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“I didn’t expect you to be here this early,” Melanie Campbell said as Lisa entered the unit. “How are you doing?”
Lisa hadn’t seen Sara’s sister for a couple of weeks, due to different nursing rotations. “I’m doing quite well, really.”
“You’re sure? I was worried the pressure of caring for your mother and then going through the funeral might be too upsetting for you. If it were me, I’d be so tired.” Melanie slumped down in her chair.
Lisa wished she could tell Melanie about her birth mother, but it would mean a whole lot of explaining she couldn’t handle right now.
It embarrassed her that she felt she couldn’t share something important in her life with a friend, but that was how private issues had been dealt with in her family. The only person she’d ever talked to about being adopted was Mason. He’d been so understanding when she’d told him how much she wished she’d known her birth parents. That confession had brought them closer—until that night at the restaurant. She wondered afterward if maybe he’d been looking for an excuse to break up with her; he’d never made an issue of children before that night. When she’d heard he’d married Sara a short time later, her suspicions were confirmed.
“It’s been a difficult time,” she said, “but each day gets a little easier.”
“I have the perfect tonic for you. Sara’s rock band is playing a Fourth of July concert right here in Durham, and I have two free tickets.”
Sara’s band wasn’t her type of music. Lisa preferred light classical, but it was sweet of Melanie to offer her a ticket. “Thank you for thinking of me, but maybe another time.”
Enthusiasm radiated from Melanie’s brown eyes. “You’re going to miss a great night. Sara said an L.A. talent agent is going to be at the July 4th show. She’s already met him a couple of times and she’s sure that he’s going to offer her a contract.” Her smile faded. “Then the band would have to move to L.A.”
Mason and Sara were divorced, but what would happen if Sara took Peter away with her? How would Mason feel about that? But it was no longer her concern; besides, she needed to concentrate on her own life.
“Your sister’s braver than I am. I wouldn’t want to move away from here. Especially to a place like Los Angeles.”
“Me, neither, but Sara’s music career is important to her.”
Lisa merely nodded but underneath her calm exterior, she felt a strange sense of loss. Regardless of how he’d behaved with her, she’d always known what family meant to Mason. He would want Peter to be around people who loved him, especially Mason’s large family.
HOURS LATER, WEARY BUT feeling good about her workday, Lisa parked by her house. As she entered, she was acutely aware of the silence. Without the sounds of the TV and the caregiver chatting and playing cribbage with her mother, the house had no life.
On nights like this the idea of listing the house made sense to her. She put her keys and purse on the granite counter and slipped her arms out of her jacket.
As she’d done for the past two weeks, she checked for messages, and this time there was one—from Mason. He was in Florida and wanted her to call him on his cell.
Barely able to contain her excitement, she dialed the number. Mason answered on the first ring. “Thanks for getting back to me,” he said.
She clutched the phone. “You found my mother.”
“I did. Carolyn Lewis is in a nursing home outside Melbourne.”
Carolyn Lewis. Her mother. Despite all the times she’d imagined meeting her, she was suddenly over come with dread at the prospect.
“Is she okay? What did she say when you told her I was looking for her?”
There was a long pause.
“What’s wrong? Mason, please, if there’s a problem, I need to know. Is she okay?” Then a thought struck her. “Is my mother ill?”
“No, she seems all right, Lisa. But I didn’t talk to her. That’s up to you. How soon can you get down here?”
If she could trade a couple of shifts… “I’ll be there the day after tomorrow. Where exactly are you?”
“Have you got a pen handy?”
She searched the kitchen drawer, unearthing a pen and pad of paper from under the material the real estate agent had left her. “Go ahead.”
He gave her the address of Carolyn’s nursing home and the hotel where he was staying.
“I’ll call you as soon as I’ve made arrangements with the hospital,” she said. It might mean asking for more time off, but whatever it took, she’d be on the road the day after tomorrow. “Mason, one last thing—”
“You’d like to know if you have any other family. I can’t answer that, but if it’ll help, I’ll go with you when you visit her.”
