Tracie Peterson (2 page)

“I’ve . . . ruined . . . everything, God.” Her voice came in ragged little spurts. “I feel . . . so . . . useless.”

Her mind wandered back in time to one of her last memories of her birth mother. Severely addicted to alcohol and cocaine, the woman often had Tess run the streets for her well into the night. Tess knew the local pushers like other children knew their extended family members. J.J. could make her the best deal on coke. Slick Boy had the best weed, and Big Daddy carried a large assortment of amphetamines.

The life she’d come from was harsh and cold, a dismal beginning for a child.

But Tess’s memory had to do with something entirely different. This memory had started out good. She had been allowed to go to kindergarten after turning five years old that August. School had been a wonderful alternative from the life-style she’d known with her mother.

At school the shades were left up to let the light pour into the room and chase away the shadows. The teacher smelled good and dressed in beautiful clothes that had no holes in them. Tess could envision her teacher standing at the front of the room, smiling, instructing, and always caring. And on this day, she had praised Tess’s accomplishments and sent her home feeling that nothing in the world could be as wonderful as school.

Upon arriving home that day, Tess had called out excitedly, “Mommy! Mommy! Look what I made you!”

The kindergarten class of Grant Elementary had labored since Thanksgiving to create Christmas gifts for their mothers. They had been required to bring a plastic jar or container to school in order to make a vase for flowers. Tess couldn’t find a jar to bring, so her teacher had found a spare glass jar in the janitor’s closet. They weren’t supposed to use glass, but the teacher had sized up Tess and remarked on how mature she was and how she was certain Tess would be careful with the glass. And Tess had carried that jar around as if it contained the very essence of life. And in some ways, for her, it did.

They took yarn and saturated it with glue, then wrapped it round and round the jars until they were covered from top to bottom. Once dried, the yarn caused the jar to look like a coiled, colorful rope. The appearance and feel fascinated Tess. And she had brought it home as a Christmas present—her very first chance to give something to her mother.

“What are you yelling about?” her mother asked, stumbling into the living room wearing torn sweat pants and a T-shirt advertising her favorite beer
.

“I made you this for Christmas,” Tess declared proudly. “Teacher said mine was the prettiest.” She presented the vase to her mother and waited. Surely this would cause her mother to smile, to approve of her. Oh, how she wanted to please her mother. More than anything in the world, she just wanted her mother to love her and be proud of her
.

Tess waited eagerly, her tiny arms outstretched, the vase teetering in her hands
.

“What’s that ugly thing?” her mother questioned, her contempt quite clear
.

“It’s a vase for flowers. You put flowers inside.”

Her mother stared in disbelief for a moment. “Do you see any flowers around here?”

“No, but we could get some,” Tess suggested, certain that this made perfect sense
.

“I can’t afford to buy food,” her mother said angrily. “Where do you suppose I could come up with the money to buy flowers? You are, by far, the stupidest child ever born to this earth. What ever made you think I could use a vase?”

The anticipation of approval faded quickly in light of her mother’s condemnation. Tess’s lips began to quiver as she fought to keep from crying
.

“We made them in school,” she tried again. Hope faded from her voice. “Teacher said mine was the best.”

Her mother swept the vase from her hands in one fluid motion. For a brief moment, the vase seemed to be suspended in midair, and then it slammed against the wall. The dried yarn kept the glass from shattering all over the room, but it broke into pieces nevertheless
.

“There!” her mother declared. “That’s what I think of your teacher. Now clean up the mess while I go find some cigarettes. You are the most useless, good-for-nothing brat.” Her mother stormed off into the kitchen, muttering expletives all the way
.

Tess crept to the place where the broken peanut butter jar lay mingled with the glue-matted yarn. What once had been lovely and purposeful now lay as ugly trash. Her mother had a talent for turning beauty into rubble
.

“Lady, are you okay?”

Tess tried to place the voice and quickly realized it was coming from one of the fast-food employees as he tapped on her window. The present was little better than the past, yet she let the images of her mother fade away.

