Lily Rose

by Deborah Robinson

  “If he does,” she told her mother gently, “you should say yes.”

  She waved her mother and Dodge goodbye in his pickup truck, then spent the next few hours watching television and eating an entire bag of chips with sour cream dip, until indigestion and the heat drove her outside. Now she watched idly as a few streaks of lightning arced across the sky. She’d better go in before the rain hit. But just as another bolt of lightning flashed, she felt a stab of pain in her midsection. As she struggled to her feet, a gush of warm water trickled down her leg. She looked down to see a pool of clear, colorless liquid spreading across the floorboards.

  The time had come.

  Cursing the baby’s early arrival—it clearly had plans of its own— Jeff staggered into the house and called her doctor, just as another contraction brought her to her knees. She knew she couldn’t hold off much longer; the next phone call she made was for an ambulance.

  Lying in a bed in Lexington Memorial Hospital, the thunderstorm raging outside, Jeff gritted her teeth and tried to think of anything but the red-hot waves rippling across her belly. She had never experienced pain like this before. It felt like something was trying to claw its way out of her, to rip her apart from the inside. She almost broke down crying when her doctor arrived and said she was too far along for an epidural. For the first time since she’d gotten pregnant, she wished her mother was with her.

  “Push!” the doctor ordered. “The baby’s head is crowning!”

  Through a haze of sweat, Jeff overhead one nurse say to the other under her breath, “The ring of fire.”

  It really did feel like she was on fire. This must be the ninth circle of hell, she thought as she gave one last push with all the strength she possessed.

  “Here she is!” the doctor said. “A beautiful baby girl.”

  Jeff heard a high-pitched cry, but before she could see where it was coming from, the nurse whisked the baby away. Exhausted and overwhelmed, she soon fell into a deep sleep.

  Disoriented, she woke to the nurse saying, “Would you like to hold the baby to say goodbye?”

  Jeff awkwardly took the small bundle wrapped in a pink blanket into her arms. Looking down, she knew one thing for certain: this baby was indeed beautiful. The features of her face, from the almost transparent wisps of her eyebrows, to her tiny nose, to her rosebud lips, were perfectly formed. Jeff knew that many babies were born with blue eyes that later changed color, but these eyes were the haunting sea-blue that belonged to Eric Langvin and his mother, and perhaps no one else on earth. A sudden thought occurred to her: would this baby ever know why she had such unusually colored eyes?

  Then Jeff was aware that another woman had entered the room. She was not a nurse, but introduced herself as Miss Johnson from social services.

  “Anna, are you feeling well enough to fill out the paperwork?” Miss Johnson asked.

  “Yes,” Jeff said. But as the nurse started to take the baby away from her, she blurted out, “Please, can she stay here a bit longer?”

  The nurse looked questioningly at Miss Johnson, who nodded permission. So the baby remained in the room as Jeff, too tired to read through everything that had been handed to her, hastily signed at the bottom of each page as instructed.

  “What would you like to name her?” Miss Johnson asked.

  For a long time Jeff had not intended to give the baby a name. But after gazing into those blue eyes, she knew exactly what the baby should be called, to remind her of where she came from.

  “Her name is Lily,” Jeff told Miss Johnson. No matter where she ended up, Lily would always carry some part of her grandmother, Lillian Langvin, with her.

  Miss Johnson gave her a searching look, as if trying to gauge how she really felt about giving up the baby. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll find a good home for her.”

  Jeff supposed that this was when a lot of girls changed their mind or doubted their decision. She wasn’t one of those girls, but something made her want to keep the baby in her sight. “May I hold her again?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, but we have to go,” Miss Johnson responded, gently but firmly.

  “Goodbye, Lily,” Jeff murmured, and lay back as the nurse took the baby away from her for the last time.

  As soon as she was left alone, Jeff looked through her purse for her firecracker-red nail polish. Now that the baby was gone for good, she might as well celebrate the Fourth of July in style.

