A Mother's Conviction (Secrets Series Book 3)

by Karen Lenfestey

  “Melodie, don’t ever regret being there for Zoe while she was a baby. You didn’t want to put her in daycare, remember? As a lawyer, you worked eighty hours a week. You would’ve missed everything.”

  “I know. I know. It was wonderful to see her take her first steps. Did I ever tell you her first word was Mommy?” Sometimes she couldn’t believe she ever was a tough negotiator in her law firm. She was so soft and mushy when she talked about her daughter.

  “Three of my four’s first words was Mommy, too. That’s not original. What’s original was that Junior said ‘party.’”

  A laugh burst from her. “That’s not true.”

  “It’s in the baby book. You can’t prove anything different.”

  She rolled her eyes. Her brother was such a character. “Enough about me and my sad romantic life. How are you?”

  # # #

  Conner stared at the neon “Miller Time” sign in the liquor store window as he sat in his pick-up truck. He turned the engine off and felt the cold air seep into his bones.

  His little girl was gone. The only thing he’d done right in his life was to be her dad. And now she was probably alone and afraid in a stranger’s house. It was his fault. He should’ve insisted they pack up and move on as soon as he learned Gola had hired a private eye. Instead, he’d caved to his daughter’s pleas to stay with the kittens, to stay next door to her new friend, to stay put for the first time in over two years.

  It had been a mistake. A huge mistake. What next? He should just go inside and buy a six-pack. Would that be enough to cloud his brain and help him forget? He wanted to forget about how he’d failed his daughter. Again. First, he’d left her in the care of Gola, who had nearly killed her in a car accident. And now, he had let Gola get her hands on his daughter. God, he needed a drink.

  Or to go to a meeting. He looked at his watch. 11:13 p.m. He shook his head. He didn’t know where a meeting was at this time. But the liquor store was right there.

  Some of the best times of his life had been when he’d been drinking. He recalled singing “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas with some friends at a bar and then taking home the leggy redhead sitting next to him. Another time, he’d played a game of pool with a sexy brunette and when she lost, she owed him a kiss. The kiss, of course, led back to her place. The rest of the night was a blur. What was her name? He couldn’t remember. Had he ever known?

  All of the guys in the bars always envied him because the girls liked him best for some reason. He’d never considered himself especially good-looking, but he must not be half bad. A couple of chicks had said he looked like Adam Levine from Maroon 5.

  But he gave up one-night stands for his baby girl, Skye. Once he heard she’d been hurt in a drunk driving accident, he’d driven all night to the hospital. He swore he’d protect her from the world and he’d never drink again. And it’d been worth it.

  Until now. Now he had no hope. Gola would make up lies about how horrible a husband and father he’d been. Some of it, she wouldn’t even have to make up. He’d been young and irresponsible. Just like she had.

  He bit his knuckle. What was he going to do? A drink would make him feel instantly better.

  Where was his daughter right now? Was she safe? Did she understand he’d tried to stop this? Would she forgive him for his many crimes?

  Miller Time. It promised happier moments. It beckoned him. It would take away the pain.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  By that evening, Bethany and Willow were on a flight to Dallas-Fort Worth. The day before and after Thanksgiving might be busy at airports, but the day of Thanksgiving was rather quiet. Once they landed, Beth called Connie for an update. Hannah was sleeping, so they agreed to wait until morning to visit.

  Since it was past her bedtime, Willow fell asleep easily in the hotel room, but Beth tossed and turned all night. She wasn’t sure what she should say to Hannah. Shouldn’t she as her mother have some keen insight? It frustrated her that she didn’t.

  As Beth and Willow walked through the hospital lobby the next morning, they passed a gift shop filled with balloons, flowers and cards. Willow tugged on her hand. “Can we get Hannah something?”

  Beth paused. Did you buy “Get Well Soon” balloons for someone who’d had a miscarriage? She didn’t know. No one close to her had ever lost a baby so late in their term. “I suppose we can take a look and see what they have.”

