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Later that evening, Asa was sitting on the edge of the bed, untying and removing his shoes. He looked up when Savannah entered the room. “I didn’t know you’d be gone all day today. I hate eating dinner without you.” Asa said, watching Savannah walk toward him with a steaming cup in her hands.
Kicking her shoes off, Savannah sat carefully next to her husband, leaned over, and gave him a kiss. “I didn’t either. When Maria called this afternoon and said Senator Lane canceled on us, I had to scramble to make sure next month’s conference had another keynote speaker,” she said taking a sip.
Asa, peeking into her cup, “who’d you get?” He asked, loosening his tie.
Savannah smiled, handed over her cup of Chamomile tea, bent over, and picked up Asa’s shoes to take them into his closet. “I’m still working on it,” she said from his dressing closet. “It’s got to be someone big because we have two colleges that are using the conference as their spring symposium.” Savannah came out of the closet, removed her belt, sat, and took back her cup from her husband.
Pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt buttons, “Well, you sound a lot better than you did this morning. Your work always motivates you so I’m glad you had a challenging distraction.” Asa squeezed her thigh, stood and walked into the bathroom. “I know you’ll find just who you need.”
Savannah took a sip of the tea and thought about how she should bring up her earlier conversation with Hailey. Scooting up onto the bed, she curled her legs underneath of her. “Asa, before I went out, I had a little chat with Hailey this morning.”
“Who?” He called from the bathroom.
Swallowing a sip of tea, “Hailey. Immanuel hired her a few months ago; she usually works in the kitchen with Ms. Kyle.”
“Oh, OK. Everything alright?” he asked, turning on the faucet.
Savannah hesitated a moment trying to find the best way to bring up the subject. Should I tell him about the research I did this morning? No, I already told him about that? Should I tell him this is similar to his own annual scholarship program? No, I guess it’s not quite like what he does. Asa, honey, I’d like to talk to you about another method for us to have a baby. Asa, I’ve been thinking we need to be more aggressive in our approach. Asa, dear, we can pray, but we have to do something to help make this dream happen.
“I asked Hailey if she would be a surrogate for our baby.”
Savannah looked toward the door of the ensuite, listening to the sound of the water running. Then, she listened to the sound of the water turning off.
Asa appeared shirtless in the doorway, toothbrush in hand, mouth full of toothpaste, “Come again?”
“I talked to Hailey about carrying a baby for us.”
Asa took a deep breath, turned around, and walked back into the bathroom. Savannah heard the water turn on, then the sound of Asa’s electric toothbrush.
Sighing, Savannah stood up and walked with her cup into the bathroom. Walking up behind Asa, she stood for a moment watching him in the mirror as he continued brushing his teeth. She shifted and leaned her hips against the counter that separated their two sinks. She faced her husband and held the cup in two hands. “Asa, I don’t see any other options.”
Spitting out the toothpaste and turning off his toothbrush, Asa cupped his hands under the running water and rinsed out his mouth and toothbrush. He set his toothbrush in the holder, reached for the towel that hung next to his mirror, and wiped his mouth.
Still holding the towel, he rested both hands on the rim of his sink, leaned heavily on his arms with his head hung slightly toward his chest, and took a deep breath. “We could trust God.”
Another beat passed before Asa lifted his head and looked over at Savannah. “Savannah, I know what I saw and I know what God told me.”
“Well, He hasn’t told me anything, Asa,” Savannah said, taking a sip of tea. “He’s content to let me go month after month, year after year, living off of a dream you had fourteen years ago.”
Asa blinked rapidly with furrowed brow, stung by the bite in her words.
“I’m sorry, Asa,” Savannah said, touching one of his forearms, still ramrod straight on the bathroom sink rim. “I know you believe it and, yes, I believe it too,” she added quickly as his expression appeared to turn to hurt, “but, I just think,” she said with a shrug, “we tried it God’s way and we need to do something else.”
At Asa’s still silent expression Savannah sighed, “Well, not something else, Asa, I mean it’s still God’s will that we have a child, so we just do something more to help make that dream materialize, that’s all. We can still trust God while we do something proactive to help.”
Asa tossed the towel onto the counter and walked out of the bathroom. Savannah watched him leave and sighed deeply. She set her cup down on the counter behind her and followed her husband out of the bathroom.
“I’m not sure God needs our help, Savannah,” Asa said, walking toward his closet. He unclasped his belt and unbuttoned his pants.
“Well, why not?” Savannah asked. “Why can’t we help if God wants it and we want it, too? We’ve been praying and trusting and maybe all this time, we were supposed to take matters into our own hands.”
“Take matters into our own hands?” Asa repeated incredulously, poking his head out of the door.
“Well,” Savannah sat at the bottom edge of the bed and looked toward her husband who’d re-entered his closet. “Yes. You know the passage in the bible that talks about praying without working or something like that.”
“’Faith without works,’ Savannah,” Asa quoted from the closet.
“Well, OK, same thing. It still means we need to add some work to our faith, right?”
Asa sat in his closet to remove his socks and thought about his wife’s reasoning. Well, she’s right about that; misquoted, but the scripture was sound. When God speaks, we acknowledge that we believe and trust what He said by acting on it. Like, in the bible, when He told the people with Mary and Martha to roll away the stone that entombed Lazarus. They rolled the stone away because they had faith that God was able to do something even if they didn’t know what He was going to do. If they hadn’t acted, hadn’t rolled the stone away, maybe they never would have gotten the miracle. Asa took a deep breath and tossed his socks into the hamper. But, this move, Asa sat still for a moment, just doesn’t feel like the right action. Asa looked toward the open closet door. But if it’s not this, Asa wondered, pulling on an old college tee shirt, what is the right action?
