The Stolen Daughter

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  Internally, I’d crafted all types of explanations to this situation: My mother had inadvertently taken me and by the time she realized it, she couldn’t bear to part with me. Or she’d bought me on the black market, Major had sold me to her, or . . . anything. Anything except that she’d stolen me from Major and Elaine Logan.

  I eased the book open, closed my eyes, inhaled, released my breath, opened my eyes and started reading.

  June 1, 1991

  My heart is broken and the tears won’t stop. My joyous news didn’t go over too well. Of course, I know this isn’t an ideal situation. Me being pregnant out of wedlock is not what I wanted, but God doesn’t make mistakes. That’s exactly what I told him when he freaked out after I broke the news that I was pregnant. He had the nerve to talk about how he was heading to grad school, like that was supposed to make some kind of difference with me deciding to have a child.

  I understand his education is important to him. I’m the one that sat and listened to all his dreams of the future—dreams he believed could only be achieved with a college education. I kept him fed, cleaned his house, washed his clothes, did everything I could so all he had to focus on was graduation. I took a year off to work and take care of us. I did it all with no complaint. I was investing in our future.

  Now, I can’t get his words out of my head. He won’t stop talking about how his parents are going to be so angry. Like Aunt Marilyn isn’t going to lose her mind. She sent me up here to Wiley to get an education, not a baby. But it is what it is.

  Plus, even though I would never tell him this, I don’t really care about what his parents think. We are about to be parents ourselves and our focus needs to be on bringing our little girl into the world. If only I could get him to see that.

  June 12, 1991

  I can’t believe this. He has been acting so distant. He didn’t meet me after class like normal. And every time I go by his apartment, his roommates claim that he’s not there. I know they were lying. I finally cornered him and he ended up telling me that he had been avoiding me on purpose. He said he doesn’t want to be a father. And then, he delivered the worst news of my life. He told me he couldn’t be a father to our baby because he has a girlfriend. A girlfriend! How is that even possible? Oh, God, I want to die.

  June 17, 1991

  We talked today. He finally stopped trying to avoid me. He told me he has had a girlfriend back home this whole time. His plan was to just hang with me while he was here at college, but he was always planning on going home to her. How could I not know that? How could I not see that everything he said to me was a lie? He made me feel special. He made me feel loved. He made me believe we had a future. EVERYTHING WITH US WAS A LIE!!!!!

  June 19, 1991

  He asked me to get an abortion. Take the worst pain ever and multiply it by ten and that’s me right now.

  June 28, 1991

  He moved away. He. Moved. Away. He didn’t even say goodbye. He just left. What am I going to do????? What are WE going to do?????

  July 3, 1991

  I haven’t been able to get out of bed. Aunt Marilyn wanted me to come home for the Fourth, but I don’t want to leave my bed. My heart is broken in a million little pieces.

  July 10, 1991

  I got up today. Jazz came by and made me shower and eat. Everybody’s worried about me. Aunt Marilyn even called her. But I can’t talk to anyone. I don’t want to talk to anyone at all—not Aunt Marilyn, not Jazz, no one. I just wish everyone would leave me alone. I feel like I’m losing my mind and I didn’t know this much pain was possible. But I have to live. For my baby, I just have to.

  August 3, 1991

  I felt her move today! It’s been so hard to make it each day. Jazz said it would help to keep writing down my feelings (she’s the one who bought me this journal in the first place). I barely can function. But it’s like my baby girl (I just know it’s a girl) is trying to kick some sense into me. Jazz swears it’s indigestion or something because she said babies don’t kick at five months. But I know my baby. I’ve bonded with her. That was her way of telling me to be strong. It’s hard because I miss him so much. Jazz said I can use her car to go see him. I think that I’m going to do it. Girlfriend or no girlfriend. Maybe if he sees my growing stomach, he’ll change his mind. Maybe if he sees our baby, he’ll do right by us both.

  August 7, 1991

  It seemed like a good idea at the time. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but the visit didn’t go well. I went to his mother’s house. She didn’t even know about me. She didn’t know about the baby. So of course, I told her everything, and she told me he’s about to get married and I would not be ruining that. She had the nerve to be mad at me. And she asked me to leave and never contact them again. What kind of mother does that? What kind of woman doesn’t want to know her grandchild? Every time I think things can’t get worse, they do.

  August 11, 1991

  I still can’t believe he’s marrying her. He proposed to her while I’m carrying his child. I’m in this ratty motel, hoping he’ll come talk to me. I told his mother to tell him if he didn’t come see me, I would show up at his wedding. We (me and the baby) would show up at his wedding, even though I had no idea when it was, I promised her I would be there to introduce our child to her family. I don’t want to do something so crazy, but I will. I feel like I’m losing my mind anyway.

