A month after Jennifer’s adoption, she looked up at me with wide eyes and said, “Mommy, don’t trust Daddy.” Her words echoed in my thoughts, and I began to wonder what secrets my husband might be keeping.
I peered down at Jennifer’s small face, noticing her huge, alert eyes and shy, apprehensive smile.
After all those years of hoping, striving, and waiting, here she was: our baby.
Richard was practically glowing. He couldn’t stop staring at her, as if he was trying to remember every detail, every expression.
“Look at her, Marla,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “She’s just perfect.”
We had come a long way to get here. It had been doctor’s appointments, long conversations, and endless paperwork for adoption. When we eventually met Jennifer, something in me just… knew. She was only four, so small and quiet, but she already felt like one of us.
It’s been a few weeks since we formally adopted Jen, so we thought it was time for a short family outing. Richard leaned down to her level and smiled warmly. “Hey. How about we go get some ice cream? Would you like that?”
She didn’t respond immediately away, instead giving the tiniest nod and snuggling herself closer to my side.
Richard chuckled gently. “All right, ice cream it is. We’ll make it a special treat.”
I saw Richard try to coax Jennifer out and make her feel comfortable. Jennifer’s grip on my palm tightened slightly with each question he asked, and her eyes shifted back to mine.
When we arrived at the ice cream shop,”How about chocolate? Or maybe strawberry?” he inquired, his voice sparkling.
“Vanilla, please.”
She ate quietly, sitting by my side. She observed Richard with cautious attention, saying little, and I worried if it was all too much for her.
In the evening, when I tucked Jennifer into bed, she clung to my arm for longer than I expected.
“Mommy?” she whispered, her voice hesitant.
“Yes, sweetie?”
She took a time to glance away before returning my gaze, her eyes big and serious. “Don’t trust Daddy.”
“Why would you say that, honey?”
“He’s talking weird. Like he is hiding something.”
I tried to keep my voice calm. “Jennifer, Daddy loves you very much. He’s just trying to help you feel at home. You know that, right?”
When I eventually exited her room, Richard was waiting at the door. “How’d she do?” he said, his countenance hopeful.
“She’s asleep,” I said softly, observing his face.
“That’s good.” He appeared relieved, but I observed that his smile faded slightly. “I know it’s all new for her. For all of us. But I think we’ll be fine. Don’t you?”
I nodded, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Jennifer’s said.
The next day, as I stirred the pasta on the stove, I heard Richard’s voice come from the living room.
He was on the phone, his voice low and tense. I paused, wiped my hands on a towel, and listened as his words echoed throughout the kitchen.
“It’s been… harder than I expected,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s… sharp. Jennifer’s noticing more than I thought she would. I’m afraid she might tell Marla.”
Jennifer might tell me. Tell me, what? I tried to shake it off, telling myself there had to be an explanation. However, while I listened, my heart rate increased.
“It’s just… so hard to keep things under wraps,” Richard continued. “I don’t want Marla to find out… not until it’s ready.”
What was I not supposed to find out? What could he be withholding from me? I strained to hear, but his voice sank and I couldn’t understand the rest of his talk. He hung up the phone and began walking into the kitchen.
I stirred the noodles with more force than was required, attempting to appear normal as Richard walked in, looking delighted.
Later that evening, after we’d tucked Jennifer up, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I needed answers. I found Richard in the living room, looking over some paperwork, and sat across from him, hands gripped securely in my lap.
“Richard,” I began, my voice steadier than I felt, “I overheard you on the phone earlier.”
He raised an eyebrow, expressing astonishment and… something more on his face. “Oh?” he asked, evidently taken off guard. “What did you hear?”
I paused, selecting my words carefully. “I heard you say that Jennifer might… tell me something. And that it’s hard to keep things ‘under wraps.’What are you hiding from me?”
He placed down his papers and leaned forward, grabbing for my hand.
“Marla,” he said gently, “I’m not hiding anything bad. I promise.”
“Then what is it? What don’t you want Jennifer to tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to find out because… well, I was planning a surprise for Jennifer’s birthday. With my brother’s help.” He squeezed my hand, looking slightly embarrassed. “I wanted it to be a big deal, a special first birthday with us.”
“I wanted it to be perfect for her. I thought we could show her how much we care. That she’s part of our family now.” He smiled, looking a little relieved. “I knew Jennifer might say something, and I was worried she’d ruin the surprise.”
“I think Jennifer’s just… protective,” I said, trying to explain. “She doesn’t know what to expect, and when she told me not to trust you… I guess it just got to me.”
Richard gave a thoughtful nod. “She’s a sensitive kid. I think she’s still finding her way.” He looked at me, his expression earnest. “We’ll just have to make sure she feels safe and loved. All three of us.”
The next morning, as I saw Richard lovingly assist Jennifer in selecting her breakfast cereal, my heart lifted slightly.
I moved over to join them at the table, my hand resting on Jennifer’s shoulder. She looked up at me, her eyes calm, and a faint grin appeared on her face. It was as if she could feel the sudden harmony between us as if some hidden anxiety had been lifted.
