“Hi,” I breathe, becoming suddenly aware of who is still sitting in the car on the curb. I feel his stare without having to look in his direction.
She fiddles with the handles of her bag hanging from her arm. It’s the only sign she’s nervous. Her breathing is even, she isn’t sweating like I am, and Jesus, does she have someone to do her makeup? It’s perfect.
She nods, exhaling a shaky breath, and a tear falls down her cheek. “Hi, Mandy.”
I really want to hug her. She looks like she needs a hug as badly as I do. But she might not be a huggy person.
Apparently, they exist.
She eases my worries when she reaches out both of her arms and embraces me. I can’t hold it back. She’s actually hugging me. This amazing woman has me wrapped in her arms, and a sob erupts onto her shoulder.
“Thank you,” comes out in a strangled voice.
Thank you for everything. For hugging me. For being a mother when I couldn’t. For the opportunity to speak to you. But I don’t say any of that because my vocal cords are severed.
And when I open my eyes, I see him. Eyes I’ve lost myself in so many times, shoulders tight and hunched, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white. A part of me wishes it was him holding me right now. Those arms would wrap me up and put me back together. He’d try, at least.
Our eyes lock, and as I stand here, mending tiny shreds at a time while I cling to Lydia, the distance between me and Alex grows further. I’m fixing and shattering all at once. I’m two people, sliced down the middle. And God, I want to go to him. The urge is strong, and I’m suffocating. But the pull in the other direction has been building for over six years, and I won’t ignore it. For anybody. There’s a little girl somewhere, oblivious to this situation, who needs me to pump some strength into my backbone and build on what I didn’t have before. She needs me, and it will always be her first.
And he knows it because betrayal and secrets aside, we share the same priority. It will always be Ava for us both. The difference between us: he doesn’t see why I deserve the chance, but I’ll prove it to him. I need to prove it to Ava, Lydia, and myself first.
We both pull away at the same time, and I avert my gaze back to Lydia. I scrub the back of my hand over my cheeks and notice the streaks of black mascara on my hand.
Great.
Lydia wipes her tears too, but she has a tissue ready and dabs below her eyes.
I stand back, making room for her to step inside. “Come in. Please.” I smile again, the slightest weight lifting from my shoulders. She didn’t strangle me within the first five minutes, which is a good sign.
She dips her head, like Alex does, and quietly says, “Thank you.”
I give one last glance over her shoulder, but Alex isn’t looking anymore, and I close the door.
“He’s going to wait,” she explains, hesitantly following me to the kitchen.
My eyes narrow, but I try to make a joke of it. “Does he think I’ll kidnap you?”
Thankfully, she laughs.
“I can’t drive with my medication.”
You’re an idiot, Mandy.
“It makes me groggy. I told him I would call him to pick me up, but he wants to wait.”
In the case I really am crazy. I get it. She didn’t say that, but I would do the same.
I resist the urge to ask about Ava. It’s probably too soon and opt for, “Would you like a drink? Tea, or coffee? Something stronger?” I grin nervously and immediately regret it.
She rubs her palm up and down my upper arm like my mother would do. “I’ll have a tea, thank you, but if you want to throw in a shot of something stronger, I need it.” She laughs and so do I because I need her to laugh more than I need the numbness alcohol would surely bring. I can tell from the glint in her eyes, she is joking, but my shoulders relax another inch.
She slips off her coat and hangs it over the back of the kitchen chair as I go about getting the tea ready.
No chitchat.
I try to make tea without the cups chattering together, or letting it spill out over the top from my hands shaking. I set milk and sugar on the table.
When I’m done, I take the seat next to hers at the top of the table and turn the chair to face her. I wipe my sweaty palm against my jeans again.
This is really happening, and I suddenly don’t know what to say.
My eyes drift from my cup to her face, and then to the hand she has outstretched towards me.
What is she doing? Should I know?
“This is as strange a situation as I’ve ever known. If we are going to do this, we need to start afresh. I need you to act like you didn’t meet me two days ago, or what happened. And as much as I hate saying this: for today, you need to forget about my brother. I know you love him because he loves you, and right now he is hurting and confused, but we need to focus on this, and only this.”
I nod frantically. I can do that. For today, I can put everything else aside.
“I’m Lydia Hale. It’s good to finally meet you.”
My chest tightens, and I fight back tears from my sore eyes. We’re starting again.
I take her hand, tightening my grip.
“I’m Mandy. I think you’re amazing and I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
Her head tilts to the side, but not in the pity way I hate so much.
“I think we both believe we owe one another more thanks than the other, but this isn’t a competition, honey. You gave me the greatest gift anyone could give, and I accepted it with the most grateful heart. I’m not here to judge you, Mandy. People can’t judge you for making a decision like that. I only want to fit the pieces of my daughter’s story together. I want to hear your story.”
Can I do that? Can I go back there again? But the only way to move forward is to face my past.
She moves her hand to brush my hair away from my face. She’s so nurturing. “My God, you are still so young.”
