A Weekend Getaway

by Karen Lenfestey

  “I know. It’s Halloween. But you’re not going to believe who called me.” She paused as if Beth had time to guess. “Your daughter.”

  Beth stopped breathing for a moment. Her daughter. She leaned against the wall for support. “She did? Why?” She noticed Emma staring at her.

  “She thought I was her mother.”

  That didn’t make sense. “How did that kind of mix-up happen?”

  “Maybe it’s because we used my cell phone to call when we found the adoption records.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Not much. Just that she’d made a mistake. Have you called her adoptive parents yet?”

  “No.”

  “I thought you agreed to make contact.”

  Emma, still listening, pulled at her blue sparkly skirt.

  Beth sighed. “I can’t talk right now.”

  “Sure. That’s all I had to say. Just that she sounds like a good kid. On the honor roll and stuff.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Hannah. You really should give her a call.”

  Hannah. The name sounded…perfect.

  “I’ll try.” Beth hung up and allowed an odd combination of emotions to bounce around inside of her. Fear, joy, relief. Her child was okay. Her child wanted to connect with her. Her child.

  She looked down at Emma and affectionately patted her blonde bob.

  # # #

  A child’s scream came from Emma’s room soon after they returned from trick-or-treating. Beth raced up the wooden staircase and ran into the corner room. On the floor was the cracked ant farm and Captain Kirk was eating the freed bugs for dinner.

  Emma, still in her blue Cinderella gown, shrieked again. “Make him stop! Make him stop!” She could do sound effects for a horror movie.

  Beth waved the back of her hand toward the parrot. “Shoo! Bad boy! Bad boy!”

  The gray parrot flew across the room and started singing the theme to Cops.

  Beth tried not to laugh. Especially since ants were loose in her house. Ugh! She stepped on the bugs crawling in jagged lines across the wooden floor.

  “Aunt Beth!” Emma protested.

  “I’m sorry. But we don’t want ants all over the place.” She considered promising to buy another ant farm, but she didn’t want to. Part of her was relieved the bugs were no longer pets. “I never should’ve bought this in the first place.” When Captain Kirk returned to the scene of the crime, she didn’t stop him.

  “I hate you! I want my mommy!” Emma stomped out of the room.

  Feeling like a terrible person, Beth sighed as she tossed the plastic cage in the trash. The small bugs scurried across the floor, away from Beth’s attempts to capture and kill them. She needed ant poison. Lots of it.

  When she heard the front door unlock, she decided to give up. Drew was finally home, and there were more important things going on than wayward ants. Emma’s tantrum, for one…and Hannah…

  When she walked down the stairs, Beth saw him handing out candy to a miniature Batman. He closed the door and smiled at her. “I brought more candy.”

  “Thanks.” Even though trick-or-treating officially ended in ten minutes. “Could you read Emma a bedtime story tonight? She’s mad at me.”

  “Why?”

  “Captain Kirk knocked over her ant farm and I panicked seeing all of those bugs trying to escape. Instinct kicked in and I squished them.”

  A chuckle. He put down the bag of candy and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “She’ll get over it.”

  “I hope so.”

  He called upstairs. “Cinderella, the clock’s about to strike midnight. Better hurry up and get in your p.j.’s.” He started his ascent.

  “I’m not so good at this motherhood thing,” Beth mumbled.

  He didn’t respond. Did he agree or had he not heard her? She wasn’t sure.

  All night long she tossed and turned, wrestling with the covers. She wasn’t good at being a mom—not like Sarah, who was a natural. Maybe deep down, Beth had known that all of those years ago. Motherhood wouldn’t be her forté.

  Sarah’s phone conversation replayed in her brain: You should give her a call. She sounds like a good kid.

  After Emma went to bed, Beth still did not call her daughter. If she made contact, she’d have to answer for the fact that she’d given away her baby. How could she possibly justify that? Sure, she’d done it in her head a million times, but she worried all of her reasons sounded weak.

  Even worse, she’d have to tell her the bad news. Part of her hoped that Parker would do it. He could explain Huntington’s disease better than she could. But he couldn’t call because he didn’t know their child’s phone number.

