“How did Ryan take it when you told him?” I asked.
She sighed. “Not very well, I’m afraid. He was angry with me.”
I set my mug down on the counter. “You didn’t leave children behind, did you?”
“Of course not!” she shouted, then she calmed herself. “There were never any children, which was part of the problem in the first place. I think if Glenn and I had had a family, he might have felt some greater purpose in his life.” She paused and considered that for a moment. “Or maybe not. Who knows what might have been?”
I watched her move around the island and take a seat on one of the stools.
“Why didn’t you have kids?” I asked.
She cupped her forehead in a hand. “We tried, for years, but... I got pregnant in high school. The baby died two weeks before my due date. And there were miscarriages after that.”
“Oh...” Suddenly, my anger over her not answering her cell phone at the grocery store seemed insignificant. I moved toward the island and set my mug down on the granite countertop. “I’m sorry.”
Resting both elbows on the table, she raked her fingers through her hair. “I was in an ambulance accident. My sister and aunt were both killed. That’s how I lost the baby. They had to do a C-section but it was too late. My dad said it was a girl.”
Good God.
“Glenn and I...” Her eyes lifted. “He was my first love and the father of my baby. We got married right after high school because, after all that loss, I wanted to try and build a new life. I always felt my parents blamed me for my sister’s death, and to be honest, I blamed myself. Textbook ‘survivor guilt.’ So I wanted to start fresh and fill the hole that was inside me, but you can’t ever fill a hole like that. You have to live with it.” She paused. “Glenn and I did okay at first, I suppose, considering how young we were. He went to college and got his teaching degree while I supported us. As soon as he finished school, I took courses to become a paramedic. But the whole time, we were trying to get pregnant, and it just never happened. It wasn’t meant to be, I guess.” She looked away, toward the windows. “He was a good guy back then. He was my best friend. What happened later with his addiction was...” She met my eyes again. “It was very unfortunate, and I will always wish I had been able to give him what he wanted.”
“A child?” I asked.
She nodded.
“His happiness wasn’t your responsibility,” I said. “You had to deal with the grief of losing your baby, too. But you survived, and you were strong.”
“It was the drugs that changed him,” she told me. “I wish I could have prevented it.”
“Just like I wish I could have prevented Gram from falling down the stairs.”
She clasped my hand across the granite countertop, and we shared a look of understanding and sympathy for each other.
“I’m sorry I was angry with you,” I said.
“And I’m sorry I didn’t charge my phone. I should have been more in top of that.”
I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my own phone. “Look at that. Mine’s dead now, too.” I held it up to show her, and felt the rest of my anger drain away. I circled around the island and wrapped my arms around her. “I’m glad you came to us,” I said.
“Me, too,” she whispered in my ear.
The front door opened just then, and Ryan walked in.
Chapter Sixty-two
THOUGH IT WAS early in the morning, I closed the curtains in my room and went to bed for a few hours. When I woke, I found Ryan and Kate sleeping soundly in each other’s arms on the sofa.
A comforting heat radiated through my body, and I was relieved to see that Ryan had forgiven her for the secrets she’d kept from us. If he had been angry with her at the hospital, there was no sign of that now. They looked peaceful and weightless.
Though I did my best not to wake them, they stirred when they heard me making breakfast. Ryan went to take a shower, while Kate and I fumbled sleepily at the counter, making toast and coffee.
We returned to the hospital that afternoon for visiting hours. I spoke to Gram in hushed tones, told her how much I loved her, and asked her to squeeze my hand if she could hear me.
The heart monitor continued to beep, but I received no response.
It wasn’t a pleasant thing, but we all agreed that Ryan – who had been named Gram’s next of kin after Abigail passed away – should sign a DNR form, which meant no heroic measures would be taken to save Gram’s life if she took a turn for the worse.
Though how much worse it could be, I could not imagine.
Two days later, I was scheduled to return to school for the post-Christmas semester. I had no interest in leaving. I wanted to stay with my family and remain at Gram’s bedside.
Ryan insisted that I go back. “She may hang on for weeks or months,” he said. “Besides, she wouldn’t want you to miss school. You’re only forty-five minutes away. We’ll call you if there is any change.”
That night, after I packed my things, I stood on a chair in my closet to retrieve something from the top shelf – a gift I wanted Gram to have while I was gone. It was something she gave me when I was eleven. I found it exactly where I’d placed it after Mom died, in a blue cedar box, on a bed of silk flowers.
I planned to give it to Gram in the morning, when I said what might be my final good-bye to her.
As we were getting ready to leave for the hospital the next day, Kate strode into the kitchen and frowned.
“Where did you get this?”
She picked up Bubba – my stuffed blue teddy bear. I had just set him down on the kitchen island. She inspected his arms and legs, wiggled them back and forth, then pressed Bubba to her face to smell his belly.
“Gram gave him to me a long time ago,” I explained. “Why?”
“Where did she get him?”
Puzzled, and more than a little concerned by the sense of urgency in Kate’s tone, I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was only eleven.”
“This isn’t right,” Kate said. “I don’t understand this.”
“What do you mean?”
