Vada Faith
Authors: Barbara A. Whittington
Tags: #Romance, #love, #relationships, #loss, #mothers, #forgiveness, #sisters, #twins, #miscarriage, #surrogacy, #growing up, #daughters
Barbara A. Whittington
This is a work of fiction. All characters and names portrayed in this novel, or the depiction of locales, are either the product of the author’s imagiation or used fictitiously. Any resemblance of any character or person in this novel, either living or dead, is purely coincidental. Business establishments and events in this novel are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance is purely coincidental. Any references to specific names or products are mentioned only for the sake of providing a sense of reality to the story.
Vada Faith
Copyright © 2012 by Barbara A. Whittington
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, scanned, or electronically transmitted without the express permission of the author.
For information about this novel, contact the author at
[email protected]
with Vada Faith in the subject line. Check out
www.barbwhitti.blogspot.com
also.
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Dedicated to my husband, Raymond, and my daughters Lisa, Susan, and Jill without whose love, support, and help, I would never have finished
Vada Faith
.
To my grandchildren, Daniel, Jillian, Samantha, Steven, Tanner, Chase, Mackenzie, and Austin who keep me inspired.
I owe much to my parents, Ollie and Cecil Null, who gave me my humor and what little talent I have. And to West Virginia, who etched her indelible stamp on my soul and continues to lure me back to her beautiful hills, valleys, and streams, I can only say I love you.
Thanks go to Elizabeth Vollstadt, friend and author, who has been with me from the start of this story and to Sherry Hartzler, friend and author, who with Liz has seen me through to the end of the manuscript, editing, badgering, cheering. Also to Marcie Anderson, writer-teacher extraordinare, who graciously nurtured my love for writing in our monthly meetings in Pepper Pike - way back when. Thanks to Donna Peltz, Martha Thorpe, and Molly Perry, part of the Cleveland group, who always believed in me! (And I in them.)
Appreciation goes to my current Logan writer’s group: Sherry Hartzler, who willingly reads what I bring forth, Justine Wittich, who keeps my grammar clean, Pam Gary, to whom I owe much for her editing abilities, Jill Sanders, our newest writer, to our only male writer in the group, Luke Moore, author and guitar strummer whose writing and music keeps us singing, smiling, and writing.
Gratitude goes to Elaine English, friend and literary agent, who believed in Vada Faith from the beginning, to Lee Smith, one of my favorite authors, who took the first chapter of Vada Faith with her on vacation and wrote to tell me what great characters and great narrative energy the story had.
I’ve been blessed by the support of so many friends and family during this journey. Thanks to my sisters, Sue and Ella, who have believed in me from birth.
For all that I’ve been given, I can only say thank you and God bless you.
“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”
Helen Keller
Chapter One
“I’m going to be a surrogate mother,” I said, positioning the pink salon chair so my twin sister, Joy Ruth, could see her hair in the mirror. I made the announcement calmly, as if my knees were not shaking. I held on to the back of the chair for support.
My sister’s eyes popped open, wider than I’d ever seen them, and she froze for a few seconds.
I held my breath. The air between us was as charged as a new battery. The secret that I’d kept inside me for too long was now out.
“A surrogate mother!” She squealed as if I’d squirted her with bug spray instead of the expensive hair spray I held in my hand.
“Yes,” I said, letting the air out of my lungs slowly. “A surrogate mother.”
I gave her hair another good misting.
“A surrogate mother?” She repeated, her eyes still frozen in place.
“Yes, I’m thinking about having a baby for a couple who can’t have a child of their own.”
I gave her hair another generous misting of hair spray, hoping she hadn’t noticed my shaking hands.
“Stop!” Joy Ruth waved at the gathering mist. “Your tubes are tied.” She blinked several times, her eyes finally working. She shook her head in puzzlement. “Your tubes have been tied since the twins were born.” She turned to face me. “You said you’d never give birth again in this life.” She grasped the arms of the chair as if she were experiencing air turbulence on a plane instead of sitting right there in a chair in our beauty salon. “You’re teasing. Right? Vada Faith?”
I ignored her and grabbed the blow dryer, aiming it at a clump of her blonde hair on the pink counter.
“Are you trying to make medical history?” She fanned herself with her hand, and sighed. “I can see the headlines now. Woman with tied tubes gives birth to ten pound baby girl.” She turned back to her reflection in the mirror and stared into my eyes. “Oh, my God! You mean it, don’t you, Vada Faith?” A stricken look came across her face. She whipped around to stare at me. “You mean you’d have a baby and give it away? Have you lost your mind?”
I went to the closet and grabbed the pink broom she had found at the Dollar Store and started sweeping her blonde hair into a pile. I had enough on my mind without her throwing a hissy fit.
Thankfully, her eyes wandered back to her own reflection but this was news she couldn’t ignore. She turned back to me and shook her head in total disbelief. “Have a baby and give it away?”
“Go on,” I said, busying myself by straightening the counter in front of me, “make this difficult for me. I knew you would.”
