I am your mother. Cliff is your father. You grew inside my body, and I gave birth to you. I was four months pregnant when Cliff died. We were on the cusp of having the family we’d wanted, before my entire world changed.
It took fourteen hours of labor to bring you into this world. They wrapped you in a thin blanket and put you on my chest. The young girl inside me was terrified of seeing you. I’d never held anything so small, so fragile, so important. The most miraculous thing happened: you stopped crying instantly, snuggled into my chest, and became calm. We did it, you seemed to say. We can get through this together. That’s my first memory of you. It was the most amazing experience of my life, our reaction to each other.
I think back to that moment. To feeling your flesh against mine. That burst of love that seemed to travel at lightning speed throughout my body, pulsing all the more with each second I looked at you. Which made it all so heartbreaking that I had to let you go.
I was your mother. I am your mother. But I had to choose what was best for you, and that’s what I did.
If you can think back on what I’ve told you to this point. All the problems and issues I had to overcome. It seemed difficult for any young woman, but impossible for a pregnant one. I thought I could give motherhood a shot, but that was before Cliff died, taking with him any hope and confidence I’d harvested.
That’s why Amelia gravitated toward me. She saw a young girl drowning in her own misfortune, overwhelmed by the choices in front of her. Jamie was gone. Your father was dead. And I was left to make all these difficult decisions on my own. Amelia stepped in. Those numerous visits to the horse stables became the only thing that ever gave me any optimism.
On our fourth trip to the track, Amelia told me she’d lost her baby. Despite all the sacrifices—the bed rest and the doctors, quitting her job—her body wasn’t capable of carrying a baby to term. I listened to her cry and vent, all the while thinking of a way I could help her, ease her pain and fix my broken situation all at the same time.
Although I loved you more than I even knew how to express, I wasn’t capable of giving you the life you deserved. Of giving you the life I’d always hoped my little girl might have. Amelia, on the other hand, was more than capable. And she had already told me of her struggles to conceive. The treatments that didn’t work. The pregnancies that never made it past the second trimester. It took a while for me to connect the dots, but when I did, I knew I could solve both our problems.
“Would you consider adopting her?” I asked Amelia. We were at the track, eating Key lime pie to celebrate the beginning of my third trimester. Amelia had never made it that far.
She froze, her eyes drifting to my growing stomach.
“You want me to adopt your baby?”
“Why not?”
“Sarah, we’ve already contacted agencies. We’re supposed to be meeting with families this month.”
In addition to my counseling, Amelia had helped me seek out adoption services. Those were the options Amelia had presented that day back at her office. I always knew the best thing I could do for you was leave you in the hands of prepared parents; I’d never considered the most eligible person was in front of my face the entire time.
“I’m willing to meet with them,” I said, watching the horses as they galloped down the track. I had to look away, in case she declined. “But I already know you. I know you would be a perfect mother. And I know how much you want a baby.”
Amelia was silent for several seconds. I could feel her staring at me, but I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want my suggestion to ruin the friendship we’d built. It’s not like I was asking to borrow a sweater, or even a car. I was asking her to raise you, my child.
“Have you and Bruce considered adoption?”
“We have,” she said, looking away. “I guess I never thought it would be a situation like this.”
“I understand if you don’t want to—”
“I didn’t say I don’t want to. I care about you deeply, Sarah. But I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
“I’ve been set on adoption since the first time we met in your office. I’ve known that’s what I needed to do since Cliff died.”
I looked down at my belly, at this hardened mushroom that contained a child who was half me, half him. How I wish things had been different. Parenting with Cliff would have been a struggle. We had little money, very few opportunities, but we had so much love, and we could have given you a foundation that neither of us got from our own families.
We used to talk about it all the time. Eventually, we’d get a place and paint a nursery. Cliff never knew whether you were a boy or a girl, but funnily enough, he’d talk about painting the nursery pink. And he said he’d paint bunnies and ducks above the trim. And fill a shelf with books so we could read to you every night. He loved the idea of being a father, which made the idea of being a mother a little less scary.
Once he died, I didn’t trust my judgment enough to be a mother. Although it was hard to admit, I was easily manipulated by my first boyfriend, Albert. And while I vowed to never be so foolish again, I feared the pressures of being a single mother might lead to bad decisions. I had screw-up written all over me, and I wanted so much better for you.
I thought of all the times I’d watched Amelia. Before I even knew her, I’d thought she was the perfect woman. Everything I wanted to be. After getting to know her, I knew she’d be even more suited to provide you with everything I couldn’t. And I knew she was as desperate to raise a child as I was to find you a healthy home. If only she would agree to my request.
“Sometimes, when you know the adoptive parents, it makes things harder,” Amelia said. She looked at me, and this time I didn’t flinch under her gaze.
“That wouldn’t happen with us. I’ve not wavered on this decision once. I know I want Caroline to have a better life, and nothing would make me feel more secure than if you were the one to raise her.”
She wrapped her arms around me, and for several seconds we embraced and cried. I felt safe knowing I was leaving you in good hands. The best hands.
