“We understand,” I said, “you’ve contacted the adoption agency in regard to our daughter Angelina.”
Moreland nodded.
“According to Mrs. Perala at the agency, Garrett doesn’t want to sign the papers giving us full custody of Angelina. This came as an unbelievable shock to us. The agency said this was the first time this has ever happened to them. Of course, you can imagine this is something we never even thought possible, that someone could wait eighteen months, then step forward.”
Garrett wouldn’t meet my eyes. He alternated between studying the ceiling light fixtures and flicking glances at my wife. Moreland was still, but I could tell by a rapid pulsing in his temple he was becoming agitated.
“Mr. Moreland,” I said, “we love Angelina, and she loves us. We are the only parents she’s ever known. The birth mother selected us from several very deserving couples, and we’ve done everything we can to provide a loving house and family. Look around you. Melissa resigned from her job so she could stay home with the baby and provide full-time care. Melissa is Angelina’s mother.” I didn’t say what should have come next, that I was her father. No reason at this point to alienate Garrett when I had the inkling he was on our side.
“We hope now that you and Garrett have met us and seen our home that you will consider signing the papers,” I said.
I liked the way Moreland seemed to listen to me as I spoke, and noted that his eyes swept around the room when I mentioned our home.
I was encouraged when he said, “You have a very nice home, and I don’t doubt your sincerity.”
Then it came.
“But…”
In my peripheral vision, I could see Melissa squirm. Her hands tightened on the arms of her chair.
“… we have a different view.”
Moreland gestured toward Garrett. “My son made a very terrible mistake. I am ashamed of him. His mother, Kellie, is ashamed of him. He is ashamed of himself. This is a black mark on our family, this behavior. He had some bad friends at the time, and they encouraged this kind of thing. They are no longer his friends. That’s why we sent him away for a while. We wanted him to get his head on straight, grow up into a man. But Garrett, and our family, can’t avoid our responsibilities or the consequences of his stupid actions while he was younger. It is a situation we must deal with ourselves, within our family. We want to raise our child in our family.”
I couldn’t find words to speak. Our child.
“Mr. and Mrs. McGuane,” Moreland said, leaning forward in the chair and looking from Melissa to me and back to Melissa, “I’m a federal judge, as I think you know. I’m known as a fair judge, and a tough one. I believe in accountability and being responsible for one’s behavior. If there’s one thing I want to pass along to my son, it’s that there are consequences in life. It’s vitally important that we bear responsibility. Garrett is responsible for the conception and birth of this baby.
“Please don’t misunderstand what I’m saying,” Moreland said in a conciliatory tone. “I have nothing against you or your wife. It is obvious you love the baby, and you’ve provided a wonderful home in a wonderful neighborhood. I am sorry this has to happen. I am truly, truly sorry. We didn’t know about our granddaughter until I found the letters from the adoption agency in Garrett’s room. He hadn’t even opened them,” he said, shooting a withering look at his son, who rolled his eyes. Then back to us: “Surely there are other babies?”
He sounded almost reasonable in his words if not his intent.
Come on, Melissa, I wanted to plead. Say something here.Instead, she studied Moreland with cold but curious intensity.
“Mr. Moreland,” I said as softly as I could, “what you’re asking is not possible. Angelina has been our daughter for nine months, and that doesn’t include the seven months prior to that we were with the birth mother awaiting delivery. We’ve bonded as a family. I don’t need to point out that during all of that time we never even knew Garrett, or you. If you had concerns, we would have reached out to you. To come here now is just unreasonable.”
Moreland nodded in sympathy. He said, “I know this is going to be hard for you. I also know the financial outlay you’ve made.”
I felt myself begin to squirm.
“I’ve done some research, Mr. and Mrs. McGuane. I know that it likely cost you over $25,000 to transact the adoption. I know Mrs. McGuane is no longer working outside the home, which is admirable. And Mr. McGuane, I know that a salary of $57,500 is not very much to maintain a house like this and a family. I’m sympathetic to both of you, but we know how deeply you are in debt, and that is not a pleasant place to be. I’m prepared to cover all of your costs, plus what it would take to adopt another child.”
I felt violated by his knowledge. Our careful staging for the meeting was gone just like that. Poof. I shot a look at Melissa. Her face was an alabaster mask. Her eyes were pinched and hard, a look I’d never seen. A look that emboldened me and terrified me at the same time. I was amazed she had remained silent. I’m amazed I didn’t leap across the table at him.
“It’s not about money,” I said. “It’s much, much too late for that. Maybe if you’d come to us before Angelina was born…”
“I didn’t know,” Moreland said, his voice rising with anger, but not at us. He looked at his son with pure contempt. “Garrett was out of the country with his mother for several months. He never told us anything about it. If he had, we wouldn’t be here now.”
Melissa said to Garrett, “Where were you?” Her voice was leaden.
Garrett didn’t seem to realize she was talking to him.
“He was in the Netherlands and England visiting relatives,” Moreland answered for him. “Kellie’s extended family and just being tourists. We learned of this,” he gestured to us, “only two months ago.”
In my peripheral vision, I saw Garrett roll his eyes.
“Did you know she was pregnant?” Melissa asked Garrett.
Garrett looked at Melissa with a half smile and shrugged in a way that said, “What ever.”
I leaned forward in my chair until I had Moreland’s attention, and said, “This is not about you. It’s not about your son. It’s not about us. This is about Angelina and what’s best for her.” Trying to drive a wedge between father and son.
Moreland paused a long time before saying, “It is about the baby, I agree. But the baby is part of my family, our family, despite my son’s behavior. The baby is our blood and our responsibility, not yours. We must right this wrong.”
It was later when I realized Moreland, the entire time he was in our home, never once said “Angelina.” Always the baby.
I looked at Garrett. He was ignoring us, his eyes fixed on Melissa, who had caught him this time and stared back. The intensity of their gaze seemed to sizzle through the air. I couldn’t stand it another second.
“Garrett,” I said.
Nothing.
“Garrett.”
Slowly, he turned his head toward me. Contemptuous.
“I have to ask you a question.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Do you really want to be a father? Do you really want to change your life right now? Do you realize how much work it is to be a father, to care for and support a baby?”
Moreland spoke for him once again. “Kellie and I will raise the baby. She will be our granddaughter and our daughter. Garrett will go to college to become a lawyer or a doctor, and when he’s married and has a home, he will take the child in with him.”
“I asked Garrett,” I said.
“He has nothing to say about it,” Moreland said, heat in his voice. “We have discussed this in our family, and that is the way it will be.”