Nothing Teri had read in her psychology classes, no crash course in sign language communication, no soul searching, and no prayers prepared her for the experience of meeting her son.
With Andrew beside her, she walked up the shoveled walk leading to the small brick home in Aliquippa, where Adam’s foster parents lived. A painted swing set in the hilly backyard creaked in the wind as she scanned the modest neighborhood plunked between the steel mills on the river and downtown Pittsburgh.
What would he be like, this little boy of hers?
Andrew had told her he loved comics, the Lakers, and Nintendo. He had a ready grin, freckles, and a surprisingly mature sense of humor. And he was athletic. She’d clung to these precious, meager tidbits all during the endless meetings with the lawyers and social workers. When she’d met with the pediatrician, he’d assured her that Adam’s deafness hadn’t hampered his development. In fact, he was an exceptionally bright and well-adjusted child.
Teri’d wanted to know what had caused the deafness, and if there was any hope Adam might someday be able to hear. Had she inadvertently done something during her pregnancy to cause it? The pediatrician had shaken his head.
“Your son’s deafness is irreversible,” he told her gently. “And it’s no one fault. I’ve reviewed Adam’s medical records as well as the ones you and Mr. Leonetti have supplied. Ms. Mathews, one in every thousand babies is born with a hearing impairment. Sometimes it’s genetic—when both parents carry a recessive gene. But sometimes, as in this case, it’s a sporadic occurrence with no known cause.”
He’d gone on to reassure her that the chances of deafness in any other children she might have were remote.
But at the moment Teri wasn’t concerned about any other children.
Now that she was finally here with the letter she’d written to Adam in her hand, she only hoped she had found the right words to tell him what was in her heart.
“I wasn’t this nervous meeting Ana Cates,” Teri whispered as they started up the front steps, where fresh broom strokes were etched in the dusting of remaining snow.
“Relax. He’s a great kid, he takes after his mother.” Andrew grinned. He squeezed her arm. “Go on. Ring the bell.”
“Please, come in,” said the attractive thirtyish-looking woman who answered the door. “I’m Natalie Marowski, you must be Teri Mathews.”
Strands of tinsel clung to her slim-fitting jeans and oversize cable knit sweater. “Adam’s been waiting so you could help him hang the last ornaments on our tree. We spent the morning baking gingerbread men, and he must have combed his hair twenty-five times in the past hour,” she said, taking their coats and ushering them into the wood-paneled family room. “He couldn’t be more excited if Spiderman were coming.”
Teri scarcely heard. She moved trancelike toward the boy, who stood motionless beside the gaily decorated tree.
Long-lashed gray eyes swept over her appraisingly. He looked very serious. No smile lit that scrubbed little face with the pointed chin and rosy cheeks splattered with freckles. The dark straight hair falling over his forehead belied whatever care he had given it, it was as shiny as the tinsel clutched in his fist, as casual as the red and black geometric sweater draping his skinny form. His jeans looked new, his sneakers did not...
Teri’s heart pounded in her ears as she knelt before him.
“Hello, Adam, I’m so happy to meet you,” she signed in the way that she had practiced half the night in the motel mirror.
Adam signed back something Teri struggled to follow. Sweating, she glanced at Natalie for help, then turned wildly back to Adam. What was he saying? And still no smile.
“He said, ‘Me too,’” Natalie put in, her voice cracking a little.
Andrew sauntered forward and slapped high-fives with Adam. “Teri and I want to take you downtown for lunch. OK?” he signed.
It was obvious Andrew and Adam had already established a good rapport in the short time Andrew had been visiting him. Wide-eyed, Adam nodded eagerly, and signed something back so quickly, Teri again couldn’t follow. In frustration, she turned quizzically to Andrew.
“He wants to know if we’ll come back and help him finish the tree, and eat some gingerbread cookies,” he told her with an encouraging smile.
She hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. She envied their rapid, silent fluency. Andrew’s work with autistic children required proficiency in signing. His experience was obvious, and in sharp contrast to her own faltering efforts.
“I’d love to,” she signed slowly, crossing her wrists on her chest, palms in.
She waited, holding her breath. Had she done it right? Had he understood?
