Vada Faith (4 page)

Everyone in the world seemed to be having their dreams come true. Everyone except me and it was high time I had a turn.

I believed that just as I was a parent, Roy and Dottie deserved to be parents too.

I would do everything in my power to help them achieve their goal.

I had to convince my husband first and I wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

It was the only dark cloud looming on my horizon.

“What’s wrong?” John Wasper whispered through the darkness of our bedroom.

I could barely make out his form sitting in a chair across from the bed.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, yawning, snuggling into the covers, wanting to go back to asleep. “Why are you up, honey? It’s late.”

“I can’t sleep. Your sister said you had something to tell me. She was upset and said you stormed out of the shop. It sounded serious to me.”

He came over and stood by the bed, looking innocent in his striped pajamas. “Are you leaving me, Vada Faith?” He gave a long sigh. “I have a right to know. Missy Sue didn’t give Bruiser any warning when she left him.”

“I’m not leaving you.” I struggled to unwind myself from the sheet. “Why would you think that?” I sat up in bed. “Missy Sue was a big baby, you know that, honey.”

“I can’t sleep for thinking about it.”

“I’m not leaving you, silly man. I love you. Where’d you get an idea like that?” I leaned back against the headboard of the bed.

“Things haven’t been exactly right between us lately.”

“Maybe not,” I said arranging a pillow behind my head, “but it doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s me.” I took a minute to find the right words. “You know, I’ve always wanted to do something big with my life. Something meaningful.”

I was wide awake now and looking at a full moon through the window. I took that moon as an omen. Omen or not, I decided, it was as good a time as any to talk to him.

“Something has happened to me,” I said, again choosing my words carefully. “I don’t entirely understand it and I guess I don’t expect you to. I want to do something special for someone. Something important. Something some women wouldn’t or couldn’t do. I want to help this poor childless couple have a baby.”

There. It was out. I breathed easier now.

“Help a poor couple what?” He asked, leaning toward me. “Have a baby?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” I said. “Help them have a baby. A child. Their very own child.”

“What on earth? How could you help someone have a baby? I don’t get it.”

“I want to be a surrogate mother, honey.” I leaned over and took his hand. “There’s this wonderful couple I’ve met who can’t have kids. I want to help them realize their dream. They desperately want to have a child of their own but they can’t.” His hand went limp in mine. “I want to have it for them,” I said clinging to his lifeless hand.

He pulled away from me.

“Now,” I said, “it would be their baby from the start.” I continued to explain though he had turned away. “I’ll just womb it.” I tried to sound matter of fact like the pamphlet I’d read. However my heart pounded all the way up into my throat. “You know,” I said feeling like a balloon whose air had just gushed out of it. “Give it a place to nest until it’s born.”

“Vada Faith!” He sat down again. “Nest it until it’s born? Why would you want to do a crazy thing like that?”

Staring across at him I could see his muscles tighten in the moonlight. He ran his fingers through his hair and slumped down in the chair.

Though I couldn’t see his face I knew it was red and his brows were tightly knitted. He was a methodical man and I could almost hear his brain at work as he tried to figure out why his wife would want to do such a strange thing.

“You know how sick you were when you had the twins,” he said, his voice controlled. “How rough that whole thing was on you. You’re asking for trouble.” He was quiet for a minute. Finally he said more calmly, “No, you can’t do this crazy thing, Vada Faith. Nope. No way. I won’t allow it.”

“I’m not asking for trouble,” I said, running my fingers through my short blond hair, “and I’m not asking for your permission, thank you. I am capable of making a decision on my own. Just like you do, Mr. Always Do What He Wants.”

“Why don’t you just shoot me, then, Vada Faith? Go on. Get my old hunting rifle out of the closet and just blow my brains out.” He slumped back in the chair.

“Oh, stop it. You sound like my twin, the Eternal Drama Queen.” I smoothed out the sheets around me. “For once this isn’t about you.” My voice softened. “It’s not about her or about the girls. It’s about me. I have to make up my own mind. Honey, please, tell me you’ll support me whatever I decide. You said you love me.”

“I do love you,” he said, picking his words carefully. I could hear uneasiness in his voice.

