Lake Season

by Denise Hunter

  “No, it’s fine. You should make sure she’s okay.”

  Molly paused awkwardly in the doorway when she’d normally hug her friend—three times apparently.

  Skye gave Molly a rueful smile and pulled her into an embrace. “One time is perfectly normal. Now go check on our friend.”

  forty

  Molly was getting out of her car when a vehicle slowed on the road and pulled into Miss Nonnie’s drive behind her.

  Adam. She must’ve called him too. Molly had been so worried about the woman she hadn’t even thought of calling him, but she was glad he was here. Whatever Miss Nonnie had to say seemed important.

  Molly gave a little wave, her heart pounding at the sight of him behind the wheel. She’d only just seen him yesterday, but her eyes drank in the sight of him anyway. He looked so debonair in his sunglasses and crisp white shirt. How could he not know how handsome he was? Her heart gave a little tug at the memory of their conversation on the patio.

  She glanced down at her yoga attire, wishing she wasn’t slick with perspiration, her hair pulled up into a messy bun. Oh well. Her appearance was irrelevant. Their relationship wasn’t headed in that direction anymore.

  “Is she all right?” Adam asked as he exited his car, a frown tugging his brows.

  They walked together toward the door. “I don’t know. I just got here.”

  “She seemed upset on the phone.”

  “I know. I rushed right over.”

  His gaze flickered over her. “Yoga with Skye?”

  “Yeah. Miss Nonnie wants to tell us something about Lizzie.”

  “That’s what she told me too.”

  “I can’t imagine what it would—”

  Nonnie pulled open the door before they reached the top of the porch. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her hand trembled on the doorknob.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.

  “Are you all right?” Molly asked. “You sounded upset on the phone.”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Just an emotional old woman. Thank you for coming on such short notice, kiddos. I didn’t mean to make you fret.” But Nonnie had obviously been fretting herself.

  The woman led them into her small living room and dashed off to get them some tea, despite Molly’s offer to help. When Nonnie returned she settled on the armchair catty-corner to Molly and Adam.

  Molly noticed the box on the end table—the one that held Nonnie’s memorabilia. The letters, the ones Molly had spied last time, sat beside the box. Molly glanced at Adam and saw he’d noticed them too.

  “I’ve been praying about this since you first came to me,” Nonnie said. “I just didn’t have clear direction on what I should do. I promised Lizzie I wouldn’t say anything, and even though she’s been gone so many years now, I wanted to keep my word. She was a dear, dear friend. But in trying to be loyal to her I was dishonest with you, and I feel just terrible.”

  “What’s all this about, Miss Nonnie?”

  The woman reached over and took the letter from the table. Her hand trembled as she passed the envelope to Molly. “You should just read it for yourselves, I think.”

  The letter was from Lizzie and addressed to Nonnie, but the return address was a Louisiana one. The postmark was dated October 12, 1964.

  Molly traded a look with Adam as he moved to the middle of the sofa so he could read along with her.

  She withdrew two sheets of stationery, unfolded them, and began reading.

  Dearest Nonnie,

  I know you must’ve noticed that I’m mailing this from Louisiana and not from Ohio. I am not at college anymore. I’m staying with my great-aunt near Shreveport.

  I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just come right out with it. I’m pregnant, Nonnie. When my parents found out they came to get me. I had to drop out of school. I should’ve told you before now, but I was too ashamed.

  At first I was almost glad about the news because I dreamed a baby might convince Ben to come back to me. But he never responded to my letter, and when I tracked him down through his place of employment I found out that he’d already enlisted.

  He’s clearly done with me. My heart is truly broken. I didn’t know it was possible to weep so many tears.

  When my parents came for me I thought at first they might allow me to live with Aunt Georgia and raise the baby in Shreveport. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. Aunt Georgia barely tolerates my presence—and my morning sickness. My parents are insisting I give my baby up for adoption. They say I won’t get a dime from them if I decide to keep it.

