Finding Home (3 page)

Nick had taken the chair across from me when
he brought the coffee, and every time I looked up at him he was
staring at me. “Why do I get the feeling you’re glossing over a lot
of details?” he said.

“Hmm, let me see. Because I am?”

“C’mon. What next?”

“I quit. And I left Toronto. I took the first
job that came along, at a lodge, Auberge Ciel, it’s a couple hours
north of Ottawa. I started out in the kitchen, waiting tables,
tending bar, and worked up into maintenance. I didn’t plan it, it
just sort of happened. It’s hard work, I have to cut grass and plow
snow and chop wood, but I love it.”

“No wonder you look so good!”

For some reason, perhaps because I was
feeling so desperate, I told him the truth. “Physically, I’ve never
felt better. But mentally I’m a wreck. See, it’s a hunting lodge,
and I loathe hunting. I can’t bear the people who do it.”

“Oh?” Nick said. “One of those animal-rights
types, are you?”

“They’re called antis, and I’m not active in
the movement or anything, just disgusted by hunters.”

Nick gave me a quizzical look. “Any women
hunt?”

“A few. More like to fish. But for hunting we
mostly get macho types who want to bag a moose or a bear. Talk
about an attitude. They think they own the world and can do
whatever they like. Every year it gets harder and harder to psyche
myself up for the season.”

“Is it a good lodge?”

“So they say. Modest, but comfortable, and
the food’s great. Baptiste’s an expert guide, and we offer just
about everything the big places do – exclusive rights, licenses for
nonresidents, boats, tree stands, fish and game storage and
preparation, fully-equipped cabins, dining room, lounge and
bar.”

“Sounds okay!”

“Just quoting from the brochure. We have
competitive rates on all-inclusive packages, May to November, and
we’ll even pick you up at the Ottawa airport, or over on Blue Sea
Lake, if you prefer to arrive by float plane.”

Nick grinned. “Hey, book me in.”

“No bloody way!” I knew he was joking, but
still. “God, I don’t think I can get through this fall. I’ve really
been agonizing over it. Trouble is, I don’t know what else to do. I
want to buy the place and turn it into a camp, but I can’t afford
it. But hey, what about you? You haven’t told me anything yet.”

Nick took a long drink of coffee, grimaced as
he swallowed. “Oh, nothing so fascinating. Traveled a bit after
college, got married, settled down and went to law school. Joined
my wife’s uncle’s firm in Toronto.”

“Really?” I said. “So, the stoner grows up.
Do you have kids?”

“No.” His body actually sagged and he bent
his head to the table. “No, we don’t. Kiera can’t, she, oh you
know, she just can’t.”

“That really sucks. I’m so sorry.”

“God, so am I. I mean, we have everything
money can buy, for Christ’s sake! But it’s not enough. I want a
child. I’d give anything.”

I felt my old caseworker self stirring. “Well
then,” I said, sympathetic, but detached and objective. “Have you
thought of adoption?”

“Hell yes.” Nick met my gaze then, his face
full of grief. “We’ve been over and over it. But it takes so long,
up to five years wait, maybe even more.”

“I know, I know,” I said. “It’s difficult.” I
felt so sorry for him then, remembering all the desperate couples
who’d come to the Children’s Agency every year I worked there. So
many couples, so few babies. “Well, there are other options. You
could try to adopt privately, or go to another country.”

“Maybe,” Nick said. “But I don’t really want
to adopt anyway. I want my own child.”

“I see.” As a caseworker I would have
questioned his use of
I
instead of
we
, but this was a
casual conversation, not counseling. So I just said, “And your
wife? How does she feel about it all?”

“Oh, Kiera wants a child too,
desperately.”

“What about
in vitro
fertilization
then?” I said. “Or fertility drugs? They can do amazing things
these days.”

“We’ve been considering it. But Kiera’s not
keen, I don’t know, she’s kind of scared, I think.”

At that point I should simply have said: Gee,
life’s tough, Nick, good luck! I hadn’t seen this guy in fourteen
years and I really didn’t want to get involved in his depressing
domestic problems. I don’t know why I blurted out, “Maybe you
should hire someone. You know, a surrogate mother?”

Nick’s face lit up with hope. “I’ve been
thinking about that.”

