A Mother's Conviction (Secrets Series Book 3)
Page 16
Everyone remained silent for a moment. When Connie headed for the back door, Beth and Willow rose.
Hannah didn’t move. “Can you guys give me a minute alone?”
Everyone nodded and the three of them left the chapel as Hannah walked back toward the coffin. Out in the hallway, the hospital’s antiseptic smell and people walking by wearing blue scrubs reminded her where they were.
Connie cocked her head at Beth. “Thanks for arranging this.” She gestured toward the chapel. “I was in such a fog, I was in shock just as much as Hannah was. I couldn’t think straight. It never occurred to me to. . . do any of this.”
Seeing tears in Connie’s eyes brought a rush of emotion back to Beth. She brushed away her own tear and blinked rapidly. “I just hope it helps.”
Connie nodded and gestured toward Willow. “Bethany, you’re a good mother.”
Suddenly Beth couldn’t fight back the tears any more.
# # #
Bethany hated to leave Hannah, but the only flight she could get required her to head back that night.
Her father picked her and Willow up at the O’Hare Airport. On the drive to his house in northern Indiana, he asked, “How was your flight?”
“Fine,” Beth said.
Willow rustled the wrapper of the tiny pretzel bag she’d been given by a flight attendant. “It was so cool. I’ve never been on an airplane before.” She crunched on her last pretzel and wadded up the bag.
Her dad glanced into the rearview mirror. “Were you scared?”
“I don’t like all of the people, but they give you pop and snacks and you can watch movies on the headrest.”
“Sounds like you made the best of it.”
“Yep. When can we fly somewhere again?”
Beth chuckled. “Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere.” She paused. “Can we fly to Tennessee to see Momma?”
Beth exchanged a look with her father before answering. “I suppose we probably could.”
Her dad cleared his throat. “Wait until you two see what we’re having for dinner. Since you missed out on a proper Thanksgiving, I made your mother’s famous sweet potato casserole.”
“The restaurant was fine, Dad.”
“No, it didn’t feel right. Plus you had to rush off.”
The truth was they’d eaten on the plane and it was late, but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. She appreciated not only the ride to and from the airport, but also how supportive he’d been lately. It was out of character for him. “Wait a minute. You cooked?”
“I called your mom for her recipe and she walked me through the whole thing. I didn’t think I was up for roasting a whole turkey by myself, so I hope you don’t mind turkey loaf.”
Willow kicked the back of Beth’s seat, as she tended to do when she was excited. “Did you make cranberry sauce?”
“Yes,” her father said. “I must confess, I bought the pumpkin pie.”
Another kick came through Beth’s seat. “Yummy!”
An hour and a half later, they were sitting at her parents’ oak table, complete with nicks and scratches that Beth had probably contributed to when she was Willow’s age. It seemed weird for her mother not to be there.
Her father sliced the rectangular loaf of turkey and placed a slice on everyone’s plate. “Willow, it’s a tradition in our family to say what we’re thankful God has given us before we eat our Thanksgiving dinner. I’ll go first. I’m thankful for my wife and my daughter and for my granddaughter, Willow.” His eyes looked as if they were watery. “I’m thankful that our family is stronger because of God’s love.”
Chewing on her lip, Beth tried to think of what to say. She’d hated this tradition when she’d been an adolescent and she hadn’t been back for Thanksgiving dinner there since she’d left for college. Her freshman year, she’d changed so much. She’d questioned the church and her father’s wisdom. Blindsided by an unexpected pregnancy, she’d withdrawn into herself, creating a chasm between her and her parents.
And now her father was saying he was thankful for her. She still wasn’t crazy about all of her father’s conservative values, but as a foster parent, she was starting to understand the compulsion to protect your children. The temptation to build a fence around them with rules.
She noticed her father’s gaze on her. It must be her turn. “I’m thankful for my family, too. You, Mom, and Willow.” She looked at her foster child. “I’m so blessed to have you in my life. I love you.”
Willow smiled and her scar practically disappeared. She pushed up her glasses. “First of all, I’m thankful I can see the chalkboard at school.” Beth and her father laughed. “I’m thankful they gave us pretzels and chocolate chip cookies on the airplane. I’m glad for dandelions and kittens and everything that’s pink. I’m thankful I got to see Momma.”
The table went silent. Beth couldn’t help but notice that Gola was included in Willow’s prayer, but not her. Would Willow rather be with her birth mother? Was there some kind of inherent connection between a child and her real mother—no matter how inadequate that mother had once been?
Willow ate her cranberry sauce first, then pushed the rest of her food around. “I’m full. Do I have to eat all this?”
Beth looked at her father because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she wasn’t a believer in making kids clean their plates, either. It was important to stop when one was full. “She did eat on the plane, plus she just finished that bag of pretzels.”
Her father winked at Willow. “That’s fine with me. You’re welcome to go downstairs and play while your mom and I finish.”
Willow jumped up. “Yea!” It was as if she’d gotten her second wind.
Beth cleared her throat. “Don’t forget to put your dishes in the dishwasher.” She sounded just like her mother had thirty-some years ago and she smiled to herself. Soon Willow had removed her dishes and her feet skittered down the wooden stairs to the basement.