“Well, then, I need to know. Are you with me on this surrogacy or not?” I felt myself teetering on the brink of something big. I wanted him to say yes — yet I was scared. There was no going back once it was done. If he pulled me into his arms and begged me not to do it, I knew I couldn’t go through with it. He didn’t. I waited until he finally spoke.

“I don’t know anything about surrogacy, you know that.” He sounded deflated and miserable and unsure of himself.

“There’s not much to know,” I said. “I’ll have a procedure to have my tubes untied. We’ll just take one step at a time. This means a lot to me, John Wasper. I really want to do this. Can I count on you? Please?”

“Haven’t you always been able to count on me? However, this is a different matter entirely. We’re not talking about you volunteering at the garden club.”

“I hate the garden club,” I said, slumping back down in bed, “that’s why I dropped out and you know it.” I fluffed my pillow and stuffed it under my head again. “You know I’ve always wanted to do something special with my life. Something important. Something nobody else has ever done. Nobody I know anyway. Don’t you see?”

I stared through the darkness at him. “This is my opportunity. Being a surrogate mother. You’ll love the Kilgores. They are the nicest people.”

“Who’re the Kilgores?”

“They’re the people who need a surrogate mother, John Wasper.” I was patient now, placating, trying to rid myself of the guilt I carried for not confiding in him sooner.

He didn’t say anything but came over and sat down on the bed. “I love you. You know that.”

“I love you too,” I said, smiling, and moving over to make room for him. Snuggling close to my husband in bed was one of the best things about being married. I wanted a brand new king size bed for the master suite of the new house I intended to buy in Crystal Springs. So we could snuggle down on the week ends with the girls and read the newspaper.

“You have to lay still,” I said, as he slid in beside me and snuggled close. He was a regular wiggly worm and I was the lay-completely-still type. “I have to get some rest.” I yawned and whispered softly as I felt his body pressing close to mine.

“I’ve got a long list of things to do tomorrow. Joy Ruth is so moody I can’t count on her help with anything.”

“I don’t like the sound of this surrogacy stuff. I want to know more about it. You hear?” He yawned. “You’ll have to tell me more.”

“I will.” I snuggled into the comfort of my husband’s warm body. “Soon as I’m rested,” I said, falling asleep almost before the words left my mouth. I was banking on the fact that if it wasn’t spelled woodworking or sports John Wasper would soon lose interest. That was how little I knew about my own husband.

That night I dreamed the Kilgores were sitting in my living room. Roy was wearing a pair of tiny blue running shorts and a muscle shirt. Dottie was dressed in a tight black leather skirt, jacket, and high heels. “Now we don’t need a contract for this,” Roy was saying, as he handed me an envelope filled with money. “Surrogacy contracts can be broken. Look at some of the cases over the years. This is different. We all trust each other here.”

“We can’t thank you enough,” Dottie gushed, “for using your own eggs.”

“Shush,” I said putting my finger over my mouth. “John Wasper doesn’t know I’m using my own eggs for the baby. Nobody does. It’s our secret.”

“It’s a deal,” Roy said, and smiled. His deep blue eyes seemed to see inside me. “Now there’s the money,” he said patting his perfectly molded hair. “Count it. Make sure it’s all there.”

I looked into the envelope. This was the first payment and I was eager to count it.

“Ten thousand dollars to start,” he said, breathlessly, as though he’d been running. “Is that enough, honey?”

At that instant, the alarm on the night stand sounded and John Wasper jumped out of bed. He, who usually sleeps right through the alarm, was up and moving about the room doing bends and stretches.

I kept my eyes closed hoping to drift back to sleep. I wanted to finish my dream. Of course I was wide awake.

I felt John Wasper staring down at me.

“What’s wrong?” I opened my eyes. “Was I talking in my sleep?” All I needed to do was say something I shouldn’t.

“Just mumbling,” he said, giving a full body stretch. He pulled on his old jeans. “I’ll put on coffee.” He never got up at this hour unless he wanted to talk.

Unfortunately I knew what was on his mind.

I’d already decided that what John Wasper didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. It wouldn’t hurt my sister either. She always wanted to do my thinking for me but this time I wasn’t letting her. If I wanted to use my own eggs to create this baby I would.

