* * *
MOLLY MADE HERSELF TAKE two full days to think about what she was going to ask of her daughter. Before she opened her mouth, she had to be sure she was proposing this for the right reasons. That she wasn’t letting this yearning pull her into something horribly wrong for Cait. Or, Molly thought, for me.
Was she really prepared at her age to start all over with a newborn baby? Handle the sleepless nights, the cost of day care, the stress of juggling work and child rearing? Remember what it was like, she kept reminding herself. The never-ending exhaustion, the sense of living on a knife-edge, always wondering when you were going to make a horrible mistake that would traumatize your child forever. Did she have the needed patience anymore? The energy?
If she said to Caitlyn, I want to raise your baby as my own, she had to be able and willing to follow through. She couldn’t expect any more from Cait than she would have if she herself had unexpectedly gotten pregnant and had a baby. The deal would be that Cait got her life back, that she’d become a regular teenager again. She wouldn’t nurse the baby; she wouldn’t give up any of her activities to babysit. Her baby would become a little sister or brother. That would be the deal.
Molly thought about talking to Richard about this, but she needed first to decide whether this was really something she wanted to do. That she was committed to doing. He’d said he loved her, but that didn’t mean he was thinking about marriage. In ten years, he hadn’t remarried. She couldn’t make any assumptions, and saying, So, do you want to be a daddy while I’m being mommy? would be a big—gigantic—assumption.
Decide, she told herself. Talk to Cait. Then talk to Richard.
One thing she couldn’t predict was how Cait would react. Would she be thrilled? Grateful? Horrified? Feel like her mother was trying to steal her baby from her?
And what about Trevor? Would this be too weird for him? In his eyes, would it be better if the child disappeared so that he could imagine some kind of ideal family? Or would he be okay with, well, maybe even seeing the baby from time to time?
And would they tell the baby that Big Sister Cait was really his or her biological mother?
Yes. Molly had no trouble with that answer. She couldn’t live with the lies, otherwise. Families came in all shapes and sizes. What was wrong with being matter-of-fact about what happened? Saying, We all loved you, and I wanted to be your mommy?
Nothing, that’s what.
A part of her knew that she’d really made the decision when she stood in the baby department at Nordstrom. Maybe, secretly, she’d made it long before that.
Acknowledging her certainty, she realized how sweaty-palmed nervous she was about talking to Cait. About saying, I want your baby.
* * *
CAIT’S EYES WERE red-rimmed when she came home from dance on Wednesday. When Molly asked what was wrong, she cried, “I don’t want to talk about it,” and stormed upstairs to her bedroom.
Okay, today’s not the day for the big scene, Molly thought. She was relieved enough for an excuse to put it off that she felt like a coward.
When Cait came downstairs for dinner, though, she opened up. “Ms. Arden heard I’m pregnant. She says if I’m going to keep taking classes, I have to bring a note from the doctor giving permission.”
Molly set down the serving spoon. “Oh, honey.”
“It’s not like I’m playing football! Or…or wanting to bungee jump or do flips off my skateboard!”
“She’s a businesswoman. As much as she loves you, she has to be cautious. If you were to miscarry at the dance school, she needs to know she isn’t legally liable.”
“Like that would be a bad thing,” Cait said disagreeably.
Molly felt her spine become rigid. “Is that really how you feel?”
The fifteen-year-old gave her a desperate look. “You know it isn’t!” Her breath hitched. “Just sometimes…”
Molly took her hand. “I know. I do.”
“Yeah.” Cait gave a forlorn smile. “I guess you do. But…it’s not the same.”
Oh, God, she thought. Maybe this is the day. The moment. Anxiety seized her, and all the words she’d rehearsed jumbled in her head.
“Why are you looking like that?” Cait’s eyes widened. “You’re freaking me out.”
Molly spared a glance for the stir-fry dinner she’d spent the past forty-five minutes preparing, but which neither of them had yet dished up, never mind started eating.
“I’ve been thinking,” she began, and her daughter stared. Molly finally said it. “Your baby is family. I’d like to keep her and raise her as my own. Or…or him. Whichever it is.”