“Oh my god!” I said. “I was just kidding.
It’s not even legal, is it? And it would be incredibly complicated.
You read about these things in the paper and they’re always such a
mess.”

“Still, to have a child of your own, it would
be worth it.”

“Nick!” I said. “How can you say that? As I
remember, you had a horrible family life, hated your parents, and
blamed them for having you.”

But Nick didn’t seem to hear me. “It could
work though. I think I’m going to advertise for someone.”

“You’re crazy! That’s totally insane!” I saw
that I’d drunk my coffee without even noticing. I crushed my empty
cup. “I know, why don’t you just buy a baby on the Internet?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Nick said. “But it
might be a good place to find a surrogate.”

“Yeah, right. I guess if you’ve got enough
money you can convince anybody to do anything.”

“You got it, lady. There’s somebody out there
who wants to make an easy twenty-five grand.”

The tour group seated near us was making a
lot of noise leaving. I had to lean across the table until our
faces were just inches apart so Nick could hear me. “Hey! Double
that and I’ll do it!”

“For fifty grand? You’re on!”

“Done! That’s payment in U.S. dollars, of
course, and in advance!”

“No deal. Ten thousand U.S. on confirmation
of pregnancy, to be held in trust, and paid with interest along
with an additional forty thousand in one lump sum immediately after
a live birth.”

“Sounds like you’ve already thought it all
out.” What was I doing even discussing such a thing? “But really
Nick, I was joking.”

“Well I wasn’t. It makes perfect sense. I
want a child and you want money. Give me one good reason it
couldn’t work.”

“Okay. I’m getting too old. I turned
thirty-two this year.”

Nick laughed. “Not good enough. Lots of women
have their first baby after forty. You’re healthy and fit, you said
so yourself. Are you married or anything? Do you have a husband or
kids who’d care?”

I didn’t want to talk about Jay, but there
was no point in hiding the truth. “No, nobody,” I said. “I’m on my
own.” I clenched my hands in my lap, feeling the calluses on my
palms. “And you’re right about the money at least. I sure could use
it.”

“Then do it. You could go and stay with
Kiera. Her family has a place down in Nova Scotia, a wonderful old
oceanfront house. She spends most of her time there now, she’s
really into quilting. You’d love it. You’d love her, too.”

“Oh Nick. I was just kidding.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“Isn’t fifty grand a little more than the
going rate?” I was both scared and excited. Because in spite of
what I’d said, the idea wasn’t really all that repugnant to me.
Outrageous, yes. But so what? If I couldn’t buy the lodge any other
way, wasn’t outrageous called for?

“Money means nothing to me,” Nick said. “I
want a son.”

“Aha! So now it’s a son. Thank god you gave
yourself away. For a minute there you almost had me convinced it
was a good idea.”

“It is a good idea.”

“And what if the baby was a girl? You
wouldn’t want her? Or what if it was a boy, but he was brain
damaged, or had some dreadful disease? What if you have AIDS and
the baby and I both get it?”

Nick almost choked on the last of his coffee.
“Don’t be silly. You know I didn’t mean it that way. And in any
case there are tests for those things. But I can assure you it
wouldn’t be a problem.”

I clapped my hands. “How wonderful Mr.
Talbot. Thank you for sharing that.” Perhaps because I’d actually
been tempted, I was now very pissed off at his presumptuousness.
“Look, I’ve got to get back to the lodge. It’s been great seeing
you.”

“Please don’t go.” Nick grabbed my arm,
trying to stop me as I pushed away from the table. “Don’t disappear
on me again. Stay and talk about this.”

“No thanks. There’s nothing to talk about.
And besides, I’ve got to take the truck back. Baptiste needs it. He
can’t just go out and buy whatever he wants.”

Nick looked so hurt then I relented. After
all, he was an old friend, and I didn’t have many of those. “Okay,
okay, I’ll think about it. I’ll even admit the idea intrigues me.
But I really do have to go now. Thanks for the coffee.” I wriggled
out of his grasp, which was feeling far too pleasant.

Nick didn’t say goodbye. He simply took my
hand. “Call me anytime,” he said, pressing his card into my
palm.

All the long drive back from Montreal to
Auberge Ciel, my thoughts flip-flopped madly, like beached fish. I
wished I had someone I could talk to. But the person I considered
my best friend was now out of the question. Jay was a big useless
Becky-choosing jerk. Not that my being a surrogate mother was
something he’d want to talk about anyway. And I’d been so isolated
at the lodge I had no close women friends anymore. I was on my own
with this.

