by Nicole Baart
It was insane.
But at the heart of Meredith’s twisted logic was a desire to help and protect. To ensure that as many children as possible were given a chance at a beautiful life. A new beginning.
Heaven help her, but Jess got that.
That sort of love, that fierce, aggressive, relentless love was the same thing that she felt for her own kids. Hadn’t she said as much? Jess would do anything—anything—for her boys.
“What’s going to happen to her?” Jess didn’t mean to speak out loud, but suddenly Deputy Mullen was patting her knee beneath the sheet.
“You will never have to see her again. I guarantee it.”
How could Jess begin to explain the way that made her feel? Safe and grateful and vindicated. But also betrayed. And so, so sad. What about Todd? What about Amanda and Jayden? Those sweet girls that Jess had watched grow from little girls into young women. Her heart ached at the pain they must be feeling. She knew that right now they probably hated her. Or at the very least, that they were very confused. In so much pain. But Jess hoped that someday she might be able to wrap her arms around them. To tell them that she loved them still.
“What about all those families? And the women . . .” Jess’s father had sat with her one afternoon and explained that LaShonna Tate, Gabe’s birth mom, had been among the women Meredith exploited. She’d been pushed into a corner, compelled by a mixture of need and guilt and intimidation to give up her second baby. It was strange to have a connection with this woman—her son’s mysterious first mom—but Jess knew what it was like to lose a child. She could close her eyes and feel the ache of empty arms. Jess and LaShonna were bound together in a sisterhood of grief.
I wish I could have known her. The thought came unbidden, but Jess didn’t shove it away. She embraced it, a hope that would never bloom.
“It’s complicated,” Deputy Mullen said. “Evan made it easy for us by keeping careful notes. And we finally deciphered those last letters and numbers. He was referring to gestation and, in some cases, how far each woman was postpartum.”
Postpartum. Was it too late for them?
Mullen anticipated her question. “Many of the women we’ve contacted wanted to give their babies up for adoption. The money Meredith paid them was certainly a bonus, but they would have done it anyway.”
“And the rest?”
“They can’t have their kids back.” Mullen rubbed the stubble on his jaw and gave Jess a melancholy smile. “That’s not how it works.”
Jess pinched her eyes shut, squeezing the bridge of her nose with her fingers. Her whole body was hot, the headache a raw, throbbing thing that made her feel flayed wide open. These sweats, the sudden pain, weren’t uncommon these days. But she knew that this ache was closely linked to a broken heart and unshed tears, not the naloxone they had used to reverse the effects of the Xanax Meredith had given her.
“You need to rest. I should go,” Deputy Mullen said. But as he stood, there was a scuffle in the hallway and a crash as Jessica’s hospital room door burst open.
“Mom!” Gabe came careening into the room followed by Max and, a moment later, Henry. Jess didn’t have a chance to greet them as Gabe launched himself onto the foot of her bed. The ventilator was gone and the oxygen cannula, so the only thing Jess had to worry about was her IV. But she didn’t care. She threw her arms around her baby, catheter and headache be damned.
Holding him was the sweetest thing in all the world, and Jess was overwhelmed that she was allowed to do it at all. When Meredith came and removed Max and Gabe from her custody, Jess had wondered if she’d ever see her boys again. But it turned out Meredith had been lying even about that. No one had called the child help hotline. From the very beginning, Meredith herself had planted doubts in Jessica’s mind. She’d manipulated her fear and feelings of inadequacy, and when she believed that Jess posed a real threat, Meredith had lied to Officer Tunis and Henry and Jessica, too. She wasn’t sure she could ever forgive Meredith for that.
“Hey, bug.” Jess hated it that her voice was hoarse—especially because it seemed to bother Gabe that she didn’t sound like herself. But she was getting stronger in every way, and today Gabe grinned when she spoke.
“You sound like you!”
“I do?”
“Better,” Max said, putting one hand on his hip as he regarded her. “You should really do something with this, though.” He waved his fingers in front of his face.
