by Zara Teleg
“Dear, may I help you?”
She looked almost exactly the same. Dressed impeccably in a blue floral dress with matching heels and a cream sweater draped over her shoulders. Her blond hair was twisted in a perfect swirl on her head with bangs sweeping across her forehead. Her eyes were lightly outlined, complementing her rosy cheeks and lipstick.
She put on her glasses that hung around her neck.
“Hello?”
I thrust the tea roses at her and pulled my sunglasses off, revealing my tear-filled eyes.
She took a deep breath, putting her hand on her chest, and stepped back.
“Chère, it’s you. Paige! My darling granddaughter. Those eyes will always give you away.”
Her eyes now filled with tears, and she grasped my hand and pulled me into a hug. I inhaled her rose scent, which I remembered she always smelled like.
“Come in, come in.” Her voice was slightly broken.
Walking through the small apartment was like going back in time. Meme created a smaller version of her home just as I remembered it. She patted the floral cushion on the same yellow-painted kitchen chairs I stood on as a child when I helped her in the kitchen.
“I just can’t get over it. Paige, you’re here. How did you even find me?”
“You sure didn’t make it easy,” I laughed, “using your maiden name.”
Her face tightened, eyebrows stitching together.
“I didn’t want your parents to find me so easily.”
She set a tall glass in front of me. “I just made some sweet tea.” Her accent was still thick and made me smile. It had a soothing effect and put me at ease.
She poured the brown liquid over ice, pulled a fresh sprig of mint from a plant that sat on the edge of the sink and added a round slice of orange before encouraging me to drink. She uncovered a plate of biscuits and set out some butter and orange marmalade.
“How old are you now?”
“Twenty-three,” I said with a mouthful of biscuit melting in my mouth.
“You look just like your mother.” Her hand went up to her lips.
I froze. “What?”
“Nothing, chère. What did I do to deserve your visit? And why did you stop writing to me? I looked forward to your letters.”
“But Meme, you never wrote back.”
She mumbled a curse in her thick Cajun French. “I always wrote you back.” She waved her long pink nail in front of me.
“Your mother. She must not have given them to you.” She rolled her eyes. “How are your sister and your parents?”
“Jul—, um, Ana is good. She just got engaged.”
Her smile at that news brightened her whole face.
“Is he nice?”
“Rage adores her and would do anything to make her happy. She’s also head over heels for him. My parents are finally on the mission of a lifetime. They are on their trip around the world going from mission to mission like they had always planned.”
“And you?” She placed her soft hand over mine. She still wore her wedding band. “Anyone special?” Her eyes lit up as she asked.
“No.” I shook my head.
“You can’t lie to Meme. Who is he?”
I blew out a breath, not wanting to admit my feelings. “His name is Kai, and I don’t know if it will ever go anywhere. He is not relationship material.”
“Pish posh. Your grandfather was the catch of New York City. When I met him at the USO, every lady wanted the Italian Stallion. I was lost in his northern accent and was almost afraid to speak to him because the other women always made fun of my accent,” she said before cursing again in Cajun.
We spent the next two hours catching up while she fed me everything she could think of. I talked about everything except what I came for. Every time I wanted to ask, fear seized my tongue.
“Will you stay the night? I don’t want you going back to the hotel.”
“I’ll stay, Meme.” I squeezed her hand.
“Paige, Meme knows you’ve come here for something. I have a feeling I know what, but I would like to pretend, just for today, that you are just my granddaughter here for a visit. I want to rest up so I can show you off to all my friends.” Her face was glowing at the idea. “Then, chère, tomorrow we can talk about it. Deal?”
“Deal.”
The rest of the day and evening, I was paraded around by Meme. It seemed each of her friends had a grandson I would be just perfect for. Meme bragged on our old times—our long days in the kitchen and our gardening together. We walked back to her apartment from the common area, her arm hooked through mine. How could my parents have denied me a relationship with her?
“Paige, you have made an old woman very happy.”
“You’ve made me just as happy.”
I was making up the sofa bed when she came out of the bathroom dressed in her long white nightgown. Her blond hair had a few rollers and her face was dewy with moisturizer. She sat on the edge of the sofa next to me.
“You do look just like her.” She studied my face. “Hair the color of sunshine, your petite nose, fair skin, and those ta-tas—you didn’t get those from anyone on this side of the family.”
I looked down at my chest, embarrassed. “Meme!”
“Oh, sweetie. But more than anything, your smile. Since you were just a little girl, your smile lit up every room you entered.” Her eyes were warm and shone with such love. I really missed her.
“How did you know I knew?” I swallowed and took one of her frail hands in mine.
“I’m still an observant woman. The look on your face when I said you looked like your mother said it all.”
“So you knew her?”
She bobbed her head lightly, a guilty smile playing on her lips.
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t my parents tell me? Who is she? Where is she? Why was I adopted?”
She stroked my forehead and wiped away a tear that had escaped.