The front door opened. Ryan kicked the snow off his boots and removed his gloves. “The Jeep’s cleaned off,” he said. “Ready to go?”
With Bubba in her hand, Kate strode to meet him. “Where did this bear come from?” She held him up.
He glanced briefly at Bubba, then at me. “He belongs to Marissa.”
I felt defensive all of a sudden. “I dug him out of my closet because I wanted Gram to have him while I’m gone.”
“That’s a great idea,” Ryan said.
Kate lowered Bubba to her side. “I need to know where Gladys got him. Did she find him somewhere?”
“Why?” I asked.
She spoke brusquely. “Because he’s mine.”
Chapter Sixty-three
“THERE HAVE GOT to be hundreds of those stuffed bears floating around in the world,” Ryan argued as we stood in the front hall.
“Not like this one,” Kate said. “My mother made him. She used a Butterick pattern.”
Ryan’s eyebrows pulled together in disbelief. “Are you sure? I mean, Marissa’s had that bear for years.”
“And I had him for years as well. I know he’s mine. If you don’t believe me, open him up. Take him apart at the side seam, and you’ll find a little red heart inside. It’s made of felt and stuffed with white cotton. I sewed the heart with my own hands when I was six. My mother said it would hold lots of love.”
Ryan and Kate stared at each other intently, as if the same wheels were turning inside their heads.
But what wheels, exactly? I had not yet figured that out.
I grabbed Bubba out of Kate’s hands. “I have a seam ripper in my room. We’ll go and find out for sure.”
I found my sewing kit in the bottom desk drawer, lifted it out, and flipped open the lid.
“Be careful,” Kate said as I examined the side of Bubba’s belly, searching for a good place to break
the seam.
“Did you lose him somewhere?” Ryan asked Kate while I tugged and sliced at the threads. “Or sell him at a yard sale?”
“We didn’t sell him,” Kate replied. “I lost him the night of the accident when we were on our way to the hospital. My sister, Mia, brought Bubba to Boston where I was supposed to have my baby. But the accident happened, and I never saw him again.”
“Someone must have found him on the road,” I said as I pulled the seam apart. I felt uneasy sticking my fingers inside, so I handed Bubba to Kate. “Here, you do it. You know what you’re looking for.”
She took Bubba from me and gently probed the stuffing in his belly, then withdrew a tiny felt heart. It was stitched clumsily and jaggedly around the edges with white thread.
Kate sat down on my bed, closed her eyes, and hugged Bubba to her chest. “I can’t believe this. I thought I lost everything that day,” she said.
I sat next to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “This is so weird. How in the world did I end up with him? What are the odds?”
She stared at me for a long moment, then looked up at Ryan. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?”
“Sure,” he replied. “Marissa?”
“Yeah? Oh...” I stood up. “I’ll wait in the kitchen.”
About ten minutes later, they both descended the stairs and asked me to join them on the sofa in the living room. “Sit down, sweetheart,” Ryan said. “We need to ask you something.”
Chapter Sixty-four
“OF COURSE I’M not adopted,” I replied, staring at both of them in shock. “Why would you even ask that?”
“I’m sorry,” Kate said. “I know it must sound strange, but you’re the exact age my child would be if I didn’t have that accident.”
“But you didn’t give birth,” I reminded her. “You told us your baby died.”
“That’s what I was led to believe, but my father... I just don’t know. I never saw my child’s remains because I was in a coma for two weeks, and they transferred me from the Boston hospital to Bar Harbor, so he could have lied about it, changed my records somehow. I was only sixteen, and he was principal of the elementary school. I think he would have done anything to make the problem disappear.” She set Bubba down on the coffee table. “And I’ve always felt like it wasn’t true. I’ve felt like my child was out there somewhere. It’s haunted me all my life.”
Ryan sat forward and laid a hand on my knee. “Marissa, are you sure Abigail never mentioned anything that made you wonder? What about Gram?”
“Nothing,” I replied. “And this is crazy. I agree that it’s bizarre that I ended up with your teddy bear, but that’s where the connection ends. I think you’re grasping at straws here, wanting something that just isn’t true.” I turned to Ryan. “I can’t believe you’re even asking me this. You were married to Mom for fifteen years.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know her when you were born. You were very young when I married her.”
“And now you believe Kate over her?” I gestured toward Kate with a hand. “Do I need to remind you that she’s been lying to us, keeping things from us since the day we met her?” I looked at Kate directly. “Now I’m starting to think you might have some issues you need to deal with. I’m not trying to be cruel, but you’ve been through a lot.”
Kate cupped her forehead in a hand. None of us spoke for a long moment.
“I shouldn’t have asked you this,” she said, looking up. “You’re right, it is crazy.” She stood. “Maybe I am losing my mind.”
She went to pick up her purse from the chair by the computer.
“Where are you going?” Ryan asked.
“Home,” she said. “I need to be alone for a bit. And I need to call my father and ask him about this.”
“Wait a second...” Ryan followed her to the door. “There’s a simple way to find out whether or not Marissa is your daughter. We can do a paternity test – or in this case, a maternity test. It’s very simple and you’ll have an answer in about a week. We can order the test online, as long as Marissa is willing.”