  Oh, Nonnie, my heart is so heavy as I write this. I don’t have any way of supporting a child. Ben wants nothing to do with me any longer, and even if a baby might somehow change this, he’s a world away in Vietnam somewhere.

  My parents plan to find an adoptive couple. They want me to give my baby away and come home for the summer and pretend I just spent my first year away at college! As if I could just go on like normal! But they’re embarrassed and just want to sweep this pregnancy under the rug. They seem more concerned about losing their standing with the Catholic Church than they are about me and my baby.

  I am so afraid for the future, Nonnie. Afraid of giving up a baby I already love. Afraid for my baby’s future. I feel hopeless, and I just had to tell someone. I know I can trust you to not tell a soul.

  Please pray for God’s will in this. I feel too ashamed to ask for His help when it was my sin that got me into this to begin with. But I know He’ll hear your prayers. So pray for me as you never have before, friend! And pray for my precious, innocent baby. I already love this child so much I can’t bear the thought of losing him or her.

  If you write back, please don’t refer to any of this. I believe Aunt Georgia opens my mail—that’s just the way she is. I’ll call you next week if I can get her out of the house for a few minutes.

  Yours truly,

  Lizzie

  Molly’s eyes were wet by the time she finished reading the letter. She met Adam’s gaze, her heart in her throat. “Poor Lizzie. Pregnant and all alone.”

  “I know I told you Lizzie couldn’t have children. But that was only true later.”

  “It’s all right,” Molly said, still trying to digest the letter. “I can’t believe her parents would be so cruel.”

  “I know it’s hard to fathom in this day and age,” Nonnie said. “But there was such a stigma back then. I wanted to invite her to come back here with her baby. To come live with my family. But there were eight of us living in a small house, and money was tight. Anyway, it was obvious Lizzie’s folks didn’t want her anywhere near Bluebell.”

  “What happened after this?” Adam asked. “Did she have the baby? Did she give it up for adoption?”

  “There’s another letter that explains what happened. Mostly we talked on the phone, but it was expensive, so she didn’t call often.” Nonnie handed over another letter.

  It was all Molly could do not to rip it out of its envelope and devour its contents. She forced herself to slow down.

  Adam leaned in closer as she pulled out the single sheet of paper and unfolded it. She was momentarily distracted by the warm strength of his thigh against hers. She drew in a deep, steadying breath, and the spicy scent of his cologne drew her.

  Focus, Molly.

  The letter was dated March 18, 1965. She began reading to herself.

  Dearest Nonnie,

  Everything is all set. Mama and Daddy have found a couple in Texas who want to adopt my baby. I am not allowed to meet them, but Mama and Daddy interviewed them. The woman is a homemaker who is unable to have children of her own. Her husband is in banking. They attend a Catholic church and have been longing for a child for years. They sound like wonderful people who will give my baby a good home and loving family.

  I know I should be grateful, but I can’t get past the idea of losing my baby. Deep inside I am so angry with Mama and Daddy for forcing me to do this. I know I shouldn’t be, as I got myself into this mes
s. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, Nonnie.

  I only have two more months until the baby is born, and I’m dreading it with every fiber of my being. Until then I will treasure every moment that my baby’s heart beats beneath mine.

  As much as I want to see you again, I don’t know how I will return to Bluebell in May. How can I simply pretend none of this happened? I will never be the same again.

  And yet, God forgive me, if I could go back and do things differently, I’m not sure that I would. I don’t have it in me to regret this child. I only pray that God has mercy on my baby despite the sinful circumstances that brought him or her into this world. It would mean so much to me if you would pray toward that end.

  I have to be strong. I have to find a strength I don’t feel capable of in order to get through these next weeks. I will need every one of your prayers.

  I love you, Nonnie, and I miss you so much.

  Yours truly,

  Lizzie

  “Oh, Miss Nonnie.” Molly knuckled away a tear, her chest tight and achy. “How did it all work out? Is there another letter?”