“Thanks a lot.”
“It’s the man of the hour,” Deputy Mullen said, reaching for Max. For a moment it looked like they would shake hands, but then Mullen pulled Max in for a hug. “You’re a hero.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Max demurred, but he couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Jess had heard the story a half dozen times, but she didn’t think she would ever tire of it. She was alive because of her son. Because he was stubborn and tenacious and brave.
“I need to hear this straight from the horse’s mouth,” Mullen said. “Tell me how you knew your mom was in trouble.”
Max lifted one shoulder, trying to appear nonchalant. But what he had done was remarkable. He had seen things no one else noticed. “When Meredith and that cop drove us to Grandpa and Anna’s house, her purse was on the seat between them. It was open and I could see a book inside.”
“How’d you know it was your journal?”
Max gave Mullen a withering look. A look that said: How could I not know?
“Wait,” Jess cut in. “Why did Meredith want Max’s journal?”
“We believe she was looking for any evidence that Evan might have left behind,” Mullen explained. “James Rosenburg was named in Max’s diary.”
“It’s not a diary,” Max said, tugging the cuff of his sleeve.
“Definitely not a diary,” Deputy Mullen confirmed. “Brilliant, actually, that you paid such close attention to detail. Names are important. Go on.”
Max stalled for a moment but found his footing. “So I knew she had been in our house. She was the one who had taken my journal. And then when I tried to call mom and she didn’t answer, I knew something was wrong. She always answers her phone when I call. She promised.”
“He kept trying to tell me,” Henry said, cupping his hand on Max’s shoulder. “But I wouldn’t listen. We were all upset. Gabe was crying.”
“Was not!” Gabe called from his spot on the bed beside Jess.
Henry ignored him. “So Max snuck out and stole my car.”
“I didn’t steal it; I borrowed it.”
But Henry was clearly bursting with pride. No justification necessary. And why shouldn’t he be? Max wasn’t fourteen, but that hadn’t stopped Evan from taking him driving on gravel roads and in parking lots. He knew how to drive. And though Max was neither legal nor the best driver on the road, he pulled into the Chamberlains’ driveway as the garage filled with exhaust. And as soon as he opened the door he knew. He dialed 911 from the house phone, and while he waited for the ambulance to arrive, he shut off the car and opened all the garage doors. Then he held Jessica’s hand until they came and took her away.
The paramedics were so preoccupied with Jessica they left Max behind when they squealed off, sirens blaring. So Max found Jess’s phone on the coffee table in the living room and made two calls. One to Henry, and the other to a contact he found in Jessica’s address book: Deputy Mullen.
Meredith was a mess when they questioned her, and the backpack she had taken from the Chamberlains’ house was still in the backseat of her car. Evan had laid everything out as meticulously as a medical chart, every scrap of evidence was carefully ordered and cross-referenced so that putting together the pieces was almost like reading a novel. And suddenly, his strange file with the color-coded Post-it Notes made sense. Through Facebook and private conversations and word of mouth, he had identified twenty-five women from four different prisons who had used Initium Novum to place their babies with adoptive families. He was bu
ilding a case.
“You’d make a great detective someday,” Deputy Mullen told Max. His mouth was quirked in a half smile, but his eyes were serious.
“I didn’t do anything.” Max shrugged. “I didn’t figure anything out. I just thought that my mom might be in trouble.”
“Don’t diminish it,” Mullen said, leveling a finger at him. Then he slapped his hand against his thigh. “I almost forgot!” He grabbed his coat off the end of the bed and patted the pockets until he found what he was looking for: a flat, silver box. He held it out for Jessica.
“What is this?” she asked, taking it from him. It was polished nickel, about the size of a postcard and an inch deep. When she shook it, it made a dull, knocking sound. Something was inside.
“It was in Evan’s accordion file,” Mullen told her. “There’s a tiny padlock. We could break it open, but we thought we’d ask you first. I don’t suppose you have the key?”