  * * *

  The rest of the summer passed swiftly. Jeff had gotten her body back sooner than she’d expected, allowing her to spend the warm, sluggish days of August sunbathing in the backyard. She went out with friends and even kissed a couple of boys, things that she hadn’t dared to do during the school year from fear of being found out. It was quite possible, it turned out, for her to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened over the Fourth of July weekend.

  Jenny had returned from her Lake Cumberland trip with an engagement ring on her finger, and most of her time was spent making plans for her future with Dodge. Would he be moving in with them? Would they go back to Tennessee where he was from, to take care of his ailing mother? When Jeff announced that she’d been accepted to Emory University on a full scholarship, she could tell that her mother was both impressed and relieved. No matter what she and Dodge decided to do, she wouldn’t have to worry about what would happen to Jeff.

  Jenny and Dodge got married at the church the last weekend in August, and the day after that Jeff headed down to Atlanta before classes started.

  “Don’t you want us to come with you?” Jenny asked.

  “You should enjoy your honeymoon, Mom,” Jeff replied. “You deserve it.”

  As she hugged her mother goodbye, she felt a faint pang of guilt for not telling Jenny about the baby, who was, after all, her grandchild. Who knew if she would ever have another one? Jeff didn’t know. But revealing the truth to Jenny would have exposed the web of lies she had spun for months. No, it was better this way.

  Also, Jeff didn’t want her mother to come with her to Atlanta, because she didn’t want anyone to interfere with her plans. With her fat bank account, she bought a whole new wardrobe and got a makeover by a well-known stylist she had read about in a fashion magazine. When she arrived on the Emory campus, wearing the latest designer clothes and platinum blond waves framing her face, she had transformed from a poor Kentucky girl into a southern belle, for all appearances from a very fine family.

  Within a few weeks, Jeff had woven herself into the fabric of college life. Although she thought her classes were boring, she decided she would become a psychology major, because she was interested in how other people’s minds worked. She went through rush week and became a proud Sigma Chi, the sorority of her choice. Her roommate, Haley McKinney, was small-town girl from Athens, Georgia, and Jeff was able to play her like an old-time fiddle.

  “My daddy owns a horse farm in Kentucky,” Jeff told her when they met.

  “Like a Thoroughbred horse farm?” Haley asked, her eyes wide.

  “Just one of the biggest in the state. Why, we’ve had five Kentucky Derby winners over the years.”

  Haley quickly came to regard Jeff as the height of sophistication and worldliness. Together, they decorated their room in shades of pink, from expensive hot-pink bed linens and comforters to fluffy fuchsia throw rugs. All their dorm mates loved to gather in their room because it was so cheerful and fun. But while Jeff enjoyed their company, something important was missing from her social activities. The next step in her plan was to find a handsome, wealthy boyfriend, and so far, no one that she’d met was up to the grade.

  The few frat parties she had gone to had left Jeff sorely disappointed. Sure, there were some nice-looking guys that came from well-to-do southern families, but no one stood out to her. They were all still boys, not much more refined than the pimply adolescents at Paris High School. She knew she was subconsciously comparing them to Eric; she supposed he had started at Harvard by now, if he hadn�
�t found a way to stand up to his father. If she had any hope of banishing Eric from her memory, she needed to find the right man who could do it.

  So one night Jeff did what would soon become a ritual for her. After asking around, she discovered that all the deep southern dining and drinking spots were in a swanky part of Atlanta called Buckhead, and the best place to go there was the Ritz-Carlton. As she had done when she’d gone into Lexington, she hired a town car to take her to the hotel. But when she stepped out of the back seat, she would have been unrecognizable to anyone she’d known back home in Paris. She wore a silk ivory dress that whispered just below her knees and nude kitten heels that accentuated her long, slender legs. Her blond hair, piled high on her head, was held with a diamond clasp. Around her neck was draped a necklace with a one-carat diamond pendant that rested just above her cleavage. Jeff didn’t look like an eighteen-year-old college freshman, but a young woman on the prowl.

