Saving Abby

by Steena Holmes

  All because of one decision, one mistake that she would always regret.

  “So now you want to be a grandmother?” The words just came out, unbidden and unprovoked.

  At the look of horror on her mother’s face, Claire stopped herself from going further down that road. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

  “Oh, honey, I . . .”

  In that moment, before a veil descended over Millie’s eyes, Claire became hopeful. Maybe, for the first time in years, they’d actually talk about what happened.

  But Claire should have known better.

  “It’s easy to look back and realize the mistakes we made and wish we could do things differently. I regret a lot of things, but there isn’t much I would change, other than that time in your life. But then, you know that already. This isn’t news to you.” There was a sadness to Millie’s voice, the regret so obvious.

  Claire put on a bright and cheery smile, pushing everything she wanted to say back into the tiny little box full of memories that her mother never wanted to deal with. “I know.” She closed her eyes and let the soft breeze dance over her skin. This was not turning out the way she thought it would. She expected Millie to be ecstatic, over the moon . . . but this . . . this didn’t feel right.

  “Mom, I—” Claire decided to try again.

  “I think I might go work in your garden a little.” Millie interrupted her. “Those roses need some pruning.”

  Before Claire could say another word, Millie walked away. But not before Claire noticed her mother wiping away tears.

  The guilt that remained whenever she tried to talk about what happened to her as a teenager was right there. It was always right there, as if waiting for the perfect moment to crash into her life and destroy anything worth holding on to.

  Today was supposed to be about this miracle inside of her, but instead, Claire had made it about her past.

  Why couldn’t she let go and move on? Why?

  If she could turn back the clock and have a do-over, she would do it in a heartbeat.

  She would never have sneaked out of the house after being grounded by her father, or hitchhiked into town to hang out with friends at the beach for the first bonfire of the season.

  She would never have stayed by the campfire after all her girlfriends had gone home, or continued to drink beer with guys from school. She would never have let herself get drunk.

  There were a lot of things she would never do again, but if she could go back to that day and stay in her room, like the good girl she was supposed to have been . . . she couldn’t even imagine how different her life might have turned out.

  Her mother had been the one to realize she was pregnant. Claire had assumed she missed her period due to final exams and the pressure from her father to get perfect scores. But Millie knew better.

  Her father had been furious when he found out. He refused to be the father with the pregnant teenager. Did she not realize what that would do to his career? He was supposed to be a respected council member and businessman.

  He’d demanded Claire get an abortion, but in a rare instance of holding her ground, Millie had stood up to him and told him it was Claire’s body, Claire’s choice.

  Except she really didn’t have a choice.

  If she kept the baby, she wouldn’t be allowed to live at home. Those were the rules according to her father.

  But if she got rid of the baby, he would pay for her college tuition, take care of her housing, and even provide a monthly living allowance so she could focus on school and not worry about finding a job.

  After a lot of begging and pleading, Millie convinced him to let her and Claire live in their summer cottage until the baby was born, so Claire could give it up for adoption. She did her lessons at home, something her father arranged for her so that she wouldn’t get behind in school. With the two of them at the cottage, he could tell everyone Claire and her mom were traveling as they’d always wanted to do.

  He’d agreed, and the decision had been made. He even offered to send her on a trip to Europe after the baby was born.

  She was supposed to be grateful for his understanding. Grateful. But not once had her parents asked her what she wanted to do. She’d had a desperate need to keep her baby. She knew she was young, but she loved children and dreamed of having a large family one day. Being an only child was lonely, and this baby meant she wouldn’t be alone. She was willing to do whatever it took to be a mother, even if it meant finding a job and working for minimum wage.

  Millie and Claire stayed at the cottage for the first month after she’d given birth. Millie called it her month of healing, but Claire cried every day.

  Her father finally came to pick them up, handing her plane tickets the moment he walked in the door. They were all going on a holiday, a little road trip through the states. They had a timeshare in Florida, and her father thought they all deserved a vacation. From there, Claire and Millie would fly to the UK, where they would tour England and Scotland before coming home in time for Claire to start school in the fall.

  For the first few months, Claire managed to contain her anger toward her father and tried to be a good girl. She lived in a fog, her emotions shut off from everything and everyone. She kept her mouth shut as she traveled with her mom, toured the museums, and went on guided excursions of all the sights.

  They arrived back home just in time to get her ready to move to Toronto to attend college. She hardly spoke to her father after her return, but when he handed her the keys to an apartment he’d found, completely furnished, and told her she’d made the right decision, everything inside of her exploded.

  She could still remember the anger and the hatred behind the words she’d said to him.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I honestly hate you. You took away my decision, and now you’re trying to buy me off.”

  She’d watched as his face softened for one split second and her words hit his heart. “I love you, Claire Bear. I’m just trying to do my best by you. That’s all. When you’re a parent, you’ll understand,” he whispered.

  She refused to apologize.

  “I was a parent. For one hour while I held my son, I was his mother.” Tears gathered in her eyes, and she wiped them away angrily. “They asked me in the hospital if I was sure. I could have changed my mind, but I decided not to. Do you know why?” She spat the words out, loathing pouring out of her heart as her father just stood there.

