“Eileen is your mother.”
“Eileen is comatose in a hospital bed. Eileen stole me from my parents when I was a baby.” My words are so bitter I can almost taste them. “And Eileen refused to answer any of my questions when she had the chance.”
My phone pings with a message from Carmen.
Don’t freak out. I’m giving you a head’s up.
She attaches a link to an article written in the New Hutton Star.
“Oh no,” I say, my stomach dropping before I even begin reading.
“What is it?” Evan asks, but I ignore him.
The article is titled “Baby Caroline Has a Baby of Her Own.”
The woman believed to be at the center of the Baby Caroline mystery is now a mother herself…
“Oh no. Ava.”
“What is it?” Evan asks, concerned. “Did something happen?”
“The New Hutton Star has written an article about us. It’s talking about me being a single mother to Ava.” My voice catches. “See the shit we’re having to go through because of Eileen?”
“Just wait a minute. What does it say?”
My eyes scan the article. It’s talking about my life in North Bay. About my decision to have Ava on my own. None of it is new information to me, but I hadn’t planned on sharing the details with the rest of the world. And someone close to me must have passed on this story to the press. I don’t know who would have betrayed me like this, but the newspaper wouldn’t have access to this information otherwise.
“I’ll send you the link,” I say, my tone cynical. “I have to go.”
I stuff the phone in my pocket and start jogging toward the dock.
“I’m sorry, Marion,” Evan shouts after me.
Knowing Evan, he wants to say more. He won’t. If anyone understands my stubborn nature, my reluctance to forgive, it’s him.
26 Marion
Now
Ava was never a guarantee. Now I’m replaying everything that happened in the years leading to my decision to have her, each milestone rolling into the next, like film on a reel.
I’ve always been a strategic planner. Maybe it’s because so much of my life with Mom felt thrown together. If Des hadn’t come along, our lives might have continued on that unpredictable trajectory. I always knew I wanted my life to be different. I wanted solid relationships. A dependable job. A stable place to call home.
That all changed after my breakup with Evan. After six years together, he was gone, off to pursue his new dream, the one that no longer included me. I’d spent my entire adult life creating my world with meticulous precision, and now I was abandoned in it.
I had my career. I owned a home. I tried dating, and yet it always felt forced. A relationship wasn’t what I was after. I’d already found my compatible match, and he was living on the other side of the country. He’d chosen to leave, and I’d chosen to stay. Evan wasn’t the type of person I could replace. And even if that had been my aim, North Bay didn’t have much of a dating scene. Most of our peers had already been married a couple years, were starting to have children.
It hit me this might be my life. Sure, I could see what would happen if Evan ever made the decision to come back, but that was still years away, and so many things could happen during that time. It’s the reason we’d agreed to break up in the first place. I had to adjust to this new version of life without him in it.
Mom was the only person I could fully share my feelings with. The only person I felt wouldn’t label me as whiny or pathetic, but simply accept my fears for what they were.
“What’s bothering you the most?” she asked. “Is it Evan you miss?”
We were sitting in my newly decorated living room. This space was meant to reflect my independence, a place I could call my own; instead it seemed to echo the loneliness aching inside, an isolation that felt unending.
“I don’t know.”
Of course, I missed Evan. A part of me always would, I thought. He’d been gone over a year at that point. My feelings for him had faded, yet at the same time, nothing had really glimmered since he left. “I guess I just feel like I’ve put all this work into building the life I want, and it still might not happen.”
“What might not happen?”
“Starting a family. Having kids. I’m in my thirties. That’s still young, but it feels a lot older when you consider I’m not even seeing anyone. If the guy of my dreams walked into my life tomorrow, it would be years before we’d even consider settling down and having children. Time is not on my side, and it sucks. I don’t want to be one of those girls who marries a guy simply because she’s running out of options. That never turns out well for anybody.”
It was an honesty I could only manage with my mother. I’d just revealed so many of the secret thoughts I felt I couldn’t share with anyone else. Mom sat there, watching me cry into a throw pillow. She didn’t speak until I’d let it all out.
“So, you’re worried about not having a child?”
“Mostly. Love can come around at any age. Motherhood, not so much. And I really want that experience. I never imagined my life without it.”
“And you feel like you’re ready for that? To be a mother?”
“In all the other areas of my life, sure. I’ve set myself up for success, but what has that left me with? Jack shit.”
She sat there, lost in her thoughts. I’d seen her like this many times over the years. Contemplating. Like she was on the verge of confession, wrestling with whether her words would add value or pressure.
“If you think you’re ready, why not just go for it?”
“Go for what?”
She scooted closer and smiled. “Have a baby.”
Have a baby. Like it was an add-on service you could select at the spa. Something you could throw in the grocery cart alongside your carton of eggs and jug of milk.
“It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just decide to have a baby.”
“Nowadays you can. There are all types of procedures. You can freeze your eggs. Explore insemination. Surrogacy. You can have a child right now, if that’s what you want. Like you said, you’re ready in all the other ways.”