And then at last, Adam smiled. Smiled and nodded and walked right up to her.
He took her hand and began leading her to the front door. Her fingers tingled at his touch. It had been more than nine years since she’d enfolded that little hand in her own, marveling at its tiny perfection. Nine years since she’d said hello and good-bye in a single sentence, sending Adam off to what she’d thought was a far better life than she could ever give him.
And now he was back, tugging at her hand, tugging at her heart—tugging Teri out the door and toward a future they could share.
It’s almost as if he’s waited for me, Teri thought later, watching Adam wolf down his ketchup-sodden burger, double order of fries, and tall root beer beneath the twinkling holiday lights in the Burger King dining room. Waited for me to grow up and be ready to take care of him.
But she’d missed so much. His first smile, first tooth. First day of school. Christmases and birthday parties and everyday kisses and hugs.
I’ll make up for it now, Adam—we both will, she added silently with a quick, warm glance at Andrew, who was comfortably munching a mushroom cheeseburger beside her. Andrew was marvelous with his son, calm and steady, at ease in a way that was purely instinctual. And they were so alike, Teri noted, watching them together in the noisy restaurant. The gray eyes, so clear and intense, the same quicksilver smiles, the same enthusiasm for life, for people.
I wonder if Andrew sees anything of me in Adam, she mused, sipping her Coke. He has my dark hair, but what else? My eyebrows. And Daddy’s chin, I think.
Thank God he didn’t get Grandma Parelli’s nose.
The afternoon passed in a whirl of ice cream cones, bowling, and arcades. Andrew already told her that Adam was mature for his age, funny, bright, and athletic. She found he was right on all counts. She didn’t give Adam the gift she’d brought him until they’d returned to the house and put the finishing touches on the tree. The Morowski kids helped, but Natalie shooed them into the kitchen when she saw Andrew lift the packages from the rental car’s trunk.
Andrew gave his gift first, a pair of high-tech high-top athletic shoes in size three. The salesman had promised him they were the hottest shoe of the moment, and from the expression on Adam’s face when he pulled them out of the tissue paper, he hadn’t lied.
Teri quietly handed over the box wrapped in Santa Claus paper. “I hope you like it,” she signed slowly, guided by Andrew.
Adam’s gray eyes, so beautifully sensitive and alive, just like Andrew’s, lit with joy as he held up the Turbo Express Portable, the video game system Marie’s kid brother swore was the most awesome Christmas gift in the world.
Teri had spent a chunk of money she’d socked away toward a down payment on the new house, but it was worth every nickel, she decided when Adam threw his arms around her and squeezed tight.
She didn’t need an interpreter to tell her she’d made him happy. It’s only the beginning, she promised him silently, hugging Adam to her as tears filled her eyes. I might not be able to give you rooms full of fancy toys or closets full of designer gym shoes all the time. I can’t give you hearing. But I’ll give you love, Adam, I promise you that. You’ll be able to count on me from now on—no matter what. I’ll always be there for you, starting now.
On the drive back to the motel, Andrew reached over and clasped her hand. “He’s pretty terrific, isn’t he?”
“Very terrific. Did you see the way he brought us the biggest of the gingerbread cookies? I thought I would cry right there.”
“I got a kick out of the way he opened the packages. Ripped that wrapping paper to shreds,” Andrew chuckled, “and then got so engrossed in that video game, he almost forgot to wave good-bye.”
“He’ll win Brian over, I know he will,” Teri almost whispered.
Andrew said nothing. She glanced over at him. His eyes were locked on the road ahead.
“I’m going to skip next semester at school,” Teri went on brightly to fill the awkwardness. “And I’m going to work out a different schedule at the shop. I want to spend as much time with Adam as possible once he comes home with me.”
“The social worker thinks the final custody hearing will be scheduled for mid-January,” Andrew said, pulling into the motel parking lot. “We can go over the paperwork at dinner.”
As they headed through the small courtyard bordering their rooms, Teri stopped abruptly and faced him. “Andrew, I told her I want to share custody with you. You can come see Adam anytime, and he can spend holidays with you...”
Her voice trailed off at the expression blazing in his eyes as he turned to her and grasped her arms. His fingers unintentionally bit right through her sleeves as he held her hard and his breath steamed in the chill air.
