Seeking Sarah

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  I was pacing the sidewalk in front of the church when I noticed my phone vibrating. I pulled it out of my purse. April had once again been blowing up my cell. I finally answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Oh, my God. Brooke, I’ve been so worried about you. I’ve been calling all morning.”

  “I just left the funeral,” I said.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, the tears starting up again. “But I guess I will be.”

  “Grandma is a nervous wreck. We all are,” April said.

  I held my breath, hoping and praying that she would say Trent had been going out of his mind as well. Right now I would give anything for his comforting arms. But my cousin simply said, “The two of us almost got in the car and drove down there.”

  “I’m okay. I’m packed up.” As much as I’d wanted to just leave after everything that went down at my condo, I had to close out the business in the Atlanta office. I’d fast-tracked everything and hired a publicist within a week. I had to get out of Atlanta and planned to do that as soon as this was over.

  “Have you talked to Aunt Sarah?” April asked.

  “No. I’m outside the church. I’m waiting now. The services are about to wrap up.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” April said. “Maybe you should just come back and then go back and talk to her some other time.”

  “I have to do this. I have to talk to her. Tell both of them how sorry I am and then I’m going to come back and hopefully I can talk to Trent and we can . . . I don’t know, we both messed up and maybe we can fix things.”

  “Brooke,” April said, her tone sympathetic, “I don’t know how to tell you this. I don’t even know if now is the time, but I don’t want you to come back with your hopes up.”

  I stopped pacing and said, “Why?”

  “Trent and Symone are an item now. They’re together.”

  My heart. I didn’t think there were any cracks left in my heart. But I felt them nonetheless.

  “Don’t worry about that right now, though,” she said.

  “So, I lost him? I really lost him?”

  “We’re not going to worry about that right now,” April repeated. “Right now we’re focused on you and getting you back here.”

  My hand trembled as I held the phone. “Trent told me. He told me I was going to lose him and for what? I just . . .”

  “Just come home.”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay. Hey, I’ll call you once I get on the road. They’re letting out,” I said as I noticed people filing out of the church. “And I want to catch Sarah before she leaves.”

  “Okay. Be sure and call me.”

  I hung up the phone and made my way to the front. I nearly collapsed as they wheeled Alex’s body out to the car. My mother and Anthony stood behind the hearse as they lifted it into the back, then closed the door. I eased up to stand by the family car.

  “Sarah,” I softly said as they headed to the car.

  They both stopped, and for the first time, I saw the devastation in Sunny’s eyes. I hadn’t even thought about what this was doing to this precious little girl. Anthony glared at me. “Why are you here?”

  Why are you here?

  That had become the running theme of my life.

  My mother’s hand went to his arm. He shot me the most hateful expression. “I hope you’re happy,” he said. “Is this what you wanted? My son dead? You got your revenge, right? You made your mother pay, right? That’s all that matters, right?”

  My mother rubbed his back. “Anthony, go wait in the car.” Her voice was somber. I trembled as people stared at me. My mother just looked at me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  The look of hate on his face, and of disappointment in my mother’s eyes, broke my heart. “I can’t do this. I won’t do this.” He grabbed Sunny’s hand and all but dragged her off.

  “I never meant for any of this to happen,” I whispered after they were gone.

  She nodded. “Yeah, none of us did.” She dabbed at the tears coming down from her cheeks. “Brooke, all you had to do was come to me. Talk to me. And we could have worked through this. All of the sneaking around, with Alex, with Anthony, trying to get info on me wasn’t necessary. You could have just come to me and asked.”

  I swallowed, fought back the tears. Why didn’t I just go to her and ask? Why had I let revenge consume me?

  “I did come to you. And when you didn’t recognize me, when you rejected me again . . .”

  My words trailed off and I expected her to protest, but she simply nodded her understanding.

  Finally, I said, “So what now?”

  She was pensive. “I don’t know. A lot of damage has been done. I just don’t . . .”

  “It’s okay,” I said, trying to summon up my own strength. “I’ve been alone this long. The rest of my life won’t hurt.”