“How’s Hannah doing?”
Shrugging, Beth listened to make sure Willow was occupied downstairs. She heard the Wii playing “Just Dance” music. “I think it’s one of those things that will take time to get over.”
“Of course.”
“It breaks my heart that she lives so far away. I’d like to be there for her.”
“To be fair, you haven’t been there for her all of her life. I’m sure she doesn’t expect it.” She dropped her fork on her plate creating a loud clatter. “That’s a mean thing to say.” He was slipping back into his old ways—rubbing her face in her unplanned pregnancy.
Sighing, he took a sip of wine.
Silence hovered in the room as he continued to eat. She’d lost what little appetite she’d had. Now she just wanted to go home where no one would judge her. Where she could enjoy the time she had with Willow before Gola tried to take her back.
Her father inhaled another deep breath. “It hurt me so much to find out you’d kept such a big secret from me. It hurt even more to know you didn’t feel as if you could come to me for advice.”
“I already knew what you’d say. You would’ve said you were disappointed in me. You would’ve said that you didn’t raise me to give in to sins of the flesh.”
“You’re right.” He swirled the wine around in his goblet. “When I was younger, I saw everything in black and white. I only wanted what was best for you and clearly, getting pregnant your freshman year of college, wasn’t what I envisioned.” He tossed some vino toward the back of his throat.
“Me, neither.” Her voice was flat. Were they really going to rehash this now? She rolled her shoulders. “Dad, I’m tired. I had a long day. I’ll go get Willow and head on out.”
He set down his glass with a thump and it almost spilled. “Maybe it’s time we put the past behind us.”
“I’m not the one who can’t let it go.”
“I like you and Willow coming over for dinner. I like having my daughter back in my life.”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do with Willow?” Just like that, he’d switched gears, leaving her wanting for more.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. I always assumed her mother had rights to her. If that’s what Willow wants and Gola will provide a safe and loving home, then it would be selfish of me to stand in their way, right? I mean, if I could’ve taken Hannah back once I graduated college and had a good job, I would’ve.”
“That’s the difference between adoption and foster care, I suppose.”
She picked up a roll and started ripping it apart. “It’s going to kill me if Willow goes to live in Tennessee. I wish I could stay a part of her life. I wish I could see with my own eyes that Gola is taking motherhood seriously. To make sure she doesn’t start drinking again.”
He nodded. “I told Ann Wilson about your situation. She said she’d be glad to talk to you about it if you’d like.”
Mrs. Wilson was a woman in the congregation who had successfully fostered a dozen kids over the years. She had managed to get all of them to not only graduate high school, but go on for post-secondary education as well, which was quite the accomplishment.
Beth dropped the bread. “Maybe that would help.”
“Does Willow want to live with Gola?”
“I don’t know. Should I ask her?”
“Unless you’re afraid of what she’ll say.”
Her throat felt dry as she stifled a yawn. Airplanes did that to her. She drank some more water, then pushed out her chair. “Well, it’s getting late.” She reached for her plate, but her father told her to leave it. Normally, she would’ve put it away, but she was really tired. She headed downstairs and her dad followed her. When she reached the shag carpet, she saw Willow curled up on the couch in front of the TV. Sound asleep.
Her father whispered. “She looks so peaceful. Why don’t you two sleep here tonight? Then we can all go to church together in the morning.”
“I didn’t bring any nice clothes.”
“You can wear one of your mother’s dresses.”
She shook her head. It had become a habit to avoid spending too much time with him. “They won’t fit.” Even though she was no longer overweight, she still had a more rounded figure than her mother.
“It doesn’t matter what you wear. God doesn’t care, as long as you come to worship Him with an open heart.”
It doesn’t matter what you wear. The words rolled around inside her mind. All of her life, her father had insisted that she wear her Sunday best—never jeans--because everyone in the congregation would be looking at him and his family. He’d always worried what the parishioners thought more than he’d worried about her own feelings. And now, now he had changed. He wanted to let go of old grudges and he accepted her and her complicated life.
Looking at Willow’s chest moving up and down with slow breaths, Beth hated to disturb her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After breakfast the next morning, Bethany tried on five of her mother’s dresses, but none of them fit. Frustrated, she tossed another one on the bed. It didn’t seem right that her mother was so tiny. Finally, she found one with an elastic waist band. It was navy and it smelled of lavender laundry detergent.
She missed her mom a lot, but her absence appeared to have helped heal the rift between her and her father. Inhaling the lavender scent on her sleeve, she smiled, then went to make sure Willow was dressed.
The three of them walked next door to the church so her father could prepare for the service. Ann Wilson greeted them when they entered the front doors. “Hi, Willow. How are you?”
Instead of answering, Willow squeezed Beth’s hand tight.
Ann lowered her thin, laugh-lined face to Willow’s eye level. “My little girls are in the nursery playing house. You’re welcome to join them.”
Beth smiled at Willow. “Go ahead. I’ll come get you before the service starts.” She was happy Willow wasn’t shy around little kids the way she was with adults. Her daughter released her hand and darted to the church basement.