“We can still have a son, Asa,” Savannah said from the bedroom. “You would be the sperm donor.”
Cringing at that comment, Asa stood up and walked out of his closet in boxers and a tee shirt. He pulled back the comforter and sat on his side of the bed. He checked his phone before laying it on the charger.
Savannah stood up, walked over to Asa and knelt down, resting both her hands on one of his knees. “I don’t trust myself, Asa.” Swallowing, Savannah looked down at her hands resting on his leg. “I know it’s my fault that we haven’t conceived.”
“Savannah,” Asa said softly, putting one hand on the back of her neck, his other fingers lightly touched the side of her jaw to raise her head.
“No, it’s OK,” she said, grabbing the wrist that was touching her face. “I can admit it.” Looking up at Asa from her kneeling position, Savannah smiled sadly. “But you are so strong, Asa. You can still get us the son, the heir, you saw in your dream,” she added quietly.
“Savannah, honey,” Asa started.
Shaking her head, Savannah leaned back, grabbed Asa’s hand and kissed his palm. “Just sleep on it.” Using his leg to help her stand, she pushed up and went into the bathroom.
Asa looked at his wife as she walked away. When he heard her turn on the shower, he leaned over, rested his elbows on his knees, and put his head in both hands. Blowing out a heavy breath between his hands—God, what do I do?
*****
SITTING AT THE FAMILY dining room table, with the majority of the staff making preparations for Savannah’s birthday gala, beginning a mere ten hours from now, the Steele’s were discussing, yet again, the merits of surrogacy. The topic had been the sole point of conversation since Wednesday night when Savannah told Asa about her offer to Hailey.
“I just can’t believe this is what you really want,” Asa said, stirring cream into his coffee.
“You can’t believe I want a child? Are you serious, Asa?” Savannah said. Wearing casual slacks and a cotton sweater, she looked up from her phone.
“No, honey, I know you want a child. I just can’t believe this is the way you want to have it.”
“Well, this feels like it’s the closest we can get to a baby of our own.” Savannah said, looking back down at her phone again. “We’re running out of time.”
“We still have time,” Asa said quietly.
Savannah just pursed her lips, shook her head, and kept checking text messages on her phone. The party was tonight and Savannah was getting multiple texts and emails about both her birthday gala tonight and the conference next month. There was always so much to do.
“Savannah,” Asa tried again, stirring sugar into his coffee. “We have to trust God...”
Savannah laughed humorlessly, while responding to a text that just came in. “We’ve been trusting God for the past 14 years, Asa, and we’re no closer than when we started.”
Asa, slightly hurt over her comment, “He’s trustworthy, Savannah. We just don’t know his timetable. If we just wait...”
“I got my period this morning, Asa.” Savannah said, leaning back in her chair, messages and emails forgotten. “As spotty as it was, yet another egg gone.”
Asa set his spoon down with a long, deep breath. “Savannah.”
“No. I just,” Savannah started, and then shook her head, massaging the back of her neck with her free hand, “I just can’t hear it anymore.” Savannah stood up, still holding her cell phone in one hand. “We need to do this. It’ll be your child and we can still thank God for it.”
Shaking her head and crossing her arms in front of her chest, Savannah looked off to the side and took a deep breath. “I feel like such a hypocrite, Asa,” Savannah admitted quietly. She looked back across the table at her husband. “I’ve helped build wonderful and successful activist groups across the country, all to empower women to achieve their greatness in business, politics, technology...whatever they want to do. I speak, and sponsor speakers, at events and schools, motivating women and young girls to get educated, become a part of the system whether in school, on their jobs, or in their communities and churches, regardless of age or social status. I tell them to fight for their families and independence, strive for equality, vote in every election—make sure their voices are counted in their communities.”
Savannah swallowed as a tear fell; she quickly swiped it away. “But when a woman brings her daughter up to meet me and thank me because her daughter made a decision to study economics next year because something I said finally clicked or a grandmother of six decides to run for office because she’s just not done yet,” Savannah smiled at the memory, “I feel both empty and full at the same time, if you can believe that. Full because yeah, they can do it. They can be their best selves; they can make a difference at any level and in any arena, but I’m empty because as much as my words may touch these beautiful strangers, they have yet to touch an extension of myself,” Savannah finished on a cracked voice. “I don’t have a set of children I’ve launched into the world and am ready to start a new career; it’s just always been my career.” Savannah took a deep breath. “And it makes me so ashamed, Asa. With all of that success, it’s not enough. I still want to pour some of it into my own child. When I’m driving home after a conference or meeting, I’m grateful for a very public legacy, I really am—the difference we’re making and the expanse of this reach is awesome, but,” Savannah said as another tear dropped, “I yearn for a personal legacy, too.”
Asa looked over at his wife, not knowing what to say or do to make her feel better. But before he could do anything, Savannah laughed mirthlessly again, slowly shaking her head, “And I’m tired of being the only one, Asa.” At his now confused expression, she said, “My sisters. Seeing the apology on their faces when they notice I’m no longer contributing to the conversation because they started talking about what Michael is learning in grade school this year or that Kacee took first place in the science fair. And my Sorority Sisters who talk about their daughters one day following in our footsteps and joining our sorority.”
