Chapter 3 - What Ryan Told His Sister
Jenna arrived twenty-six minutes later.
Not because Ryan called her.
I did.
He tried to stop me once.
Then saw my face and apparently remembered we had already filled the afternoon’s quota for people making decisions on my behalf.
Jenna stepped through the front door carrying nothing.
She looked exhausted.
Hair pulled back badly.
Oversized sweatshirt.
No makeup.
Twelve days postpartum and already walking into a family war.
Her eyes went to the broken truck window first.
Then me.
Then Ryan.
“What happened?”
I answered.
“I found the car seat.”
Her face changed.
Ryan said:
“Jenna—”
She looked at him.
“You told me tomorrow.”
He didn’t answer.
I felt something cold settle inside me.
“What was tomorrow?”
Jenna stared.
Ryan moved between us without meaning to.
I noticed.
So did she.
“Move,” she told him.
He did.
Jenna looked at me.
“I thought you were in New York until tomorrow.”
“I came home early.”
She closed her eyes.
“Of course.”
“Did Ryan tell you I knew about the baby?”
Her eyes opened.
Silence.
“Jenna.”
“Yes.”
Ryan stepped in.
“It was more complicated than that.”
She turned.
“You said Claire agreed.”
His face tightened.
“I said she would.”
“No.”
Jenna’s voice sharpened.
“You said, ‘Claire said we can use the house for two weeks.’”
I stared at my husband.
Ryan looked sick.
I asked:
“Did you say that?”
“Yes.”
Jenna laughed once.
It sounded close to crying.
“I knew it.”
Evelyn came down the stairs carrying the baby.
Jenna’s entire body changed.
She crossed immediately.
“Give her to me.”
Evelyn did.
No argument.
Jenna held the baby against her chest.
I looked at Ryan.
“Why?”
“Because she needed somewhere safe.”
“She had your mother’s place.”
“Temporarily.”
“Then a hotel.”
“With a newborn?”
“Then mine after you asked me.”
He snapped:
“You would have said no.”
The room went quiet.
There it was.
I looked at him.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
Jenna said:
“Ryan.”
He ignored her.
“Claire, you haven’t spoken to Jenna in ten months.”
“Because Jenna stopped answering.”
Jenna looked away.
Ryan continued:
“You told me after the Christmas disaster you were done cleaning up family emergencies.”
“That was about lending her money after she lied about where it went.”
“I know.”
“You’re mixing things because it helps you.”
“I was trying to solve a crisis.”
I laughed.
“By inventing my consent.”
He flinched.
Good.
Jenna sat on the couch with the baby.
“Can everybody stop?”
Nobody did.
I looked at her.
“Why did you leave her with Ryan?”
Jenna’s mouth tightened.
“I needed time.”
“He keeps saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“For what?”
She looked at Ryan.
He shook his head slightly.
That tiny movement made me furious.
“Do not signal each other in my living room.”
Jenna stared at him.
Then at me.
“I was supposed to sign papers tomorrow.”
“What papers?”
She looked down at the baby.
My stomach tightened before she spoke.
“Adoption consent.”
Nobody moved.
I looked at Ryan.
Then Evelyn.
Then the infant asleep against Jenna’s chest.
“You’re placing her for adoption.”
Jenna nodded.
“I was.”
Was.
The word caught.
Ryan said quickly:
“She still might.”
Jenna turned on him.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
I looked at her.
“Who are the parents?”
“A couple outside Worcester.”
“Do they know you left the baby with Ryan?”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Do they know she’s been here?”
“No.”
“Why?”
She swallowed.
“Because Ryan asked me for one week.”
I stared at him.
“What for?”
Jenna answered.
“To make sure I wasn’t doing something permanent just because I was scared.”
Ryan said:
“That’s not unreasonable.”
She looked at him.
“You said you wouldn’t pressure me.”
“I haven’t.”
Jenna laughed.
Evelyn looked away.
I watched both of them.
“You’ve both been trying to change her mind.”
Evelyn said:
“We wanted her to be certain.”
“Did she ask you to?”
No answer.
Jenna kissed the baby's forehead.
Then she looked at me.
“I agreed to one week because Ryan said you wanted to help.”
My throat tightened.
She continued.
“He said you understood what it was like to want a child and not know if you’d get one.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I looked at Ryan.
He didn't meet my eyes.
Three years.
Three years of doctor visits, calendars, disappointments and one pregnancy that ended before we had told most of our friends.
Something I had never given Ryan permission to use as leverage in another woman's decision.
I whispered:
“You brought my infertility into this?”
Jenna closed her eyes.
“Claire—”
“No. He did.”
I looked at my husband.
“What exactly did you tell her?”
Ryan finally met my eyes.
“That you would understand why I didn’t want the baby leaving the family before we knew whether we could give her a home.”
Jenna’s face hardened.
“That's not all.”
Ryan turned.
May you like
She held the baby tighter.
“You told me Claire wanted her.”