“Your father told me a little bit about what’s going on with you. You wanna talk?”
“I’d like that.” She gestured toward the empty secretary’s office. They walked in and closed the door. “Maybe you can give me some advice.” They both took a seat near a table piled high with stacks of hymnals. An old-fashioned rotary phone rested on the small desk.
Beth fiddled with her watch band. “Willow’s mother just got released from prison. She came for a visit a couple weeks ago and she said she’s planning on taking Willow back.”
“She probably has to get a place to live and a job first, right?” When Beth nodded, Ann continued. “How did the visit go?”
Beth shrugged. “Okay. At first Willow was clinging to me, but by the end of the day, it was as if she remembered her mom. I’ve never seen Willow warm up to anyone so quickly.”
“How long has it been since she saw her mother?”
“Two and a half years.”
“And there’s a history of neglect?”
Beth crossed her legs. “Her mom was an alcoholic. She’d stay out all night and leave her girls to fend for themselves.” The thought of Willow alone and hungry tugged at her heart. “Supposedly Gola has been through treatment and is sober. I mean, I hope she is. But I just don’t know if I trust her. How do I know she won’t go back to her old ways?”
Ann nodded. “It’s not easy to love a child and let her go.”
“I know it’s what I agreed to, but I don’t know how to send Willow off with someone who might hurt her. I guess someone will be checking in on her, right? A social worker or a parole officer will make sure Gola follows through.”
“Sure. Let me ask you this, do you believe Willow will have a good childhood with her biological mother?”
“Good? I doubt it. I can do so much more for her. We have a house with a backyard where she can play, I’ve been thinking of getting her a dog or a cat, and I can pay for piano lessons, swim lessons, summer camp. . . .whatever she wants.”
Ann looked pensive. “Those are all nice things. Luxuries, really. Does Gola love Willow?”
“I believe so.”
“Does Willow love her?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t dismiss the powerful bond a child has to her biological mother. It’s why family reunification is the goal of social services. A child suffers when she’s rejected by her parents.”
Beth felt a jab at her ribs. Had Hannah suffered because Beth had placed her for adoption? She’d never intended to hurt her—only do what was best. “So, you think I shouldn’t fight Gola. You think Willow will be better living with her biological mother even if it’s in an apartment in a bad neighborhood.”
“All I’m saying is don’t assume a middle-class upbringing is what’s best. It’s nice, but not necessary.”
“You think I’m a snob.”
“I think you’ve done your best for Willow. But if Gola is ready to be a good mother, Willow might resent you if you prevent that from happening. Maybe not right now, but someday.”
Fear trickled down her spine. “I love her and I only want what’s best for her.”
Ann put her hand over Beth’s and squeezed. “Of course you do. I remember how hard it was the first time I had to let go of one of my foster kids. I called the social worker every day asking how he was. I wrote him letters to let him know I was still thinking of him. I even drove by his house to watch him climb on the school bus.”
“But Gola lives in Tennessee. I won’t be able to see Willow and make sure she’s okay.”
“That’s tough. You have to have faith in the system or. . .”
“Or what?” Beth bit her lip. Church would be starting soon and she didn’t want to look like she’d
been upset.
“Or move to Tennessee.”
# # #
At the bus stop Monday morning, Zoe, wearing the too-long yellow scarf her grandfather had knitted, craned her neck watching for Bella. “I wonder where she is.”
“I don’t know.” Melodie looked toward the farm house half expecting to see Conner and Bella walking toward them. His pick-up truck was still parked out front even though he said they were leaving. Part of her wondered if he’d changed his mind. “Maybe Bella is sick.”
“When I get home from school, can I go over there and see?”
“Maybe we can both go.” She didn’t think it was fair that Conner wasn’t even going to allow the girls to say good-bye.
“Thanks.” Zoe picked up some snow and formed a ball. Laughing, she threw it at a tree. “I love winter!”
Melodie only grunted. If it weren’t for the snow, she could’ve spent Thanksgiving with her family instead of making a fool of herself with a man who didn’t care. Hearing the loud engine of the bus, she checked to make sure her daughter was out of the road. “Have a good day!” Zoe hugged her, which as usual, gave her a quick shot of endorphins.
She watched her little girl climb upon the big yellow machine, thinking it was only yesterday that she’d brought her seven pound baby home from the hospital. Only yesterday Paul had suggested they buy this place and she quit her demanding job. Only yesterday everything had seemed so full of promise.
When the bus turned the corner, she headed back home. Already she was dreading logging onto the computer to search for jobs. She was starting to think she’d have to take something she was overqualified for. With a sigh, she decided to make herself a cup of coffee before she began the frustrating job hunt. While she was waiting for the water to boil in the microwave, she heard a knock at the door.
Who could that be? Her heart hoped that it was Conner, but her head told her to stop thinking about him. She opened the door and saw him standing on her porch with dark circles under his eyes. “What’s up?”
“I have a confession to make.”
She opened the door wider and welcomed him in. “You want something to drink? Tea or coffee?”