“It’s late. I don’t have it in me to stay up long. We can discuss all this tomorrow. Truth is, dear, it isn’t my story to tell. But it’s not fair that you don’t know where you came from.”
“This is why my mother and father don’t speak to you, isn’t it?”
She nodded gently. “When you were twelve, you came for the summer. I could see you struggling. And you were so much like Maggie Grace. I told your parents I thought you should know. Your mother pitched a fit. She was angry with me. She took you back early, and that was the last time I saw you.”
She ran her fingers down my cheek and held my chin. “I think a girl deserves to know where she comes from. After all, it’s not blood that makes a family. Your parents raised you, you were theirs, no one was taking you away. I think your mother got scared and thought you would run off, you were so stubborn.” She patted my hand. “Now, chère, get some sleep, we will talk in the morning.”
Sleep, that was a joke. I was relieved that she knew, but new anger toward my mother grew.
It was midnight. I wondered if Kai was home.
Me: Made it to Meme’s. Sleeping here.
I looked at my phone over and over. Hours later, I got the thumbs-up emoji. Okay… That was Kai’s last text.
Not sure when I slept, but my stomach was growling. Meme was in the kitchen humming along to Billie Holiday’s “God Bless the Child” while cooking a feast. Sizzling greens, fresh buttermilk biscuits in the oven, and coffee drew me into the small sunny kitchen.
“Morning.” I stretched, walking over to her and kissing her cheek.
“Bonjour, chère.”
“Meme, why did you never teach us how to speak French?”
“Then you would understand what the adults were talking about.”
She passed me a mug full of dark coffee and pointed for me to sit. I sat at the table, putting my foot up on the chair.
“Put your foot down. That is not ladylike.” She swatted my knee.
“Yes, Meme.”
“Why do you have to go so early?” She p
ulled the tray of biscuits from the oven.
“Work. I would have taken the train, but that was going to take even longer. I’m saving to move, and taking time off isn’t something I can afford to do right now.”
“Work, work, work. One thing I learned in life—don’t work too much, or life will pass you by. Then you will be an old woman like me with no one and nothing.” She looked at the ring on her finger.
While eating breakfast, I asked her questions about my grandfather. She told me stories I had never heard. I felt a different closeness to her.
“I can’t eat anymore. When are we going to talk about…you know? I only have three hours before I should get on the road.”
“You shower, I’ll dress. We will sit on the porch, and I will tell you what I can.”
As promised, an hour later, we were sitting outside.
“In 1992, Hurricane Andrew wiped out a lot of small communities. That summer, your parents stayed at the house on the weekends. Some weekends they would bring volunteers that were at the mission.
Magnolia Grace was one of those volunteers. She was someone who quickly made an impression. Her exquisite beauty paled in comparison to her heart. She was sweet, generous, and most of all, selfless. Your parents took a liking to Maggie, treated her like a daughter.
Maggie came from a well-to-do family near Atlanta. She was closer to their staff than her actual parents. She told me how she would sneak to the help’s house when she was little and play with their children and learn how to cook. It broke her heart to know her family had so much and they had so little.
One of the little girls she used to play with got sick with a terrible fever, and sadly the little girl died. Maggie declared, against her parent’s wishes, she would someday be a doctor and help children and families who had nothing. Maggie applied to medical school and got a full scholarship. Her parents couldn’t stop her from going. They could no longer control her.
She was here on her summer break before starting college, working at the mission after the hurricane destroyed an entire community on the bayou. She loved it.” My grandmother’s face was glowing, her eyes were glassy at the fond memory.
“Maggie would cry to your mother about not wanting to go home. She was being coerced into marrying a man who she didn’t even like, from another well-to-do family. You see, during the summer, Maggie met a boy who was working on the mission. The two became close. He opened her small world to new experiences. He was crazy about her. That girl, like you, had a beauty that could charm a snake. She got pregnant and one day showed up here in tears. She went back to school in a hurry, and I didn’t hear from her for months.
During that summer, your mother, Catherine, was nearing forty and also found herself pregnant. It was definitely unexpected. After she had your sister, Ana, they tried many years to have another. But by the time your mama was thirty-eight, the doctors said she had some kind of condition and couldn’t have any more children.
“Wait, what?” I was confused. She placed her hand over mine.
“Your mother and Maggie both fell pregnant that summer. Maggie hid it from her very religious family as long as she could. They were furious when they found out. She went to your parents for counsel. They offered to let her stay with them. She was planning on giving you up for adoption, and she felt that was the only way you would have the life you deserved.” Meme stopped and picked up the cross that hung around her neck, kissing it.
“Maggie wanted to find a loving family from the mission to adopt you. Toward the end of the pregnancy, your mother had issues and lost her baby. She was devastated. She refused to tell anyone. It was then that Maggie felt God had placed her there. She knew there would be no better parents to raise her daughter.”