  That looked as if it stung, but it didn’t change her mind. “I’m sorry. I’m not saying never, because I bear a large part of this blame. But right now we need to heal individually. And maybe . . .” She let her words trail off.

  There was nothing else for me to say. All of the bitterness and anger I had was gone, and right now “maybe” was all I had.

  “Okay.” I nodded. I don’t know why but I desperately wanted her to lean in, to hug me, to tell me that she forgave me. I would tell her that I forgave her and we’d work on our relationship. But she simply squeezed my arm and said, “Take care of yourself,” and then turned and walked away.

  I dabbed the tears as I headed to my car, and as the Atlanta skyline disappeared in my rearview mirror, I could only think the revenge had so not been worth it. In seeking Sarah, I’d lost myself. And everything that mattered. Now it was time to reclaim me. And if a relationship with my mother was ever meant to be—it would be.

  I slipped my sunglasses back on, changed my radio to the gospel station, and headed home.

  EPILOGUE

  * * *

  Eighteen Months Later

  This was not the way my story was supposed to end.

  I’d sacrificed my future trying to recapture my past. I did have a relationship with my mother now, but it was nowhere near what I had dreamed of. We were like old friends, reconnecting, getting to know one another all over again.

  The problem was I didn’t want any more friends. I wanted a mother.

  In time, I guess.

  For now, I had to focus on being a mother.

  “Ma-ma.”

  I smiled at my baby girl, Nicolette. The joy of my life. My saving grace. She was pointing to her stuffed poodle, which had fallen on the ground.

  “Mommy has it,” I said, picking it up and handing it back to her in her stroller.

  “So, it looks like everything is in there.”

  I snapped my attention back to Trent, who was standing in front of me going through Nicolette’s diaper bag.

  “As if it wouldn’t be,” I said.

  “I know, I know. You’re a great mother,” Trent replied. “I just wish you understood that I’m a great father, too.”

  I released a heavy sigh. “I know that. Or else she wouldn’t be going with you.” I handed him her jacket. “Make sure you give her the medicine in the yellow container and please, no sweets.”

  “Brooke, I know how to take care of my daughter,” Trent said.

  I glanced over his shoulder. The sight of Symone sitting in his car made me ill.

  His wife, Symone.

  I’d love to say that I walked over, spoke, chatted about how her day was, but I wasn’t there yet. Lord knows it was going to take a lot of prayer to get me there.

  Just before she and Trent had gotten married six months ago, she’d tried to come and talk to me. I didn’t have anything to say to her. I just asked that she didn’t mistreat my child.

  “You know me better than that,” she had said.

  “No,” I’d replied, “obviously I didn’t know you at all.�
��

  Those had been the last words I’d uttered to her.

  Despite her continued efforts, I couldn’t forgive her betrayal. That pain ran deep and I didn’t have any room in my heart to heal it. Maybe someday.

  But since today wasn’t that day, I turned my attention back to Trent.

  “So to be clear, you’re not taking her back to Norfolk, right?” I said.

  “No,” Trent replied. “Though, you’re really going to have to let that go. Norfolk is my home now and my daughter should be able to come see me.”

  I’d wanted to take Trent to court to keep him from seeing our child. But if I didn’t know anything else, I knew he’d be a good father, and the last thing I’d ever want to do is deny a child a parent. I knew how that felt.

  “She’s not even two yet.”

  Trent sighed like he wasn’t going to bother arguing with me. “Well, we are just celebrating my parents’ anniversary so we’ll be here all weekend. And she’ll be in one piece when you get back.”

  I ignored his sarcasm and leaned in and kissed my daughter again.

  “Bye, sweetie. Mommy loves you.”

  As I watched my daughter being whisked away, April came up behind me. “Funny how things have a way of working out,” she said.

  I nodded. I had been pregnant the whole time in Atlanta and had no idea. I felt especially disgusted when two weeks after Alex’s funeral, I found out I was pregnant. Because the first thing that flashed through my mind was, Who was the father?

  The fact that I was even in a predicament to question who I was pregnant by brought on a shame that took me months to recover from.

  Thankfully, the doctor confirmed that I was nine weeks along, which meant that it was Trent’s baby. He’d been ecstatic about the news.