“I’ll need to talk with Bruce, of course,” she said. “And I’d have to talk to the agency, see what kind of legalities are involved.”
“We have time,” I said, both hands on my stomach. On you.
“And if at any point you change your mind—”
“I won’t,” I said, placing my hand on her arm. “I’ve never felt more sure about anything in my life.”
And that’s how it started.
33 Marion
Now
I called Carmen and Des, begging them to come over. I didn’t want to wake Ava, and my nerves were too jumbled to drive.
These weren’t the results I was expecting. I’d anticipated a negative result. I’d predicted I’d spend the rest of the night crying, another few endless days sorrowing over this revelation. This was meant to be my final confirmation that everything I knew about my background was a lie. I’d thought the test would prove my mother—Eileen—was never my mother at all. But it didn’t. Which makes me wonder what the basis of these charges really is.
Carmen walks into the living room first. I can tell I interrupted her nightly routine because she’s wearing no makeup and her hair is pulled away from her face. She looks like she hastily threw on a pair of sweats, but she’s still clutching a designer tote in her hand.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, her eyes wide.
“I submitted a DNA test.”
“You did what?” She drops her bag on the sofa and takes a step closer, her hands on her hips. “After everything I’ve told you. I’ve tried to be understanding about what you’re going through, but you’re deliberately hurting Eileen’s case.”
Behind her, the front door opens. Des walks inside wearing cloth shorts and a hoodie. Her eyebrows are arched at Carmen’s yelling.
“What the hell is going on?” she asks, her stare ricocheting between us.
“Marion did the one thing
I specifically told her not to do,” Carmen says. “She is trying to sabotage Eileen’s case—”
“Keep it down or you’ll wake Ava,” Des says, coming closer and sitting directly in front of me. Her tone sounds like she is gearing up for a lecture of her own. “Tell us what’s going on.”
“I submitted the test using Mom’s DNA,” I say, holding up the paper. “It’s a positive match. Eileen is my biological mother.”
Carmen’s anger doesn’t completely leave her face, but she now looks a bit unbalanced. As does Des. Like everyone, they assumed that any test would eventually prove Amelia was my biological mother, or at the very least, that Eileen wasn’t.
Carmen reaches for the paper. Her eyes move wildly, scanning every word.
“I knew it.” Des is smiling, gently rocking back on her heels. “I knew Eileen wouldn’t have done all those things they were saying.”
“When did you do this?” Carmen asks.
“Two days ago. I just received the results.”
“You submitted the test?”
“No. Rick did.”
Her head jerks, another hint at annoyance, then she goes back to examining the paper.
“You’d warned me not to do it, but I couldn’t stand not knowing anymore,” I tell Carmen, feeling the need to explain. “I couldn’t stand the waiting. Who knows when Mom will be able to talk about any of this? I had to come to terms with the results, but I wasn’t expecting this. This changes a lot.”
“This changes everything.” Carmen looks at me, and I can tell she’s trying hard not to smile. “If Eileen is your biological mother, we might be able to get the kidnapping charges dropped. Or even better, the police might have the wrong person after all.”
“Might?” Des turns around to get a better look at Carmen.
“If the Parkers were your legal guardians, say through adoption, she could still be charged. But there’s never been anything in court records about the Parkers being adoptive parents.”
There’s been nothing in the media, either. For decades, Amelia Parker has been cast as the woman whose child was stolen from her. Now it appears I wasn’t that child. A victory for me, but it means Amelia’s child is still out there.
“Do you think maybe I’m not Baby Caroline after all?”
“I don’t know. They could have the wrong person, but all the evidence that’s been gathered thus far suggests Eileen definitely went by the name Sarah Paxton,” Carmen says. “It seems most likely the police have the wrong suspect entirely, which means Baby Caroline is probably still out there.”
“What if they still have something proving Eileen attacked Bruce Parker?” Des asks.
“You said Mom’s fingerprints were found at the scene,” I add.
“There’s still more we need to understand, but this is a huge first step. I’m sure the prosecution assumed a DNA test would connect you to Amelia, not Eileen.” She sits down, crossing her legs, but continues to hold the paper as though it’s a winning ticket she refuses to let out of sight. “You said Rick ran the test. How did you get a sample of Eileen’s DNA?”
“She leaves an overnight bag at the house for when she watches Ava. I took her toothbrush and ran it against mine.”
It was right there, sitting next to Amelia’s drinking glass in the cabinet. I think I’d forgotten about it until that moment.
“Why didn’t you submit a test with Amelia’s DNA? She’s the one who has been pressuring you to take one.”
“I don’t know,” I say, considering what I’d contemplated while Rick was sitting in the other room.
It would have been easy to call Amelia and tell her my intentions, but another part of me, the loyal part, thought I needed to resolve this situation with Mom first. I needed to know she wasn’t my biological mother before I could fully open up to Amelia, accept that she was. And I thought receiving the news that I wasn’t related to Mom would be easier to swallow in private, whereas Amelia would have been elated by the results.