Jess shook her head, but as she did so an errant thought fell loose. “Yes,” she said, surprising herself. “I think I do!”
Max fetched her purse, which had been hanging on a hook in the small hospital room closet. There, inside the zippered coin pocket of her wallet, Jess found the key.
“This is from Evan’s office,” she said, holding it up. “I didn’t know what it was for, but maybe . . . ?” Jess let the sentence hang as she tried the key in the little padlock. It fit. A half turn and the lock popped open. Jess slid the cover back.
“What’s inside?” Gabe asked, leaning into her lap as she shook out the contents on the bed.
There were five pictures in all, each one frayed at the corners and dotted with a tiny hole at the top. A tack, no doubt. Perhaps they had been attached to a bulletin board or stuck to a bedroom wall. Jess had no idea how Evan had gotten them, but when she saw them, she understood why he wanted to keep them safe.
She was lovely. Dark hair and big brown eyes. She had a dimple in one cheek when she smiled, and slightly uneven, very white teeth. The way her eyebrows arched and made her look perpetually happy was endearing. And so was the way she threw her head back when she laughed.
“Who is that?” Gabe asked, holding one photo close.
Jess brushed her lips against his forehead and closed her eyes. She had absolutely no doubt about who was in the pictures. The resemblance was impossible to miss. “That,” she whispered against his soft skin, “is your birth mom.”
AFTER
“YOU PLAN ON stopping in Rapid City tonight, right?” Henry lifted the last suitcase into the trunk of the car and shut it firmly. “It’s a long, boring ride from here to there. I think it’s important that you stop and refresh.”
“We already have a hotel booked.” Jess laid a hand on her father’s arm and stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll be fine.” She didn’t tell him that they also had a reservation in Gillette and another in Sheridan. Rapid City was six hours away, but they didn’t want to be chained to a schedule. If the Wyoming border called to them, they had no reason to stop. The late June day stretched out before them, sunny and bright, and the road seemed to whisper a welcome.
“We’re good, Grandpa. We’ve got two drivers.” Max held up the car keys and gave them a happy jingle.
Henry looked alarmed. “You’re not letting him drive first, are you?”
“He has his learner’s permit,” Anna reminded her husband before folding Jessica into a hug. “Max is a great driver.” For Jess’s ears only she said, “Be safe. Have fun. Keep us updated, or I may have to commit your father, okay?”
“Promise.” Jess squeezed Anna, hoping that her stepmother could feel the affection in her embrace. “Can’t guarantee we’ll call every day, but Gabe will text emojis nonstop. You’ll block my number before the end of the trip.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” Anna laughed.
“I’ll send you the dancing grandmas GIF.” Gabe circled his arms and wiggled his hips in a bad impression of an equally bad dance move.
“What’s a GIF?”
“Grandma.” He rolled his eyes but wrapped her in a hug all the same, smacking her cheek with a kiss when she offered it to him. “Love you.”
“Love you too, buddy.” As Jess watched, Anna cupped her grandson’s face in her hands and blinked back a tear. But Gabe couldn’t tolerate the affection long, and after a second he had slipped out of her reach and was climbing into the backseat of the car where his stuffed animals and PAW Patrol books beckoned.
“Twenty bucks says we don’t make it to the South Dakota border before he asks: ‘Are we there yet?’ ”
Jess batted away Max’s outstretched hand. “I don’t bet, but you’d go down if I did. I don’t think he’ll make it to the edge of town.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Henry said, throwing his arm around Max’s shoulders. “What an adventure.”
It was an adventure indeed. After the dust had settled and Meredith’s trial was over, they all felt ready for a fresh start. Jess’s first instinct was to reach out to Gabe’s grandmother. Unfortunately, when Larissa Tate heard why Jess was calling, she hung up and refused to answer any subsequent calls. Jess was glad that she had chosen not to tell Gabe what she planned to do. Maybe someday Larissa would change her mind. Or when Gabe was older he’d have a stable enough foundation to understand that family isn’t always determined by blood. It’s born in tender moments, refined by fire, strengthened by the kind of love that knows no beginning or end.