  Willow was immediately drawn to the stacks of stuffed animals. She dug through the pile and held up a brown puppy with a tag on its collar that said “I Wuff U.” “Awww, isn’t this cute?”

  Beth nodded. “Remember, Hannah’s a lot older than you. I’m not sure she’s into stuffed animals.” Not that she knew what would cheer Hannah up. She hoped it wasn’t awkward that she’d brought Willow. Was Hannah going to be jealous that Beth had placed her for adoption, then ended up raising someone else’s daughter all of these years later? Surely not. Timing was everything. Beth hadn’t been ready to be a parent when she’d had Hannah.

  “I think she’ll like it.” Willow held the puppy up next to her cheek as if to emphasize how cute he was.

  “Okay.” Beth grabbed a vase of yellow roses, too, and paid at the cash register. Then they walked through the quiet halls, rode up the stainless steel elevator, and entered room 315. She saw Hannah in a bed looking as pale as her bleached bedsheets. Her brunette hair was flat. Beth took a breath. “Hi. How are you?”

  Hannah turned to look at them and shrugged. Her middle still looked enlarged from the pregnancy.

  Willow rushed forward and handed her the dog, but didn’t speak.

  Bless her heart, Hannah forced a weak smile, which caused her braces to flash. “Thanks.” She’d inherited Parker’s warm brown eyes, but today they looked glazed.

  Beth set down the flowers on the night stand and gave Hannah a hug. She whispered in her ear, “I’m so sorry.” The room remained quiet. Wearing a wrinkled floral dress, Connie sat by the window. The dark circles under her eyes in addition to the wrinkled dress supported the theory that she’d probably slept in that chair last night. Beth made the introductions since Hannah and Connie had never met Willow.

  “So nice to meet you.” While digging in her purse, Connie allowed her auburn hair to fall into her face. “Do you like gum, Willow?”

  The six-year-old hid behind her foster mother’s torso and didn’t speak, which frustrated Beth. “It’s okay, Willow. Connie is the nice woman who adopted Hannah from me.” Did she just say the wrong thing? She scanned Hannah’s features, but didn’t see a reaction. The teenager just stared at the ceiling.

  Connie held out a small silver wrapper. “Do you like Juicy Fruit?”

  Beth touched Willow’s head. “That’s Gola’s favorite, isn’t it?” Her little girl nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Slowly, her child released the grip on Beth’s thigh and limped over to Connie. She unwrapped the gum and started chewing. Beth hoped the gum would help distract her daughter. Bringing her had been a mistake, but it was hard for her to say no.

  Connie studied the girl’s countenance. “My, what striking eyes you have.”

  Willow bowed her head and pushed her pink glasses up her nose.

  “What do you say?” Beth prodded.

  “Thank you.”

  Part of Beth had hoped that bringing Willow would help break the tension of this visit, but now she saw how foolish that wish was. No matter how well-adjusted Willow seemed at home, new people brought forth her shyness. Why hadn’t she purchased one of those coloring books she’d seen at the gift shop to help occupy her?

  As if reading Beth’s mind, Connie dug in her purse for something more. “Would you like to play a game?” She held up her state-of-the-art phone.

  Willow twirled her dark hair and looked at Beth for guidance.

  “That’s okay.” Beth waved her forward. “Connie, you’ll have to show her how to play. I have to admit, I haven’t let her use much technology. I’m so old-fashioned, I on
ly let her play with yo-yos and dolls.”

  Connie nodded. “I think that’s wise.”

  The compliment buoyed Beth like helium in a balloon. Willow moved closer to Connie and immediately became entranced by colorful, moving objects on the screen. Connie offered for her to sit on her lap, but of course, the girl chose to stand.

  Reaching down, Beth clasped Hannah’s cold hand. “You never answered how you’re feeling.”

  “Empty.”

  Beth chewed on her lower lip. “I can’t even imagine what this is like for you. I just wanted to tell you in person that I care.”

  Hannah sighed. “I know.”

