Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, but the storyline is a product of my crazy, overactive mind.
a·dopt: To take into one's family through legal means and raise as one's own child. (The Free Online Dictionary)
Chapter 1: Our Child
Do you know what it´s like when you´re scared of phones? Your cellphone, the house phone, just any phone can destroy the happiness that you´ve so desperately tried to build for yourself and your significant other. You see, me and my husband, we haven´t had the easiest ride in the thing called marriage. Four years ago we were almost at the breaking point, ready to file for a divorce.
All I could see was the white coat. The name tag that read ´Dr. Gerandy´. The pen that was tugged away in the chest pocket of the oh-so-white lab coat.
"I´m sorry that I´m late. I just had to check on a patient. So, Dr. Cullen, Mrs. Cullen, what can I do for you today?" The doctor asked after letting us into his office.
"My wife and I, we´re here for some advice, an objective medical opinion, if you will. Esme just went through her fourth fertility treatment and the results were disappointing to say the least. We´ve been disagreeing on whether or not we should try again. I don´t think it´s healthy for her to try anymore," Carlisle explained calmly, as if all of this was not affecting him at all.
That´s what he had been like for the last month. His calm exterior was almost eerie, because I was certain that inside he was feeling the same grief as I was over yet another failed try at fertility treatment.
"I´m sorry, Mrs. Cullen, but I have to agree with your husband. I would not recommend another round of the treatment for you. The stress that another treatment would cause your body, might be too much for it to handle," the doctor´s words sounded so far way that I could barely hear them.
Six years ago we found out that we couldn´t get pregnant. Four years ago we heard that fertility treatments would not be the way for us to get a child. The weeks following the visit at Dr. Gerandy´s office, all we did was fight. We fought about every little thing and the fear of our marriage not surviving the infertility gnawed at both of us. We were almost ready to get a divorce, but our love seemed to be strong enough to hold us together. We started couples´ therapy and after just six months, things started to get better. Another three months later we were done with the therapy and happier than ever before in our marriage. We were happy but still childless.
For a year, we looked into different options. We came to the conclusion that adoption might be the right thing for us. The thought of being foster parents and living in fear of losing the children that came to live with us, terrified both me and Carlisle too much.
So we started to preparations for becoming adoptive parents to a child in the foster care system. We enrolled in several training courses, went through countless home check-ups and interviews but it was all worth it, because after the ordeal we were allowed to adopt.
And this is how we ended up to this point where we fear our phones. We enquired about a 1-year-old who was abandoned by his parents at birth. He had spent his first year in a foster home and the couple was supposed to adopt him, but their biological daughter was diagnosed with leukemia and they didn´t think that going through with the adoption process would be wise in their situation. Now the child protective services were looking for a family who would be willing to adopt the child. I was anxious, because I knew that any time the phone rang we might get new information about the boy and whether or not we were chosen to be his family.
Days went by and we heard nothing from the CPS. Carlisle worked a lot, sometimes even doing double shifts at the hospital. I got an interesting job offer myself – a young couple who had just moved to Forks had heard about my work and wanted me to do the interior designing for their new home. I was, however, unwilling to start a new project because I knew that if we were chosen to be the boy´s family, I would have to stop working, at least for a while.
It was Monday, the 9th of March, when we got the call. The lady on the other end introduced herself as Anne Sanders and told me that she was a social worker who worked for the CPS.
"I´m the new case worker on the Harry Andrews case. Mrs. Delaware had to take some leave to address some personal issues. Anyway, I´m sorry but I have to inform you that the CPS doesn´t think that you were the best fit for Harry. He is going to be sent to live with a family who lives in Seattle. They – we think that it´s a good environment for the child," Miss Sanders spoke in one long sentence, not even stopping to breathe. She seemed to be eager to get the bad news out and end the call. And the worst thing was how totally uncaring she sounded. She didn´t seem to care about the boy for she sounded one hundred percent indifferent as she babbled on about the city being the best environment for Harry.
After yet another ´I am sorry´ and a hurried goodbye, which were about as fake as her concern for Harry, Miss Sanders ended the call. The receiver felt slippery on my hand as I put it down. My legs gave out and I crumbled into a sobbing heap on the kitchen floor. Carlisle, who had heard my cries, came running down the stairs.
"What´s wrong, love? Why are you crying?" he sounded panicked but I couldn´t find the strength to look up and meet his gaze.
"The social s-services… They called a-a-and… said that it w-we are n-not going to b-be Harry´s parents," I managed to get out through clenched teeth. It hurt so badly. Adoption would be our last chance of getting a child and even that was not going to work since there was, and always would be, a better family for the child.
"Oh, I´m so sorry, my love. We just have to keep trying. I just know that there is a child out there who needs us just like we need them. Maybe Harry just wasn´t meant to be our baby boy, but our child is somewhere out there," Carlisle whispered, holding me close. I could feel moisture in my hair and from that I knew that he was crying too. This was just as hard for him as it was for me and I knew that he wanted a child just as badly as I did. We sat there, holding each other on kitchen floor, for a very long time. We were trying to come to terms with yet another failed attempt to build a family. But still I was more certain than ever that, just like Carlisle had said, our child was out there. We would just have to find him.
During the following six months we were turned down on three other enquiries. Two little girls and one 10-year-old boy were sent to other families. But we didn´t give up. We sent out an enquiry after another. I still refused to take on new houses to work on and Carlisle worked less, too. The time that we took off from work went to trying to find our child.
It was a cold morning in early November when our house phone rang. I answered very formally, wondering who it might be.
"Hello, Mrs. Cullen, my name is Lindsey Stewart and I work with the social services. I´m a case worker and I have this one boy who I was hoping you and your husband might be interested to adopt. I know you haven´t asked about him but I saw your name on more than one enquiry of other children from the last six months. You seem to be eager to have a child and this boy needs a home urgently. I mean they all do, but…" the woman laughed humorlessly. Unlike baby Harry´s case worker, or some other ladies who worked at the social services, Miss Stewart seemed compassionate. It sounded like she actually cared about what happened to the children she worked with.
"Tell me more about him, Miss Stewart," I encouraged the social worker.
"His name is Edward Masen. He is six years old. His family lives in Chicago, but while on a holiday in Seattle, they just left the boy behind. We ran his family name through the police database and found some… pretty ugly stuff. The mother, Elizabeth, has been arrested twice for hiding drugs in their apartment in Chicago. The father, Edward senior, raped two girls in his high school years but never went to prison. His parents were lawyers who were able to free their son from charges," What the social worker was telling me made me sick. How could any child live with parent like that?
"Since then, the neighbors have reported several times that they hear Elizabeth screaming during the night, and claim that her husband beats her. When the boy was found outside the CPS office, he didn´t have any signs of physical abuse on him. That was three days ago. He´s in a short-term foster home right now and the family is expecting some information from me in a couple of days. I will e-mail you his file for more details. Please call and tell me whether you think you can take him as soon as possible," Miss Steward ended the call after pleasant goodbyes and me promising that we would read Edward´s file.
When I ended the call with Miss Stewart, I guess a part of me already knew that whatever the file said, we wouldn´t turn away from Edward. Somehow, I was sure that Edward was our child.
A/N: So, this is yet another journey to crazy land of writing for me. Like it? Hate it? Please review. Reviews make a happy writer. A happy writer writes faster ;)
- La Hija de la Luna