“And God, Asa,” Savannah said before he could respond. Uncrossing her arms, clutching her cell phone in her hand, the other sprayed out in front of her, she squeezed her eyes closed, “if I have to hear one more time...‘Savannah, you’re so beautiful, if I only had your figure, oh but then, you’ve never had a child, so I guess it’s easy for you to stay in such great shape’; or ‘Savannah, you and Asa do so much for so many kids, you’ve practically adopted children all over the world with how much you give’, or ‘Savannah, you’re lucky you have so much time to pursue your career, what I wouldn’t give for a free night from the kids’; or ‘Oh, Savannah, it’s awesome that it’s just you and Asa, we always have to take family vacations with the kids along; Savannah, you can...Savannah, you could...Savannah, you have...,’ my God, Asa.” Savannah said, taking a deep, shaky breath and looking up at the chandelier. “If they only knew,” she said, shaking her head. From the corner of her eye, she saw Asa start to stand.
“No.” She put up a hand to stop him. “Just do this for me, please,” Savannah whispered. “Just...just do it, Asa.” She wiped away another tear and tossed her phone on the table. Shaking her head, Savannah walked out of the room; high heels heard echoing her exit on the hardwood flooring in the family dining room.
Heart aching for his wife, coffee no longer appealing, Asa reached down for his satchel and made his way to the main door where Robert was waiting in the car to take him to the office for a few hours before the party started. To his surprise, Manny was standing by the rear door of the SUV. “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Manny. Robert,” Asa nodded at the young man already seated and buckled behind the wheel.
“Is there anything I can do for you this morning, sir?” Manny asked. If Asa didn’t know better, he’d have thought Manny overheard the conversation he just had with Savannah, but there was no way the man could have moved from anywhere in the vicinity of the family dining room to the front of the house that quickly. So, Asa just accepted it for what it always was—Manny always knew when he was needed.
“No. I guess not, Manny. Thank you.” Asa said, handing Manny his satchel.
Manny laid his hand on the rear door handle, but before he opened it, “Don’t give in to fear, Ace,” he whispered quietly so Robert could not hear. “God is your shield and your reward.”
“Right now, Manny, I have no idea what that even means,” Asa said just as quietly.
“It means,” Manny took his hand off of the door handle, shifted the satchel to that hand, and placed his other atop Asa’s shoulder. “He is as close to you as any shield is to its warrior; always ready and able to protect you from anything that would try to throw you off balance or hurt you. You can stand and face anything that tries to trip you up and that includes fear, confusion or doubt. As long as He’s in front of you, He will block it from touching you.”
Asa took a deep breath and continued to look at Manny.
“It also means He is the reward. Some people look for a trophy or medal as the reward for hard work or some type of effort. But, you, my friend—the work, the battle you’re in, is to not give up hoping for what you don’t see right now; it’s the trust you have in God because you know and believe what He already said. And God, Himself, is your reward.”
Asa was still silent, so Manny continued. “When you have God, you have everything you need to get you through the battle because He is everything; He is peace, comfort, hope, contentment, joy, and victory. You get God, and everything that He is, because you dared to believe in what He said so many years ago. So, let Him be your shield when you doubt and know that He gives you himself as a reward when you believe in Him. Lift up your head, my friend, it will be as He said.”
Asa stood for a moment, absorbing everything. “He said I would have a child. That’s what I believe.” At Manny’s nod Asa continued, “For a long while, when it wasn’t working for us, I thought, maybe it was Robert,” Asa said quietly. “He’s a strong, decent young man who’s been a part of my home for a long time. But, as much as I wanted it to—it just didn’t fit the dream that God showed me.”
Asa looked over Manny’s shoulder at the mountains in the distance. “But, if I do what Savannah wants me to do, if we do something about what God showed me... I would have a son.” Asa said.
Manny remained quiet as Asa wrestled with his internal struggle to understand what it meant to actively participate in God’s plan. Maybe this is the way He’s being my shield right now, Asa thought, by protecting us from disappointment. Maybe we’re supposed to do more to contribute to the conception of our child than just praying and waiting on God to bless our fertility. Maybe we’re supposed to fight for what He said, not passively wait. Is He actually waiting for us to do more? And if God is my reward, then I have Him already and we should just do this because He’s with me, right?
Taking a deep breath, Asa shook himself free of his thoughts and gave a quick nod in the direction of the door. Manny opened it and stepped back for him to enter. “Action, Manny. Action is what will reap results, right now, I think.”
“Yes, sir,” Manny responded with downcast eyes. He placed Asa’s satchel on the rear floor of the vehicle. “Have a good day, sir.”
“Thank you. Let’s go, Robert.” Asa said as Manny closed the door and stepped back.
Manny watched as the car pulled off to travel the mile down the driveway toward the entrance gates of the property. It was a beautiful spring day, but as Manny looked up toward the sky, he could sense storms forming in the distance.
*****
TWO HOURS BEFORE THE birthday gala, Savannah was in her private sitting room entertaining her three younger sisters, Raquel, Sophia, and Kate and her two sorority sisters, Paris and Felicity. The women lounged in their semi-formal party attire, sampling some of the hors d’oeuvres, wine, and champagne that would be served later at the party. The sitting room was one of Savannah’s favorite rooms in the house; a beautiful champagne colored parlor with turquoise accented curtains, throw pillows and area rug. Because it was adjacent to her office, it too, benefitted from floor to ceiling windows that offered natural light and a view of the gardens. One of the room’s two showpieces was the grand piano; it sat facing the window, but back far enough so the sunlight would not cause damage. And the other was the fireplace.
At one point, both filled Savannah with pure joy. But now, they just reminded her of the missing pieces in her life. The grand piano was a wedding gift to Savannah from her father. Although Sophia was the family’s concert pianist, Savannah still loved the peace playing the piano brought her. She’d always fantasized about playing the piano with a son or daughter. She still plays, but of course, she usually sits on the bench alone.