  Squeezing her daughter’s hand, she thought about telling her not to worry, that she had plenty of time for more babies, but she doubted that would help. She thought about saying what her father would say, that this was God’s will, but she hated that idea, too. It didn’t seem as if there were any words to ease Hannah’s pain, so she just stood beside her bed and held her hand.

  After a few more awkward moments of silence, Hannah looked at Beth. “Where’s Parker?”

  “I tried calling him, but he’s in Africa again. Cell phone reception is pretty spotty there. I’m sure he’d be here if he knew.” Beth tried to hide her frustration by straightening the covers. It was bad enough that Parker bailed on her while she dealt with Willow’s possible departure, but for him to not be there for their daughter was unacceptable. Deep down, she knew that Parker would hate that he’d missed a chance to comfort Hannah, but that didn’t matter. By traveling so much, he’d made his choice to avoid real life here.

  Eventually, Beth’s legs started to ache. She grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to the bed with a screech. A water pitcher sat on a nearby table. “Would you like something to drink?”

  When Hannah shook her head, Connie gave her a sympathetic look. Two mothers unable to help their child. So they sat there, silence suffocating them, because there wasn’t anything else to do but be present.

  A little while later, Willow looked up from her video game. “I’m hungry.”

  Connie uncrossed her legs. “Me, too. How about we go to the cafeteria and see what they have?”

  Willow’s blue eyes grew wide as she looked at Beth. “Are you coming?”

  It wasn’t as if Hannah was talking her ear off, but she felt as if she belonged there. “Can’t you go without me?”

  Shaking her head, Willow put the phone on the window sill. “You have to come with.”

  Beth checked her watch. It wasn’t quite lunch time and she didn’t want to be tempted to stress eat. “I’m not hungry yet. Either go with Connie or you’ll have to wait.”

  “I’ll wait.” Willow leaned against the wall.

  Connie rose and headed for the door. “That’s all right. Want me to bring you back a cookie, Willow?”

  The young child smiled and nodded. As soon as Connie left the room, she plopped down in the vacant chair.

  A tear rolled down Hannah’s face. “I didn’t even get to see my baby. They wouldn’t let me hold him.”

  “Really?” Beth wondered why not. Was the baby disfigured or was Hannah in too much shock? And what had the hospital done with the body? Would there be a funeral or what? Questions ricocheted inside her brain, but she didn’t dare say them aloud to Hannah for fear of making her even more upset. “If there’s anything I can do, please tell me.”

  Wiping away the tear with her bare hand, Hannah shook her head. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”

  # # #

  Around five p.m., Beth decided to give Hannah and Connie some privacy. Hannah hadn’t said more than ten words in the last two hours. Willow’s brain had surely turned to mush after playing games all day on Connie’s phone. The little girl had been so patient. Hanging out in a hospital room with someone who was blue definitely had to be about the last place a six-year-old wanted to be.

  As they walked down the brightly-lit corridor, Beth reached for Willow’s hand. “Want some dinner?”

  Willow nodded.

  The only thing worse than hanging out in the hospital was eating hospital food, Beth figured. She’d noticed a cluster of restaurants nearby so she went to her car and let Willow pick where they went. She picked Red Robin for their endless supply of French fries. While there, Beth kept wishing she could think of some way to help Hannah heal. Her cell phone rang and she immediately hoped it was Parker.

  Caller i.d. showed that it was her dad. She picked up without hesitation. “Hey.”

  “I take it you made it there.”

  “Oh, sorry I didn’t think to call. The flight was fine and we went straight to bed.”

  “I understand. How’s Hannah?”

  Beth watched Willow slurp up her root beer and reach for another fry. “She’s all right, I guess. She’s depressed, I think.”

  “Miscarriages are always hard. Even when they’re only a few weeks along, but this pregnancy was so close to term.”

  “I just don’t know how to help. I don’t want to leave her like this, but Willow has to go to school in a couple days.”