“That’s not what I have in mind. I’ll accept it if I have to Teri, but only as a last resort. What I want is something completely different—I want full custody, joint custody, along with you. A real home for our son, not two homes, not shipping him alone back and forth between Arizona and Michigan.”
He yanked her close, urgency heating his voice.
“Come on, Teri, reach for the brass ring,” he urged. His eyes burned into hers, compelling and yearning all at once. “We can be a family. You, me, our son.” He smiled, a smile full of such eagerness, he could have been nine like Adam. “You can’t tell me you don’t want that as much as I do.”
“I don’t know what I want,” Teri gasped, frightened by her own insane urge to throw her arms around his neck in agreement, to succumb to both the logic and emotion of his appeal.
“Don’t run from me this time, Teri. I want to be a part of your life. Dammit, I am a part of your life—from now on. Don’t relegate me to watching from the sidelines.”
Teri wanted to tear herself from his arms before she surrendered to them. Her head and her heart were at odds with her soul—and with each other, and she was torn in two. “This isn’t fair, Andrew,” she rasped, trying to think clearly, trying to stay focused despite the emotions swirling through her. “Brian...”
“Brian be damned.” Andrew’s usually gentle face grew hard, rigid as stone. “Don’t you see, Teri? He can’t make up his mind. What kind of love is that? I don’t have a doubt in the world. Doesn’t that matter to you?” Suddenly, he leaned down roughly and kissed her, his lips warm and demanding against her mouth.
“Teri. I’ve missed you so much.”
His hands slid up to cradle her neck and the kiss softened, deepened, became tender and hungry and needful. “Teri,” he said quietly, “This could be the happiest Christmas of our lives.”
And the worst of Brian’s, she thought dismally. Yet she found herself lifting a hand to caress Andrew’s lean cheek, red and rough from the cold.
She said softly, “Give me time, Andrew. I just met my son today after nine years apart. I can’t possibly make any decisions that may last for a lifetime, not now. I can’t look beyond this afternoon, or tomorrow.”
“I won’t ask you to. I just want you to know how I feel. Last time around I never had the chance to tell you.”
There was no note of recrimination in his voice. Teri felt a warm surge of gratitude. Not once had Andrew ever condemned her for the choice she had made, a choice that had cost him nine years of knowing his son— and had cost Adam nine years in foster homes. Yet there was only understanding and tenderness in his face as he gazed down at her now. Could it work? Could they be a real family after such a belated start?
Slowly, Teri stepped back, disengaging from his arms, from the emotions flowing between them.
“Let’s take Adam sledding tomorrow,” she suggested, turning back toward the motel door. “Is there a good hill nearby?”
“I’ll find one,” Andrew told her. He was right behind her. “I’ll find whatever you want.”
That was the problem, she reflected as she fit her key into the lock. She didn’t know what she wanted. But she did know one thing.
Someone she cared about would be deeply hurt once she finally figured it out.
* * *
Mister D’s Sports Bar erupted in a chorus of raucous jeers as the Detroit Lions fumbled the ball on the goal line with no time remaining in the fourth quarter.
“Assholes. Fucking assholes. How could they screw up a play like that?” Linc Armstrong shouted into Brian’s ear.
“Because they stink,” Brian said in disgust, and signaled the waitress to bring another pitcher to the table.
Garlands of green and gold roping framed the wide-screen TVs scattered strategically around the packed bar. Monday night was standing room only at Mister D’s, but this group was a regular fixture in the front corner under the moose head. Tonight, in honor of the season, a blinking red light was affixed to the beast’s nose.
Brian’s mood, however, was anything but festive. Teri had been gone four days and he missed her like hell. All he could think about was that tonight she was probably with Andrew Leonetti. She’d phoned yesterday, elated after her first meeting with Adam. Yet when he’d asked her if she’d be home by Christmas Eve, she’d hesitated. “It depends,” she’d said evasively, and changed the subject. He’d wanted to ask her about Andrew Leonetti, if she was spending much time with him, but he’d already guessed the answer to that.
Brian’s eyes narrowed. “I’d like to punch that jerk’s lights out.”