The real trouble was that although Nick’s
offer was daft, I wanted his money so much I didn’t trust myself.
With fifty thousand dollars I could put a solid down payment on the
lodge and organize a loan. I could start my camp. I could finally
have a place I belonged to, a place to call home.

It was so simple, really. All I had to do was
produce a baby. Just nine months work.

I’d never wanted children, and Jay had had a
vasectomy before I met him, so I hadn’t thought much about it
recently. In fact I’d wondered if maybe I didn’t have a biological
clock. But now curiosity about pregnancy and childbirth just surged
through me.

How could I possibly have let myself miss
such a basic female experience? Wouldn’t I forever regret not
taking this chance?

And wouldn’t having a child for someone who
couldn’t be a noble, worthwhile act? An unselfish deed in a very
selfish world?

When I’d first gone to church with the
Wembles as a teenager, the wonder of a world-wide human fellowship
had overwhelmed me. For a short while I’d even wanted to be a
missionary. I’d gotten over that fast enough, but I never shook the
desire to help others. To do good. And if helping Nick and his wife
made it possible for me to help disabled and disadvantaged kids,
how could it not be the right thing to do?

But years of casework had taught me to guard
against making assumptions without all the facts, to beware of easy
answers. I knew the best intentions have a way of producing the
worst results. Was I being rational? Was I making up for some loss
in my past? Would I really be able to give up a baby?

I had no idea.

All I knew was that women do do it. Have
always done it. After all, my own mother had given me up at birth.
What’s the difference who bears a child and who raises it? I didn’t
believe that bonding was the big deal it’s made out to be. Men have
always fathered children, then left. Why shouldn’t women be equally
casual?

Of course I knew people would say it’s the
cash that counts. Being a paid surrogate amounts to selling human
life, which is repulsive and morally wrong. But as I saw it, the
money would merely pay for my time, for the nine months it would
take to grow a baby, not for the baby itself. I wouldn’t be
demeaned – I’d just be doing my job. Strictly a business deal.

By the time I got back to the lodge I’d
convinced myself that everything depends on your perspective
anyway. I knew that most people hate the idea of surrogate
motherhood. But what did I care? It was like arguing over abortion.
You can talk theory and morality forever, but until it touches you
directly, until it’s you making the choice, there’s no argument
that really matters.

As I parked the truck Garou came bounding to
meet me. Usually I took him for a run when I came back from a day
off but I didn’t have the energy. The loss of Jay and the shock of
seeing Nick again had drained me. I rested in the old pine rocker
on the verandah instead. Garou circled and gave a few sharp,
hopeful barks, then settled at my feet. I stroked his sleek coat as
I tried to focus my thoughts. I wanted to decide that night whether
to take Nick up on his offer, or put it completely out of my
mind.

The air was clear and tranquil. Late
afternoon sunshine shimmered the surface of the lake so the water
spread before me like moiré silk. The thought of losing Auberge
Ciel seemed too much to bear. Minute details, things I’d barely
been conscious of in the past four years, suddenly took on a new
significance.

For instance, the very chair I was sitting in
felt like a living presence linking me to the lodge. According to
the Rivards it had been made by a local woodworker, a hermit who
lived on an island at the far end of the lake. I’d sat in this
chair hundreds of times without much noticing it. But now it seemed
as if the chair’s age and history, the very pine itself, knew and
held me.

A flock of geese flew over the bay,
broadcasting the horrible reminder that hunting season was coming
soon. Honk, honk, honk. Bang, bang, bang. In a few weeks the
terrible death troops would gather with their firearms and
crossbows. They enraged me, and I felt so helpless about it. I felt
more than vulnerable in hunting season. I felt already wounded.

When I’d first arrived at Auberge Ciel, I was
totally stressed-out from my ten years as a caseworker and I
neither knew nor cared what I was getting into. Nothing could be
worse than what I was leaving. I didn’t even know what the full
name, Auberge Ciel Chasse et Peche, meant. By the end of the first
summer I’d already moved from kitchen to outdoor work, and when the
hunters arrived in the fall they didn’t bother me much at all. I
was just so happy being there. Lost in the remoteness and beauty of
the place, I noticed nothing else.