  The Ritz was certainly a big step up from anything in Lexington, with its sparkling chandeliers, Oriental rugs, and old-world charm. Jeff sat down at a table near the bar and watched the gentlemen and their guests smoke fine Cuban cigars and drink scotch that was probably older than she was. She found this all very exciting and glamorous, although she had never smoked before. Perhaps she would start. She had seen some girls on campus smoking a long, thin, brown cigarette called “More,” and thought it looked very sexy.

  When the waiter came around, she ordered a martini with fresh limes that in her mind she called a “Lillian Langvin.” Later, it would become her signature drink. (“I’ll have a Lillian Langvin straight up!” she would say to the puzzled waiter.) Then she ordered shrimp cocktail, followed by a rare steak. She’d never had meat this bloody before, where it practically oozed at the touch of a knife. But it tasted incredible, the salty essence of life seeping out onto her plate. When she was done, she daintily wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  While dining, she had ignored the many male eyes that became fixed on her. Now that her performance was over, it was her turn to do the evaluating. These men were in their twenties and early thirties, certainly a cut above the inexperienced boys at Emory. But they had no idea that Jeff was the one who had the power to pick and choose among them, and that whomever she did choose would be the luckiest man in the room that night.

  Glancing around, she caught the eye of a man closer to thirty than twenty, whose cheekbones and sharp green eyes gave him a wolfish look that she found appealing. After she gave him an almost imperceptible nod, he stood and made his way to her.

  “What’s your name, darlin’?” he asked.

  “Anna James Jefferson,” she replied.

  She didn’t mind giving him her real name. She was done with hiding, with secrets, and she was determined that no man she met from now on would ever forget her.

  PART II: LILY ROSE LONG

  Lies live long after death

  Chapter 7

  At 4:30 a.m. on a cold, snowy morning, Carrie Ellen Long switched on a small lamp in the corner to start her day with some ironing. The clothes were neatly rolled in the basket and spritzed with water, waiting for her touch. Carrie Ellen turned the radio on to her favorite country station, just as Dolly Parton was singing “My Blue Ridge Mountain Boy.” Although snow was falling in the mountains and clouds hovered low over the valley, she hummed along with Dolly. She could not have been happier. It had been just about a month since she and her husband, Alexander, had adopted the sweet baby girl that lay in the crib nearby.

  Carrie Ellen and Alexander Long lived in the small town of Cumberland Falls, in the shadow of the Cumberland Mountains in southeastern Kentucky. It was a picturesque place, although rumors around town suggested a dirty little secret: the coal mines that had operated for decades without complying with safety regulations had filled the lungs of their workers with the deadly black dust that eventually killed many of them. Growing up, Carrie Ellen had hoped to become a clothing designer or an artist, but after she finished college, her mother and father had gotten sick. Since her only sister, Martha, had married a wealthy horse farmer and lived three hours away near Lexington, she took on the responsibility of caring for her parents. They had passed away only a few years earlier, leaving Carrie Ellen bereft, but she always believed that when one door closed, another one opened.

  For eighteen years, since they had first gotten married, Carrie Ellen and Alexander had hoped to start a family. They’d watched their friends and neighbors have children, expressed happiness for them, all the while wondering if it would ever be their turn. As they had grown older, and adoption become the only option, there had been endless home visits, waiting, writing letters, and more waiting. But finally— like the thrill of seeing a snow-white dove spreading its wings—it happened. Just days before Christmas, a case worker called.

  “Mrs. Long, this is Miss Johnson from state social services. We think we may have the perfect baby for you and Mr. Long. Can you come to Lexington on Friday to meet her?”

  Carrie Ellen’s breath caught; everything seemed to stop in that instant. “Yes, Miss Johnson, we’d love to meet the baby.”

  After she hung up the phone, Carrie Ellen’s mind raced with plans. Friday was only four days away. She needed to unpack all of the newborn items she had Alexander had saved over the years, in the event they were allowed to take the baby home the same day. She didn’t know if that was how the process worked, but she couldn’t wait any longer to hold her child.

  When Alexander came home that night from his job as a vet, Carrie Ellen could hardly contain her excitement.

