Chapter 7 - Why Jenna Never Told Me
I slept on Hannah and Luke’s couch.
I could have gone home.
I didn't want to.
Not yet.
At three in the morning, I woke to the baby crying.
Then Jenna whispering:
“I’ve got you.”
I stayed where I was.
That surprised me.
A year earlier I would have been out of bed before I was fully awake.
Ready to help.
Maybe desperate to.
Now I listened to Jenna handle her own daughter.
Not gracefully.
At one point the baby cried harder.
Jenna said:
“I know, I know. I don't know either.”
That sounded more honest than half the parenting advice I'd ever heard.
In the morning, Hannah made toast.
Luke went to work.
Nobody staged a bonding moment.
Jenna came downstairs with the baby against her shoulder.
I asked:
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She knew which question.
“I told you.”
“You thought I'd want her.”
“Yes.”
“That's not all.”
Jenna looked tired.
I waited.
Finally:
“You once told me you didn't understand how somebody could carry a baby for nine months and give it away.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
I searched.
Then remembered.
A celebrity news story.
An adoption article.
Something casual.
I had been in the middle of our second year of trying to conceive.
Angry at everyone who became pregnant by accident.
I said something ugly.
Not about Jenna.
Still mine.
“I said that.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged.
“People say things.”
“People remember them.”
She looked at me.
“Yeah.”
I did not explain my grief.
Not because it was irrelevant.
Because an explanation would not make the sentence disappear.
Jenna sat.
“I knew I might choose adoption before I told Ryan I was pregnant.”
“Why tell him?”
“He called while I was throwing up in a Target parking lot.”
I almost smiled.
She did too.
“Very dignified.”
Then:
“I needed somebody.”
“And he kept the secret.”
“For a while.”
“What changed?”
“Mom found out.”
“How?”
“Ryan left prenatal vitamins in his truck.”
Of course.
Evelyn began calling.
Then visiting.
Then asking what Jenna had decided.
When Jenna mentioned adoption, Evelyn cried.
Not strategically at first.
Just grief.
Then the grief became arguments.
“Our family can help.”
“You'll regret this.”
“You haven't even met her.”
“Ryan and Claire wanted a baby for years.”
That last one came repeatedly.
I closed my eyes.
Jenna said:
“I told Mom you didn't know.”
“What did she say?”
“That made it easier.”
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
“She said if you didn't know yet, then nobody was promising anything.”
That logic was spectacularly convenient.
“And then?”
“Ryan told her to stop pressuring me.”
That surprised me.
“He did?”
“Yes.”
“Then he started doing the same thing more politely.”
Jenna smiled sadly.
“Ryan never says ‘you have to.’”
I knew.
“He says, ‘Before you decide, have you thought about…’”
Exactly.
“He says it until every alternative feels irresponsible.”
I stared at my hands.
Had he done that to me?
Yes.
Not constantly.
Enough.
Vacations.
Cars.
Whether we should sell my old condo.
Usually small decisions.
Usually decisions where his answer was sensible.
I had often been grateful.
That was why I hadn't named it.
Jenna said:
“The week before I delivered, he asked if I would let him and Mom care for the baby before I signed.”
“And you said no.”
“Twice.”
“What changed?”
She looked at me.
“He said you knew.”
Of course.
“He said you wanted to meet her before I made anything final.”
I swallowed.
“That was the reason.”
“Yes.”
Jenna looked down at the baby.
“I thought if you wanted to see her, maybe I owed you that.”
“No.”
“I know now.”
“You didn't owe me anything.”
“I know.”
She sounded angry.
Not at me.
At herself.
I recognized it.
The shame of making a decision because somebody knew which guilt to press.
Then Jenna said:
“There’s something else.”
I closed my eyes.
“Please let it be small.”
“It might be.”
That was not comforting.
She looked toward the ceiling.
“Mom knew Ryan was lying about you.”
I stared.
“I thought Evelyn believed I agreed.”
“No.”
“When did she know?”
“Before I delivered.”
My chest tightened.
“Then why did she go along with it?”
Jenna's mouth flattened.
“She said sometimes people have to see the right choice before they can make it.”
I looked toward the morning light coming through Hannah's kitchen.
Ryan had lied.
Evelyn had known.
May you like
And my mother-in-law hadn't been terrified in the driveway because she was suddenly discovering a secret.
She was terrified because I had discovered hers.
