Alone in the Wild(67)

I say all this to Dalton. The kettle boils and it boils, and I’m still talking, the words rushing out. Finally, there’s nothing more to say, and I take the kettle and pour the coffees, brushing him off when he tries to help. I measure in the creamer with such care you’d think it was powdered gold. Then I stir, slowly and deliberately, giving myself time to recover.

“There are options,” he says. “If that’s what you want.”

“I’m not sure it is. I have no idea right now, and no time to sit and think about it. There’s no point either. If we don’t find Abby’s family, then she’s one option, and I’d do that before I’d even try carrying a baby to term myself. If we do find her family, then I need to figure out whether what I’m feeling is just a surge of maternal instinct. Then you and I need to talk about it, either way, and…”

I wave my hands. “Part of me wants to consider options, and another part says that’s like deciding which university to send your kid to before she’s even born.”

Dalton settles onto the bed with his coffee and motions for me to sit beside him. I do, and Storm moves to lie across our feet.

“So,” Dalton says. “You know that the council has threatened to kick me out of Rockton. Even when they don’t say it, I feel the weight of that hammer over my head. This woman, who is very smart, once told me that the best way to cope with that is to figure out a game plan. What I’d do if it happened.”

“I never said it was the best way. Just one way.”

He waves off the distinction. “The point is that my brain works like hers does. We need solid footing. I need to know that if I get kicked out, I have a plan. So I’m going to suggest that she needs the same thing. A plan for what we’d do if we ever decide we want one of those wrinkly things that screams for us to feed her and screams for us to change her shitty diaper and won’t let us sleep more than three hours at a stretch.”

“You make it sound so enticing.”

“I know. But in spite of their unbelievably selfish behavior, I will admit that I do see an appeal to babies that I never did before. Which is not to say that I want one. If we don’t find Abby’s parents, then I would seriously consider it and lean toward yes. Otherwise, I’d back up to just seriously considering it, for some point in the future.”

“Agreed.”

“So, let’s jump past Abby and jump past the soul-searching and decide on a plan of action, should the answer be yes, we want kids. How would we do that?”

I exhale. “Okay. Well, the problem, according to the doctors, isn’t whether I could get pregnant but whether I could carry to term. I would try, but it’s not like taking endless shots on a basketball net, waiting to sink one. Trying and failing would be…”

“Traumatic.”

When I make a face, he shakes his head and says, “My mom—my birth mother—lost a couple of pregnancies after Jacob, and I might have been young, but I remember it was really hard on them. So that’s an option, but with a limited number of trials.”

I nod.

“And if those trials put you in danger, would I have the right to say stop?” he asks.

“You would.”

“Good. Next option.”

I go quiet for a moment. Then I say, “Adoption is the most obvious. Maybe even the best to start with, but it’s not easy getting a baby. Even if we could…”

“You’d prefer your own. Our biological child.”

I’m about to shake my head. Then I pause to consider it more. “All other things being equal, yes, I suppose I would, as selfish as that is. But I’d take another baby in a heartbeat. Having our biological child isn’t that important. It’s just…”

I squirm, and his arm slides around my waist.

I continue, “I would worry that, given your situation, even if you felt okay with adoption, you might have misgivings later. What if it’s a very young mother who later regretted her decision? What if the child grew up wanting answers, wanting his or her biological family? That’s probably natural at some point, but I think it would be … difficult for you.”

He opens his mouth, and I can tell he’s ready to deny it. Then he pauses, like me, to consider before he says, “I would like to think I’d be fine. I do see your point, though, and it wouldn’t be fair to a kid if I brought my baggage into parenthood. However, if adoption is the best option, I’d be fine. I’d make sure I was.”

“The other is surrogacy,” I say.

He frowns, and I explain.

“So, we rent a womb?” he says.

I sputter a laugh. “It’s a little more complicated, but yes, that’s the basic idea.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “So that’s the plan, then, if we ever reach that stage. Try ourselves, and if that doesn’t work or it endangers you, then option two is surrogacy. Option three is adoption.” He looks at me. “Does that help?”

“It feels a little silly, coming up with a course of action for something we may never want, but…”

“It’s never silly if it makes you feel better.”

I lean over to kiss him. “It does. Thank you.”





THIRTY


We set off after a world-class breakfast of instant coffee, protein bars, and venison jerky. Then we walk all morning in snowshoes, carrying provisions on our backs, stopping only to dine on … water, half a protein bar, and a slab of venison jerky. I can grumble about the menu, but by lunch, I’m like a starving cartoon character, spotting shy Arctic hares and seeing only their plump bodies roasting on a spit.