I Know What You Did

by N L Hinkens

  Jo had tried to be there for Robbie as much as possible in the months after Sarah’s death. She dragged him along to various social events, concerts, and movies, and invited him over to dinner on a regular basis. On the whole, he was coping remarkably well. He’d taken over Sarah’s role as power of attorney in looking after her elderly mother’s affairs, and made a habit of visiting Barb at Brookdale Meadows every Sunday afternoon. He’d returned to school the week after the funeral and carried on teaching his classes—pouring his heart into his work in an effort to dull his pain, Jo suspected. Underneath his cheery demeanor, she knew he must be lonely—Sarah had been such a bright, vivacious personality. But, as the months went by, Robbie’s sense of humor resurfaced, and he soon began whistling in the corridors again. They were all trying to move on in their own way.

  “This is it,” Liam said, grinning across at Jo as he gripped the steering wheel. “No more lazy weekend mornings reading in bed.”

  Jo didn’t mind. She relished the idea of being woken up early by a little person who needed her. She was more than ready to throw off the mantle of childlessness, which clung to her like an objectionable aura people backed away from. The social worker had warned them not to purchase any baby gear in advance in case the birthmother changed her mind. Jo and Liam had compromised and bought it anyway but left it in the boxes. A clipboard of receipts lay on top of the dresser in the ivory-colored nursery. She’d wondered if it might be tempting fate to keep the receipts and had considered burning them on more than one occasion. The crib, mattress, and bedding alone had set them back almost two-thousand dollars. But, to Jo it was worth every penny—a far more fruitful investment than IVF.

  Among the baby items they’d packed in the car was a gift she’d selected for Mia. It was a thank you gesture of sorts, a sterling silver Tiffany knot pendant. She hadn’t wanted to skimp, remembering that Mia had a penchant for expensive gifts.

  “I just hope the baby’s healthy,” Jo said with a sigh. “I know Tory assured us that Mia was going to all her doctor appointments and eating well, but how does she know that? She’s relying on what Mia told her.”

  “We’ve gone over this before, Jo,” Liam said in an overly patient tone. “There’s no point in worrying about things that are out of our control. If Mia used the money we sent her for other things, then so be it.”

  “I just hope it wasn’t drugs or alcohol,” Jo added. Sérgio Tomaselli’s comments about Mia being a bad influence on Noah had preyed on her mind ever since. Mia had admitted to Detective Saunders she’d been drinking vodka with Noah the night he died. Jo only hoped for the baby’s sake she’d given it up after that.

  Mid-afternoon, they arrived at the Sonoma Birth Center and circled the building looking for a parking spot. The ones nearest to the entrance were reserved for expectant parents.

  “Technically that’s us,” Liam said with a mischievous grin.

  Jo rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I forced a heavily pregnant woman to hobble all the way across the parking lot clutching her belly.”

  “Since you put it that way,” Liam replied, “I’ll park back at the fence.”

  They locked the car and sprinted to the front door of the birthing center as if time was of the essence. In the foyer, sofas and love seats were nestled in intimate groupings, and a well-stocked coffee station and magazine rack lined the back wall. The gray-haired woman behind the desk smiled warmly at them as they approached. Jo wondered if all adoptive parents felt like she did, plagued with doubts, an intruder in a sacred space she hadn’t earned the right to enter. She fought to quash the feelings of inadequacy that threatened to bubble up and taint her happiness. This was her time, she had made this happen, one way or another.

  “Good morning!” the woman said cheerily. “I’m Janice, how can I help you?”

  Liam rested an elbow on the counter. “Hi Janice. We’re Jo and Liam Murphy, adoptive parents to Mia Allen’s baby. She went into labor this morning.”

  Janice’s face broke into a smile of recognition. “Yes, of course! Mia told us you’d be arriving around this time.” She got to her feet and grabbed a clipboard from her desk. “If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you through to the birthing partners’ area.” As she walked, she glanced down at the clipboard in her hand. “Her birthing plan specifies that the baby’s to be brought straight to you, Jo. Of course, Mia’s entitled to change her mind, so you need to prepare yourself for that possibility. But, as it stands, it looks like you’ll get to hold your baby right away.”

  “It’s so hard to believe this is happening,” Jo gushed, as Janice led them into a second waiting area.