Had he discovered something in Melbourne that he didn’t want to tell her over the phone? He’d warned her that she might not like what she found out, hadn’t he? She held the phone even tighter.
Could she face this on her own? When her father had died she’d had her mother, and when her mother had become ill and then passed away, she’d had her mother’s caregiver and her friends. But now she felt very much alone and unequipped to deal with everything.
Mason was the only person she knew in Florida. Having him with her would make it easier.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d go with me,” she said, taking a deep breath.
“You got it. I’ll be waiting for you,” he said, his reassuring voice comforting her.
TWO DAYS LATER, Lisa stood beside Mason outside the Palmetto Bayside Nursing Home, her hands clammy as she tried to quell her anxiety. She’d driven most of the night to get from North Carolina to Florida. During the long hours, she’d been consumed by one idea—what if her mother hadn’t contacted her in all these years because she didn’t want to see her?
But how could she not want to see her daughter? Lisa didn’t say the words out loud. Mason already felt sorry for her; it had been in his eyes, which was more than enough reason not to confide in him. “How do I tell her who I am?”
“Lisa, you just got into town thirty minutes ago. Why don’t we come back a little later after you’ve had a chance to relax and think about how you want to handle this?” Mason’s gentle tone was in stark contrast to his assessing gaze.
She’d thought of nothing else in the final hours before she turned off I-95. “No, it has to be now.” Before I lose my nerve.
A frown formed on Mason’s face. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll wait outside the room while you go in. If you need me, come to the door.”
“Thank you.” She was aware of the tremor in her voice as she spoke.
“You’ll be okay,” he said encouragingly, placing his hand on the small of her back as they walked to the main entrance together.
After they checked in at the reception desk, the aide assigned to her mother led them down the corridor to Carolyn Lewis’s room. The hallway was narrow and cluttered with wheelchairs and walkers. The paint on the walls was chipped and marked, and a faint scent of baby powder and stale urine hung in the air.
At the door, the aide entered and Mason stepped back, allowing Lisa to follow. “I’ll be right here,” he whispered.
Apprehension rushed through her. She turned her face up to his. “Wish me luck.”
He winked at her. “Good luck.”
Clasping her purse with both hands, she walked in. At first, she wasn’t sure which of the two people was her mother. One woman sat in a wheelchair by the window, while the other lay on her bed, muttering to herself as she read the paper. Lisa hesitated.
“Mrs. Lewis, you’ve got a visitor,” the aide said, moving toward the woman in the wheelchair.
Lisa inched forward, her heart thudding. The woman shifted in her chair, pain skidding across her face at the movement. Her gaze was direct as she looked up at Lisa. “Who are you?”
“I’m Lisa.”
“No… It can’t be. Lisa, is that really you?” Carolyn extended her hands, her long, bony fingers quivering. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”
Lisa’s mouth was suddenly dry. “You’re not. I’m Lisa, your daughter.”
Joy lit her mother’s expression, her face trans formed by a smile as Carolyn Lewis’s eyes roved slowly over Lisa. “You look so much like your father,” she murmured.
Relieved that her mother recognized her, Lisa slid into the chair beside her. “I look like my dad,” she whispered. Happiness brought a smile to her face as she took her mother’s hand. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Moving closer, she kissed her mother’s cheek.
“Yes, there’s so much of your father in you. He had high cheekbones, too—very aristocratic. You have his blue eyes and blond hair.”
Gently she touched Lisa’s hair. “Oh, my darling daughter, I’ve wanted to meet you for so long. You have no idea what it’s like to live in hope that one day you’ll see your little girl again,” she said, a smile trembling on her lips.
Words abandoned Lisa as she met her mother’s eager gaze.
Carolyn appeared much older than Lisa had envisioned. With her gray-streaked hair pulled up in a bun and her face devoid of any makeup, she looked aged, worn-out. As much as she hated herself for doing it, Lisa couldn’t help comparing Carolyn with her immaculately groomed adoptive mother, who had never missed a hair or manicure appointment.