I put the hair dryer back in the rack and brought out a stack of new magazines and placed them on the counter. It was getting so we had to cater to our customers.
“Don’t you have Country Stars Mag?” Midgy Brown had asked only yesterday.
I wanted to say, “Like we need to know what country singers are doing every two-seconds.” Instead I rushed across the street to Phillips Drug Store and bought the latest issue until we could get a subscription ordered.
“Did I say I am a surrogate mother today, Joy Ruth?” I fanned the new magazines out so our customers could see the selection. “No! I did not. I said I am thinking about it. In the future, Joy Ruth. In the future. There’s a big difference here. Besides, I’ve decided to have that tube surgery reversed.”
“Why would you go and do a thing like that? You said you didn’t want more kids.” She fluffed her bangs and ran her fingers back through her long blonde hair.
I’d been trying to persuade her to let me give her a stylish short cut ever since we graduated from beauty school. An inch was the most she’d let me cut. She still wore her hair the way she had in high school.
“I don’t want any more kids.” I ran my fingers through my own short blonde hair. This was worse than explaining something to my two little girls. “I would be having a baby for the Kilgores.”
“The who?” Her eyebrows shot up into two dark arches over her blue eyes.
I’d never noticed before how dark her eyebrows were. Mine were much lighter. Another difference between us.
“The Kilgores.” I picked up a comb and ran it through my bangs, which were wispy and totally unlike Joy Ruth’s. I kept my hair short and simple. The way I tried to keep my life.
Lately, though, it didn’t seem to be working.
I sighed. I was tired of repeating everything to her. It seemed that was my role in life. “They built that big house out on the mountain. It’s where the old Sherman place used to be.”
Telling my sister about wanting to be a surrogate mother was harder than I’d thought it would be. Almost as hard as trying to make the decision itself. I had hoped for her support. Who was I kidding. I knew deep down, I’d never win her over on this one.
“Good Lord!” She squealed. “Why would you have a baby for them? Isn’t he the guy with the tan? The one I see in the mall in those skimpy nylon running shorts? His wife’s always tagging along behind. The Barbie doll look alike.”
“They’re good people,” I said, taking the scissors and snipping a flyaway hair from her head. I tried not to think of Roy Kilgore in his tiny running shorts or of Dottie Kilgore who really did look like she belonged in a cardboard package with a cellophane front. I was already too far into this thing to have any negative thoughts. Any thoughts at all that kept me from looking anywhere but straight ahead. Yep. It was too late. I was already into this thing knee-deep. I had given my word to the Kilgores.
“Will you put those scissors down,” she snapped, reaching up and taking them from me. “Look here.” She placed the scissors on the counter.
I could feel the storm clouds gathering as I faced her.
“I know some good people,” she said, in her prissy voice, “but you don’t see me having babies for them. Are you crazy?” Her face bunched up into a frown and her eyes narrowed. “Is there something I don’t know? Are you having an affair with Roy Kilgore? Is that what this is about?” She stared down at her denim capris.
“No!” I fell into a chair beside her. “I can’t believe you said that.” I looked down at my own denim capris. Our pants matched perfectly. How could we dress alike without ever discussing it? Twin syndrome. It drove me nuts.
“Well, then, are your hormones out of whack? Are you going through the change? What’s going on?”
“I have not cracked up.” I could see my pale face in the mirror. “I am not going through the change. Thank you.” It was like her to blame it on menopause, the big topic among the women in our salon.
I had decided to tell her about the surrogacy today because it was Monday and the shop was closed. We usually spent the day bringing the books up to date, doing our hair and nails, and catching up with the details of our personal lives.
I studied my tanned arms where I’d smoothed on some Estee Lauder tanning cream earlier. “Maybe a change,” I finally answered her question, “but not the one you’re referring to. I want to do something significant with my life. I want to do something for someone else. Besides, I have to think about the future. The Kilgores will pay fifty-thousand dollars to whoever carries their baby, plus expenses, and anything else the surrogate might need or want.” I reached over to the pump on the counter and squirted some coconut hand cream into my hands.
“It’s not just about money, though,” I said, “I’ve thought it all through and I really want to do this for them. Besides,” I sighed, “where else could I get that kind of money? The way things are now I’m never going to get that new house I want. By the time I save a down payment, the beautiful house I want in Crystal Springs will be gone. I don’t happen to have a stock portfolio like you.”
As the words left my mouth I knew I’d stepped over the line.
My sister gave me a dirty look. She hated it when I referred to the money she received from a car accident in high school. Thankfully, she wasn’t hurt and she’d invested some of the settlement in the shop. She even put my name up out front so that I’d know we truly were partners. I was grateful to her for that.
However, she was judgmental with a capital J. I expected to see Judge Joy Ruth have her own TV show any day.
“Can I help it if some old man rear ended the car I was riding in?” She dipped a cotton ball into polish remover and with great swipes started cleaning off her red nail polish. “Can I help it that the guy was a bank president and he gave me a big settlement just for being there in the back seat of Jo Dee Rendell’s car? So, I doubled it in investments. Are you doing this to get even?”