  August 14, 1991

  I’m back in Marshall. He showed up at the motel. But only to echo his mother and ask me to leave him alone. We’ve been together two years and he wants me to just leave him alone. I hit him over and over, it was so bad, I was so angry that he pushed me trying to get away and I fell against a table. He panicked, but he didn’t leave. He was so concerned and I knew that was proof that he loved me. He even took me to the hospital. But once they said I was fine, he left. His mama came to take me back to the motel with a message—Don’t ever contact them again or they would get the most expensive lawyers they could afford, sue me and take my baby. Driving home was so hard, I cried the whole way. I almost ran into an 18-wheeler. For a moment, I wished that I had.

  October 7, 1991

  I had planned to use this journal to document my journey of bringing my baby into this world. I’ve been MIA because . . . there is no longer a baby. Two weeks before my baby was due, my placenta completely detached from my uterus, killing my baby within minutes. It was something called a placental abruption. I had no risk factors and had never even heard of that. They told me it was most likely from my high-blood pressure (because I stayed stressed out) and that fall when he pushed me down. I started bleeding internally. They told me my baby died in my womb. And then, my water broke and the contractions started. So I had to give birth and I brought my dead, five-pound, eight-ounce baby girl into the world. The whole time I prayed to hear her cry, that maybe the doctors had gotten it wrong. They hadn’t, they brought her to me, wrapped in a blanket. She looked like she was sleeping. And even with no breath in her body, I loved her with every breath in mine. They had to end up prying her body from my arms. I just kept crying and asking what kind of God allows a child to grow in your body for 37 weeks only to take her from you????

  Then, as if God wanted to drive a stake through my heart, the doctor delivered more devastating news . . . . because of the internal bleeding, they had to do a complete hysterectomy and I will never be able to have kids. I thought the pain of losing him was bad. Nothing compares to this. Nothing compares to losing your child and your future children in one sweep.

  I had to call information to get his number and it took me some time to catch him, but when I did, I just wanted him to comfort me. I wanted him to come so I could bury our baby. I needed his comfort. He sounded relieved that our baby died, then had the nerve to throw my words in my face and tell me “God doesn’t make mistakes.” I never thought I could hate someone but I hate him with everything in me.

  I will bury my baby alone.

  I stopped reading when I noticed that a tear had sl
ipped from my eye and onto the paper. My poor mother. I flipped a page and read more entries. Each one tore my heart more than the last. Over the next year, my mother seemed to spiral out of control into a deep, dark depression that tore at my soul. Every tragic word pierced my heart.

  But it was when I got to an entry that said September 9, 1993 that I stopped. I remember that date clearly because it was the day before I was stolen. The words were pressed into the page like she was writing them in extreme anger. My heart raced as I continued reading.

  September 9, 1993

  So he just gets to go and create a new life? My life is all but over. I’ve been unable to function, dropped out of school. I have no friends, Aunt Marilyn is worried sick. I had to spend weeks in a mental hospital and he gets to live happily ever after??? I don’t think so. She doesn’t deserve him and she doesn’t deserve a baby. I followed them yesterday and saw them shopping for pink clothes like they’re just this big happy family. She might have gotten my man, but she will not raise a daughter that was supposed to be mine.

  I frantically turned the page. Then the next page. Then the next. My heart sank as I realized that was the last entry from my mother and it sent a cold chill through my spine.

  Chapter 25

  “One day, your mother will come.”

  “They’re going to be really mad.”

  “They’re going to want you back.”

  My mother’s words were forefront in my mind. I’d brushed them off as gibberish at the time . . . when all along it was foreshadowing of a truth my mother had buried all my life.

  I was not my mother’s child.

  I was a stolen daughter.

  Those words had engulfed me as I sat through dinner like a zombie last night after I returned from the park. My mother, feigning a headache, had stayed in her room. Every time I went in and tried to talk to her, she was asleep. Or acting like she was asleep.

  Malcolm had tried to comfort me, but even his touch could bring me no solace after this revelation. I was angry at the lie that had been my life. Angry that when I woke my mother up and pushed her for answers, she did nothing but cry, apologize, and cry some more. I’d finally given up and gone and cried myself to sleep.

  I don’t even know how I made it through the night. But this morning, I’d gotten up, begged my Aunt Marilyn to come over, taken Destiny to the sitter’s, and given my biological mother the one thing she’d been requesting since we’d met—one-on-one time.

  And now, as I sat at lunch across from the woman who had carried me in her womb for nine months, my mother’s words continued raging in my head.

  “One day they’ll want you back.”

  This woman had carried me inside her.

  And she was a perfect stranger.

  I know that some part of me should have taken the first step, tried to break the ice as we sat here at Lucille’s Restaurant in Southwest Houston. But I didn’t know what to say to her.

  Nervousness was written all over Elaine Logan’s face and I could tell she was trying to keep her emotions in check. It was obvious that she was thrilled to be here, but she also seemed cautious in her approach. I’ll admit, I wanted to know more about her. About this new, white side of my family.

  “Thank you for agreeing to have lunch with me,” she said after the waiter had delivered our salads. She had been here when I arrived. And I guessed that she was extremely nervous because the waiter was removing one Martini glass and setting another one down when I approached the table.

  “You have no idea how much it means to me to have this one-on-one time with you,” she continued.