Hanging above the mantle of the fireplace, showcased a full body, 20x24 picture of Savannah, taken on their first trip to Saint Tropez. They were about to board a private dinner cruise and the yacht’s captain offered photos for the four couples he welcomed aboard that night. Savannah had been wearing an A-line, mid-calf, chocolate chiffon, off the shoulder, cocktail dress and Asa insisted on a second photo taken of just her. Because it was such a lovely picture, they had it blown up and hung in here. However, as much as she enjoyed that trip, whenever she looked at the picture, it reminded her that the vacation was actually a gift from Asa after a year of deliberate, but unsuccessful, medically directed efforts at conception.
This evening, Sophia and Savannah were seated at the piano. Sophia was teaching her sister a simpler version of the piece she played at her last performance. Raquel was resting on one of two matching salon sofas, Paris on the other, opposite her. Both had their shoes off, legs tucked up on the sofas and were nibbling from ramekins filled with chicken liver pâté with pistachios served on a silver tray with crackers that sat on the coffee table between them; they were drinking a sweet, white wine. Felicity was sitting on the Deconstructed French Victorian Right-Arm Chaise that was cant to the fireplace and Kate was sitting on the Left-Arm Chaise mirroring her. Unlike Raquel and Paris, Felicity and Kate were sipping champagne and eating shrimp cocktail.
And, as much as Savannah tried to keep her beautiful black pug puppy, Julia, off of the Victorian styled backless button-tufted settee, there she lounged, like the rest of the ladies, quietly snoring on the far side of the room.
“Savannah, this Pâté is delicious,” Paris said, setting down her porcelain ramekin and reaching for her wine glass. “Ms. Kyle is amazing.”
Savannah hid a laugh after glancing at Sophia who made a face of disgust over the idea of enjoying chicken livers regardless of how well it was cooked or seasoned. “Yes,” Savannah said, “she does a phenomenal job with hors d’oeuvres.” Nudging Sophia, Savannah reached atop the piano to the footed, glass dessert dish that contained her strawberries and popped one into her mouth.
These ladies, the Fabulous Five or Fab-Five, as Savannah referred to them, always came early to Savannah’s parties to enjoy each other’s company and gossip, but this time, however, Savannah wanted to use the occasion to throw out the idea of surrogacy and see if she could gauge their reaction. The butterflies in her stomach had been fluttering since they all arrived, but it was now or never. Trying to find an opening, Savannah brought the conversation around to children, specifically, Kate’s oldest boy. “Katie, how was Bryce’s football game?”
“I really couldn’t tell you,” she said, licking cocktail sauce off of her fingers, “I kept my eyes closed the entire time.”
“You’re not serious?” Raquel asked.
“I most certainly am. Football was Mark’s idea. He thought it would be his chance to relive his glory days. But I can’t stand the idea of my baby getting pummeled in a Neanderthal exhibition of testosterone induced entertainment.”
“Wow, Kate,” Felicity commented, “I’m guessing you don’t care for football.”
“No. Not at all,” she replied. “To me, it’s just a means for men to act out their higher, baser side of barbarism and get away with it by calling it a sport.”
“Can you tell she took advantage of Psyche 101 in undergrad?” Raquel teased.
“Very funny,” Kate replied. “I don’t hear you promoting the ‘sport,’’ she said with air quotes. “Last you mentioned, Terrance and Phillip were going out for the junior baseball team.”
“True,” Raquel replied. “My boys wanted to try baseball this year, but I wouldn’t have discouraged them from football if that was their interest; and I’d make sure I watched the games in the event of injury.”
“My point exactly,” Kate said. “Injury is far more likely to occur in football than any of the other ‘sports,”’ she air-quoted again.
“I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about any of that with my girls,” Felicity chimed in.
“How old are the twins now, Fe?” Sophia asked looking around Savannah to get Felicity’s attention.
“Eleven,” Felicity said with a small smile. “They started ballet last month and have a recital this summer; ‘The Swan Song’” she said. “Doesn’t that sound like it would be cute?”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Sophia said.
And here we go again, Savannah thought. I know I started it this time, but it still stings sitting here, tapping out this little ditty on my grand piano while they all talk about what’s new and fabulous in their children’s lives.
“Yes, I think so, too. You all will have to come. Donald and I are planning a big barbeque afterwards for all of the girls in the dance troop. It’ll be so much fun.”
“That sounds great,” Paris said. “You’ll have to give me the name and number of the dance troop again. Amanda turned twelve this year and she’s driving me crazy with the tap dancing class she’s taking. I want to encourage her towards ballet.”
“The quieter form of dance?” Felicity teased.
“Absolutely, but she doesn’t need to know that’s my reasoning.” They all laughed.
Savannah offered a small smile as she continued to look for an opening to try out her new idea.
‘Oh, but on a serious note, though,” Felicity said, “last week I was talking late with the girls’ dance teacher and we were the last to leave or so we thought. We were headed out of the studio and while the teacher was actually locking the door behind us, we noticed one of the girls in class was waiting outside on the curb.”
“Her mother hadn’t come to pick her up?” Sophia asked.
“She had no mother,” Felicity said.
“Pardon?” Paris asked.
“The dance instructor told me she was in the foster care system, but she was at ballet because the city had initiated a program to help normalize the lives of less fortunate children.”
“That’s great,” Kate said. “How does that work?”
“It’s really quite simple; the city offers a stipend to either the girls’ or boys’ scouts or in this case, a local ballet studio, in order for a boy or girl to participate. The only requirement, of course, is transportation.”