  “Because the people who adopted him, who would be a part of his life forever, they wanted him.” She choked on the words. “He deserved to be wanted, and they could give him a better life than I could. That was why. Not because of you, not because of your demands and your threats.”

  For the next four years while she took a creative arts program, she also worked part-time to help pay for her basic needs. Other than what covered her schooling and apartment, she didn’t take a penny from her father. Every month when he’d put the money into her account, she would write a check for a group home that helped pregnant teens.

  For the first few years, Claire would attempt to talk to her mom about the baby she gave up, but her words always fell on deaf ears. Millie wasn’t one to dwell on the past, and that became abundantly clear to Claire on the day of her son’s first birthday.

  Millie had come by her apartment to take her out for dinner, something she did frequently, and found Claire sitting on her couch, wrapping presents she’d bought for the son she didn’t know. She had no idea what was appropriate for a one-year-old boy, so she’d picked up a few outfits, some toys, and books.

  “Why would you do this?” Millie took the remaining unwrapped items and set them on the floor. “Why do this to yourself?”

  “It’s Jack’s birthday, Mom. I needed to do something to celebrate it.” Claire held a book in her hand and stared at the image on the cover, a little boy surrounded by toys.

  “Jack? That’s what you named him? I thought—” Millie shook her head as she took the b
ook from Claire’s hands. “I thought you understood that his family would pick his name?”

  “I did. I do. But I still . . . he was still my little boy, Mom. I needed to give him a name from me.”

  Millie nodded as she processed that. “Jack, huh? I’ve always liked that name. It’s strong. But honey, you can’t be doing this. It’s not healthy. Let it go and move on, remember?”

  Let it go and move on. Her mother’s favorite mantra when it came to anything unpleasant. Let it go and move on. Except, how could you let it go and move on if you’ve never dealt with it in the first place?

  “We all have our own ways of dealing with things, Mom. You like to pretend it never happened. But I need to face it.”

  Millie sighed. “I don’t pretend, Claire. I just choose not to dwell on what happened. And you shouldn’t either. Come on. Let’s go get dinner. I made reservations at a new Italian restaurant that’s getting rave reviews. Why don’t you hop in the shower and get ready, and I’ll tidy up a little.” Millie gathered the plate and cup she’d left on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen.

  “Can we make a stop first?” Claire glanced at the wrapped gifts. “There’s a group home nearby I’d like to drop these off at, if you don’t mind.”

  Millie stopped but didn’t turn around. “What kind of group home?”

  From the way she asked, it sounded as if she already knew what Claire would say, but that wasn’t possible, was it? Did her mother know about her monthly donations?

  “For pregnant teenagers who have been kicked out of their homes, like I was.”

  “You weren’t kicked out, Claire. Stop being so melodramatic.” Millie sighed and walked away.

  Claire fumed. She was being melodramatic, was she? As far as she was concerned, the moment her pregnant belly could no longer be concealed, she’d been forced to move into their summer cottage, away from family and friends, to live in seclusion. She’d stayed behind when her mother ran errands, drove three hours to a city hospital so she wouldn’t be recognized, and then had given up her child.

  She wondered if her mother still felt she was being melodramatic even after all these years.

  She opened her eyes and watched her mother putter in the garden, tending to flowers that were doing fine on their own. When Millie turned, Claire gave her a little wave.

  “It’s a bit warm out here.” Millie shielded her eyes from the sun. “How about I put the kettle on and make us a nice pitcher of homemade iced tea.” She stood.

  “You know his birthday is coming up,” Claire said quietly. “Each year gets a little bit easier, but it’s still like a knife in the heart.” Claire sat up in her chair and leaned forward. “Do you ever think of him?”

  “The things you ask some days.” Millie shook her head. She squeezed Claire’s shoulder. “Of course I do, Claire. He’d almost be the age you were when you had him. I’m sure he’s had a very full life with his family.”

  “And there’s that knife twisting,” she mumbled as her mother walked away.

  “Oh Claire. You’re your own worst enemy,” Millie said with a hint of sadness as she walked into the house, the screen door closing behind her with a loud bang.

  NINE

  MILLIE

  Present day

  Millie didn’t know what was going on with her daughter, but she wasn’t leaving here tonight until she found out.

  For days, weeks even, she’d listened to Josh worry and fret over Claire’s health, keeping her up-to-date on any little thing, like how much she slept or how little she ate. But today . . . nothing. Josh seemed calm about everything, and Claire seemed quite chipper and not as exhausted.

  If she didn’t know any better, she’d say Claire was pregnant.

  No. She immediately dismissed the thought. Claire would have told her by now, especially after she had reminisced about the time when she was pregnant with Claire. That would have been the perfect time to tell her.

  So if she wasn’t pregnant, what was it? Did they get a new book deal? Were they going to go ahead with adopting a baby?

  Little flutters of hope had Millie clasping her hands together. Maybe that was it. Maybe Claire decided she didn’t want to wait after all.