I breathe out a laugh and bite my lip. “I think I’ve aged ten years in two days.”
She pats my hand again before letting go and adding milk to her tea. “You and me both.”
I know she’s only forty-four, but her eyes look younger, yet she carries herself like a woman much older.
She takes a sip of her tea and puts it back on the saucer before taking a deep breath. So do I. “Alex told me what he knows.”
A guilty knot clenches in my lower stomach and I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth.
“I understand Ava’s birth father died before she was born.”
I shake my head, wishing he could be here with me. “Car accident. He didn’t know I was pregnant.”
She grimaces and sits up straight again. “Do you have a photo of him? I can see the resemblance between you and Ava, but I’d love to see if she looks like her dad at all.”
My heart is actually breaking. It has snapped in two.
During those moments, when I set eyes on Ava, all I saw was Nick. Once I put together who she was, it seemed like the most obvious thing in the world.
All him.
I inhale another steadying breath.
“I’ll go get one.”
She probably thinks it’s strange I don’t have any pictures of him around the house. I tried, but he’s always too painful to look at because, in his features, I knew I’d see the little girl I gave away.
Two minutes later and I’m back in the kitchen with a photo album. She asked for one, but which one would I choose. Maybe I’m hoping she’ll see some of our story in the stills of our faces when we were kids, all the way to the last picture we have together: a week before the accident.
She shows me a soft smile before sliding her hand down the cover of the booklet, and when she opens it, she takes her time going through each picture, a small gasp, a single tear, amazement, and curiosity shining in her eyes. I explain what is happening in each picture. From our first day at school together. To our awkward phase when we realized we had a cr
ush on each other. Then when we first started dating; my unruly curls and his long lanky warms draped across my shoulders topped off with a braced smile. Then, as if by magic, he transformed into a tall, muscular young man, which I knew wasn’t by magic at all, but by training hard at sports so he could get a scholarship to college—which he did. He just never got to use most of it.
She cried at a picture of our graduation and again at one of us kissing in front of the fountain at our university. She sobbed, even more, when I told her it was the last picture taken of him.
“You were both so in love.”
I agree with a hum because I’ve lost my words.
We were infatuated.
“She is very much like him. I can’t believe the similarities. Of course, he’s her father, but I’ve never met anyone who shares her blood.”
How crazy is that? To never have met someone who looked like your child. How tough would that have been for Ava growing up?
I can deal with the guilt later.
When I don’t reply, her eyes narrow in on me, searching my face. “I never even asked if you want this. If this is too hard-”
“Every day,” I cut in. “Every day I’ve wanted this.” My throat burns again. “I wish I had a good reason for doing what I did. I wish I had more answers for you and Ava and even Alex, but I don’t. I don’t know what I was thinking back then. Looking back on it now, I can’t make sense of it. I know I felt like I was doing the right thing for her because after Nick died, I couldn’t look after myself. But then I couldn’t understand how having empty arms hurt so much.
“I packed a maternity bag with baby clothes that came home unworn because all the baby books only told you what to pack for when you bring your baby home. My breasts ached, full of nourishment for a child I couldn’t feed. And it was all too late. I couldn’t go back, and even then, I don’t know if I would. Most days, I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t bear another day, and she deserved more than half a human. Yet now I look back and I don’t recognize myself or the choices I made.” I gulp back a sob, but it bubbles in my chest. “I forced smiles until it felt like I meant it. Eventually, some of them were real. I lived because there wasn’t any other option for me. And in between, over time, there were bursts of happiness.” Alex’s face flashes when I close my eyes, and the look she gives me tells me she knows what I’m thinking. “But behind it all, she was there. I carried her with me just as I’ve carried Nick.”
“That’s a lot of weight to carry on your shoulders.”
Sniffling, I look down at my lap and bite the inside of my cheek. “Lydia, I swear, I didn’t know who Alex was when we met.” I need her to know that.
Stoic, she simply replies, “I believe you.”
Millions wouldn’t.
“I wish I had more answers for you. At least, I wish I had some that made sense. I don’t know what it was. I don’t know what made me do it.”
“Survival,” she quickly says, taking both my hands in hers. My head jerks up, eyes wide, tears streaming like a river. “It was survival, Mandy. When our heart can’t take any more trauma or hurt, this takes over.” She points a finger at her temple. “The mind is so powerful, and it makes decisions so we can survive and because you needed to keep going. But sometimes, when we look back, we see those strong decisions that kept our heart beating as a weakness. Honey, you survived. So did your little girl.”
Oh God, I’ve lost it again. My body is hurting and filling with some kind of strange relief all at once. She survived, and it’s only because I don’t want to embarrass Lydia, I don’t get down on my knees and thank her.
“What was she like growing up until now?” It comes out in sobs and sniffs.
Lydia looks around for a moment before her eyes land back on mine and she squeezes my hands. “Would you like to talk about that with both me and her sometime?”
What? Really? Someone needs to wake me up if this is a dream because I’ll never survive this if it’s not real.
“I can meet her?”
