Page 95 of No Kind of Hero
“Do you think,” April asked when she was able to talk again, when Michelle had pressed tissues into her hand, “that I’m wrong? Am I doing the right thing? Do you think?”
“I think,” Michelle said, “that only you know that. I think you need to listen to your heart. I think, as long as you’re choosing out of love, it’ll be the right choice.”
“Then I want to do it,” April said. She looked at Beth. “Will you help me? Is it hard?”
Beth was in two places at once. She’d wished for this, but now that it was here, she was aching. “I can help you,” she said. “Or rather, my partner Joan can. There’s a paper you sign to surrender your parental rights, but after that, you need to talk to a judge so they can make sure you know what you’re doing and that nobody’s pressured you into it. You can start today, but starting doesn’t make it final. You’ll have time to think about it every step of the way. You’ll have time to change your mind. I promise.”
“I don’t have any money for a lawyer,” April said. “But maybe I could do a payment plan, if she’d take that. And maybe Evan could . . .” She swallowed. “Send me a picture of Gracie sometimes. Maybe he could tell me how she’s doing.”
“Of course he will,” Beth said. “Of course. And let’s find out. I’ll call Joan. If you want to start the process now, we’ll do that.”
Gracie was playing with her blocks, oblivious and happy, and around her, three hearts were breaking. Beth went into the kitchen again, and this time, she called Joan.
“You’re kidding,” Joan said.
“I know. But she says she wants to.”
“Right.” Joan was her usual brisk self. At leastsomebodywouldn’t be emoting all over the place. “I’m at Capistrano’s with my walking group. We’ve been snowshoeing around Spirit Lake. What a time for it. Bring her down here, because I’ve had a glass of wine. I’ll run over to the office in the meantime and get my notary stamp. Do you still have the paperwork?”
“Yes.” Beth went and got the document Joan had drafted all the way back in September, back when April had seemed dangerous and this had seemed like the only answer. It was still there, tucked into a folder in the home office Evan had made for her, a built-in desk and shelving in the corner of their bedroom. “We’re coming down now,” she told Joan. “My mom, too. And April wants to know if you can take a payment plan.”
Joan said, “Oh, I think this one’s pro bono. If anything waseverpro bono, it’s this. And remind me to thank God tonight that I didn’t have to let my kids go to do right by them.”
“Yes,” Beth said. “Thanks. We’ll be right down.” She hung up, but she didn’t head straight back out. She texted Evan,Taking Gracie out for a bit. You can come home anytime. And I’ll have something to tell you.
She didn’t say any more, and when she had her coat on and was putting on Gracie’s, she knew she’d been right. April said, zipping up her own coat with fingers that trembled, “Please. Can you not tell Evan yet? I can’t stand to know he knows, to know what he’ll be thinking. Of me. Can you tell him after I’m gone?”
“Yes,” Beth said. “I can.”
“Do you think I’m being selfish?” April asked.
“No,” Beth said. “I think you’re being loving. I think you’re doing what a good mother does, what my mother did for me. You’re putting your daughter first.”
The whole thing took less than half an hour.
When April hugged her daughter goodbye beside her battered little car, Beth had to swallow past the lump in her throat. And when Gracie waved goodbye?
Please,Beth prayed.Let this be the right thing for April. And please, please let me know how to be a mother. Let me be able to fix my mistakes. Let me love my babies forever.
The car turned the corner and Michelle sighed, her breath frosty in the gray light of a cloudy winter day. “Well,” she said, “that’s that.”
“Yeah.” Evan’s van was in the driveway again. They needed to go in.
Michelle said, “You can be sorry for her. I know I am. But go tell Evan. Every minute you don’t is a minute he has to wait.” She kissed Gracie, and then she kissed Beth. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And in case I don’t tell you enough—I am very proud of you.”
Beth took Gracie into the house, got Henry’s usual welcome, as ecstatic for a return from the garbage can as for a homecoming from the Himalayas, set Gracie on her feet, took her hand, and said, “I hear your daddy banging things in the kitchen, don’t you? Let’s go find him. We can walk.”
Evan was on his back under the sink replacing the garbage disposal, so she couldn’t see all of him. She saw feet in work boots, legs in brown Carhartts, a broad torso in a blue-checked flannel shirt not that different from the one he’d worn on their first date, and muscular forearms. She stood over him and said, “Evan. Slide out. Now.”
He slid out. He was holding a wrench, he had a smudge on his cheek, and she loved him so much it hurt. She couldn’t stop smiling, either. So much emotion. She was a hot mess, and that was fine. “This is your baby girl,” she said. “She’syourbaby girl.”
“What?” He’d gone still again. On his back, holding the wrench, his eyes on hers.
She pulled the document out of her purse and handed it to him. Gracie plopped down on her bottom and crawled over to him, and he set the wrench down, sat up, and put his arm around his daughter. And he read.
Beth watched the tips of his ears get red, the hands holding the document begin to shake. He read it once, and he read it again. And then he set it down and rubbed a hand over his face.
Beth crouched down and got her hands on his thighs. “It’s all over,” she said. “She’s yours.”
