Vital Signs (8 page)

 

“I
WISH YOU'D CALLED
first, Hailey.” Laura wasn't smiling. She was standing in the doorway of her house, long, polished, chestnut hair pulled into a stylish knot on top of her elegant head, wearing a silver tracksuit that probably cost more than Hailey's entire summer wardrobe.

“I'm really sorry, but I'm off to the gym,” she went on. “I can't cancel because this is the only time my trainer could spare.”

On Sunday afternoon? That didn't sound right.

“Well, would Sam and Chris like to come out with me for a couple hours, then? We could go to a movie. That new one's on, about the ice age.”

“Sorry, they're not here. They've gone to visit friends.”

Talk about a cool reception. If the temperature wasn't in the low eighties, Hailey would have shivered. “I see.” At this rate, her niece and nephew would be voting before she got to spend any time with them. “Okay, I guess there's no point hanging
around waiting till you're done?” Nothing like one last try at being a hero for her mother's sake.

Laura shrugged. “I guess you can if you like.” She sounded downright grudging. “But I'll be about an hour and a half by the time I've showered, and then I have to pick up the kids and take them to the mall. They both need new runners and I'm looking for a decent fall jacket. I can't believe the poor quality that's out there.”

“I'll pass.” The last thing Hailey wanted was to end up shopping with her sister, and she suspected Laura knew it. It meant trekking from one high-end store to the next, waiting while her sister tried on piles of clothing, being called on to give an opinion and make choices between one item and another, when everything Laura put on her long, slender body could only look spectacular.

“Maybe you could take the kids to a movie next Friday?” Laura frowned. “I'm not sure, but I don't
think
they have anything going that night.”

“Can't. I'm working nights next week.” Hailey considered suggesting another day and decided against it. It would probably be easier to make an appointment with the mayor. “Well, I'll be on my way. Enjoy your workout.”

The double garage doors were open, and as she got in her truck and drove away, Hailey noticed that Frank's black BMW wasn't there. It was Sunday. Wouldn't you think they'd be spending at least part of it as a family? Did they ever eat a family dinner together? Hailey had never been invited if they did. But then, what the heck did she know about how
real families spent their time? The only thing she had to go on was her own life, and Jean and Laura had been on diets most of the time, so eating had been really low on their priority list.

Thinking about families made her feel lonely. Ingrid and Sam had gone to Vancouver Island for the weekend, so visiting them was out.

She must be really desperate, Hailey decided, to even think about dropping in on her mother.

J
EAN HAD SOLD
the house the girls had grown up in and moved into an apartment in Kerrisdale, an up-scale neighborhood on the west side of Vancouver. Hailey parked the truck behind her mother's building and buzzed the intercom.

Jean's voice over the speaker was tinny but welcoming. “Hailey, what a surprise. Come right up.”

By the time the elevator stopped on the third floor, Hailey was already having second thoughts. Jean was going to grill her about Laura.

Coincidentally her mother was wearing a tracksuit similar to the one Laura had had on. They'd probably shopped for them together, Hailey realized. Jean's was navy blue, and Hailey thought for the billionth time how similar in appearance her mother and sister were. Apart from the obvious age difference, they could have been clones—tall, slender, high cheekbones, good boobs, that gleaming chestnut hair.

Jean had worked for years as a doctor's receptionist, and she took wonderful care of herself, exercising and having regular facials and manicures. Over the years she'd had a number of what she discreetly called “gentleman friends,” and Hailey often
wondered why her mother had never remarried. She'd been a widow for seventeen years and must have had plenty of offers.

Hailey took her sandals off at the door—her mother had white carpets—and Jean led the way into the kitchen.

“I was just going to make myself an early supper. Would you stay and have some with me?”

“Sure, thanks. Can I help?”

“You can wash and chop the stuff for salad,” Jean said, getting the ingredients out of the fridge and handing them to Hailey. “I've got soup from the deli, and I was going to make a grilled cheese sandwich to go with it.”

“Sounds good to me.” It did, too.

There was a companionable feeling to helping Jean prepare the simple meal. To keep her mother's mind off Laura, Hailey asked about the elderly neighbor across the hall who kept stealing the newspapers.

They were actually sitting at the round glass-topped dining table eating salad before Jean got around to the subject.

“What is it with her, Hailey? I haven't seen her for over a week, and she doesn't confide in me the way she always has.” Jean frowned and gnawed her lip. “If she weren't so young, I'd swear she was starting menopause.”

Hailey had to laugh. “She's thirty-two, Mom. I dropped over there before I came here, but she was on her way to the gym. The kids were gone and Frank wasn't home.”

“Oh, he's never home,” Jean sniffed. “That's probably half the problem.”