“What are you saying? That I should just get pregnant on my own. Choose to become a single mother?” My voice lacked the calm tone Mom used. The idea seemed ludicrous. Yes, it was possible. Women took their fertility into their own hands, but that wasn’t what I wanted to do, was it?
“I’m more progressive than you think.” She chuckled, like this was some joke between us. “Several women in your position have decided they want a child and they aren’t willing to wait for a potential partner to show up. I’ve always believed if you want something in life you have every right to get it. Besides, I did it.”
“I could never handle raising a child on my own.”
“You wouldn’t be on your own. You’ve got a strong support system. That baby would be surrounded by love. Romance could always come, but at least you wouldn’t be sitting around waiting for it. You’re my daughter. I would never make the suggestion if I didn’t believe you could handle it.”
“I don’t know. I know women do this, but it’s different trying to think of myself making a decision like that. It’s scary.”
She looked down, rolling the words around in her head before sharing them aloud.
“Sometimes you have this idea in your head of what life should be. Call it a dream, a fantasy. It doesn’t work out. You find a new dream, but this time it’s not a fantasy. You make it your reality, and it’s like that other life you thought you wanted never existed. That’s how you live. It’s how we all live.”
That was the first time the idea of a child—beautiful baby Ava—started to become a reality. It would be another year before I went through with my decision. Countless doctor’s visits. Painful shots and medications that pushed me to the edge of giving up. Spending thousands of dollars I’d spent the latter half of my twenties trying to save. And limitless more moments of doubt, wonderin
g if what I was doing was right at all. And in those moments, I’d turn to Mom. She’d remind me I was enough.
Now, even that memory is tarnished because the same woman who raised me, uplifted me, convinced me I was capable of being a mother myself… has done nothing but lie to me about her own experience. I used to feel empowered by Mom’s decision to raise me on her own. I didn’t realize she had to kidnap me and murder Bruce in order to get the life she always wanted.
27 Eileen
Then
Over the next month, every time I went to the center, I spoke with Amelia. I had a connection with her I never managed with Ms. Lang.
Amelia, for some reason, seemed to enjoy talking to me as much as I did her. Maybe it was because we had so much in common. Among other things, we enjoyed the same music and movies. We both liked horses, too, although I knew them only from pictures. In Amelia’s line of work you’re supposed to remain impartial, but I think she couldn’t help but feel a connection to me. I’d opened up with her in a way I hadn’t with anyone else. She understood how drastically my life had changed in recent months.
I was standing to leave after one of our sessions when she asked me to sit back down.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her face hard to read. “This will be our last session together.”
I failed to contain my disappointment. My body lurched to the edge of my seat. “I don’t understand. We’ve made such progress—”
“I promise it has nothing to do with you,” Amelia said, raising her hands. “I’m leaving the center for a while. I’ve been experiencing some medical issues.”
“I see.” My eyes fell on her stomach. I looked away, trying to choke down my emotions. I felt robbed.
“I’ll arrange for another counselor to take over your case.”
“I don’t want another counselor,” I said, defiantly. Amelia was the only person with whom I felt comfortable discussing my problems. “You’re the first person I’ve opened up to about any of this. You’re the only one who is making it better.”
“I’ll miss you too, Sarah. I’ve enjoyed our time together. You have so much potential waiting to be unlocked.”
“Then don’t just leave me!” I hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but it’s exactly how I felt. First, Cliff left. Then, Jamie. Now Amelia was leaving too. “Maybe we could still find a way to stay in contact. Maybe we could meet up outside of the center?”
It was a weak suggestion, but I was desperate to find a way to keep Amelia in my life. She was one of the only people I trusted.
Amelia sighed, her eyes cutting to her office door. “I’m not really supposed to do this sort of thing. Can you keep a secret?”
“Yeah.”
I liked that Amelia was willing to bend rules. I guess she was allowed to do that sort of thing since she was a sponsor. Amelia was here by choice. She wanted to help people. She cared.
“We own two horses. The stables are only a twenty-minute drive outside the city. If you want, you could join me this weekend.”
“Are you serious?”
“Very serious. I thought it might… I don’t know.” Amelia pursed her lips and exhaled, like she too was afraid of looking like a fool. That was how I always felt around her. “I understand if you are busy. I thought you might just like to look at them.”
“I’d love to, Amelia. Thank you.”
“Our little secret?”
“Our little secret.”
Amelia picked me up outside my apartment the following afternoon. Now that I was no longer working at Buster’s, I had no plans on the weekend. I was trying to stretch out what little money Cliff and I had saved before he died, at least until I was ready to find another job. I tried not to think about any of that as I rode further and further away from the city. I was just happy I had someone who wanted to spend the afternoon with me, and that that person was as perfect as Amelia.
The stables weren’t very crowded. Most people who could afford to buy a horse lacked the space and time required for upkeep, which is why owners hired someone else to look after them. Some of the owners, like Amelia, allowed their horses to be used for riding lessons.