  I nodded, unsure of how I should reply.

  “I know that you are a little disturbed with us because of the demand we made in regard to the woman who stole you.” That caused me to tense up and she immediately reached for my hands. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t my idea, but I can’t say I’m totally opposed to it.” She squeezed my hands, then released them. “I just missed so much with you.”

  I heard my husband’s words in my head. “What if someone had taken Destiny?” That thought caused me to take a deep breath, then try to relax . . . to try and empathize with what this woman was feeling.

  “I know you hate her,” I said.

  Elaine didn’t flinch as she said, “I do and I can’t even pretend that I don’t. And I pray every day for God to remove this hatred from my heart. I have hated the person who took you for so long that I don’t know how not to. I don’t understand why she did what she did. I don’t know if I ever will.”

  I did wonder if she knew about my mother and Major. If she knew that my mother had stalked her, obsessed over her. The thought of a lifetime of unanswered questions pierced my soul and I was overcome with sympathy.

  Even still, as grateful as I was that this woman had given me life, my love was with the woman who had helped me live. I debated trying to explain the state of mind my mother was in, but decided against it. Nothing could ever justify what my mother had done when she took me, so there was no use in trying. Plus, I didn’t ever want to give them anything to use against her.

  “All I do know,” I said, trying to reason with her, “is that I was raised in love.”

  “We would have loved you, too,” she said.

  “I understand that,” I replied. “It’s just, I have no control over what would have been. All I can do is talk about what was.”

  She nodded in understanding, then took a sip of the martini she’d ordered. She savored it like it was liquid courage.

  Finally, she said, “When I found out I was pregnant with you, your father and I weren’t actually married yet.” She set her drink down. “I was mortified because of my parents. They already had an issue because your father was black. My family isn’t exactly progressive,” she added. “I knew that my parents would go crazy. And then your dad, being the man that he is, stepped up to the plate. He said they might have a problem with me being pregnant by my boyfriend, but they wouldn’t have a problem with me being pregnant by my husband. So, while you were still fresh in my womb, we had a small wedding. His parents had actually been planning this huge wedding, but we convinced them to move the date up and do something smaller. And that was the second happiest day of my life. The first was the day I gave birth to you. When the doctor set you on my chest, I immediately started thinking of all the things we would do to make you happy.” She choked back a sob, composed herself and continued. “I wanted to spend a lifetime making you happy. I knew it would be a challenge, raising a mixed-race child. But your father and I were ready. The day that you came up missing was the worst day of my life.”

  “What happened?” I asked, grateful for the opportunity to learn a little about my past. I didn’t lose sight of how he was ready for her child, but not my mother’s.

  Elaine took her napkin and dabbed at her eyes. “It was only my second time taking you out. I was very protective. I went shopping, then to the park.” She managed a convoluted laugh. “Funny thing is, you probably had no idea where you even were. You couldn’t have been but about two months old. I went to the park and I walked around with you and you pretty much slept the entire time. Some older woman with gray hair sat next to me. She talked a little bit. One of the sweetest women I’d ever met. I never felt threatened. Of course, we later learned the gray hair was a wig and she was in a disguise. She marveled over you, then went back to reading her book. She told me you were the same age as her daughter. My sister and some friends arrived. They all doted over you then we just started chatting and taking pictures. I looked away at one point and you and the woman were gone.”

  “So, you turned your back on a two-month-old?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine ever turning my back on Destiny.

  “I have not forgiven myself ever since,” she said. “Your father never blamed me, but he didn’t have to. I blamed myself. I’ve never worked since then. And I’m a shell of my former self. Living without you was akin to living without my heart. Over the years, I often wondered wha
t you would look like. I had recurring dreams of holding you, playing with you. Every time I saw a child your age, I studied their face, hoping it would be you. We plastered posters all over the place. Put up a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar reward for your recovery, even appeared on “America’s Most Wanted,” and conducted a search across multiple countries. But even with all our money, we kept turning up nothing.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes.

  She continued, “So you have to forgive me if I can’t forgive the woman who stole you and altered the course of my life.”

  I paused, weighing my next words. Finally, I said, “I don’t know if you remember, but I told you that my mother is sick . . .”

  She slammed her palm on the table, causing me to jump. “I’m your mother.” Then she caught herself. “Sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She sipped her drink again like the liquid courage helped to calm her down. “I need you to understand what it does to me when you refer to her as your mother. The only reason she is that to you is because she stole my daughter.”

  I didn’t know what this woman wanted me to say. Connie Harrison was my mother. It didn’t matter how she got to be my mother. She was my mother.

  “Well, she has early-onset dementia now.” And then I don’t know why I felt compelled to add the lie, “She doesn’t even remember what happened.”

  “Oh, isn’t that convenient?” Elaine chuckled. “But God has a way of getting his own revenge. She snatched away my memories and God took hers.”

  It must have been the way I pursed my lips that caused Elaine to say, “You know what? I am so sorry. Again. This is all just so difficult for me. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about Destiny. My granddaughter.”