She purses her lips together, thinking. “I can’t promise anything. She’s a clever little thing. She’s always known she was a gift to me, but I will need to explain this to her, and although she knows, she’s still only six and it’s a lot to take in. Ava didn’t have a choice in this, and she won’t have a choice in many things to come.” Her eyes flicker with deep sorrow, and I know she’s talking about her illness. God, this little girl has gone through so much. “She needs to have her say in this, and if she decides she doesn’t want to meet you, then I’m afraid we will need to respect that.”
It breaks my heart, but I get it.
I shake my head in agreement, still holding on to a little ray of hope.
“And Mandy, if that’s what she wants, I will also have to ask you to stay away from Alex. If that’s her choice, you can’t be in her life in any shape or form.”
I dry my face and nod again.
“I’ll speak to her. Give us a little time to adjust and I will contact you whatever the decision.”
See, job interview.
But a half-hour later, when Lydia leaves and Alex refuses to look in my direction, I sit on my bed and no tears fall for the first time. Slowly and painfully, all the broken pieces are finding their way back together. Maybe not in the same places they were before they shattered, but back together all the same.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Three days ago, I got a phone call that changed my life. Lydia called and asked if I would like to come and visit. It was a week after she came to my house and that week was the slowest of my life. Each minute dragged by. Time pulled at me from the inside out. I hardly slept or ate, and I spent my time mentally preparing myself for the call that said I am never to set eyes on Ava again. But it didn’t happen, and now I’m here.
I never thought I’d see the day I’d be sitting in a beautiful garden, in a wicker chair under a canopy, waiting to meet my daughter for the first time in over six years.
I’ve met her only as her uncle’s girlfriend. Now I’m meeting her as her biological mother.
I know she’s a child, but will she see me as the woman who abandoned her? If so, I’ll have to accept it. I’ll do anything for the opportunity to get to know her.
I shift in my seat; the wicker creaking under me and fold my hands on my lap, only to release them again for a sip of water.
She was in her room when I arrived. Lydia already told her who I was. How confusing all of this must be for her.
I spent my morning practicing what I would say to her. How I would introduce myself and how I would stand.
How hard can it be? I’m a schoolteacher. I’m around children her age every day, but I’ve never done such simple things with my own daughter.
At the sight of the little girl bobbling down the steps towards me, I beg for the world to stop spinning, for my breathing to relax in my lungs, and my heart to steady.
I shoot up, my legs feeling like metal rods. I rub my hands, then stuff them in the back pockets of my jeans. I take them out again and cross them across my chest. I shift my weight from one foot to another and fight back the heavy tears by taking a deep breath and smiling.
Why does acting normal become impossible when you’re trying to act normal?
I soak her in—how her chocolate eyes pinned on me as she swipes a stray curl from her face, and how she grips Lydia’s hand as she shuffles a foot behind. There’s no denying the bounce in her dark curls, the bright brown pools feathered with thick black eyelashes, and the fullness in her lips. If I could draw a blend of me and Nick, I wouldn’t do this little girl justice. And he’s there, in the way her honest eyes shine as she walks cautiously towards me. I’ve looked into those eyes before, and it strikes me how amazingly familiar yet completely foreign they are.
This situation is hard for my adult mind to comprehend. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking. Though, what I’ve learned as a teacher is to never underestimate the strength of a child and their ability to
adjust.
I cough to clear my throat from the bubbling of emotions as they come to stand in front of me.
“Hi, Ava,” I say, hoping my voice is kind and she will relax.
“Hi,” she whispers, huddling closer under her mother’s arm.
“It’s lovely to meet you.” I reach out my hand like a fool because I can’t wrap my arms around her.
Her face breaks into a silly smile—like Nick used to do.
“I’ve met you with Uncle Alex.” She giggles and the sound pumps through me and straight to my heart.
I drop my head. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
I have no idea what to do and I should know, shouldn’t I? A good mother would know what to do. I look at Lydia, but she only offers a reassuring smile and drops Ava’s hand to take her seat at the table.
She’s trusting me with this situation, and I take some confidence from that. She knows her daughter.
She’s a good mother.
I crouch down so I’m eye-level with Ava and ignore the hammering in my chest and how clammy my hands are.
I reach for the gift bag at my feet. “I brought you something.”
Her eyes light up and she leans closer to get a better look.
“It’s lipstick,” she squeals as I remove the small box from the bag.
“I know you like makeup and these are special ones for little girls. It’s only a little colour and comes off easily,” I say loudly so Lydia knows I haven’t gotten her daughter something that will stain everything she wears.
She gasps, and her eyes are so big, they almost bulge. Then I witness the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen or heard. Her shoulders shake, and her mouth opens wide as a loud, belly-deep laugh echoes around the garden. I don’t think my heart has ever been so full.
Lydia and I join in because who wouldn’t laugh with this kid. I’m not sure why she’s laughing or what’s so funny, but she’s happy. Maybe she has a nervous laugh like me.
Losing Love (What Will Be Book Series) Page 23
