kids, there’s at least nine months between babies before they have to acclimate to a new arrival’s habits and schedule. You don’t have that luxury.”

“I get health history and sometimes habits,” she said, relaxing her back. He’d been able to put her at ease. Good. “And William was only a day old when I got him.”

And Carrie? he wanted to ask. How old was she when she came here? He needed to know every single one of the infant’s habits. Was she a happy baby, overall? When had she started sleeping through the night? And how old was she the first time she’d turned over? For that matter, where had she been, and did Sue actually see her do it, or just turn around and find her on her back?

Luckily, he managed to keep the questions to himself.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he said, referring to far more than adjusting to multitudes of babies and schedules. How did she care for these children, experience their “firsts” and then give them away?

Sue shrugged. “After a while you learn to go with the flow. You also learn pretty quickly how to pick up on babies’ oral communications. Most of them are much the same. A certain tone means hunger, another means pain….”

Something he wouldn’t notice, having raised only one child.

“What I struggle with most is knowing that, for many of them, the fact that they’re here with me instead of with the people who created them is going to cause them unrest at some point.” Sue shot him a sad grin. “I want life to be perfect. I want every single baby born on this earth to have an idyllic childhood.”

Aware of the depths in the woman, depths she seemed determined to keep to herself, Rick took Sue’s hand, rubbing his thumb along the smooth skin, saying nothing. There were no guarantees. Life was hard sometimes. Unfair.

“That’s part of the reason I can’t seem to get past my mom’s mother just giving her away.”

“From what you’ve said, I’d say your mom had a great childhood.”

“Grandma and Grandpa were wonderful parents. But there was always Sam in the background, making certain she knew she wasn’t the real deal. He was. Only him.”

“Siblings can be cruel. Fully biological ones, too.”

“I’m sure they are. But at least if you’re fully biological, you have a sense of self that competes equally. Not everyone gets that, I understand. Sometimes the best chance a child has is to be adopted out to a loving family. But in my mom’s case, she could have had it all. She always wondered who her real mother was. She used to tell me she was sure the woman died in childbirth. That if she hadn’t, she’d have never given my mom away. And now, to find out that Jo was just a few miles away the entire time she was growing up…It’s despicable.”

Rick might have said nothing, if Sue had been anyone else. But she had a way of making him engage, good or bad. “I think what she did was remarkable,” he said honestly. “Rather than raising your mom alone, making her the second of two children she had to provide for—an illegitimate second, from what you’ve said, because Adam was thought to be the son of her dead husband—she loved her enough, was selfless enough to give your mom to her father. To be raised as the only daughter of a financially solid family.”

“So you think the picture of Mom, Dad and the kids—the money—replaces the sense of being fully aware of who you are, where you came from?”

“Depending on what it was you came from, absolutely. I certainly would have preferred it.”

“You say that now, looking back, but you can’t know how much of your success today is because deep down, no matter what your mother was or did, she loved you so much she couldn’t give you up. You were that special. That important in one person’s life. My mom didn’t have that, and has to cling to my dad every minute of every day, and try to cling to me, too, to get that sense of security.”

“Or maybe she’s just an all-in type of person. There’s nothing wrong with that as long as your father wants that, too.” Rick held Sue’s hand, but he’d stopped caressing it. “And I’ll tell you something else,” he added, speaking for Carrie more than himself. If Sue got nothing else, did nothing else to help him, she had to understand this much. “I am what I am today because of the love and example I received from a couple of the foster families I was lucky enough to live with until my mother would come along and haul me back again.”

Even if it put a rift between them, he couldn’t let what Sue had to say go unanswered. Not about his mother’s love.

He’d played that game too many times.

And lost each and every one of them.

Sue’s fingers curled more firmly around his. “You were older, Rick. You knew the scor

e. You already knew your mother loved you. We were talking about babies who wouldn’t remember, wouldn’t have that sense. I’m just saying that if a child can be safely placed with the person who birthed them, or in Carrie’s case, the person closest to who birthed her, it’s the best opportunity for inner peace.”

He should stop. Squeeze her hand. Kiss her. Or talk to her about California’s educational system. “And I can tell you, from firsthand experience, that’s just not the case. I did not grow up with a sense of inner peace.”

Rather he’d grown up with the bone-deep knowledge that all he really wanted was exactly what his so-called mother hadn’t given him—a loving family of his own. A complete family. Where he was a full-fledged member.

“And you think Carrie is going to get a sense of peace from you?” The softness in Sue’s voice, the concerned look in her eyes should have warned him.

“I was a good father.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second. I’d guess you were right up there with father of the year material. But you’re still grieving, understandably so, for your own daughter. Carrie deserves to be in someone’s heart of her own right, not as a replacement for the child you lost.”

What was it with people? “No one could ever replace Hannah.” He gave her the same answer he’d given Mark.