Only Mine

Dakota smiled. “Don’t panic. It’s not all that scary or contagious. PCOS is a hormone imbalance. I’m handling it by keeping my weight down and exercising. I take a few hormones. On its own it can make getting pregnant really difficult.”

Denise frowned. “All right,” she said slowly. “And the pelvic endometriosis? That means what? Cysts or growths?”

“Something like that. Dr. Galloway was surprised I had both, but it can happen. She cleaned things up so I don’t have the pain anymore.”

Her mother leaned toward her. “What are you saying? Did you have an operation? Were you in the hospital?”

“No. It was a simple outpatient thing. I was fine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because that was the least of it.”

Dakota swallowed. She’d been so careful not to let anyone know. She hadn’t wanted to have to listen to sympathy, to hear people say it would be fine when she’d known it wouldn’t be. She’d been in a place where words would only make things worse.

But weeks, then months, had passed and the old cliché about time healing all wounds was nearly true. She wasn’t healed, but she could finally say the truth aloud. She should know—she’d been practicing in her small rented house for days now.

She forced herself to look into her mother’s concerned, dark eyes. “The PCOS is under control. I’m going to live a long, healthy life. Either condition makes it more difficult to get pregnant. Having both of them means it’s pretty unlikely I can get pregnant the old-fashioned way, as you said. Dr. Galloway says it’s about a one-in-one-hundred shot.”

Denise’s mouth trembled and tears pooled in her eyes. “No,” she whispered. “Oh, honey, no.”

Dakota had half expected recriminations. A cry of “Why didn’t you tell me?” Instead her mother stood, then pulled her to her feet and held on as if she would never let go.

The warmth of the familiar embrace touched Dakota’s cold, dark places. Those buried so deep, she hadn’t even known they were there.

“I’m sorry,” her mother told her, kissing her cheek. “You said you found out last fall?”

Dakota nodded.

“Your sisters mentioned something had upset you. We thought it was a man, but it was this, wasn’t it?

Dakota nodded again. She’d gone into work after finding out what was wrong and had started sobbing in front of her boss. While she’d never told him the cause, her grief hadn’t exactly been subtle.

“I shouldn’t be surprised you kept it to yourself,” her mother told her. “You were always the one to think things through before talking to anyone.”

They sat back at the table.

“I wish I could fix this,” Denise admitted. “I wish I’d done more when you first had these problems as a teenager. I feel so guilty.”

“Don’t,” Dakota told her. “It’s just one of those things.”

Denise drew in a breath. Dakota could see the determination returning to her mother’s eyes.

“Regardless,” Denise said firmly, “you’re healthy and strong and you’ll get through this. As you said, there are things that can be done. When you get married, you and your husband can decide what you want to do.” She paused. “This is why you’re adopting. You want to be sure you have children.”

“Yes. When I found all this out, I felt broken inside.”

“You’re not broken.”

“I know that in my head, but in my heart I’m not so sure. What if I never get married?”

“You will.”

“Mom, I’m twenty-eight years old. I’ve never been in love. Isn’t that weird?”

“You’ve been busy. You had your doctorate before you were twenty-five. That took tremendous effort.”

“I know, but …” She’d always wanted a man in her life. She just couldn’t seem to find him. At this point, she wasn’t even searching for Mr. Right. A reasonably decent guy who didn’t run screaming into the night at the sight of her would be pretty darned fabulous.

“I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m perfectly capable of being a single mom. It’s not like I’ll be alone—not in this town, or with my family.”

“No, you wouldn’t be alone, but having children will make it difficult to find the right man.”

“If I meet someone who can’t accept all of me, including an adopted child, then he’s not the guy for me.”

Denise smiled. “I raised such wonderful children.”

Dakota laughed. “Because it’s all about you.”

“Sometimes.” She leaned forward. “All right, adoption it is. Have you started looking? Can I help?”

Emotions swelled inside of Dakota—the most powerful was gratitude. No matter what, she could always depend on her mom.

“I couldn’t go through it without you. Adopting as a single parent isn’t easy. I researched international adoptions and applied with an agency that works exclusively in Kazakhstan.”

“I don’t even know where that is.”

“Kazakhstan is the ninth largest country in the world and the largest country that is completely landlocked.” Dakota shrugged. “I did research.”

“I can tell.”

“Russia is to the north, China to the southeast. The agency was very open and encouraging about the adoption. I filled out the paperwork and prepared to wait.”

Her mother’s mouth dropped open. “You’re getting a child.”

Dakota winced. “No. In late January, after I’d finished the paperwork and had the home and background checks, they called and said they had a little boy for me. But the next day they called back and said there’s been a mistake. He was going to another family. A couple.”

She drew in a breath to keep from crying. At some point the body should just run out of tears, but she had enough personal experience to know that didn’t happen.

“I’m not clear if it was an honest mistake or if they prefer couples and that’s why I didn’t get him. I’m still on the waiting list and the director of the agency swears it’s going to happen.”

Her mother leaned back in her chair. “I can’t believe you’ve been through all this on your own.”

“I couldn’t talk about it,” Dakota said quickly. “Not with anyone. At first I felt too frail to discuss it at all. Then I was afraid I’d jinx the adoption. It wasn’t you, Mom.”

“How could it be?” Denise asked. “I’m practically perfect. But still.”

For the second time, Dakota laughed. It felt good to find humor in life again. She’d had a few months where nothing had been happy or right.