  Hannah. Hannah Taylor. Her daughter’s name was Hannah.

  In the wee hours of the morning, she gave up on sleep. She climbed out of bed, rubbed her tired eyes and pulled down the box in her closet. Inside she found the plastic hospital bracelet that had been on the baby’s wrist. Baby Girl Morris. She reached in for the tiny pink hat someone at the hospital had placed on the baby’s head. Bringing the yarn to her nose, she sniffed and told herself it still held her baby’s scent.

  She heard Drew roll over and she flinched. Quickly she put the evidence away.

  Somehow she got dressed in the morning and went through the motions at work. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Hannah all day.

  As soon as she got home from the office, she told Emma she could play dress up. That would keep the little girl occupied, while Beth locked herself in the office and took a deep breath. She pulled out the number Sarah had given her. Then she dialed the Taylors.

  A young, female voice answered, “Hello?”

  Beth’s blood pressure shot up. Her heart hammered.

  The woman asked again, “Hello?”

  Beth opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Hello?”

  She hung up.

  I can’t believe I’m such a chicken!

  For a minute, she stared at the phone. Then she dropped it in its cradle and headed to the bathroom. Bloodshot eyes stared back at her in the vanity mirror. She shook her head at herself. Coward.

  She splashed her face with water and washed off her makeup. That made her feel a little better.

  The phone rang and Emma answered it. “Hi.”

  Beth raced down the hall. She smirked at Emma, once again in her blue princess costume. Beth took the phone away and tried to chastise her. “Since when do you answer the phone?” She put the receiver to her ear. “Sorry about that.”

  “Is that your daughter who answered the phone?” An unfamiliar, female voice asked. She sounded a little peeved.

  Beth hesitated. Emma wasn’t anybody else’s business. “Who is this?”

  The girl cleared her throat. “My name is Hannah Taylor.”

  She kept talking, but Beth couldn’t focus on her words. This was her. Her daughter was on the telephone. Her daughter was old enough to track her down. Beth fell into the office chair and its wheels spun, causing her to feel even more off-balance.

  “Did you give birth to a girl in Bloomington on August second?”

  “Yes.” Beth’s voice was barely audible. She looked at Emma who waved a magic wand in mid-air and said, “Poof!”

  “Just a minute,” Beth said, and headed downstairs with Emma in tow. Flipping on the TV, she sighed in relief. Dora the Explorer was such a lifesaver at times. Beth never thought she’d be the kind of parent who resorted to the electronic babysitter, but then again, she wasn’t the person she thought she’d be at all.

  When Emma sat contentedly on the floor in front of the television, Beth made her move. She tiptoed back upstairs, into her bedroom and closed the door. “Sorry about that. I needed to um. . . go somewhere quiet.” Her heart pounded and her throat dried. She sat on an oversized chair in the corner. A stack of vitamin research she’d printed off the internet filled the nearby table.

  “So you admit you’re my
birth mother?”

  “Yes. Were your adoptive parents good to you?”

  “They were.”

  Relief whooshed through Beth’s body. Sixteen years of worry eased its hold.

  “My father died a few months ago.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She’d never anticipated that. He wasn’t that much older than Beth. “He was an optometrist, right?”

  “Uh-huh. He was a great man. I miss him every day.”

  Beth didn’t know what to say.

  When Hannah spoke again, her words came in a rush. “I’m kind of at a crossroads. I could easily graduate high school a year early and go to college. In fact, my SAT scores are strong enough that I could get into an Ivy League school.”

  “Wow.” Her baby was old enough to go to college. Smart enough to go to the same universities as presidents and entrepreneurs. “Do you want to do that?”

  “I’m torn about skipping my senior year. My friends say that’s when you can finally relax and have some fun. Once you’ve been accepted to college, you can stop worrying about grades. Go to prom, stay out late, do what normal kids do.”

  She didn’t do what normal kids did? “It sounds like you’re very mature for your age.”