  Willow’s eyes grew wide as if she thought Beth might put her on a plane by herself. Beth reached across the table and patted her small hand. She mouthed, “Don’t worry.”

  “Have you talked to the hospital chaplain? He might have some ideas.”

  “I didn’t even think about that.” Then it hit her. Hannah had complained she’d never seen or held her infant. She desperately needed to see what her body had been carrying for the past eight months. Maybe looking at him would help her accept things. “Do you think we can have a funeral at the hospital?”

  “I think it’s called a memorial service for a stillborn.”

  “Oh.” Even the terminology was a reminder that this supposedly wasn’t a human being yet. “I’ll see what can be arranged.”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  This offer from her father took her breath away. Her father had never forgiven her for placing Hannah for adoption all of those years ago. Now, he was offering to attend a memorial service for what would’ve been Beth’s grandchild. Her throat grew dry and she started to choke.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She coughed and cleared her throat. “Yeah. Sorry. It just hit me that I was almost a grandmother and you were almost a great grandfather.”

  “I’m serious. I can hop a plane and be there tomorrow if you want.”

  But Sunday he was supposed to give a sermon in Indiana. She knew how he hated to miss a day. “It’s not necessary, Dad. But it means a lot to me that you offered.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind. I could even perform the service if you want.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “No. Thanks.” Worried she couldn’t hold it together any longer, she said good-bye and ended the call.

  Life was moving too fast for her. Her baby was nearly grown and needed to bury her own baby. Now Beth was about to lose her second child, as well. She turned to Willow and decided to quiz her again. It scared her how poor the girl’s memory was. “Do you remember our phone number?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  No one hated funerals more than Bethany. She’d attended more than her share as a child, her father dragging her to one nearly every time he’d been asked to speak. Whenever someone in the congregation died, they’d gone to the funeral. That’s what ministers and their families did. By the time she was eighteen, she’d seen far too many caskets lowered into the ground. Even if she barely knew the person or they’d lived to be ninety-eight, it still bothered her.

  And yet by Saturday afternoon, Beth had arranged a funeral of her own. The four of them sat in the small hospital chapel while a chaplain said a few words about “God’s mysterious ways.” When he was done, Hannah stepped forward and stared at the baby’s still body in its tiny coffin. She’d done the same before the ceremony. Connie followed her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

  A few rows back, Beth remained seated next to Will
ow. She didn’t think Willow needed to see a dead baby. Beth wasn’t sure if she could handle it either. After all, it was a part of her in that coffin. Somehow she’d barely dabbled at motherhood yet nearly became a grandmother. She was only thirty-five, but it felt as if she’d let life pass her by. She leaned over and kissed the top of Willow’s dark hair. Another tear pricked her eye and she fought it.

  Fortunately, Willow was entranced by the tiny mosaic stained glass windows around the chapel and didn’t notice that she was about to lose it. Beth sat there for a long time, wishing her life had turned out differently. She wished she’d gotten married and then gotten pregnant. She wished she’d raised her own child, but she didn’t wish that she’d never known Willow. Somehow her imagined life and her actual life needed to co-exist, even though she knew that was impossible. She never would’ve taken a foster child in if she’d had a family of her own.

  Willow turned to Beth. “Can I see it again?”

  Beth pulled out the velvet box from inside her purse. She opened it and let Willow finger the necklace. It was a tiny golden angel holding the November birth stone, topaz.

  “It’s so pretty.”

  Hannah walked toward them and stopped beside their pew. “What’s that?”

  Swallowing, Beth tried to find the words. She’d struggled with when was the right time to present the gift. “I know you’re not big into jewelry, but it’s called a memorial necklace. It’s in remembrance of your baby.” The chaplain had suggested it, saying it brought comfort to some mothers.

  Willow swung her feet back and forth as Beth handed Hannah the necklace.

  “Thanks.” Hannah carefully took the chain out of the box and asked Connie to help her put it on. She rubbed the charm between her thumb and index finger. “I won’t ever take it off.”