Larissa Tate may have rejected Jessica’s invitation, but Brian and Grace Munroe didn’t. It wasn’t as easy to locate them as Jess hoped it would be. Meredith’s files on the children she placed through Initium Novum were spare at best. All the adoptions were closed, the families seemingly grateful for the no-strings-attached arrangement. But Deputy Mullen had fought hard for them. He worked with the personnel at Eagle Ridge to determine where LaShonna had given birth and when it had happened and who was there. It took months, but he found them.
“LaShonna’s baby is their one and only. They seem like a really sweet couple,” he said when he handed over their contact information to Jess. A telephone number, full names, and even an address. They lived in a little town in the heart of Idaho.
Jess could hardly speak. She was holding in her hand a ticket. A hope. A wish that beat fragile wings against her chest. What would they say? They were the last connection Jessica had to any of Gabe’s blood relatives. She was both terrified that they would reject her advances and fearful that they wouldn’t. This was an entirely brave new world for her.
When Jess finally summoned the courage to call, Grace Munroe listened in silence to her fumbling attempts at an explanation. Even in her own ears the story sounded impossible. Insane. But when Jess was all done and finally waited with her breath lodged firmly in the back of her throat, it became apparent that Grace was crying. She just didn’t know if they were horrified tears or happy tears until Grace exclaimed: “I can’t believe Isabella has a brother!”
Jess bit back her own sob.
This was right. It’s what Evan would have wanted. And LaShonna, too.
Isabella Lynne Munroe had brown eyes and brown curls and a button nose just like her big brother. She was about to celebrate her first birthday on July 2, and her entire family was going to be there to help her blow out the candles. It was hard for Jessica to believe. Not because it was happening, but because she didn’t just allow it, she longed for it. A year ago she would have never understood how important it was to hold the ones she loved loosely. To accept that they were all a part of a tapestry much larger and more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. And the lives that intersected her own, that wove in the spaces between her and her children, were sacred. They needed one another. They were better together.
“I hope we like them,” Max said as he headed toward the driver’s seat. “What if the Munroes are crazy people? Aren’t there a lot of militias in Idaho?”
“They seem like wonderful peo
ple,” Jess said.
“How would you know?”
“We’re Facebook friends. Everybody knows that people are their truest selves on Facebook.”
Even Henry laughed.
They pulled away with the windows down and Jess leaning out of the passenger side to wave as they disappeared around the corner. Max was in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel at the perfect ten and two, just like his grandfather. And his father, too. Jess studied her son’s profile and felt a lump rise in her throat. Sometimes she missed Evan so much she felt like she couldn’t breathe. But she could. The air was scented with the glossy tang of geraniums in bloom and rain that had fallen the night before. The sun was orange behind them, spilling light all along the way.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ARE ALWAYS difficult to write, but after doing it eight times you’d think I’d have learned a thing or two. And yet here I sit, overwhelmed while I reflect on the creation of You Were Always Mine.
This book is the most personal thing I’ve ever penned. As a mother of children biological, adopted, and gone before I ever had a chance to hold them, I wanted to write a story that was both a compelling read and a compassionate, respectful, honest exploration of the many different sides of motherhood and adoption. I’ve been a mom for fifteen years, but will probably always find this topic to be fraught with deep emotions: love, fear, hope, inadequacy, longing, joy, loss, and so much more. As mothers (and as women who participate in the act of mothering by teaching, mentoring, befriending, and in many other ways impacting the lives of children) we are well versed in feelings of doubt and guilt, and it is my hope that this book whispers even a little inspiration: Keep loving. Keep fighting. Keep doing the hard things that you know are good. Link arms, friends. Stand in the gap, fill the empty spaces. Rise up and fight for everyone’s children, for those who are hurting and suffering and lost. They’re all our kids and we all belong together.
