Chapter 39

Baby Owen arrived on the day after New Year’s. Alma Gordon had spoken with Chantrelle on Christmas Eve, and there was no hint they were coming. Her horoscope that morning read, “A new year brings new challenges.” She felt tired just reading it.

Her buzzer rang, and Chantrelle’s voice came over the intercom. “We’re here. Let us up.”

Mrs. Gordon walked as fast as she could to the door. Her heart pounded. Had she remembered to take her blood pressure pill that morning? The elevator whirred and creaked going down, and she waited impatiently for it to return.

And then there he was. Her little angel. Baby Owen.

Only, he didn’t look like much of an angel. His hair stuck out on one side and his nose was running. His shirt was dirty and he wore no shoes. But he broke into a huge smile when he saw her and ran over with both arms held straight out. He could run! Look at her boy run!

Mrs. Gordon squatted, and he grabbed her around the neck and held on tight. He pulled her hair, and she gently tried to loosen his hands. He wouldn’t let go. He was hurting her, but that wasn’t why she was crying. She had thought she wouldn’t see him again, and here he was, five months later, her Baby Owen.

Chantrelle twisted one hand in the other and darted her eyes around. Mrs. Gordon had never seen the girl nervous, but Alma knew nerves when she saw them. She bustled them all inside. Baby Owen finally let go and seized onto Alma’s skirt instead.

“It’s too much.” Chantrelle sat on Mrs. Gordon’s squishy couch with an untouched cup of tea in front of her. “I can’t be his mom. He constantly needs something or wants something or cries. He never lets up. I can’t do it.” She was on the verge of tears.

“There, there, now,” said Mrs. Gordon, but inside she was turning cartwheels.

“At first it was fun. He’s so cute and everybody likes him, and we get lots of attention. But you can’t have a moment to yourself, you can’t do anything, and there’s no one else to take care of him but me.”

“There, there, now,” said Mrs. Gordon. Baby Owen was still attached to her skirt.

“And Zach, he doesn’t like kids much. He can’t even see how cute Owen is. He just says he’s in the way.”

Ah. Zach. The new roommate. He was the one. Mrs. Gordon could kiss him.

“Anyway, I came…I came all the way from Los Angeles so I could ask you in person. I came to ask you about what you said.”

“What I said?” Mrs. Gordon couldn’t believe it. It was really going to happen. She was really going to get Baby Owen back.

“What you said about adoption.” Chantrelle was crying now, her shoulders heaving up and down and her pretty face smeared with mascara.

Mrs. Gordon tried to rein in her happiness and help this poor girl who might feel as bad as she did about losing the little fellow. She went to the couch and sat next to her, hoisting Baby Owen onto her lap facing away from his mom so he wouldn’t be upset by her tears.

“You said we could have an open adoption and I could visit,” Chantrelle said.

“Absolutely! Absolutely! That would be good for Baby Owen too.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Chantrelle said. “But it’s too hard to be a mom. I don’t know how you do it.”

“You’re just young,” Mrs. Gordon said. “Too young to have this kind of responsibility. Some day you’ll see. The time will be right for you.”

Chantrelle leaned in against Mrs. Gordon’s shoulder. She was a child herself. Baby Owen slumped on Mrs. Gordon’s other side, warm and soft against her hip. Mrs. Gordon felt like she couldn’t breathe for all the joy she felt in her heart.