“Of course I’m willing,” I said, joining them in the front hall. “I won’t go back to school today. We’ll clear this up first. And I’m really sorry, Kate. I don’t mean to crush your hopes. It must have been a terrible thing to lose your baby, but I really don’t think I’m her.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “I should go.”
She left without kissing Ryan good-bye, and as I stood in the chill of the open doorway, watching her get into her car and back out of the driveway, I worried about her.
“Let’s order that test,” Ryan said, heading for the computer.
I shut the door and followed him. “You don’t really think it’s true, do you?”
“I have no idea,” he said, “but no matter what the answer is, she needs to know.”
Chapter Sixty-five
RYAN AND I went to the hospital that morning. While he checked out Gram’s file to see how she was doing, I sat next to her bed and held her hand.
“I have something for you, Gram. Remember this?”
I laid Bubba next to her cheek and watched for some sign of a response – a twitch in her hand perhaps, a flick of her eyelids – but I saw nothing. The heart monitor continued to beep in a dreary, monotonous rhythm, and the ventilator contracted and expanded, pushing air into her fragile lungs.
Holding her thin, blue-veined hand, I rested my elbows on the cold, shiny bedrail. “I need to ask you something, and I really wish you could answer me.”
Beep... beep... beep....
“Kate confessed something to us,” I said. “It turns out that she got pregnant when she was sixteen... Yeah, I know. Rough, eh? But she lost the baby in an accident. It happened a few weeks before her due date, and it was very devastating for her. I felt really bad when she told me.
“But here’s the strange part,” I continued. “She had Bubba with her on the night of the accident, because Bubba used to be her teddy bear. Isn’t that weird, Gram?”
Beep... beep... beep...
“Kate’s mother made Bubba for her, and Kate sewed a tiny heart to put inside him. She said it was to hold lots of love. All these years, I never knew it was there, but I certainly felt the love.”
I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“I care for Kate very much, Gram, and I don’t want to lose her. Ryan cares for her, too, but I think she’s very lost. At least, that’s how it seems. But I need to ask you something, and I know you can’t answer me, but I’m going to ask anyway.” I swallowed hard and squeezed her hand. “Am I Abigail’s true biological child? Or did she adopt me?”
Again, I waited for a sign – a twitch of Gram’s finger, or maybe her eyes would flutter open.
Still, nothing.
A painful lump formed in my throat, and I found it difficult to breathe.
“I wish you were here, Gram,” I said. “I really need to talk to you. I miss you.”
I stroked her hair away from her face, and wept quietly until I felt Ryan’s hand on my shoulder.
Back to the Beginning
Chapter Sixty-six
Kate Worthington
YES. IT’S TRUE.
For the past two years, I have been living a lie.
I came to Nova Scotia to escape a drug pusher who wanted money from me – money that my husband owed to him. I changed my name, took on a new identity, and found work in a nursing home.
The rest you already know. I was hired to work for a wonderful family in Chester, perhaps brought to them by fate, destiny, or God. Whatever you want to call it.
I certainly didn’t know what to call it.
How many times had I looked up at the stars and prayed that my child would have all the things I never had? That she would have a perfect, magical life, like the privileged set in Bar Harbor who sailed their yachts up the coast each summer to attend Chester Race Week?
It’s what drew me here to Nova Scotia two
years ago – that dream of freedom and fulfilment, when I felt I had to escape from my life, before I lost it. I wanted to be like them.
Was it actually possible that I somehow knew where my daughter was? That my prayers had been answered, and Marissa Smith was the unborn child I had lost in that accident, twenty years earlier?
Sounds crazy, I know.
Keep reading.
If Marissa had survived the C-section while I fought for my own life after the accident, and had been given to another woman to raise as her own, there was only one person who could orchestrate such a plot... My father, Lester Worthington.
My hands shook with fear and rage as I dialed his home number in Connecticut. I doubt I need to explain why I was filled with rage, but the fear... That was more complicated.
What was I afraid of, exactly? That he would scold me for lifting the lid on a box he preferred to keep shut? Or was I afraid of the answer he would give? What if he told me it was true? That, yes, he had seized the opportunity and arranged an adoption of my baby while I was in a coma...
Or worse... what if he told me he would never do such a thing, and the baby was dead. The baby had always been dead.
I felt like I was pulling a trigger and firing myself like a bullet back in time to that horrific day twenty years ago, when I woke up in a hospital bed to discover that my sister and aunt had been killed, and my belly was flat; there would be no tiny infant to hold in my arms.
I wasn’t sure I could bear to hear that news again. I wanted to feel joy and magic from learning that Marissa was my birth daughter.
All the while, I knew it was madness. Marissa couldn’t possibly be my long-lost daughter. My life was not an afternoon soap on television. This was the real world, and I was not an emotional, irrational woman who believed in fantasies and fairy tales. To the contrary, I had never believed in miracles – not even when I watched a drowned woman from a frozen lake come back from the dead.
The Color of Heaven Series [02] The Color of Destiny Page 15