Rolling down the window a fraction, Tess nodded. “I’m fine.”

The kid eyed her suspiciously. “You sure you don’t want me to call someone? The police? An ambulance?”

“No,” Tess reassured him, reaching into her purse for a tissue. “I’m fine. I just had some bad news.”

The kid shrugged and went back to picking up trash in the parking lot. Tess dried her eyes and watched him work. He was a sweet kid. Hispanic in looks, tall and slender. He
couldn’t have been any more than sixteen or seventeen. His mother had obviously raised him to have manners and concern for other people.

Looking heavenward with heartfelt imploring, Tess whispered, “I would teach my child to be just as good. I swear I would. I wouldn’t be like my mother. I wouldn’t destroy and maim—I would love and cherish. I would never let my child feel anything but love. You have to know that, God. You know everything—you must know that.”

CHAPTER 2

“Tess, are you home?” Brad Holbrook called from the foyer of their high-rise condominium. He frowned when there was no response. Where could she be? He’d phoned several times that afternoon but had only reached the answering machine.

“Tess?”

Giving his suit coat a toss as he entered their bedroom, Brad saw every indication that Tess was home. Her purse sat on the dresser, her shoes were sitting by the bed. She had to be here.

“Tess?”

He glanced in the master bath but found it empty. Then he spied the balcony curtains blowing ever so slightly.
She must be outside
, he reasoned.

He pushed back the partially open sliding-glass door. There on the chaise lounge, his wife dozed peacefully. He smiled. It was unusual for her to take any time out to rest, but he knew business had been especially stressful of late.

Sitting down on a chair beside her, Brad watched his sleeping wife for several moments. She stirred his heart with a love and desire that he thought would have surely diminished after eleven years of marriage. He reached out and toyed with a long brown curl. He smiled when he thought of her insecurities after perming her hair. He liked the effect—liked the way her hair seemed to bounce and dance when she walked. Tess, however, was always quite critical with herself. She forced herself to walk a narrow line, always seeking ways to improve herself in one manner or another.

But to Brad, she was already perfection. He’d fallen in love with her from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. They’d met at her church. She was twenty and he was twenty-four. He had just finished a bachelor’s degree in marketing and she was knee-deep in her sophomore year at the University of Kansas.
He had teased her about majoring in social work, joking that she was too pretty to be one of those dowdy women who wore thick glasses and pulled their hair back into tight little buns. She had laughed at his stereotype and pointed him to three very attractive women at the church party who were already working for the state as social workers.

He shook his head. The years had passed so quickly, and yet Tess still looked as young and beautiful as she had on their wedding day.

She shifted a bit in her sleep as if coming awake, so Brad took the opportunity to nuzzle a kiss against her ear. She came awake slowly, opening dreamy eyes of chocolate brown to meet his smile.

“Wake up, my pretty little sun maiden,” he whispered.

“Hello,” she said, smiling sleepily. Yawning, she stretched her arms over her head, making it simple for Brad to pull her close.

“I worried when I couldn’t reach you,” he said, kissing her cheek in a lingering manner. “I called but you weren’t here. I even tried your cell phone.” He put his lips to her closed eyes, then trailed kisses down her nose to her lips. Kissing her with the promise of a shared passionate moment, Brad felt his wife tense.

Pulling back, he eyed her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Tess opened her eyes. The sleepy look diminished and one of serious reality took its place. “I saw David today.”

Brad nodded. “That’s right. You were supposed to get back some test results. So what happened?”

Tess shook her head. “Nothing happened. Nothing is going to happen. David can’t help us anymore. He said we could keep trying in vitro and the fertility drugs, but he knows it’s costing us a small fortune. He suggests we stop trying so hard to have a baby and just enjoy each other and life.”

Brad licked his lips and nodded. “He’s probably right.” The years of doctors studying and recording their love life was beginning to get on his nerves.