“Who? Fontes?” Linc asked. “It’s not his fault the team sucks.”
“Not him,” Brian muttered. “Someone else.”
He couldn’t figure out why it felt so strange to be there watching Monday Night Football with the guys. He was a regular—he usually enjoyed the rowdy atmosphere, the endless pitchers of beer, the pretty waitresses in their tight red shorts and black jerseys. There’d been a time when he’d come here as much to eye the tight-jeaned single women who decorated the barstools as to hang out and watch the games with his friends.
Until he’d met Teri.
There is nothing wrong with being here, he told himself. Teri had even encouraged him to keep busy while she was gone. But for some reason, it wasn’t much fun. He couldn’t even concentrate on the game.
Through the smoke haze he saw Josie and his sister, Tina, sail through the front door, stomping snow off their boots. He waved them over.
“Heard from Teri?” Josie demanded as she pulled up a chair.
“Sure did.”
“Well... what did she have to say?” Tina prompted him, nudging him and helping herself to a sip of Linc’s beer.
“Not much.”
“Well, did she say when she’s coming home?” Josie pressed.
“Nope.”
Josie and Tina exchanged glances.
“You’re not exactly Dan Rather tonight,” Tina remarked with exasperation.
“Hey, Teen, give the guy a break,” Linc’s brother, Steve, interjected from across the table. “What’s with the third degree?”
But before Tina could argue, Brian stood up and tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table. “Forget it, I’m going home.”
He didn’t feel the biting cold as the door swung shut on the clamor and their pleas that he stay for one more round. Restless, Brian left his car in the parking lot and began walking home, needing to discharge some of the bitter energy churning inside him. He followed his steaming breath across deserted intersections and dim side streets, crunching ice and snow beneath his hunting boots.
What was it he had told Teri? He couldn’t raise another man’s child? What a load of crap. It wasn’t the kid that bothered him, it was the other man. Andrew fucking Leonetti. That’s what it all boiled down to.
In frustration, he suddenly scooped up a handful of icy snow and packed the meanest, hardest snowball he could mold. He threw it hard against the rear brick wall of the 7-Eleven.
“Right over the plate,” he muttered. “Leonetti, you’re out!”
He wished it were that easy.
When Brian was eight, he wanted desperately to pitch for his Little League team. He wanted that more than anything in the world. But the coach put him at third base and told him to work on his curveball—and maybe he’d get the chance to pitch relief.
He practiced till his arm ached, he begged the coach before every game. “Better,” the coach had told him. “Keep working on it, and we’ll see.” But when the regular pitcher got the chicken pox, it was Henry Saganski the coach put in.
Disgusted, discouraged, and mad as hell, Brian quit the team that night. Nothing his father said or did could dissuade him. “Quitters never win,” Glenn Michaelson told him, but Brian refused to listen. Pride wouldn’t let him stay after he’d been so blatantly passed over.
Two days later Henry Saganski broke his leg.
“I could’ve used you,” the coach told him regretfully when he bumped into the Michaelsons at Baskin-Robbins. “I had to put in Paulie Corrigan, and he doesn’t have half the arm you do, son.”
His father said nothing, but Brian knew exactly what he was thinking. Quitters never win.
He had quit before he’d given himself—or the coach—a chance. He’d had the rest of the season to think about that lesson, to regret letting his pride ruin his opportunity.
Maybe I’m doing it again, Brian thought. Letting my pride get in the way of what I want. Do I really want to call it quits with Teri?
Quitters never win. And Leonetti knows that. He’s not quitting. He’s in there pitching his guts out.
And what the hell am I doing?
Suddenly Brian began hurling snowball after snowball againt the brick wall like a coin-fed pitching machine gone wild. In a burst of newfound zeal, he let out a whoop and started running toward home. His mind reeled with plans.
Tomorrow, on the way to the shop, he would swing by the library to check out some books on sign language. And after dinner he’d rummage through his parents’ attic for his old Lionel train set. And somewhere, if his mother hadn’t thrown it away, he still had his old comic book collection. Yes! Adam would love that.
This ball game’s going into extra innings, Leonetti, he thought with fresh determination. And this time I’m going to be on the field when the last ball is thrown.