‘I don’t expect you to answer what I’m about to say right away, though we haven’t got the time to linger over decisions. You’ve said that Ms Cameron intends to adopt the child –’
‘River.’
‘River. Right.’ His pen scratches across the pad. ‘Do you know whether she intends to continue to live in LA? Or move back to Texas?’
‘She’s moving into a two-bedroom condo near the one she’s in now. I assume that means she plans to be here most of the time, if not all of the time.’
Pursing his lips, he taps his pen, staring at his handwritten notes. ‘My initial reaction was hope that I could extricate you from this situation, because this isn’t something for which you can serve a few weeks of community service or pay a fine, and then it’s all over.’
He leans up and our eyes lock – his dark, like Dori’s, and I wonder how long it’s been since he’s looked at me so directly. ‘I’m not going to lecture you about protection – I think you know these things, and you probably knew them then, but not well enough to be consistent. If anyone should be lectured, it’s me. Christ, you weren’t even fifteen when this happened.’ He runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, his jaw locked. ‘The fact remains, you fathered a child, even if you were a child yourself at the time – and instead of living with settled adoptive parents, he’s presently in foster care, and it’s very likely he’ll be living with your unstable ex-girlfriend soon, minutes away.’
‘What are you saying, Dad?’
‘I’m saying … that if you relinquish your rights to him now, you may live to regret it.’
Okay. This day is full of unanticipated responses. I nod once and stare at my hands as he continues.
‘When you were born, I was petrified that I’d be a horrible father. Your grandfather was a hard man and he taught me nothing of paternal tenderness. I guess in many ways my fear came true – I made it true. But I never turned my back on you. I don’t have to look at you right now and try to explain why I signed away my rights to you. Giving up a baby for adoption is a good thing, almost always, in cases like yours and Brooke’s. What’s happened to the – to River – is virtually unheard of. It couldn’t have been foreseen, and there’s little use asking why or how it happened. All that matters is what we choose to do about it now. What you choose to do about it now – because I won’t make this choice for you. But I’ll stand by you, no matter what you decide.’
I close my eyes and will the walls to shift further apart so I can breathe. ‘Assuming I don’t sign the relinquishment, what happens?’
‘Three choices. One, you simply refuse to sign it, making the adoption more difficult for Brooke, but likely resulting in an eventual relinquishment by default. Two, join Brooke’s bid to adopt and request joint custody. Three, file for full custody. Considering the fact that you were fifteen when he was born, she knew you were the father, and no one saw fit to inform your legal guardians, a case could be made that you never legally relinquished your rights. She signed her rights away, with full parental consent. You signed nothing, and neither did we.’
Brooke will be furious no matter which of those I choose. I’m going to drive Dori away as soon as I spill this to her. And I could destroy my mother’s fragile sobriety.
‘What about Mom? What will this do to her?’
His mouth forms a grim line, and he’s silent for a moment. ‘I’ve grappled with that all day. I don’t know, Reid. She’s been going to meetings every day. She’s doing well. Better than I’ve seen her in a decade. But you and I know that upheavals like this …’
I drop my head in my hands, pulled in a million directions. ‘I know.’
Ever the attorney, he says, ‘I’ll have to consider how to best disclose it to her. That will be mine to handle, however. You have enough on your plate.’
17
BROOKE
My discussion with Janelle goes as predicted – she has a gradually mushrooming shit-fit, insisting that I should have told her about River long before now.
‘Why?’ I ask, sitting on the tan leather sofa across from her desk. Boasting an impressive view of Hollywood, Janelle’s new corner office is located several floors up from her original shoebox-sized cube with its parking-lot view.
‘So I could be prepared for things like this!’ she exclaims.
I roll my eyes. ‘And how exactly would you have prepared for this? I gave him up for adoption when I was sixteen, and never expected to see him again. If I couldn’t have “prepared” for this, how the hell would you?’
‘Fine.’ She spits her go-to I’ve-had-it-up-to-here word at me. ‘But I still think you should have told me.’
I offer an indolent one-shoulder shrug, which she hates. ‘Janelle, if you don’t know by now that there’s a load of crap you don’t know about me and never will – then we’ve got an even bigger problem.’
If the pen she’s holding was any thinner, she’d be holding two busted pen halves and a face full of ink. Her jaw clenches and she smiles tightly. ‘Is there anything else you do plan to tell me?’
Here we go – the reason for my in-person visit. ‘Well. Yes.’
Her eyes widen. ‘You look sheepish. I’ve never seen you look like this. I don’t like it. What –’ I watch as her quick brain connects the dots and her face pales. ‘Oh, no. Paper Oceans – you’re still going to do it, right? Brooke. Brooke – I’m too young and healthy to die of a heart attack, even if I want to!’