“What about uniforms, though,” Raquel asked. “How do they get the uniforms to participate?”
“Donated from girls or boys who have previously graduated or moved up to another level.”
“I think that’s wonderful,” Kate said. “Wait, Savannah?” Kate looked over at her sister, “Don’t I remember you mentioning something about a similar program a while back?”
“Yes.” Savannah answered, looking over at Kate. “It wasn’t one of our program initiatives, but I met a woman at a conference, oh about a year and a half, probably close to two years ago, who approached me and asked if I had any contacts that could help her with that exact effort. She was originally from New Jersey, but had moved to this area when her husband’s military career transitioned him to a new state. The program had just gotten fully funded when she had to leave and she wanted to bring the same concept to our community.”
“Wow.” Kate said. “That’s so cool.”
Smiling, Savannah agreed. “Yes, it was. I’d just finished another project, on a totally different women’s issue, and the councilwoman I’d been working with was still fired up and hard charging,” they laughed. “So,” Savannah shrugged, “she was open to another idea. It was fun and a pleasure to help facilitate what was needed to bring the program to this area.”
“But, what about the little girl?” Sophia asked. “The foster care mom didn’t pick her up?”
“No. Janice, my girls’ dance teacher, told me she’s had to take the girl home before.”
“Foster care is temporary, right?” Sophia asked, “Aren’t the children supposed to eventually go back home to their biological parents?”
“That’s the ideal,” Felicity said, “Re-unification. Janice told me most children never go home, though, but that the larger percentage is adopted by their foster families.”
“What do you think about that?” Savannah ventured, still on the piano bench with Sophia. “Adoption?” She added when it appeared as if the room got pin drop quiet and all eyes landed on her.
Not looking up from the piano, but attempting to bring in some levity, Savannah started playing the lighter notes of Sophia’s concerto. “Sounds like it could be a solution for some families,” she added.
Kate, at twenty-eight, but still the baby of the group, was always sympathetic to Savannah’s desire to have children, “I think it’s a fabulous solution. There are a lot of parents in the world who could offer love and stability to a child.”
Paris and Felicity, who were both just a few months older than Savannah, spoke at the same time—
“I’d do it,” Felicity said.
“I wouldn’t do it,” Paris said.
Raquel, second oldest of the four sisters at thirty-three, and protective of her big sister, had a feeling Savannah’s adoption question was not just a conversation starter. She looked over at Paris, “Why not; because you’ve already got a perfect family of one boy and one girl?”
“That’s not fair, Quel, and it’s not what I meant.” Paris said, nibbling on a cracker.
“Then what did you mean?” Raquel asked with a raised eyebrow.
Paris stopped chewing and looked over a Raquel—then at the other women who were all waiting for her explanation. “See, this right here,” Paris said, pointing a finger at each of the women, “is what I meant. I can’t even voice an objection to something society says that I, as a woman, am supposed to love and embrace.”
“Huh?” Kate asked.
Paris looked over at her, “Why isn’t it OK for me to say that adoption or foster care is not right for me? And not just that it’s not right for me, but that I flat out don’t want to do it.” She asked with all seriousness.
“Because there are lost and hurting kids out there who need a loving and safe home,” Kate answered shocked.
“But why does the fact that I don’t want to be one of those homes, challenge my love for children—mine, yours or the little girl on the curb, for that sake?”
“It challenges it because you don’t want to take the child into your home and give her the security that you and your husband can afford.” Felicity answered.
“See? That’s just it,” Paris said. “I’m being attacked because I’m voicing something that society says I should want, but that I don’t want.” She emphasized. “Why do I have to be the villain for not wanting to adopt or be a foster parent? Why do I have to be a mean person for saying that we might not even have foster care if women just made the decision to take birth control if they were not financially in the position to have a child; that they just wanted the sex and not a kid? And why can’t I just want to have my own children? Is it so wrong that I want to go through the experience of pregnancy and birth and to see myself and my husband in another person? Why does it make me a bad person if that’s what I want for my life?”
“Because again, you could, but don’t want to take in a child who needs help,” Kate said.
“But just because I can, doesn’t mean that I should,” Paris said.
“What?” Raquel said, “Now, you really are just being mean.”
Paris shook her head and let her feet drop to the floor. “See? Why does that make me a mean person? Of course I feel compassion for the little girl on the curb, but that doesn’t mean that I want to take care of her the rest of her life.” Paris said. “Does it make me less of a mother, less of a woman, if I only want to mother the children to whom I’ve given birth?” She asked the room, “I just don’t think I should be made to feel like I’m the dregs of society for admitting that.”
Before anyone else could speak, Paris continued, “Look, I get it. There is clearly a need for adoption and foster care, but isn’t it enough that there are already women, and men I might add, that are moved and have the compassion that drives them to adopt and provide the need?”
“No, it’s not enough because for whatever reason, they don’t, and the ones that do, aren’t doing a good job of it if they are leaving little girls on the steps and not picking them up after dance rehearsal,” Felicity said.
“But how is any of that my fault? I’d have taken the little girl home, Felicity,” Paris said exasperated. “But that still doesn’t mean that I have to say adoption is an experience that would bring me joy and fulfillment.”
“Wow, Paris,” Raquel said.
Shaking her head again, “All of us aren’t meant to adopt, Raquel,” Paris said.
“Apparently,” Felicity mumbled.
Pursing her lips, Paris continued, “and it shouldn’t make me a bad person because I can honestly say, I just want to have my own children. In the company of women, I should feel free to say that without shame, criticism or judgment.” She said. “Savannah?’