  Nonnie dabbed at her own eyes. “I’m afraid that’s the last one. But yes, the adoption went through as planned. I spoke to Lizzie on the phone shortly after the baby arrived. It was a little girl, and she didn’t even get to hold her. Something went wrong, and she had to have a hysterectomy. Lizzie was weeping so hard I could hardly understand her. About broke my heart.”

  “I can’t even imagine giving up a child. And then finding out she’d never have another. It must’ve been so awful.”

  “It surely was.”

  “What happened when she came back to Bluebell?” Adam asked.

  “She never did come back for the summer—or ever again, for that matter. She got a job in Louisiana. A few years later her parents’ store burnt to the ground. They moved down there to be with her, though their relationship was strained after what they’d put her through.

  “Eventually Lizzie met a nice man and settled down. I don’t think she ever felt as strongly about him as she had Benjamin. But then maybe it’s unfair to compare such a young love with a more mature one.”

  “Was she happy?” Molly asked. “Did she ever get over giving up her baby?”

  “I believe she was happy. She made what seemed like a nice life for herself. But I don’t know that you ever truly ‘get over’ something like that.”

  Adam shifted toward Miss Nonnie. “So . . . what you’re telling us is that Benjamin Schwartz has a daughter he doesn’t even know about.”

  Molly sank back into the sofa, pressing her palm against her thumping heart. This had mushroomed into so much more than she’d ever dreamed.

  “I’ve been praying about this since you first contacted me,” Nonnie said. “As reluctant as I was to give away Lizzie’s secret . . . In light of all that’s happening, you finding Benjamin and all . . . I felt God leading me to tell you the whole truth. I hope you can forgive me for not being forthcoming before.”

  “Of course. You’ve been a very loyal friend to Lizzie. But . . . how can we tell Benjamin he has a child he never knew about?”

  Adam’s eyes met hers. “Especially when we don’t even know her whereabouts.”

  forty-one

  Adam leaned away from his laptop, massaging the back of his neck. He’d been sitting at the kitchen table, researching ways for adopted children to find their birth parents. There were adoption registries for people who were searching for their birth family. Social media was also commonly used.

  Those methods took time, though, and they were going to see Benjamin tomorrow.

  He and Molly had been a little stunned when they left Nonnie’s house the day before. They talked awhile by their cars, processing the new information. As far as telling Benjamin about his child, Nonnie had left that to their discretion.

  Mr. Schwartz was old and in a nursing home. His health might not be very stable. And besides, what good would come from finding out he and Lizzie had a child out there whom he’d never know? They decided they’d wait and assess the situation before deciding what to do.

  When Adam’s phone buzzed an incoming call, he was glad for the distraction. Deep down he hoped it was Molly. She’d said she’d see if her sister could work a little online magic today. Maybe Grace’s search had been more fruitful than his.

  However, when he checked the screen, he saw it was his mom. Popping the little bubble of disappointment, he tapped the button to answer and greeted her.

  “You must be feeling inspired,” she said by way of greeting. “We haven’t talked in almost two weeks.”

  “Sorry, Mom. Things have been a little crazy lately.” He’d texted her at least. Since she’d helped them find Benjamin he wanted her to know they had located the man and were going to visit him soon.

  “With your story, you mean? It’s going well?”

  “Not that so much. Just . . . other things.”

  “Could it have anything to do with your pretty innkeeper, Molly?” his mom asked in a teasing tone. “I looked up the inn’s website and saw her picture. She’s just darling.”

  That didn’t even begin to describe her. “I actually moved out of the inn over a week ago. I rented a lake house.”

  “Oh no. Did something happen? Not that a lake house doesn’t sound lovely.”

  “It’s . . . complicated, Mom. And I’d rather not get into it right now if you don’t mind. I’d much rather talk about you. How’s your work going? Any new projects?”

  “It’s going great. And yes, I do have a new family tree project. In fact, it turns out the woman’s uncle worked with your grandpa at the bank. Can you believe it? It’s such a small world.”