Hailey's jaw dropped. She'd never heard her mother say a negative thing about her revered son-in-law.
What's the world coming to?

“Although maybe if Laura stayed home more,” Jean added. “An empty house isn't very inviting to come home to.”

Things are back to normal. What a relief.

“And if she's going to be this way about whatever's bothering her, then she'll just have to deal with it on her own,” Jean declared, but Hailey could see she was really hurt, and she couldn't help feeling sorry for her mother. After all, Jean was missing her best friend.

“How's that adoption thing coming, Hailey?”

What was going on here? Jean was actually asking her something about her life, for heaven's sake.

“I got final approval just last week.” Hailey debated mentioning David. She was pretty certain Jean would be against fostering; she hadn't been enthusiastic about adoption. Well, hell, might as well get it over with.

“But there's a little boy on the ward that I want to have as a foster child, Mom.”

“A foster child? But I thought you wanted to adopt. I mean, couldn't they take him away from you if you were just his foster parent?”

No doubt about it, Jean had an instinct for the jugular.

“That could happen, but I'm willing to take the risk. He's the sweetest, best little boy, and I've fallen
in love with him,” she heard herself saying. What was wrong with her, telling all this to her mother? Jean was certain to burst her balloon.

But to her surprise, her mother didn't. She voiced Hailey's own fears, instead.

“I'd hate to see you take him and then have to give him up. I don't want you to get your heart broken.”

“Me, neither. But he doesn't have anybody who cares about him, and I can't stand that.”

Jean smiled. “You always were softhearted. I remember you bringing those kids home and feeding them.”

“The Polaski kids. I wonder what became of them?”

“They grew up and got into trouble. I always said they would. Tell me about this boy you're set on having.”

Hailey described David, adding, “There's been no sign of his mother or any other relative, even though the authorities are doing their best to locate them. I personally think the chances are pretty good that his mother is dead, which means that sooner or later he'll be available for adoption. But whatever the situation, I'm willing to take the chance. As long as the ministry approves it, of course.”

Jean looked skeptical. “That's a pretty big
if,
I imagine. Aren't there rules about foster kids having two parents? There certainly used to be.”

“I don't think they're as stringent as before.” Hailey thought of Roy. At least she had someone on
her side. She wasn't going to tell her mom about him, though.

“I'd think this over carefully, Hailey. You have to consider that at some point you'll marry and have babies of your own. I really don't think adopting can be the same as having your own. Why not just be patient until Mr. Right comes along?”

Well, at least they were getting back to normal here, Hailey thought with a sigh. Jean had been voicing that same opinion ever since Hailey first brought up the subject of adoption.

“There is no Mr. Right, Mom. I don't believe in that stuff, you know that. I'll just end up being forty or fifty without any kids that way.”

“Well, I think you're being too hasty. And you know, Hailey, you just don't work at making yourself attractive. I've been telling you for years that you need to do something with all that hair. A good hairdresser could do wonders. And as slim as you are, you could wear clothes that accentuated your waistline, instead of—” she gave Hailey's loose, worn shorts and T-shirt a meaningful glance “—instead of sticking with this grunge look. It doesn't suit you.”

Well, it had been nice while it lasted, but now they were definitely back on familiar ground.

The meal was over, so Hailey picked up the plates and took them to the dishwasher as Jean elaborated on a little boutique on West Boulevard that had some cute things Hailey really should see.

“Mom, I don't have money for clothes, and besides, I don't need any. I wear uniforms at work, and
the rest of the time I'm working on my house. There's no point putting anything decent on to do that.”

“You should have something nice just in case.” Jean wasn't about to give up.

When her mother got like this, there was no point arguing with her. Hailey thanked her for the meal, kissed her cheek and headed out the door.

She started for home, but halfway there she changed direction and drove to St. Joe's, instead. Supper would be over, and the nurses would be giving the babies their baths and getting them ready for bed.

Nobody would mind if she offered to do David. Her arms suddenly ached to hold him, and she parked and raced up the stairs, instead of waiting for the elevator.

He was in the playroom with a couple of the older children and a volunteer, squatting on his haunches in front of a plastic train set, his beloved Bonzo on the floor beside him. He was dressed in one of the red tracksuits Nicole had bought him, and his shiny black hair, longer now, curled angelically around his face. He looked up and his face broke into a huge, excited smile when he spotted Hailey.

“Hiya, Lee.” He grabbed his dog and came trotting over to her. She reached down and picked him up, her heart swelling with love.

“So, big fellow, how you doin'?” She pressed a kiss to his satiny cheek. “You want to come for a walk with Hailey?”

“Walk.” He nodded his head with enthusiasm. “Walk with Lee.”