  Hannah didn’t acknowledge the compliment. “What do you think I should do? No, that’s dumb. I’m so unsure, I’m asking a total stranger to weigh in on my future.”

  Total stranger. Beth was a total stranger. Why did it hurt to hear that?

  The conversation lulled for a minute. Beth didn’t know what to say. She’d always wondered if her child was fine, healthy, happy. Now she knew. What else should she ask? She wanted to know so much yet the words wouldn’t come. The thoughts wouldn’t come. What was it that she had wanted to say?

  The sound of paper rattling came over the line. “I have some questions I’d like to ask you. Just basic stuff like what were the circumstances of your pregnancy? Who could be my biological father? What medical stuff runs in the family?”

  Beth gasped. The basic stuff wasn’t so basic. It was Mount Everest. “Um, could I talk to Mrs. Taylor first?”

  The line went dead.

  Beth didn’t know what to do. She had a moral obligation to tell Hannah’s adoptive mother about the new medical information. Maybe Mrs. Taylor would choose not to share that with Hannah. Beth certainly didn’t want to put a dark cloud over the girl’s bright future.

  Hannah was so smart she could go to college a year early. Did she get that from Parker? What did she get from Beth? Beth suddenly needed to know more.

  She darted to the office and typed in Hannah Taylor. There were so many of them, she scanned until she found several in Texas. Perhaps if she searched for Hannah and Dr. Taylor. Up popped a newspaper article about an optometrist and his family traveling to Guatemala to do charity work. Yes!

  After reading the article, she realized they lived in Dallas. A few minutes later, Beth found Hannah’s website and studied the photos on it. Wavy mahogany hair framed Hannah’s tan complexion. She had warm brown eyes like Parker’s and a turned-up nose kind of like Beth’s. Best of all, she hadn’t inherited Beth’s weight issues. Wearing a Speedo one-piece swimsuit, Hannah was thin and striking. Unfortunately, an uneasy smile revealed a teenager not quite comfortable in her own skin.

  Hannah wrote a blog titled “Who am I really?” It chronicled Dr. Taylor’s cancer treatments and she talked about how she wondered if she carried the cancer gene.

  So much is a mystery when you’re adopted. Did I get my creativity from my biological mom or dad? Do I laugh like my mom? Am I a good swimmer because of him? Why didn’t they want me? Was I the result of rape? Was I the result of incest? Was I the result of teenaged lust? I don’t know whether I was conceived out of love or hate. I don’t know whether my biological mom was a hero or victim or both. For so many years, I told myself I didn’t care about them. It didn’t matter because I had everything a kid could want: food, shelter and parents who would do anything for me. But now my dad is gone. Something about the loss makes me want to fill the hole. I think finding my birth father might do that for me.

  Beth leaned back in her chair and glared at the screen. Her daughter was missing something. Hannah had said her father was great, but she hadn’t mentioned her adoptive mother. Were they close?

  Her daughter wanted to know Parker. Parker, who yelled at Beth to get out. Parker, who would be dead in a few years himself. She’d tried so hard not to think about his point of view. What a difference a decade could make.

  Would he want to meet Hannah? Would he want to go with Beth to see their daughter for the first time? Whoa. Beth was thinking about facing this girl? She swallowed. Something about the blog made Hannah seem so vulnerable, so young, so sweet. And Beth knew all of the answers to Hannah’s burning questions.

  She closed out the web browser and contemplated a trip to see her child. What would she tell Drew? He didn’t understand her need to have her own baby. He seemed content to raise his sister’s kids. How would he feel if he knew that his girlfriend had once been as irresponsible as Missy?

  Her heart throbbed inside her chest. Her relationship wasn’t picture-perfect, but she didn’t want Drew to lose respect for her. She didn’t want him to be the one to officially declare their union a mistake. Deep down she cared for him. She just wished he had more time for her. In fact, where was he? Why wasn’t he home from work by now? They used to commute to Healthy Habits together and if he worked late, she stayed late, too. Once Emma moved in, Beth re-arranged her hours around the daycare center’s schedule and the couple had started driving separately.