Savannah, who’d been playing softly, not sure what to make of Paris’ opposition to adoption, looked up and over at her.
“Isn’t this what you and your women’s rights organizations fight for?” She asked. “My right to know who I am, what I want, and to have the freedom to not only pursue it, but to declare it without being made to feel like I’m a horrible woman if I just want my own children?”
“Of course, Paris,” Savannah said.
Paris smiled, raised her hands in mock victory, and settled back onto the sofa.
“I don’t know, Paris,” Felicity said. “It just feels wrong to not want to care for a child who needs care.”
Paris pursed her lips and blew out a breath. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m glad there are adoption and foster care agencies.” Looking over at Felicity, she tried it another way. “Look, I love, and would never hurt dogs, and if I saw one hit by a car, I would call for help, but that doesn’t mean that I want to take care of one and let it live in my home.”
“So, now you are comparing children to dogs?” Kate laughed.
Paris shook her head and curled her legs back onto the sofa. “OK, maybe that was a bad example,” she exaggerated, “But all I’m trying to say is, everyone who loves dogs, doesn’t have one. And no one has ever attacked me for not getting a dog, so why should I be attacked for not wanting to take in a child that is not mine?”
No one spoke for a moment, still thinking the comparison between children and dogs was not quite appropriate, but also, considering the rationale and application of Paris’ overall thoughts.
“Besides that,” Paris continued, “As long as I’m in trouble, I might as well say this too,” she started.
“Oh, no. What now?” Felicity asked, “Wait, before you start, I know I’m going to need the rest of this champagne,” she said, drowning her glass.
Paris rolled her eyes at her sorority sister, “No one ever wants to voice the other concerns of adoption,” she waited until she had the women’s attention. “No wants to admit the very real fear that,” she paused, “it just might not be the same ‘feeling,’” she air quoted, “unless it’s actually your own.” She let them absorb that.
“Oh, come on, Paris,” Kate said.
“What, Kate?” Paris asked. “Do you really want to sit over there and naively tell me that you don’t think there are families out there, who’ve adopted children, then had their own child, and maybe, just maybe, the glass isn’t all rosy and life isn’t the utopia they thought it would be and there’s a stronger bond for their biological children?” She asked. “Or what if they didn’t have their own child later, but only had that adopted child, yet still, when they sit in circles like this and talk about their adopted child, there isn’t quite the same euphoria you hear in the voices of biological parents? Do you want to honestly tell me that might not be someone’s reality and,” she added with a hand to stop Kate from answering, “that she or he might not also have an internal struggle over it—ashamed to admit to themselves that they feel that way; that it wasn’t what they expected it would be?”
Again, silence as the women considered this scenario.
Paris reached for a cracker. “You’re a sweetheart, but grow up, Katie girl. Life isn’t as perfect or the stroll through the tulips as you might want it to be.” Paris put the whole cracker in
her mouth, careful not to smudge her lipstick. “Plus,” she said chewing and reaching for her glass of wine, “when you adopt, you really have no idea what you’re getting,” she said, drowning the rest of her glass.
“Well, you’re just going for broke now, aren’t you, Paris?” Felicity asked, eating a shrimp.
“Oh, come on, you guys know what I mean.” Paris sat up again, put her empty glass on the coffee table and started ticking concerns off her manicured nails: “One, you don’t know anything about the birth parents, which, two, means you know nothing about any health or genetic influences, which, three, means you also don’t know if the child will grow up to be a serial killer or a schizophrenic.”
Oy vey, Savannah thought, this has taken a road I had no idea we’d be on.
“Right, but what if none of those things are an issue or,” Raquel said, sitting up straight and pointing across the room at Paris, “what if you get a serial killer because they never got a loving home with loving parents?”
“It’s too big of a risk,” Paris dismissed, sinking back onto the sofa.
“Well,” Sophia said, just quiet enough for Savannah to hear, “to me, all of it is a risk worth taking.” Smiling down at her sister, Savannah touched her head to her sister’s as she kept playing softly.
“Paris, I love you, but you are so stuck up,” Felicity said, reaching down to scratch Julia’s head. The little puppy wandered over to her and heaved her pudgy little body up onto the foot of her chaise, curling into Felicity’s feet.
“Hey!” Paris exclaimed with mock offense. “I’m merely the voice of opposition that lies in the hearts of the many who are simply too afraid or ashamed,” she exaggerated, “to proclaim their true feelings.”
“What is there to be ashamed about?” Raquel asked.
“That, my dear Raquel, is what I have been saying all along; there’s nothing to be ashamed or worried about if you just had your own children,” Paris said. She rubbed her index finger along the top edge of her ramekin and sucked Pâté from her finger, oblivious to the scathing ruling she’d just decreed.
The silence in the room was deafening. No one looked at Savannah, but it was clear all thoughts, save Paris’, were on her. In an attempt to quietly call Paris out for her unintended, but ignorant cruelty, Raquel narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips across the coffee table. Kate closed her eyes and lowered her head, Felicity stared, agape, and Julia growled with a small bark in Paris’ direction.
The women noticed that Savannah had stopped playing, but Sophia, the only one close enough to her, saw that she’d also started rubbing the middle finger of her right hand against the pad of her right thumb; a technique she’d been taught when she was in grade school. As a young child, when she didn’t get her way, Savannah had been prone to temper tantrums and irrational outbursts of anger. Only those closest to her knew that history and the technique that still calms her. It was a God-send then and continued to help her in highly intense situations that frustrated or agitated her, threatening to pull her under where reason and logic take a vacation and her emotions reign. Savannah worked really hard the last few years of high school so she would not take such an unfavorable trait into college and adulthood.