  “You know what they say about six degrees of separation.”

  “That’s true. And yet those connections always surprise me. I mean what are the chances that my client, a woman living in Idaho, has an uncle who worked with my father in Austin, Texas?”

  Two things connected at once. Banking. Texas. Adam flashed back to Lizzie’s letter, processing all the information at lightning speed. His heart rate accelerated, and it seemed suddenly warm in the room. He stood and began pacing across the white tiled floor, assimilating the facts.

  “Honey, did you hear me?” His mom laughed. “You’re plotting again, aren’t you? You creatives can be so hyperfocused. You surely didn’t get that from me. I’m as distractible as can be.”

  “Mom . . .” The rush of adrenaline sent tingles through his limbs. “What was your mom’s name? Your birth mother, I mean?” He wasn’t even certain she’d mentioned it in the past. On the rare occasions she’d referred to the woman she’d always just said “my birth mother.”

  “Well, that was out of the blue. Only reason I even knew it was because your grandparents felt it was important for me to have her name in case I ever wanted to search for her. They gave it to me when I turned eighteen, and as you know, I did look for her. Unfortunately, I was too late.”

  “Right, but . . . what was her name?”

  “It was Elizabeth Van Buren. Why do you ask, honey?”

  Adam’s breath released in a great whoosh. A chill swept over him, and his legs trembled beneath him. He lowered himself into the nearest chair. This was . . . How could this even . . . He couldn’t believe . . .

  Lizzie had given birth to a girl, and her parents had arranged an adoption with a banker and his wife from somewhere in Texas. His mother was adopted, and her birth date was May 3, 1965.

  It seemed like an impossible coincidence that he’d come to Bluebell to research for his book and had stayed in the very building where Lizzie’s letter had been mailed.

  And yet, he’d chosen Bluebell on his mother’s recommendation. And she’d come here because it had been her birth mother’s hometown.

  Benjamin was his mom’s birth father. Benjamin was Adam’s grandfather. A fresh wave of chills washed over him. He blinked at the unfamiliar burn behind his eyes. His mind was officially blown.


  “Honey, are you all right? Why did you ask about my birth mother?”

  He sucked in a few breaths. “Mom . . . I have to tell you something.”

  “Well, gracious, honey, what is it? You sound so serious.”

  “You know that project I’ve been working on with Molly . . .”

  “Of course. You’re going to see the man soon. What’s all this about? You’re scaring me.”

  “Mom . . . I’m fairly certain the man we’ve been searching for—Benjamin—is your birth father.”

  A heavy pause hung on the line. “What? Oh, honey, that can’t be. I couldn’t find any information about him at all, not even his name.”

  “The woman who wrote the lost love letter was named Elizabeth Van Buren, Mom. She went by Lizzie. We have letters from her to her best friend. Elizabeth Van Buren was involved with Benjamin the summer of ’64—and she got pregnant.”

  He went on to explain the rest of the story while his mother listened, probably in stunned silence. “We only just read the letters yesterday. We didn’t know about the pregnancy and subsequent adoption. I didn’t connect the dots until you mentioned Grandpa and his job at the bank. Mom . . . we’ve found your birth father.”

  “Oh my word.” Her voice quivered with emotion. “Are you sure, honey? I mean, it all seems so . . .”

  “I know. But your birth mother was from Bluebell. How many Elizabeth Van Burens could there have been in this little town?”

  “You’re right. I know you are. I’m just . . . I have to catch my breath here. Did Benjamin know about the baby . . . about me?”

  “No, he didn’t. Doesn’t. He doesn’t know about you, Mom. As far as Miss Nonnie knows, he and Lizzie never reconnected after she discovered she was pregnant.”

  “Oh my. I’m just . . . I can hardly think straight. I’m shaking.”

  “Are you all right? Are you glad to know? Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” But his mom had searched so hard for her birth mother. She’d surely want to know about her birth father. Her living birth father.