  When Josh walked through the front door, arms laden with bags of groceries, Millie was there to help him.

  “Welcome home.” She beamed at him.

  “Um, thanks.” Josh gave her a quizzical look, which she ignored.

  The moment she’d met Josh, she’d sized him up and known immediately he was the right man for her daughter. He was a partner in life, not a dictator. He worshiped the ground Claire walked on, and that was fine by her.

  “Why don’t you let me take care of dinner tonight? You go out and relax with my daughter. I know you’re working hard on your deadlines”—she patted him on the cheek—“and could use some good homemade food.”

  “We don’t eat out every night.” Josh followed her into the kitchen and set the bags on the counter. “I do burgers on the grill too you know.”

  “Of course you do.” She rummaged in the bags, looking through the food he’d bought. Lots of vegetables, some chicken, and a squash.

  “I thought I’d grill the chicken and vegetables.” Josh started to unload the bags before Millie swatted his hands away.

  “I’ve a better idea.”

  “Okay then. I’ll leave it all in your awesome hands.” Josh leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. “There’s some mint tea chilling in the fridge.” He eyed the kettle she had put on the stove.

  “Mint tea sounds perfect right about now.”

  While Millie sorted the vegetables and finalized her plan for dinner, Josh headed out to the patio and gave Claire a hug. Millie couldn’t hear what they said, but she caught the way Claire shook her head and Josh glanced back toward her.

  Her ears should be burning, but she decided to ignore whatever was going on. If she were right—and let’s admit it, she often was—hopefully she could get it out of them tonight. Over dessert.

  Which reminded her . . . finding out you were going to be a grandmother, again, merited a celebratory cake.

  “Mom?”

  Millie turned at the sound of Claire’s voice. She saw her daughter pop her head up from the hammock she was resting in.

  “Are you cooking dinner?” Claire swung her legs over the side and yawned. “Let me help.” She gave her head a small shake, wiped her eyes, and yawned again.

  “Don’t you even bother yourself. Stay in that hammock and just relax.”

  “We invited you over for dinner, not to cook it.” Millie joined Claire in the hammock, and they swung together in silence.

  “Honestly, what can I do to help?” Claire said.

  “Nothing. I’ve got it all prepped. I was just about to make dessert, and no, you can’t help me.”

  Her daughter groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” Millie squeezed her daughter’s hand.

  “I just got hit with a killer headache.” Claire massaged her temple. “I’ve never had so many headaches as I have these past two months.”

  Millie didn’t like the sound of that. “Have you talked to Abby about it?”

  “No. They’re just headaches. Maybe it’s time for a good massage and a visit to the chiropractor.”

  “Sweetheart, you’ve never been one for headaches. Ever. You get that from me. If you’re getting a lot of them, you need to tell Abby. You might need more than just an adjustment and a massage.”

  “Oh, but have you seen the new massage therapist at the clinic? I seriously think I need a massage.” Claire’s eyes twinkled.

  “I heard that,” Josh yelled out the kitchen window.

  Claire blushed while Millie laughed.

  “Keep him on his toes, girl. It does a marriage good.” The moment Millie said it she winced. Who was she to give her daughter marriage advice?

  “So,” she said to break the awkwardness. “I’d better get busy.”

  “Seriously, let
me help. I’m not an invalid,” Claire said as she hopped out of the hammock and then held her hand out for Millie.

  Millie ignored the help and stood up, letting the hammock drop from beneath her. “I never said you were. But you’re exhausted. Don’t bother denying that. While we both know Josh is more than capable of making dinner, you’re probably ready for something other than barbecued beef, right?”

  “I heard that too,” Josh yelled.

  “That boy had better not be messing with that food,” Millie muttered.

  “Oh, you have no idea. I was going to say we should go to the Wandering Table if he suggested another burger.”

  The Wandering Table was a cute diner owned by one of Claire’s old friends from school. Gloria used only fresh, local ingredients. Millie approved of that restaurant, unlike the greasy spoon at the edge of town where everything was fried.

  “Gloria would probably offer to make you anything you craved.”

  Claire laughed. “She would. She thinks I’m too thin as it is.”

  “But you’re eating, right?”

  Claire shook her head. “Not really. Josh makes me eat at least one meal, which is usually either lunch or dinner, and then the rest are protein drinks. I’m just not hungry, Mom.”

  Millie patted the hand resting on Claire’s stomach. “It’s okay. As long as you’re getting something into your body, you’re fine.” She almost said baby but caught herself.

  “What’s for dinner?” Claire asked.

  “Chicken Alfredo, but instead of pasta, I’m using spaghetti squash. And cake.” She sat up. “Which reminds me. I’m making it from scratch, so I better get started.”

  “What kind of cake?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe coconut cream?” She tipped her head toward her daughter, knowing it was her favorite.

  “I love you, Mom.” Claire covered her mouth as she yawned again. “You’re the bestest, you know that, right?”

  “Oh honey, I know. Now, come with me, and we’ll get you something to help with that headache.” She recalled the mint tea in the fridge. That would help. She’d also talk to David, and see if he recommended anything else.