Inconceivable! (47 page)

I looked at the new email, a plea from Plato: he and his cousin really needed some help in Ethiopia at one of the orphanages. Would I be willing to come?

I wondered how late autumn smelled in the horn of Africa.

added two pairs of socks to my suitcase, unsure whether I’d wear anything other than sandals during my time in Ethiopia.

“Do you think I need socks while I’m there?”

John didn’t look up from his phone. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

There was a knock. John set his phone aside and opened the door to our bedroom.

“The car is ready,” Astrid said.

“Would you please send Mr. Vermeulen upstairs in half an hour to get the suitcase?” Astrid nodded and John closed the door.

“Half an hour? I’m almost ready to go.” I felt trapped in my own bedroom.

“I’m going to miss you.” John sat on the bed and pulled me onto his lap. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely. Plato’s been asking me to go with him to Ethiopia since we got married.” I avoided my husband’s eyes.

“It just feels like you’re trying to shut me out.” He placed my hair behind my ear, a gesture that still made my heart flutter with anticipation. “Don’t push me away.” The tenderness in his voice made me want to weep, but I didn’t want to cry anymore.

“I’m not pushing you away. I just need some space to sort out my feelings. It’s the pressure that’s making it hard for me to think straight.”

“We can try again. I think it’s encouraging you got pregnant. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I just need a mental ‘reset’ so I can figure out what’s next. And while we’re talking about what’s next, do you know how hopeless it makes me feel that you won’t even consider adoption?”

“You know it has nothing to do with my feelings on adoption itself or the children…”

“Yes. You’ve made it clear Toulene’s laws dictate your position on adoption, a position that’s silly and old-fashioned. If you really wanted to adopt a child, you could.”

“I’m not going to argue this point with you because it’s not up for debate. I don’t want to fight before your trip.”

“Come with me,” I said, suddenly hopeful. “Maybe we both need a break from all this. I’d rather not go by myself.”

“My schedule is full for the next week. But I’ll miss you.”

He kissed me, and then I stood to go.

“I love you. I’ll see you next Saturday. Try not to worry. I’ll text you when I arrive.”

En route to the airport, I asked the driver to stop at Toulene’s only prison for women. It was outside the capital set among pastures where sleepy cows grazed.

Bernard, my faithful guard, followed me inside, fully aware of the arrangements Astrid had made at my request. The uniformed woman at the front desk had a visitor’s badge ready. She walked around her desk, unlocked a heavy door, and held it open for us. Bernard and I headed inside, and from there, she led us to what looked like a conference room.

When she left us, I turned to Bernard. “Would you wait outside, please?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t leave you alone with someone who’s been convicted of a violent crime.”

“Fine.”

Just then, the door opened and the woman from the front desk escorted into the room a person I barely recognized. Leisel de Vries looked smaller than I remembered, frail almost, but hyper alert as she sat across the table from me. Her once-beautiful brown hair hung in limp, dry sections.

“Leisel, thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“Do you want to interview me again for a story you’ll never write?” She punctuated the question with a small, sharp laugh.

“That’s why I’m here. I regret not telling your story. It pains me, to tell you the truth. But more importantly, I want to say how sorry I am you never became a mother.”

Leisel looked at me and narrowed her eyes. “So it’s true? You can’t get pregnant.”

“I know what it’s like to have a failed IVF cycle, yes.”

I reached across the table for her hand. She sprang back in her chair, pulling her hands into her lap. Bernard shifted closer, and I shook my head slightly to let him know he didn’t need to intervene.

“I was…” I took a breath, then swallowed. “I got pregnant, but it didn’t stick.”

“But you’ll do another cycle. And another, and another until it does. You don’t know how it feels to be told by people who have children you only get three chances at IVF. Then, if you can’t afford to pay for more cycles yourself, you’re done. Just like that, hope is gone.” She spread her fingers and smoothed her shirt, emphasizing her flat abdomen.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m going to lobby the assembly for extended fertility treatments for women like us.”

“We’re not alike. I’m done,” she said, pushing back from the table.

Before the uniformed woman escorted Leisel out the door, I stood. “Leisel, I’m truly sorry.”

She shrugged her shoulders and left the room.

Walking out the front door, I turned to Bernard. “Remember. Not one word about this to John or his family.”

By the time our plane landed in Addis, having bounced its way through banks of clouds on the descent, I felt like I was drowning in “me soup.” I’d given my brain permission to throw a pity party during my trip.
If I die in a plane crash, my biological footprint will be gone. No trace of me will live on in the world. Biology itself has declared John and I are incompatible. Even senseless animals can accomplish what we can’t. The universe is trying to tell us something. God is punishing me for sleeping with Jack when we weren’t married.

At the airport, I waited by myself in a room for forty-five minutes while Bernard got our visas. As John’s wife, having a member of the Royal Guard with me at all times was just part of the deal, even if I wanted to escape to another continent. At moments like this, I appreciated having Bernard on hand; he was out there navigating immigration on my behalf.

After we left the secure area of the airport, we were in a mass of people. Through the crowd, I caught sight of Plato jumping and waving. We hugged and he kept me close to his chest.

“You look gorgeous. Even tired and without make-up, you’re still a nerdista. I’m so glad you came. This is our driver, Mamush. C’mon, let’s get your bags.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mamush. Isn’t Sam here, too?”

“Nope. He’s back home. Someone has to work and fund these luxurious trips.” Plato guffawed because we were definitely south of luxury and east of comfortable in the crowded baggage claim. I thought I heard chickens clucking.

Mamush, who looked about eighteen years old, loaded our suitcases on top of his van and secured them with ropes and cords. We bumped our way along the streets of Addis Ababa. I gazed out the window, wondering about daily life in a city where poverty and death lived under the same roof.

When we arrived, Mamush pulled through an iron gate and drove behind the main house where Plato’s cousin, Desta, lived with her family. She was married to an Ethiopian man named Tariku.

There was my home for the next few days, a small cottage with concrete walls. Mamush carried my luggage inside. Chickens strutted around the yard like they owned it, and a couple of goats chewed on something over by the fence. Desta and Tariku emerged from the cottage.

“Hatty, we’re so happy to have you here! Are you tired?” Desta embraced me.

“No. I feel good. Thank you for letting me come.”

“We eat breakfast in the main house at eight. You’re welcome to join us. Then, we’ll head over to the orphanage and start painting.”

I heard a slight twang when she spoke. Though Plato grew up in Iowa, Desta had spent most of her life in a suburb of Nashville.

“That sounds perfect.” I placed my backpack beside the small kitchen table.

Desta showed me around the cozy cottage, explained how to get hot water for my shower, and then she and Tariku left me alone. I inhaled slowly, experiencing the rich new aromas that drifted in through the screens that separated me from the mosquitoes and animals milling around the yard.

I plopped down on the white blanket spread across the low bed. This was a definite departure from palace life. I took out my phone, happy to see two bars. Addis was only one hour ahead of Toulene, so I knew John was still awake. I sent him a text to let him know I was getting settled.

He wrote back, “Have fun and be safe. Love and miss you. Whatever you’re searching for, find it. I need you back here.”