Yet as she sat there, studying this woman who held her past, the words slipped out. “Why didn’t you come for me? Why did you leave me alone all these years? I needed you—”
Carolyn softly stroked Lisa’s cheek, her eyes alight with love and caring. “I couldn’t. I promised your parents I wouldn’t try to contact you if they’d provide a good life for you.”
“But why did you give me up? Surely you had family to turn to after my dad died.”
“I had no brothers or sisters, and my parents were gone. My sister-in-law, your aunt Helen—God rest her soul—did what she could to help me.”
Her mother pulled Lisa’s hands into her lap. “Let me explain. I was four months pregnant when we had the accident. Your father died after a week in the hospital, and I nearly lost you from the trauma. Then I spent months trying to regain the use of my legs.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lisa said, squeezing her mother’s fingers.
“They were expensive months, and not only that, I suffered permanent physical damage. I couldn’t pay the hospital bills or put bread on the table. Even with insurance there were still extra medical bills to pay, plus funeral expenses, and we had very little in savings. I would’ve found a way to keep you if I’d been able to work, but it wasn’t possible.”
Overcome with a sense of regret, Lisa glanced away, her eyes coming to rest on several photographs that stood on the windowsill behind her mother. “Do I have…family?”
“You have an older sister, Anne Marie.” Her mother reached for a framed photo on the window ledge and passed it to Lisa. Smiling at the camera was a tall woman with short brown hair and glasses, wearing a yellow tank top and shorts.
A sister. I have a sister. Delight tugged at her as she picked up the photo, searching for clues about her sister. “What’s she like? Where does she live? What kind of music does she listen to? Does she play sports? I’m hopeless at anything but tennis,” she admitted, eager to learn everything she could about her sister.
“Anne Marie played basketball in high school.”
Lisa held the picture in unsteady hands, fighting back hurt that her mother had somehow managed to keep in touch with Anne Marie and not her. “What happened to Anne Marie? Where did she live after the accident?”
“Anne Marie was five when your father died. I was afraid that if I approached an agency, they’d take her from me because I couldn’t care for her, and I’d never see her again. I couldn’t lose both my children—” She choked on the words.
“If your aunt Helen hadn’t taken Anne Marie, I don’t know what I would’ve done. As it turned out, I got word that a lawyer in Tampa who knew Mrs. Clarke had found a home for you. The lawyer told me that your parents couldn’t have children and they wanted to adopt a baby girl. With no money coming in except social security—which didn’t even cover the cost of my medical bills—I had to believe you’d be better off with a couple with the money to give you what you needed. I wouldn’t have let you go with them if I’d had any choice.”
“Why couldn’t Aunt Helen raise me?” Lisa asked, unwilling to think that giving her up had been that simple.
“She was divorced with very little income, and she had two toddlers of her own. Besides, if you had the chance to have every advantage in life, at least I could give you that opportunity,” her mother said, voice shaking. “I wanted you to have what I’d never be able to provide for you. The doctors told me my legs would never be right again, which meant I couldn’t earn a living. Anne Marie was about to start kindergarten when Grant died. I was afraid she would be traumatized by being taken away from her mother, her home. You were just a baby, you wouldn’t remember any other life but the one you had with the Clarkes. If I could have kept you both, I would have. But look around you, what kind of life would you have had here with me?”
“Did you ever try to contact me, to see if I was doing okay? You didn’t just let me go, did you? How could you do that?” Lisa asked, holding her loneliness at bay. “I wanted you. I needed to know who you were, who I was.”
Tears pooled in Carolyn’s eyes as her voice sputtered. “I… It—it was a long time ago, and I made a promise to your parents. For the most part, I kept that promise so I wouldn’t cause trouble for you.”
Lisa bit back a sharp retort. What good would it do to take out her anger on this woman who was convinced she’d done the right thing? “I wish—”
“Look here,” Carolyn said, her face suddenly suffused with excitement. “I have something to show you.” She turned her wheelchair to the window and picked up a black-and-while photo in a silver frame. “Do you remember this?”
