Then Came You - Jennifer Weiner [130]
“I don’t believe you. Why should I believe you?”
She didn’t answer me. Instead, she asked, “Have you met Annie?”
“I have. She’s been staying here. Helping with the baby.”
This, finally, caused a crack in India’s placid exterior. She blinked rapidly. “What?”
“We didn’t know where you were. I had people looking, but we didn’t know if you’d turn up in time, and even if you did, we didn’t know if you’d want to be a mother. Annie’s been staying here, and Jules—she’s the egg donor—and her girlfriend, Kimmie—they’ve been babysitting.”
Now India was blinking even faster. “What? I don’t understand. You met the egg donor? How could that be?”
“I needed all the help I could get. Annie and Jules have been great. They wanted to help me,” I said, letting her fill in the blank of and you didn’t all by herself.
“Listen,” she said. This time she put her hand on my arm. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
“You’re thinking,” she continued, “that I’m going to be a terrible mother.”
“I don’t even think you planned on being a mother at all. I think you just wanted a baby to make sure you’d inherit my father’s money. I think that’s about the worst reason for having a baby in the world. I think you’re a bigamist, and I think...”
“I think,” she said, interrupting me, “that you have no clue what my life was like.”
“You mean before or after you were arrested? Or before you married my father without bothering to get divorced?”
She almost smiled. “It wasn’t that I didn’t bother to get divorced. I served David with papers. He never signed them. And by then, I’d changed my name . . .” Her voice trailed off. “You’re not entirely wrong. Money did have something to do with it. But mostly...”
She paused. I waited.
“Mostly,” she said, “I wanted your father and me to be a family. To have something that was ours. I think that’s why I couldn’t handle the funeral. Why I left . . .” Now her voice was cracking. She looked away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I couldn’t stand to think that the baby would be mine, not ours.”
“And you’d be stuck with it,” I added.
“That was part of it,” she answered. “But I figured out a lot of things while I was gone.” She smiled. “And I got divorced.”
“You know, you probably weren’t even legally married to my father. Which means you probably can’t inherit.”
She shrugged, but didn’t answer. “I don’t care about the money. I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s true,” she said. “I came back for my baby.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe you. And, by the way, it’s not your baby, and she has a name. Rory.”
She lifted her chin. “She’s not yours. I’m the mother.”
“You don’t think,” I said, “that if I went to a judge and told him what you did, and told him what you were, that they’d give me custody?”
Instead of answering, India asked, “Do you want a baby?”
“Interesting that you’d care about that now, after you and my father decided to give me custody if something happened.”
Another faint smile flitted across her face. “Your dad always thought that you were the responsible one.”
That hurt, imagining my dad discussing me with his new wife; knowing I’d never hear him compliment me again. “I am responsible. And I’ll be responsible.” I gave her a hard look. “You should go.” I flicked my hand toward the doors, in case she’d forgotten where they were. “Go rent an apartment. Or move into a hotel. Wait for the will to be probated. You might not get it all, but I’m sure you’ll get something, and you can move to Majorca or wherever you want to go to catch your next rich husband. I can handle this.”
“I’m sure you can. That’s why your dad and I picked you. But it isn’t fair.”
She had to be kidding me. “None of this is fair!” I blurted.
“It isn’t fair,” she continued, as if I hadn’t spoken, “that you won’t get to enjoy your twenties. That you’ll be stuck taking care of a baby who isn’t yours. When your father and I chose you as the guardian, we had no idea . . .” Her voice was trembling, but she made