Sophia, even though she was proud of her sister for using her technique, still reached over and grabbed her hand, holding it in both of hers.
“Ma’am,” Manny stood at the door. “You asked that I notify you when it was time to begin receiving your guests.”
Clearing her throat, “Yes, Immanuel. Thank you.” Savannah squeezed Sophia’s hand, gracefully stood, and faced the room. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me. Please take your time and join the rest of the guests and me when you’re ready.” With that, she turned, linked her hand around the arm Immanuel offered, and left.
*****
THE START OF THE GALA was everything Savannah expected. The jazz quartet began playing half an hour before the start of the event. The guest arrived in semi-formal attire, most, secretly anxious to display the season’s newest labels. Asa and Savannah stood ceremoniously at the hall entrance to receive well-wishes, small birthday gifts, and displays of affection. When one of Asa’s business partners and his wife arrived, Savannah caught herself admiring Asa; he looked handsome and commanding in his black suit and silver tie. As usual, the Steeles complemented each other perfectly; like Asa’s black suite, Savannah wore a black, vintage floral lace, long sleeved, boat neck sweetheart cocktail swing dress with silver shoes and jewelry.
Prior to the start of dinner, the catering team scurried about carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres and glasses of champagne. Standing tables scattered throughout the receiving room were adorned with white linen tablecloths and candles. As the last of the guests arrived, Asa excused himself to walk toward the podium that stood in the far side of the room; it was time to present her birthday gift. Asa always saw it as a source of husbandly pride that he could still guess and grant Savannah’s birthday wish every year.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. The quartet quieted to a slow jazz piece in the background of Asa’s speech. “I’d like to thank each and every one of you for taking time out to help me celebrate my wife’s...”Asa looked back to Savannah for approval. With a purse of her lips, but then a smile, she gave a nod to her husband, “thirty-fifth birthday!” Asa concluded to a round of applause as everyone smiled at Savannah. Those closest to her either kissed her cheek or gave her a hug.
“And to celebrate the gift God has already given me, fourteen years of marriage to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Asa said to the awwws of the female populace and affirming side glances of the men, “the gift I give my lovely wife this year,” he said with a pause for dramatic effect. “How are you going to top the Italian sports car from last year, Asa?” One of Asa’s golfing buddies yelled good-naturedly.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” Asa began...
A baby, Savannah thought. A surprising, and unexpected, jolt of depression hit her like a blast of cold air. A baby is how you could top last year’s gift, Asa, she thought, suddenly trying desperately to maintain the smile she had plastered on her face. God, will this overwhelming sense of emptiness ever leave me?
At the rush of applause and excited voices, Savannah realized Asa announced her birthday gift and she’d not heard a word of it. She had no idea what Asa was giving her this year, but every ounce of her breeding dictated that she needed to not only act surprised, but pleased; so she did. She put on a brave face as ladies began hugging her and saying what a wonderful husband she had. Savannah glanced over at Asa, beaming as he shook hands with men who slapped him on the back, congratulating him for outdoing himself again this year. The sudden and unexpected rush of her own internal emotions, coupled with the flurry of excitement around her, almost brought Savannah to tears, so when her dad made his way to her, she clung to him a little longer than usual, blinking back emotion.
“Well,” Asa said, going back to the podium. “With that done, please join us in the formal dining room. Dinner is served.” As Savannah’s father pulled back from their embrace, she grabbed his arm, making it clear she needed him to escort her to dinner. Dr. Pike looked down at his eldest daughter, confused by what he glimpsed as an expression of masked distress. When she smiled up at him and nodded, he patted her hand and made his way to the dining room.
Throughout the rest of the evening, Savannah could not shake the hollowness that slipped into her heart, pushing out what should have been happiness and excitement. After dinner, guests made their way outside to the courtyard for dancing and the cake cutting. It was beautiful, as usual; poled lanterns and floral displays adorned the perimeter of the enclosed and heated tent; white lights, ensconced in tulle, decorated the top, and the four-tiered birthday cake sat on display, cornered toward the right of the stage. Guests seated themselves at various tables with water filled, glass bowl centerpieces; tea-light candles and rose petals floated on top. At the conclusion of the cake cutting ceremony, the quartet would play Asa’s chosen musical selection so they could kick off the first dance of the evening.
As Asa and Savannah walked toward the cake table, Savannah leaned over, “Asa, I’m really not in the mood for the singing,” she whispered. Asa, holding one of her hands, reached out with the other to shake the hand of a young man Savannah didn’t recognize. “I’m sorry, what, honey?” Asa asked, as they reached the cake table and he handed her the knife.
“I said, I don’t want...” she began.
“Oh Savannah, the cake is beautiful,” a woman from Savannah’s Vote to Voice organization said, approaching from the side. “You’ve got to tell me who your baker and cake designer is.”
“Of, course, Kenya. I’ll be sure to get you their name and number.” Kenya smiled and left to find a seat.
“Asa,” Savannah started again, but Asa had already moved to the microphone stand where he was about to lead the crowd in the traditional rendition of “Happy Birthday.”
So, Savannah stood, alone, staring at a crowd of her friends and family, while, in unison, they sang happy birthday to her. She could see the beauty around her and the irony of the occasion was not lost on her. It looked like she had it all: Asa’s proud and loving voice, sounding strong, albeit off-key, in the microphone, the faces of her sisters and their husbands in the crowd. Her parents were standing to the side; they loved to dance and she could tell they were excited about the rest of the evening. She could see the faces of family, friends, and church members. She also saw ladies from her event planning committees, Asa’s co-workers, and his business partners, with their spouses. They were all here, as they were every year, to celebrate with Savannah.