Lisa took the photo, staring at it in disbelief. It was a picture of her standing with a girl she had met that unforgettable day in front of Smiley’s hot-dog stand. “We were vacationing in Myrtle Beach. I was eight. My mother didn’t want me near the water. She was afraid I’d drown. But Dad let me go, and I met this girl on the beach. We played together most of the afternoon.”
She smiled at the memory. “I was so pleased that someone older was willing to play with me and treated me like a big kid. We had a great time in the water. I’ll always remember that day. Her name was Mary. How did you get this?”
Her mother touched the picture lovingly. “Despite my promise not to see you after you were adopted, I got a friend of mine to check the telephone listings for every Clarke in Florida, Georgia and the Carolinas. Just before your eighth birthday, I located your parents and called them. Your mother was very upset. She reminded me that I’d agreed not to see you or be involved in your life, and if I called again, she’d have her husband, a district attorney, take action to protect you from me.”
“My mother said that?” Lisa asked, shocked to learn Alice Clarke could do something so cruel.
“In the conversation she let it slip that they were taking you to Myrtle Beach for your birthday. My situation hadn’t changed, I still couldn’t care for you. But I had to know that you were being well treated, that you were happy. I was frantic to see you. I didn’t dare make the trip because I wasn’t well, but mostly because I couldn’t trust myself not to talk to you and break my agreement with your parents.”
“So, what did you do?”
She sat back in her wheelchair, her gaze locked on Lisa’s face, her eyes bright. “Helen agreed to go and make sure you were okay. A reporter friend of hers had found a photo of your father in the Durham newspaper. I still have the clipping. Helen and I saved every spare penny so she could make the trip with Anne Marie and her kids. She intended to watch for your father and get a quick snapshot of you. You can imagine her pleasure when you and Anne Marie struck up a friendship. She took this picture for me so I could see what a beautiful child you were.”
“And all that time my sister and my cousins were there and I had no idea,” Lisa said, her heart opening to the love in her mother’s eyes. Her mother had never given up on her; she’d been there in secret, loving her and needing to make sure she was all right.
“This photo of you playing with Anne Marie—we called her Mary when she was little—has been a constant source of comfort to me.”
“For weeks after that trip to Myrtle Beach, I begged my parents to let me invite Mary to come for a visit. But somehow it never happened… Could my parents have known who Anne Marie was?”
“Helen didn’t think so, which was a huge relief to both of us. If they’d recognized her somehow, I’m sure I would have heard from their lawyer about breaking my promise. Anyway, none of it matters now. You’re here and my prayers have been answered.”
“My sister and I spent a day at the beach together, and neither of us knew who the other one was?”
Carolyn nodded, a sweet smile on her face. “Helen didn’t tell Anne Marie who she was playing with…yet it was so like your sister to be kind to younger children.”
“My aunt Helen was aware of who I was and said nothing?”
“I’ve always wondered how Helen managed to keep my secret from Anne Marie.”
“Anne Marie doesn’t know about me?”
“No, I never told her. When I was pregnant, we had talked with Anne Marie about her new sibling, but she didn’t really understand. So when I decided to give you up, I thought it best for the Clarkes to take you straight from the nursery and I would explain if she asked or when she was older. But with her life in such upheaval, she didn’t ask, and as time went on it just got more difficult to bring up the subject.”
“What about after the trip to Florida? Why not say something then?”
A look of regret crossed Carolyn’s face as she whispered, “I thought about it, but if she’d realized who you were, she might have gone to your parents later on and…caused problems for you.”
She and Anne Marie had both been robbed of so many experiences. How she wished she could have known her sister all these years. Not having the opportunity to share her childhood with her made Lisa even more determined to make up for lost time. She had a sister whom she’d loved with all her young heart that sun-filled day on the beach. “I really liked her. She was so accepting, so much fun. To think I played for hours with my sister… Where is she? I want to meet her.”
Pulling her hands from Lisa’s, Carolyn drew back, pain and heartache in the lines of her face. She swallowed, her hands working nervously in her lap. “Anne Marie was arrested two days ago. She’s in jail.”
CHAPTER THREE