  “Alex, she’s here . . . our baby is here!” she cried.

  Dropping his workbag by the door, Alexander took her in his arms. “I can’t believe it,” he murmured into her hair. Then he pulled back, looking intently into her china blue eyes. “My dear, I don’t want you to get your hopes up. What if the baby isn’t right for us?”

  “What do you mean? Of course she’s the one.”

  Drawing her in close again, Alexander said, “God will let us know.”

  While he was overjoyed about the news, Alexander didn’t want Carrie Ellen to get hurt. It had been such a long wait, and he worried that one more setback would break her spirit. Carrie Ellen was desperate to be a mother; she felt that her life wasn’t complete without a child. But no matter what happened, Alexander had faith that God would lead them.

  Carrie Ellen and Alexander were so excited that they decided to drive to Lexington on Thursday afternoon to see if they could visit the baby early.

  When they got into town, Carrie Ellen called Miss Johnson from a pay phone. “I know our appointment isn’t until tomorrow, but we’re already here. Could we stop by and see the baby for a little while today?”

  Miss Johnson, however, was firm. “Mrs. Long, I know how eager you are, but rules are rules. You’ll have to wait. So go out and have a nice supper, get some sleep tonight, and tomorrow will be here before you know it.”

  Although Carrie Ellen expected this answer, she was still disappointed.

  “What did she say?” Alexander asked as she got back into the car.

  Carrie Ellen could only shake her head, not trusting herself to speak. Despite eighteen years of waiting, one more day was still excruciating to her.

  Early Friday morning, before the sun had come up, Carrie Ellen and Alexander got into their shiny new gray Plymouth and made the long drive back to Lexington. They arrived at social services at 9 a.m. sharp and sat in the waiting room, holding hands. Both of them looked their absolute best. Alexander wore a fine gray suit that set off his slicked-back black hair and emerald green eyes, while Carrie Ellen was dressed in a tailored navy suit with a white-lace-collared blouse and pearls, her heart-shaped face framed by a mass of wavy brown hair. She twisted one of her mother’s embroidered white hankies in her small hands. Neither she nor Alexander were able to speak; they were caught up in the most important moment of their lives, simultaneously ecstatic and terrified.

  F
inally Miss Johnson came into the room and walked toward them with a bright smile. “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Long,” she said, shaking both their hands warmly. “Shall we go in and visit with the baby I think would be just perfect for you?”

  Carrie Ellen led the way, holding Alexander’s hand as they entered the infant room together. Her heart broke to see so many babies in cribs, their lost eyes looking into space, their arms no longer outstretched to be held. The room was eerily quiet, as if the babies had long since learned that crying didn’t bring anyone to comfort them.

  Then they stopped in front of a crib where a six-month-old baby girl was propped up, as if she was too weak to sit. She wore a clean but shabby dress and dirty white shoes, both of the kind that had been worn far too many times before by too many other babies. Carrie Ellen only glanced once at this poor attempt to spruce her up; her eyes went straight to the baby’s delicate, angelic face and soft wisps of flaxen hair. She gasped when she saw the eyes that gazed unwaveringly back into her own.

  “Look, Alex,” she whispered. “Her eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue.”

  “They look like the ocean on a summer’s day,” Alexander replied, even though in his almost forty years on earth he was yet to see the shining sea in person.

  The little girl looked back at these two strangers with her haunting eyes and broke the tension with a big, toothless smile. Carrie Ellen could feel tears running down her cheeks as she gently picked up the baby. As she held her ever so tightly, she knew what “just perfect for you” meant.

  That had been a month ago. Since coming home, the baby had changed significantly under Carrie Ellen and Alexander’s care. Instead of lying sad and uneasy in her crib, she was alert and sat up on her own, babbling brightly to whoever would listen. Her little body had grown chubby and strong, clothed in Carrie Ellen’s painstakingly hand-sewn outfits. And Carrie Ellen and Alexander couldn’t have been more enchanted by their little girl. Every day they thanked God that she had come into their lives.