My stomach churns when I think of Amelia now. This will be catastrophic for her. Somewhere along the line, a mistake has been made. Her hopes have been catapulted higher than ever before. She has accepted the fact that I’m her daughter. That she has a granddaughter, even. She has given me her time, offered me money. When she finds out the truth, that Baby Caroline is still out there, all that hope will come crashing down. I’m heartbroken for her.
My phone rings, pulling me away from my thoughts and ending the conversation between Carmen and Des. They watch me, waiting.
“It’s the hospital,” I say.
“Answer it,” Des says, waving her hand.
I answer and listen to what the nurse on the other end is telling me. I nod along, saying “Okay” when appropriate. The excitement and grief in my chest rise and fall as I follow her words. I hang up.
“We need to go to the hospital.”
“Why?” Des and Carmen ask in unison.
“Mom is awake.”
34 Eileen
Then
Do you know how unprepared I was to be a mother? I never even went to the doctor until after I’d made my proposition to Amelia. I’d taken the store-bought pregnancy test as gospel and was taking daily vitamins, but I was too scared to admit your existence to anyone outside of Jamie or the women at the center.
After we started talking about adoption, Amelia insisted I see someone and offered her own personal doctor. She accompanied me to his private clinic and made sure to pay all the medical expenses. You weren’t even born yet, but she was giving you the best care.
I met Bruce once for lunch, and he seemed thrilled about the prospect of being a father. After so many years of trying, parenthood was happening for them. And I was proud to be a part of that. Amelia’s lawyers got the paperwork in order. By the time you arrived—three days late, mind you—everything was set.
Jamie had returned for your birth, even though it meant missing a midterm exam. I’m not sure what I would have done without her. She held my hand the entire time. She rubbed my back when the contractions became overwhelming, but she couldn’t stand to watch me hand you over to Amelia. She said she respected the decision I made, but it was all too sad for her to witness. I couldn’t help wondering if she felt like I was giving a part of Cliff away.
I was sad, too, of course. But I knew the risks of being raised by an unprepared parent. I was a product of two. At that point in my life, the best thing I could do was give you the opportunities I was never given. I was being a mother, even as I placed you in Amelia’s arms and kissed you goodbye.
“You’ll let me know if you need anything?” Amelia asked, preparing to leave.
It’s funny. I should have been asking them. They were the ones headed home with a newborn. Even if I had offered, I didn’t have anything left to give. I’d given them you, my whole heart.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, weakly. Jamie was staying for the rest of the week. If I needed something, I’d lean on her, not them. I didn’t want to become their burden.
Amelia hugged me tight, holding me for several seconds. When she pulled away, my cheeks were wet from her tears.
“I’ll never be able to repay you for this.” That was a funny statement coming from the richest woman I knew.
I went back inside the hospital and waited. I was still crying when Jamie returned to drive me home.
Amelia had told me I could stay in touch, but the truth is, I couldn’t. I didn’t want updates of how you were doing or pictures of what you looked like. Teases that only made me want you more. It’s hard to describe exactly what I felt. I never regretted my decision to give you away, and yet, I wished the woman caring for you could have been me. I wished I could have been rocking you to sleep and showering you with kisses.
And yet, as the weeks passed, my life reverted back to normal. Jamie returned to New York. I returned to my job at Buster’s; most of the staff hadn’t seen me since Cliff died. They didn’t even know I’d been pregnant. At night, I stayed in
my apartment alone.
My neighbor in the unit next door had a baby, too, and every time I heard him cry, I longed for you. I felt a burning ache in my breasts, a more ravenous one in my chest. You were out there in the world, absent from my life, yet hovering around the periphery. Haunting me, in a sense.
I’d told Amelia time and time again I didn’t need anything in return. I’d wanted to place you up for adoption. It had been my choice. And yet, she’d said she wanted to repay me. I was blown away by what she’d done. She’d put me in touch with a financial aid advisor, and only three weeks after you were born, I was enrolled in college in another state. The second-best part was that the campus was only ninety minutes away from where Jamie currently lived. The best part: Bruce and Amelia had paid for my first year’s tuition.
“It’s too much,” I said to her over the phone. I was still holding the letter in my hand that informed me of the payment.
“It’s nothing to us,” she said. “Besides, that’s why we put you in touch with an advisor. She can help you take out loans to pay for the rest of the time. You’ve given us so much. Please, let us help you in return.”
I cried, because already this letter had given me more than I’d ever thought my life could hold. I would be going to school. College. If any of my relatives heard this, they’d faint from the shock. Not a screw-up anymore, huh? For the first time since Cliff’s death, I thought I might have a shot at a real life. More than that, I might have a shot at happiness.
“I hope you know how much this means to me,” I said to Amelia over the phone. “I’m going to go and—”
I stopped talking when I heard you cry in the background. A low, guttural whimpering. Instinctively, I wanted to reach out and hold you. My body started aching, a gravitational force pulling me closer to you.
Not My Mother Page 17