After taking my shower, I sat at the table with the morning newspaper and my coffee. I tried to focus on the Gazette’s top story about the recent vandalism out at the local cemetery.

“I can’t get this surrogacy thing off my mind,” John Wasper said, coming into the kitchen and draping his large, handsome frame over the chair across from me. “Why do you want to do this, honey? It’s not natural, having a baby for someone else.”

“I told you. I want to help this poor childless couple. Look at this,” I said, pushing the newspaper towards him. “Vandals went into the cemetery and destroyed some of the old Civil War tombstones.”

“I want to talk about this surrogacy some more, Vada Faith.” He stared at me.

I kept my eyes on the newspaper as if the cemetery story was the most engrossing story in the world. “How awful!” I commented.

He ignored me. “Is there something you’re aren’t telling me?” His big, beautiful brown eyes looked right inside my soul. “I know you, Vada Faith. So, come on. Give.”

“All right,” I said putting down the paper and taking a gulp of hot coffee that burned all the way down. “I’m getting paid fifty-thousand dollars.” I paused a minute to let that sink in and then continued. “Expenses. Clothes, and anything else I might want or need.”

“So,” he shook his head giving me a strange look, “this is really all about money and since when did money mean so much to you? You never cared about money before. I can’t believe you’d risk your life for a few bucks.” He traced the handle of his coffee cup with a finger that was redwood stained from the porch furniture he’d recently painted.

He was always doing something to improve the old house. It needed more work than we had money or time for and I couldn’t help it if his grandmother had left it to us or if Eleanor Roosevelt had had tea on the porch with Grandma Belle. I wanted a new house.

“I’m not risking my life for a few bucks,” I said, pleading with him. “It will mean a lot to me to help these people and you have to admit the money would help us out.” I sipped my coffee. “I want things. Things I don’t have. Things I’m never going to have. I want a new house out in that beautiful subdivision. There are only a few left.”

“I know, Vada Faith. You can wait just a little longer. There’s talk at work about me getting a promotion. My boss said to hang in. We just have to wait on some things. Who do you know’s got everything they want, anyway? You get those things, you’ll only want more. How come you can’t ever be happy? You’ve never been. Not since we met.”

“That’s not fair. This isn’t about me being happy. It’s about me doing something important before I die. Life is passing me by.”

“Jeez, you’re young still.” He went to the counter and poured more coffee into his cup. He turned and stared at me. “How can life be passing you by when you haven’t even lived yet?”

“You’re right! I haven’t lived yet and I want to start. Right now. While I have time. I want my obituary to say more than ‘she was a hairdresser.’ I’ve been tied to that beauty shop too long. I’m there day and night cutting, dyeing, perming, and curling hair. Do you know I dream about hair?”

“Honey, you’ve always loved doing hair.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “All you need is a little vacation. A break from your job.”

“I need more than a break. How would you like it if some middle-aged wannabe country singer with hardly any hair comes in and says, ‘Vada Faith, sweetheart, can you make me look like Carrie Underwood?’ I want to say do I look like a miracle worker here. Instead I hold my tongue and dye her hair. Then I try to fool her into thinking the new hair do is going to get her a record deal in Nashville.”

“You make people feel better about themselves. That’s the point. It’s important to them. It’s a great service.”

“Oh sure! You know poor Sissy Snyder. She doesn’t have one thing going for her and you know it. She colored her own hair last week, over processed it, and then came to me. “I want to look like a movie star, Vada Faith. Can you give me that Angelina Jolie look?

“I nearly cried. Instead I jumped in and fixed that mess then convinced her she looked just like Angelina Jolie. She was happy as a coon in a cornfield when she walked out of the shop door, and how do you think I felt?”

“You should have felt good about it. You don’t have to go and have a baby for some stranger because of Sissy Snyder.”

“What about Marge Randolph,” I continued, hoping he would see my point soon because I was running out of stories. “You know Marge is a trial. ‘All I want,’ she says, ‘is a style that will take twenty years off my face and twenty pounds off my butt.’ Well, don’t we all? Can’t you understand? These customers are driving me crazy! Not to mention my sister, Queen Joy Ruth.”