  At that moment, she heard the engine of his car pull into the driveway. Drew entered the house and she stayed in the office. He said a couple of loud “hello’s” downstairs, which the captain echoed.

  He climbed the stairs and found her. “Hi! Where’s Emma?”

  “Downstairs watching Dora. You must’ve walked right past her.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t see her. I’ll go check her room.” He headed down the hall and started calling, “Emma. Emma!”

  Beth stood up and joined him in the little princess’ room. “Emma? Are you hiding? Come out. Now isn’t a good time to play hide ‘n’ seek. Do you want a lollipop?”

  Drew caught her eye and gave her a disapproving look. He didn’t believe in bribing Emma—except of course, when it was his idea.

  Exiting the bedroom and entering another, Beth opened closet doors, searched under beds and peered into the bathtub. No Emma. “I can’t imagine where she is.” Her neck muscles tightened with worry. After checking everywhere upstairs, she ran downstairs and searched. A colorful cartoon still filled the TV screen. “Emma! Come out! You’re scaring us.”

  No answer. Had she dared to go outside to play without asking first? Beth ran to the back door and pulled it open. She scanned the tire swing beneath a large oak for movement. None. And the yard didn’t have a fence.

  Was Emma lost? “Emma!” Beth shouted at the top of her lungs. She listened to it echo back to her.

  Beth reentered the house and ran for the front door. The deadbolt had been undone. Oh no, oh no, oh no. She jerked open the heavy door and looked up and down the street. “Emma!” The little girl could’ve been hit by a car or picked up by some creep.

  No one was there. Coming back inside, Beth bumped into Drew. “The front door was unlocked. Was it open when you came in?”

  “I think so. Did you forget to lock it?”

  “No.” She searched her memory. Had she opened the front door for the UPS man or anything? “No.”

  Captain Kirk squawked, “No, no.”

  Drew grabbed the keys out of his pants pocket. “I’m going to drive around the neighborhood. You call the police.”

  Her throat closed up. Emma was gone. Emma might’ve been kidnapped. Beth ran to the phone and dialed 911. Something she’d never done in her entire life.

  An even-keeled female voice came over the line, “911. What’s you
r emergency?”

  “My boyfriend’s niece, his three-year-old niece, is missing. The front door was unlocked and I don’t know if she wandered out or if someone took her. I don’t know, I don’t know.” Panic had turned her into a repetitive fool.

  “Calm down, ma’am.”

  Calm down? That’s stupid. “She’s just a little girl.”

  “Tell me your address please.”

  Beth gave her all the details as frustration built. This woman wasn’t doing anything to help. Seconds were turning into minutes. Beth had no idea how long Emma had even been gone. Beth had been on the phone and then on the Internet. Had it been thirty minutes? Forty? Who would think that a three-year-old couldn’t watch TV alone for a little bit without walking out the door?

  The dispatcher asked Beth for more details. “What clothes was she wearing?”

  “Last I saw she had on a light blue dress. It was her Halloween costume.” Somehow this made her feel even worse. Did Emma have a coat on? Was she freezing? Beth ran to the antique coat rack to see that Emma’s lilac coat was gone. The mystery continued.

  “Is there anyone who might’ve taken her? Anyone that could’ve knocked on the door and Emma would’ve gone with them?”

  Beth considered that for a moment. Had someone knocked on the door and Beth hadn’t heard? Possibly. She’d been upstairs with the door closed. Then it hit her. “Her mother.”

  “Who?”

  “If her mother had come to the door, Emma would’ve gone with her.”

  “Have you checked with her mother?”

  “No.” Beth suddenly felt stupid. Sometimes she forgot that she was not Emma’s only mom. “I’ll call her. But can you go ahead and alert the police just in case?”

  “I’ll send an officer over to your house. You let us know if you find her.”

  “Okay.” Beth hung up the phone and dialed Missy’s number from memory.

  “What?” a gruff male answered. It was Missy’s ex. And he didn’t sound friendly. He was the one who wanted Missy to terminate her pregnancy.