“Yes, please.”

“I’ll get a Pap done while I’m at it,” she said. “Let me grab a nurse or someone. Would you be upset if I had the janitor... Never mind,” she said, laughing. “Of course it will be a nurse.”

And then she was gone again. Sierra was in love with her.

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Culver said, “I’m guessing four to six weeks. Everything else in the pelvis is fine. And you can go ahead and stop taking those birth control pills.” She laughed happily at her joke.

“Did Connie tell you we’re in the adoption process?”

“No, he didn’t mention that,” she said. “On a waiting list?”

“No,” Sierra said. “We’re fostering a little boy, six months old. His mother was killed in a car accident and we’re adopting him with his maternal grandmother’s approval.”

“Six months?” Dr. Culver said. “Wow. You think you were tired before...”

“I know. Can you wave your magic wand and make this little surprise a girl?”

“I charge extra for that,” she said. Then the doctor leaned close, squeezed Sierra’s shoulder and said, “You’re going to have a wonderful family. Try not to worry. Try to enjoy all the enjoyable parts—there are many. And when you’re at the end of your rope, you can come in and complain to me for a dollar a minute.”

Sierra laughed.

“I can’t count the number of patients I’ve had who get pregnant just a few months into the adoption process. It’s amazing. I think holding a baby must make some women fire off eggs like rockets.”

“Is it really only three to five percent that things go terribly wrong?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I have no idea. I made that up. But I bet I’m close if not right on!”

Sierra went home feeling especially blessed. It looked like they had a healthy and beautiful baby boy and a perfectly blossoming pregnancy.

Two days later, the doorbell rang and her world crashed and burned.

Mrs. Jergens stood there with another woman, introduced as the social worker from the county. Mrs. Jergens was a little hunched from her arthritis, the knuckles on her hands swollen and some of her fingers bent. “I can’t do it,” she said. “I can’t give away my flesh and blood grandchild.”

Family not only need to consist of merely those whom we share blood, but also for those

whom we’d give blood.

—CHARLES DICKENS

17

SIERRA GRABBED HER CHEST. She tried to keep her head even though her heart was hammering. “Come in,” Sierra said. “Let’s talk about this.”

“I’m not going to change my mind,” the older woman said.

The social worker introduced herself. “I’m Jeanne Blasette,” she said. And then she looked down.

“I didn’t say come in and change your mind. Just please come in. Sam’s having a nap but he won’t be asleep long. Please,” Sierra said, holding the door open. She thanked God the house was perfect. She’d thought about leaving the clean laundry on the sofa to fold, all the shoes scattered, dishes in the sink. But she’d had a spurt of energy and knew she’d better make use of it. There were even vacuum cleaner tracks on the carpet.

Molly sauntered into the room, and when she saw they had company, her back end began to wag and wiggle ferociously. “Molly, sit,” Sierra commanded. Molly must have heard the panic in her voice because she instantly sat with no argument.

“Can I get you something to drink? At least a water?”

“I’ll have a water,” Mrs. Jergens said, leaning on that cane with two hands.

“Please, sit down. I’ll get you both water.”

When she got to the kitchen, she grabbed her phone off the counter and texted Connie. Can you come home? They’re taking Sam from us! I’ll text Cal. And to Cal she texted, Help! Sam’s grandmother is here to take him away from us! Can you come?

Then she grabbed two bottled waters from the fridge and two glasses, taking them back to the living room. “I texted my husband, Mrs. Jergens. I’m sure if he’s not out on a call, he’ll be here soon. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I just couldn’t sleep over it,” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “I should at least try to take care of Sam. He’s mine, after all.”

“I know it must have been a very difficult decision, but we won’t take him away from you. You’ll be a part of our family.” When she said the word family, she hiccuped a little.

“My cousin’s girl, Sandy—she said she’d stay with me and help with the baby. That should make it easier.”

“But what if you get sick?” Sierra asked. “Or have a particularly bad day and just can’t lift him? Or hold him? He’s already a hefty little guy.”

“I know you’re disappointed but I can’t take a chance that I’d have terrible regrets! I had to make a decision before the adoption is final. Once it’s final... You wouldn’t want me to wait until then. Then we’d have to go to court and I don’t know that I’d do so well, with the arthritis and all.”