The short walk from the car to the track left my sneakers covered in dirt. I’d worn some thick socks over my leggings, but even they were smattered in beige dust. Amelia was wearing slim pants tucked inside riding boots. She looked like she belonged in an equestrian magazine, and I felt a small tingle of envy.
“Are you riding?” I asked.
“Not today. It’s nice to visit, though. I thought you’d like to meet Daisy.”
Daisy was a black horse. Her coat was thick and shiny, like she had been varnished in ink. Horses are beautiful creatures, but it was my first time being around one up close. I was nervous.
“Don’t be afraid,” Amelia said, running a gloved hand across Daisy’s back. “They can sense that sort of thing.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled. My hand was bare, which allowed me to feel the straw-like fibers of Daisy’s coat. Coarser than I thought she’d be.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Yes, she is. Special too. Have you ever heard of equine-assisted therapy?”
I shook my head.
“Some people use these horses to help them grieve. Heal. It’s therapeutic. Like I told you, the horse can sense what you’re feeling. You can just leave it here on the track, and the horse will comfort you.”
For a second, I felt disappointment. I’d tricked myself into thinking Amelia invited me here because she actually liked me. I hadn’t thought it was an extension of our counseling sessions. She continued speaking.
“Daisy has helped me a lot over the years. Bruce bought her as a gift, not long after we got married. A year or so later, we started trying for a baby. And we tried. And we tried. Sometimes we’d find out we were pregnant, but then…”
She looked away, across the other side of the track, where a young girl was being helped on top of another horse. For several seconds, Amelia didn’t say anything. She kept rubbing Daisy’s back, transferring her grief to the horse, or however she put it. Leaving it on the track.
“When I find out I’m pregnant, I can never be truly happy. I’m so used to things not working out. All I can hope is this time it will be different. It’s the one thing in life I don’t have, really, and it’s what I want more than anything.”
Everything clicked. Why her paunch never grew any bigger, but stayed visible, like a continuous case of bloat that wouldn’t shrink. Why this woman, always smiling, had days where she looked like she might be on the verge of breaking. She had everything, yes, except the one thing she really wanted.
“I never knew, Amelia.”
Normally, Amelia was the one listening to my problems. In all the times I’d been around her, envied her for everything she had, I’d never considered her own struggles. I’d never seen her pain.
She looked down, rubbing a hand over her stomach. “We think this time it might work. That’s why I’m leaving the center. My doctor has suggested I stay off my feet as much as possible. It’s not necessarily how I’d envisioned my pregnancy playing out, but if bed rest gets me a healthy baby, hell, I’d do anything for that.” Her eyes filled with tears. “So, when I talk to you about options, I want you to understand you can’t ever be sure what life will give you. Cliff dying. My infertility. None of that is under our control. That’s why it’s important to handle what we can, make deliberate decisions. Life is hard enough without all the chaos.”
We stayed at the track for hours. Amelia told me more than she ever had about herself, and I opened up, too. We’d shed the roles of counselor and patient; we were just two women, sharing our greatest fears and grandest desires. Amelia and I differed at almost every turn, but we each wanted the same thing out of life: a real family. The more time I spent with her, the more it felt possible.
Once again, I felt like I’d found some type of acceptance. Amelia was there for me, filling in the
absence left by Cliff and Jamie. Selfishly, I feared Amelia’s responsibilities would eventually outweigh the bond we had formed, and I’d be left alone all over again. Things always worked out for people like Amelia Parker. Eventually, she would get the family she’d always desired, and I’d be left with… nothing.
As I went to bed that night, all sorts of ideas went through my mind. Daisy the Miracle Horse. Amelia and her babies. My own future. What I really wanted out of life, and whether I was going to sit around waiting, waiting for things to get better, or whether I was going to actually do something about it.
That’s when I first started thinking of a plan.
28 Marion
Now
By morning, I’ve slept only three hours and read the New Hutton Star article twice that amount. I’m a private person, a trait I no doubt inherited from my mother. The fact all the intimate details surrounding my pregnancy with Ava are out there for people to read upsets me. I resent the fact that Ava, still a small child, is already being thrust beneath a grueling spotlight.
And when I say intimate details, I mean it. There were facts in that article the journalist wouldn’t have gotten from a mere acquaintance. The fact I went through two rounds of IU before getting pregnant. The fact I drained my personal savings account to pay for the procedures. Sure, I guess a person doing enough research into the process could make assumptions, but reading the article felt more personal than that. These weren’t inferences. These were facts delivered by someone close to me.
I don’t believe Des and Carmen would sell me out; they’re my closest friends. They hid Mom’s cancer, but that seems more well-intentioned than sharing details about my life with the press. Besides, they’d never do that to Ava. Still, that paranoid part of my brain wonders, how far would Carmen be willing to go in order to create a distraction? Does Des have other reasons for wanting to defend Mom so fiercely?
Not My Mother Page 14