She looked out over the crowd and recalled the family structures and dynamics that had grown or changed with the passing of another year: someone’s boy graduated from middle school, someone’s girl went to the prom. Someone’s child had a major health recovery and another welcomed a new birth. She knew this because she celebrated it with them all. However, the Steele family structure remained the same, frozen in the same status as they were this same time last year.
With another burst of applause and to Savannah’s chagrin, she realized she’d blanked out again and missed the singing of the song but, thankfully, the applause was always her cue to make the first slice in the cake. Having done that, one of servants smiled and took the knife from her, prepared to cut slices of cake and serve it to the guests while Savannah and Asa took to the dance floor for the first dance of the evening.
Asa nodded at the quartet and they began to play the song he’d selected for her this year, “The Very Thought of You.” The lead singer sounded exactly like Nat King Cole as Asa took Savannah’s hand in his and led them to the center of the dance floor. As he twirled her around the dance floor, under the white lights of the tent, Savannah knew Asa’s thoughts were of her, but Savannah was only thinking of a baby with Asa’s eyes. The lyrics, sung beautifully, only served to further slowly and painfully squeezed her heart: ‘The mere idea of you, the longing here for you, you’ll never know, how slow the moments go, till I’m near to you. I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above, it’s just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love.’
By the time the song ended, Savannah couldn’t speak for the tightening in her throat. Ashamed, she could feel the love in her husband’s arms and she knew the evening’s celebration was genuine, but she still felt guilty because as beautiful as it was, it still wasn’t enough. This year, it just couldn’t satisfy or fill the void that had been growing for 14 years. She accepted Asa’s sweet kiss, but turned down a second dance as her parents and sisters, with their husbands, made their way to the dance floor to join them. Asa, looking into Savannah’s eyes, caught a glimpse of moisture, but before he could explore it further, Sophia’s nine year old, Amor, ran up to him, eager to have her uncle dance with her, too. Savannah took that opportunity to exit the dance floor. Extracting herself from friendly glances and quick hugs, she made her way across the courtyard, holding onto a tight smile, all but running to the safety and sanctuary of her bedroom.
*****
BEFORE SHE TOOK THE back stairwell to her bedroom, Savannah snagged a bottle of wine from the kitchen. And almost two hours from their first dance, Asa found her sitting on the balcony, off of their bedroom, sipping from her wine glass. The balcony sat a story above the veranda that adjoined the great hall and looked out over the lake. It was another one of Savannah’s favorite places in her home. She’d taken off her shoes, but the lace cocktail dress remained as she sat snuggled in a blanket on the outdoor chaise lounge, Julia curled in her lap lightly snoring.
“I told everyone you weren’t feeling well,” Asa said, walking onto the balcony. He’d already abandoned his suit jacket and walked over to the rail of the balcony, loosening his tie. “Are you alright?” he asked, looking over at Savannah, but trying to give her a little space.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She said, stroking Julia’s wrinkly face.
Asa turned and looked out over the lake. He racked his brain over the course of the evening, trying to find out what could have caused his wife’s mood.
“You don’t want to tour Europe this summer?”
“Huh?”
“The private yacht cruise I booked for us,” he said. “You don’t want to go?”
Savannah frowned up at Asa, “Was that your birthday present?”
Asa looked at her in astonishment. “Savannah, what’s wrong?”
Savannah sighed and took another drink from her glass. “Asa, on Monday morning, I’m going to discuss the procedure with Dr. Halper to determine the specific requirements and the earliest date possible to schedule the procedure. I talked with Hailey before I came upstairs; she wants to do it. I was worried because she was so young; I thought she would be scared, but she told me that if she were back at home in her small town, she would have probably already had two children by now. So, she sees it as a win-win; she gives us what we want, she gets what she wants and everybody’s happy,” Savannah said, taking another sip of her wine.
“Savannah,” Asa swallowed, “honey, I thought...” Asa started.
“What?” Savanna asked looking over at him.
“Honey, I thought this evening may have given you a different perspective.”
“How so? A different perspective of what, Asa?”
“Well, I thought that if you saw all of the love that already surrounds you, you might have a renewed strength to wait on God a little longer.” Asa said. He walked over and sat on Savannah’s chaise, stretching his arm across her lap to rest his hand against her outer hip.
“Nope. Same perspective.” She said, taking another sip of her wine. The glass casing of the balcony allowed her to still see the lake from a seated position. Savannah noticed how lovely the water looked with the moon reflected in it. “No new strength over here, Sweetie.”
Asa, at a loss of what to say, moved his hand to rest on Savannah’s flat stomach and waited for her to continue. Julia woke briefly, licked his wrist, but then closed her eyes again.
Savannah finally looked at her husband. She placed her hand on top of the back of his, and laced their fingers. “I feel so empty, Asa. I know I should be grateful for everything God has already given us, but,” she said swallowing, “I only see what He hasn’t.”
Asa, torn between his desire to please God and please his wife, felt a small nagging inside. A small something that held him back from knowing with one hundred percent certainty that this was the path they were supposed to take, but he pushed it aside and concluded that pleasing his wife would ultimately mean that he was pleasing God. “I love you, Savannah.” He finally said. “And if this will make you happy, then OK, I’ll do it.”
When Asa saw Savannah close her eyes with a small smile, he dismissed all other thoughts and kissed his wife’s lips, thinking to himself, God’s will be done.