“Mrs. Jergens, you did a very brave thing, letting us apply to adopt him. I know you wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t suffering from medical issues. You wouldn’t have had to, I know that. But where will you be in five years? I don’t know too much about rheumatoid arthritis—is it likely you can get stronger? Or weaker? Will Sam have to be given up then because of health reasons?”

“Well, there’s the thing. If Sandy works out, maybe Sam will stay in the family!”

“Do you have a lot of confidence of that?” Sierra asked nervously. “How old is Sandy?”

“She’s nineteen,” Mrs. Jergens said. “My daughter was twenty!”

“Tell me about Sandy,” Sierra asked. “Please?”

“My cousin’s daughter,” Mrs. Jergens said. “I’ve known her since she was born.”

“But I thought you didn’t have much contact with your extended family,” Sierra said. “You said there were cousins, but they lived far away and you hadn’t had much contact.”

“Sandy’s people live in Nashville. She’s looking for a chance to get away, make something of herself, get out of Tennessee. She’ll like it here.”

“But what will happen in a year or two years when Sandy doesn’t want to be a babysitter and caregiver? What will you do? At two, Sam is still going to need so much tending.” Sierra turned her watering eyes toward the social worker. “Ms. Blasette? Have you talked with Mrs. Jergens about all the possibilities?”

Jeanne Blasette sat forward on the sofa. “We’ve talked at length. She wants to try to raise Sam. She wants to honor the memory of her daughter. I’ve suggested she leave Sam in foster care in that case. You both could agree not to finalize the adoption, her cousin’s daughter could come and help around the house, you could bring Sam to her for visits and if all is well and it looks like it could work out with her cousin’s daughter, then she could claim her grandson permanently.”

“Yes,” Sierra said. “Leave things as they are awhile longer, let’s see how—”

“But that’s not what I want,” Mrs. Jergens said. “I spent about five hours on the phone with Sandy and her mother. We’re all straight on what we’ll need. If I have a baby to tend, my grandson, there will be added disability to help with the cost of having another member of the household. We’ve been working this out for a week. She’s getting to my house today. She just called from Colorado Springs and said she’s almost here.”

“Please think this over,” Sierra begged. “I’m afraid that even with help, Sam could be too much for you. He’s a lot of baby. He’s the best baby in the world, really, but even the best baby—”

“I’ve made plans,” the woman said.

“Do you have furniture and supplies for him?” Sierra asked.

“I’d like to have back what I gave you,” she said. “My neighbor loaned a crib. Jeanne brought a car seat for him. We’ll need formula and—”

Sierra shot a glance at Jeanne Blasette. “Why didn’t you call me and warn me this was going to happen?”

“We were talking about it, trying to work out the details, and then Mrs. Jergens decided she wanted to pick him up today. She didn’t ask me to come along but I didn’t want you to have questions and not be here to answer them. I had to move around some appointments but I wanted to be here for this. I know the shock is difficult. I wish I could say this sort of thing never happens, but...”

“It happens all the time,” Mrs. Jergens said. “My own kid was in foster care for a couple of years way back when...I had some money problems. I got it straightened out and got her back...”

“Oh dear God,” Sierra said.

“You’ll need a little time to put together a bag for him,” Ms. Blasette said. “I brought a gym duffel for you to use if you don’t have one.”

“We’re going to wait until my husband and brother get here,” Sierra said.

“Why?” Mrs. Jergens said.

“My husband loves his son, ma’am. I’m not letting him leave this house without Connie here. And my brother is my lawyer. Hopefully he’s on his way. Let me check my phone.” Sierra went to the kitchen and picked up her phone. “Yes, they’re both coming.”

“Go get him right now,” Mrs. Jergens demanded. “Grab some diapers and clothes. My neighbor can help me with the rest. They have a teenager who drives—he can come back here and pick up things. I’m not waiting around. I know the law, I know my rights.”

“He’s asleep,” Sierra said. The woman was so dispassionate that Sierra became afraid of what she or this cousin might be like if Sam wasn’t easy, wasn’t perfect, if they were tired or inconvenienced. “Please, I beg of you, let’s not end our relationship like this, in one afternoon. Let’s go more slowly. Let me care for Sam, bring him to you for visits, have some trial time to see if you really want to take on a full-time baby.”