He was talking more and more. She set him down and took his hand, and slowly they walked up and down the corridors. Hailey greeted the other nurses, and they all remarked on how quickly David was improving.

She spent the next hour giving him a bath, splashing water with him, tickling his tummy and making him laugh. His sturdy little body was slowly beginning to fill out, losing the emaciated look he'd had when he was first admitted. Each smile, each giggle were precious gifts, and she savored them.

When he was in fresh blue pajamas, she carried him to the bookrack and let him pick one out for her to read. The one he chose was a Dr. Seuss book called, coincidentally enough,
Are You My Mother?

Hailey had read it to children many times before, and she knew it by memory. But tonight, sitting in a rocking chair with the warm, fragrant child cuddled against her, the words took on new meaning. As the little bird in the story asked one animal and then the next if she was his mother, Hailey felt tears flowing down her cheeks.

She wanted so much to be David's mother. In her heart of hearts, she'd already taken on the role. Surely bureaucracy wouldn't prevent it?

“Mama?” David pointed a tiny finger at the picture of the baby bird when he finally succeeded in his quest. “You my mama?”

There was a plaintive note in his sleepy voice, and Hailey quickly put the book down and picked up
another one, reading and singing nursery rhymes to him until at last he fell asleep, his downy head pillowed under her chin.

She sat cuddling him, wondering how long little kids remembered things. Would he always have some memory of the careless girl who'd been his birth mother, the girl who'd walked out of the apartment, leaving the door unlocked, and somehow forgotten or—
be fair here,
Hailey cautioned herself—was somehow prevented from returning to her baby son?

Kids forget fast, she reassured herself, carrying her sleeping bundle to the crib and gently putting him in it.

She couldn't remember things from when
she
was two, she recalled as she looked down at him and pressed one last kiss to the top of his head.

David would remember only the love she'd lavish on him. She'd make certain he had the happiest childhood she could possibly provide.

Please God,
she whispered as she reluctantly made her way to the elevator.
Please, God, give me a chance to love this child the way he ought to be loved. I'll do such a good job. I promise I will.

 

T
HE WEATHER
the following morning was so lovely Hailey decided to work outside, instead of in. With a great deal of difficulty, she carried one of the oak doors she was stripping out to the backyard, laid it across two blocks of wood and set to it with sandpaper.

It was hard physical work, and it felt good. She
was wearing cutoff jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt, and soon she could feel the sweat running down her back. Her hair kept falling into her eyes, so she found two clips and shoved it back.

“Hi, Hailey. Nice day again, huh?”

Roy's voice made her jump. He'd come around the side of the house and was standing a few feet away by the time she noticed him. He was wearing tan slacks and a dark-brown short-sleeved shirt, and she couldn't help but be aware of how attractive he was—and what she must look like, covered in sweat and sawdust.

“Roy, hello. What are you doing here?” As soon as she'd blurted out the question, she realized how stupid it sounded, and her face burned. But that wouldn't matter, anyway, because the part that wasn't covered with freckles was undoubtedly beet-red from the sun.

“Sorry to just drop in on you. I did try to phone a few minutes ago, but there was no answer. Figured you were probably out here. I brought some forms for you to fill out. I want to get this application for fostering approved as quickly as possible. David's doctor told me this morning that he'll probably be released sometime next week.”

Hailey's heart skipped a beat, and her mind went tumbling through a list of things she had to do before she brought David home—
if
she brought him home.

She set the sandpaper down and realized she was trembling. It was the thought of David, of course, but mixed in with it was an awareness of Roy, the
breadth of his shoulders, the way his hair shone in the sunlight.

“Thanks.” She rubbed her dusty hand on the seat of her shorts and reached for the brown envelope he was extending. “Come on inside. I'll get us a glass of lemonade.” She had some she'd made from scratch cooling in the fridge, thank goodness.

“I can't stay long, I've got an appointment in a little while. But lemonade sounds great.”

She led the way up the back steps and into her cool kitchen, and she wasn't sure if her skin was prickling from the sun or from knowing he was behind her. He sat down at the small kitchen table, as much at ease as if he'd spent far more time here than just one Sunday morning. She washed her hands and splashed cool water on her face, rubbing it dry with a clean kitchen towel.

“How did you manage to get that door outside by yourself? Those old oak doors weigh a ton.”

“Us skinny gals are stronger than we look.” She lifted her arm and made a muscle.

“I'm impressed. I won't challenge you to an arm-wrestling contest, that's for sure.” His eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. They also went up and down her in an unconscious and very masculine survey, and she must have been hallucinating, because she thought she saw admiration in his expression.

She poured the lemonade, added ice and set his glass in front of him, then sat down and sipped her own. Was he experiencing the same heightened awareness of her that she was of him?