  He’d also been in a serious relationship with Symone by the time I told him.

  “You ready to head to the airport?” April asked.

  I nodded. I’d been back to Atlanta a few times. I was heading back this time because Sarah had invited me to Sunny’s first-grade graduation. I don’t know that we’d ever be where I wanted us to be, but at least I was further down that forgiveness road. We both were.

  My mother and Anthony hadn’t made it. At first I felt sick at the idea that I really had caused them to get a divorce. But on my third visit to Atlanta to see her, she had confessed that I hadn’t been the first, and she doubted that I would’ve been the last.

  “I got tired of living a lie,” she’d told me. I wasn’t sure if that was in reference to me or him.

  Either way, I was happy that I’d sought out Sarah . . . and found her. No, the story hadn’t ended the way that I had hoped, but Nicolette had shown me that stories don’t really end. They just start new chapters.

  And I couldn’t wait to see where this chapter took me.

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  I’m one of those women who love their mothers, like down to their core. My mother is my heart. Okay, maybe I wished some evil things upon her in my teen years because she was strict, but I thank her for all those things now.

  Growing up, my mother was never my friend. She made that clear: she had enough friends. Her job was to be my mother. We became friends when I was grown and I always heard stories about mother-daughter relationships that were the polar opposite. And they always fascinated me. Couple that with stories I’d heard of men bailing on their children and my writer’s mind got to churning.

  That’s how all my stories start: with a What if?

  I thought, what if a mother decided, for whatever reason, she wasn’t really cut out to be a mother? Is it really possible not to have a maternal gene? And then, what if, years later, that gene shows up?

  That’s where Seeking Sarah was born.

  I wanted to explore the complexities of being a mother. Then, of course, you know I had to throw in a little drama. But at its core, Seeking Sarah is a story about finding something you so desperately crave, and losing yourself in the process.

  I hope you enjoyed and will tell a friend or three.

  I’ve lost count of which book number this is. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But I’ve been blessed to have a long and somewhat successful career doing what I love. I wouldn’t be able to do what I love were it not for my crew:

  My husband of twenty-plus years, Dr. Miron Billingsley, who as a newlywed snuck our bill money, bought me a computer, and told me, “Write.” Thank you for being there every step of the way.

  My three wonderful children, who keep me grounded and are not the least bit impressed with what I do and just want to know if I will “be home in time for their game.” Mya, Morgan, and Myles, everything I do, I do for you.

  I am the luckiest sister on earth. Tanisha Tate, I may not show it, I may not let you know it, but I am proud to call you my sister.

  My business partner, writing partner, and Jill of all trades, Victoria Christopher Murray. For helping me flesh out my stories, for picking up the slack when I’m slacking, for providing motivation and encouragement . . . a thousand thank-yous.

  Pat Tucker, distance may have changed the dynamics, but I am forever grateful for your support and friendship.

  My core . . . my forever ride-or-die friends who whether they read the books or not continue to support me and, more importantly, be there for me no matter what: Jaimi Canady, Raquelle Lewis, Kim Wright, and Clemelia Humphrey Richardson, love you for life!

  To my soror, my friend, my publicist, Norma Warren. I know I have given you a few extra gray hairs, but you will never know how eternally grateful I am that you came into my life. I promise you, I’m working hard to #DoBetter.

  To my BGB admin family: Jason, Cheritta, Princess, Kimyatta . . . thank you so much for all that you do. To our amazing partners . . . I’m so honored to be affiliated with you! We’re truly changing the game!

  As usual, thanks to my agent, Sara Camilli; my editor from the beginning, Brigitte Smith; my wonderful publicist, Melissa Gramstad; and the rest of my family at Gallery. Thank you for believing in me!

  I also have to show major love to those who helped my movie dreams come true: D’Angela Proctor at TV One, who told me years ago she would make one of my books into a movie, and she did. The Secret She Kept is one of my books that is near and dear to my heart and I’m so thrilled TV One brought it to the screen. Thanks also to Karen Peterkin, Alton Smith, Rhonda Baraka, and the fabulous team that brought my words to life.