“You do know what this means, don’t you?” Tess questioned him with a pained expression.

He reached out and took hold of her hand. “It doesn’t mean that it’s impossible. David has always said he can’t find a real reason for why we aren’t conceiving.”

“It’s impossible enough,” Tess said, pulling away. “It’s hopeless.”

“No,” Brad said, shaking his head. “With God all things are possible.”

“David said the same thing, but you have to admit that possibility might also include the fact that He doesn’t want us to have a child,” Tess countered.

“I suppose that’s possible, but I doubt that’s the reason. The timing just isn’t right.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “I’m thirty-six years old. The right timing is rapidly slipping by us, Brad.”

“Women have babies into their fifties,” Brad threw out. “I mean, look at all the actresses who are waiting until their forties to have their first child.”

“Don’t!” Tess demanded, getting to her feet. “Don’t try to make this something it’s not. We aren’t opting to wait until our forties for children. We aren’t opting for any of this. We
can’t
have a baby. The sooner we accept it, the better we’ll be.”

Brad went to where his wife stood. She looked so hurt—so lost. He reached out and pulled her to him. She refused to yield, remaining stiff and distant.

“Sweetheart, I love you. It doesn’t matter to me that you can’t get pregnant. For all I know, it’s all my fault. We can’t play the blame game. I want children—your children—but I wouldn’t trade a house full of kids for the love we share. Don’t let this become a wall between us. I thought we agreed we were in this together.”

She softened, as he’d hoped she would. He could feel the tension ease just a bit as her shoulders rounded toward him and she buried her face against his neck.

He held her there for several minutes. The ocean breeze
blew gently against them, the warmth of the sun fading to leave a hint of a chill in the air.

“It’ll be all right,” he whispered against her hair. “You’ll see. One day we’ll have a child. I just know it.”

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’d like to believe that.”

“Then do.” He smiled and brushed back a stray curl. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world, and you’re mine. I’m a lucky man.”

She put her arms around his neck. “Oh, Brad, I love you so very much. I’m sorry for taking my pain out on you. You deserve something better than my anger and frustration.”

“I can think of many things you have to offer that could replace those less-desirable feelings,” he said, grinning. She melted against him, showing a willingness for whatever he had in mind. “Ah, Tess,” he murmured before touching his lips to hers. Her kiss held all the promise and encouragement he needed. Surely God would make things right for them.

****

Tess caught the ringing phone just before the answering machine picked up the call. “Tess Holbrook.”

“Tess, I don’t know if you remember me or not, but this is Laura Johnson in Kansas City.”

Tess laughed. “Of course I remember you. You had Elaine and me call you Aunt Laura. How are you?” Tess shuffled the tax papers she’d carried with her from the living room to one side and pulled forward a tuna salad sandwich that she’d been trying to get to for the last hour. This call would give her the perfect opportunity for lunch.

“We’re doing well. Darren has finally decided to retire from being the world’s busiest architect, and now we’re ready to do some serious planning for our future. That’s why I called. We want to use your services.”

Tess pulled up a note pad and grabbed a pencil. The
sandwich would have to wait a bit longer. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I know you work with people to relocate them. I just didn’t know what all was involved.”

Tess laughed. “Just about anything you want to be involved. I’ve done cases where the folks involved wanted me to take complete inventory of their lives and include every imaginable detail in the move. Then I’ve had cases where I did little more than help newcomers find a good doctor and hospital. Do you have a retirement location in mind?”

“Well, we had thought of the Southwest. We knew your sister Elaine was handling relocations in the Phoenix area,” Laura began, “but then we decided we liked the idea of the ocean and such. Cruises would be easy to enjoy, and you know how Darren loves to fish.”

“Those are all good points,” Tess said, making notes. “What kind of place did you have in mind?”

“Well, certainly something a whole lot smaller than this monstrosity. We should have downsized after Adam and Aaron left home. Somehow we just never got around to it and since Darren had designed the place and put so many additional renovations into it, we hated to let it go.”