Heavy tears fell as the story materialized in my head. She reached out and handed me a tissue. “Hunny, your parents loved you so much. Your mother never wanted you to know the truth because she wholeheartedly believed you were her daughter.”
“So, what happened to my birth mother?” I sniffed, holding in the tears.
“Well, she…” Meme cleared her throat, taking the cup from my hands and placing it on the table. “I’m sorry, dear, about two weeks after you were born, she became severely depressed. She had been disowned by her high-society family, her little girl was being raised by someone else, and she was desperate.”
I felt dread from the tips of my toes rolling up my entire body. My eyes stung, and my hands trembled. Meme’s words now seemed far off as the ringing in my ears began. I could still see her mouth moving, but it was all just too much.
“And, I’m so sorry, ma chère, she was never found after she jumped.” Meme grabbed both my hands and put her face directly in front of mine.
“Now, you listen to me, Paige. Maggie loved you. She loved you so much she was willing to give you up so you would have a good life. She believed that you would grow up safe and happy. The only thing she insisted of your parents was your name, Paige Victoria. She never told us its meaning, but it was very special to her. So, Paige Victoria, don’t you cry for her. She was grief-stricken and saw no way out. You pray for her.”
“And my birth father?” A cross look marred her face. She shook her head.
“All I can tell you was she loved him, and he was a bad seed. She thought she could change him.” Meme waved her finger in my face. “A snake will always be a snake; you can’t make him a puppy. He’s a wild creature that can’t be trusted. Snakes turn on you. You best remember that.” She cupped my chin and kissed my cheek.
“Catherine insisted no one know about you for your own safety. She never wanted someone to come and claim you or take you away. Since she had been pregnant and due at the same time, with a home birth, no one was the wiser. Aside from the nurse, your parents, Catherine’s mother, and me, no one knew about you.”
“Why did you want me to know? Why did that cause such a problem for my mother?”
“You came here when you were about twelve years old. You would cry about kids teasing you, telling you that you were adopted. You got sick that summer. Do you remember that?”
“Yes, I was in the hospital.”
“They did not know what it was. They thought you may need blood. Catherine was freaking out because your blood type is very rare, and no one in the family is a match. Between that episode and your constant questions, I thought it was time that you knew. Catherine disagreed. No matter how many times I swore to keep her secret, she was adamant about keeping you away from here. So you spent summers with your Nana instead, and your father would sneak me a call or two over the years.
“Ma chère, I swore, you knew. The questions you would ask, and as smart as you were… Maggie was beyond intelligent. I couldn’t figure out how a sweet girl like that could be bewitched by a boy and have her plans to fix the world destroyed by him.”
She put my face against her chest and kissed the top of my head, cradling me in her rose-scented arms. “You are a strong woman.” She pulled away and really looked at me. “Way stronger than Maggie. I hope you got what you came for. I’m so glad you came. I always knew that someday you would be back, my sweet Paige.”
“Meme, all this is not necessary.”
“Yes, it is. And I expect frequent calls and a few visits in the future. My door is always open to you.” I carried two boxes to my truck. One contained a family picture and special mementos of Meme. She wouldn’t even tell me everything that was in there. She told me to wait until I got home and go through the box carefully. The other box was loaded with food, special meals from her freezer, and a giant bag of her biscuits. The aroma made my stomach howl again. The last thing she gave me was two mason jars of sweet tea along with lunch and snacks to eat on the way.
I gave her a tight squeeze. My eyes began tearing up again. She ran her thumb across my cheek, wiping away the tears.
“Chère, I love you so much.” She put a hand on each side of my face.
“Please call me the minute you get home.”
> “I will. I love you too. Thank you for everything.”
She stayed on the porch, watching the truck, until she was just a blurred image through my watering eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
Kai
My chest warmed, feeling like I was doing the right thing for a change. I needed to pick something up on my way for Reid. I made a quick stop at home before heading to Jenn’s.
I saw Paige’s truck was there. I was glad she made it home. I had been so busy, I hadn’t been able to answer her last text.
I rooted through my closet until I found it, the black Harley shirt I picked up for Reid on my last trip. We started his collection before he was born. Every time Ripper and I passed a Harley dealership on a run, we got Reid a shirt. We started with onesies, and now I was buying a shirt for an eleven-year-old. I folded the soft shirt and stuffed it neatly in my bag. I tucked it around the bottle of wine I picked up for dinner.
My hair was still wet, so I tied it back into a low knot before pulling on my Stained Souls hoodie. I could hear music coming from Paige’s adjoining apartment. I looked at my phone, hoping to see a text from Paige, but nothing. I didn’t have time to hear about her trip, but I didn’t want her to think I was ignoring her either.
I tapped out my signature knock a little harder so she could hear it over the Billie Holiday that was coming through the door. It took a second time before the door opened.
Paige’s violet eyes, which were usually clear and bright, were rimmed with smudged charcoal and appeared bloodshot. Her face was ruddy and swollen.
“Hey.” Her voice was small as she held the door, not inviting me in.