  I’m one blessed author because I also have a movie currently on Netflix. Let the Church Say Amen would’ve never happened were it not for Regina King and Reina King. I will continue to be grateful to you ladies. Thanks also to Queen Latifah’s Flava Unit, BET, Bobcat Films, T. D. Jakes, and all the talented actors and crew . . . for helping my dreams come true.

  A thousand thanks to my friends and literary colleagues: Nina Foxx, Tiffany Warren, Renee Flagler, Eric Jerome Dickey, Lolita Files, and Curtis Bunn. Special shout-outs to: Monique S. Hall, Raine Bradley, Sharon Lucas, Yolanda Gore, Naturopath Cecie, Sophie Sealy, Lisa Paige Jones, King Brooks, Eddie Brown, Tiffany Tyler, Michelle Chavis, Gina Johnson, Pam Gaskin, Ivy Levingston, Ruthleen Robinson, Orsayor Simmons, and my sister-cousin, Shay Smith.

  I’m always skeptical about this next part, as I know there are so many book clubs that support my work. So let me just say a gigantic thanks to all of you who have supported me over the years.

  Thank you to all the wonderful libraries that have also supported my books, introduced me to readers, and fought to get my books on the shelves.

  To all my wonderful Facebook friends, especially the ones who comment and support on the regular: Nelvia, Tamara, Trevy, Ericka, Angela, Bernice, Davina, Michelle, Tracey, Karyn, Crystal, Nina, Eddgra, Tonia, Kimberlee, Cindy, Annette, Nicole, Chenoa, Brenda, JE, Tanisha, Beverly, Dwon, Noelle, LaChelle, Kim, Princis, Joe, Charlenette, Karla, Yasmin, Terri, Tres, April, Cheryl, Kelley, Katharyn, Tashmir, Bridget, Juda, Alicia, Arnesha, Tamou, Antoinette, Cynthia, Jackie, Ernest
, Wanda, Patrick, Lissha, Tameka, Laura, Marsha, Wanda, Kym, Allison, Jacole, Stephanie, Dawn, Paula, Nakia, Jodi, Cecily, Leslie, Gary, Cryssy, KP, Tomaiya, Gwen, Nik, Martha, Joyce, Yolanda, Lasheera. (Y’all know I could go on and on . . .) Here’s a giant virtual hug!

  Lots of love and gratitude to my sorors of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc. (including my own chapter, Mu Kappa Omega), my sisters in Greekdom, Delta Sigma Theta Sorority Inc., who constantly show me love . . . and my fellow mothers in Jack and Jill of America (particularly, the Durham chapter, led by the fabulous Makeba McDaniel).

  And finally thanks to you . . . my beloved reader. If it’s your first time picking up one of my books, I truly hope you enjoy. If you’re coming back, words cannot even begin to express how eternally grateful I am for your support. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

  Much Love,

  ReShonda

  GALLERY READERS GROUP GUIDE

  SEEKING SARAH

  ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  This readers group guide for Seeking Sarah includes an introduction, discussion questions, and ideas for enhancing your book club. The suggested questions are intended to help your reading group find new and interesting angles and topics for your discussion. We hope that these ideas will enrich your conversation and increase your enjoyment of the book.

  INTRODUCTION

  * * *

  Brooke Green has been motherless since she was seven years old. Growing up with her loving father, a piece of Brooke had always felt missing, lost long ago on the day of her mother’s death. Now, in her midthirties, Brooke finds herself drowning in grief after her father succumbs to a stroke. But in the wake of losing a parent, Brooke shockingly regains another when she learns a startling truth that changes her life forever: her mother, Sarah, is very much alive. At her father’s funeral, Brooke’s grandmother reveals that Sarah had walked out on her family amid claims that she wasn’t fit for motherhood; her father lied about Sarah’s death in an attempt to protect Brooke. In search of more details, Brooke hires a PI to track Sarah down and discovers that her mother is now working as an elementary school principal in Atlanta, and happily raising another daughter. Stunned, Brooke is torn between her desire for answers and her thirst for revenge against the mother who abandoned her. Bestselling author ReShonda Tate Billingsley delves into the complicated, emotional, and often painful mother-daughter bond in her gripping novel Seeking Sarah.