  “Trust me, it will feel real before too long.” Janice pointed to a door that led out of the waiting room. “There are bathrooms that way and the cafeteria’s at the end of the corridor. I’ll just go and find out what Mia’s status is.”

  Within minutes, another woman appeared in the waiting area dressed in pastel scrubs and clogs, her long, black hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Mr. and Mrs. Murphy?”

  Jo and Liam stood frozen to the spot, clutching each other’s hands.

  “Is everything alright?” Jo squeaked out.

  “Absolutely,” the woman assured her. “I’m Wanda, the midwife assistant. Mia wanted me to tell you she’s glad you’re here.”

  The words fell over Jo like a soothing balm. Tears welled up and trickled down her cheeks. Mia’s words were the reassurance she needed. An affirmation that she was going to leave here a mother. Her shoulders shook as Liam gently slid his arm around her.

  “I know this is overwhelming, but there’s no shame in crying here. Tears of joy have anointed every square foot of this building, let me assure you,” Wanda said with a chuckle.

  Jo blinked away her tears. Something about her breezy manner reminded her of Sarah. She wished more than anything that her friend could be here to share her joy.

  “I predict this baby won’t come quickly,” Wanda added. “Mia’s only at two centimeters so it’s going to be a long night. I’ll touch base with you a little later on and give you another update.” She disappeared down the hallway and Jo and Liam sank back down in their seats.

  “Mind if I catch the game?” Liam nodded toward the television in the corner of the room.

  “Have at it.” Jo pulled out her Kindle and opened up the book she was currently reading for the third time, What to Expect the First Year. Liam would think it was overkill if she told him she was rereading it again, but she was desperate to do everything right. It had been a grueling journey to get to this point, and she wasn’t about to take a moment of it for granted. The words danced before her eyes, her mind drifting to the moment when Mia’s baby would become hers. The thought was intoxicating, the warm fuzzy feeling inside her all-consuming.

  From time to time she glanced across at the screen in the corner of the room. Unlike her, Liam was fully absorbed in the basketball game. She smiled to herself. She had no doubt he’d be a good dad. Years of infertility had pushed them to the edge, but adoption had brought them together again.

  She was curled up on a lounge chair half asleep when the midwife returned shortly after midnight. “We’re ready for you,” she announced.

  Jo gripped Liam’s arm, her fingernails digging into his flesh. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “No, you’re not,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. “You’re going to be a mother, and you’re going to be an incredible one.”

  In a daze, they followed the midwife down the corridor and into a dimly-lit bedroom with a small seating area, a changing table, a crib, and a kitchenette. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

  Moments later, Wanda reappeared with a tiny swaddled bundle and placed it in Jo’s arms. She gasped as she looked down at the miniature face. The tiny human she was holding felt so light, so fragile, so utterly dependent on her protection and care.

  “Is it … a boy or a girl?” Liam asked, his eyes gl
assy with tears as he gazed at their newborn.

  “A little girl,” Wanda replied. “A healthy five pounds and twelve ounces, twenty-one inches. Do you have a name for her?”

  Jo and Liam exchanged a knowing smile. Names were the easy part. They’d had ten years to narrow down their choices.

  “Her name’s Claire,” Jo said.

  Wanda nodded approvingly. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad.”

  Jo gently traced a fingertip over her baby’s soft cheek, and then glanced at Wanda. “How’s Mia doing?”

  “She’s resting. Once she’s ready to see you, I’ll take you both in there. In the meantime, you’ll have your hands full. Diapering, feeding, all that good stuff.”

  Jo stared at her, aghast. “Are you leaving us alone?”

  Wanda chuckled. “That’s the plan. This is your room for the night.”

  Jo took a few shallow breaths, gazing in wonder at the scrunched-up face in front of her. Claire yawned, one tiny fist popping out of her blanket as she flung it toward her head. Her face twisted into the beginning of a delayed scream. Despite the months Jo had spent reading up on parenting tips, she felt panic rising up inside her. As the scream erupted, she instinctively pulled Claire close to her chest and began to rock her. The baby’s cries softened and then faded to a snuffle.

  Wanda turned to Liam. “Your turn, Dad. There’s a microwave and a bottle warmer, and everything else you’ll need over by the changing table. Time to get your daughter’s first bottle ready.”

  Liam blinked and stroked his jaw, casting a terrified glance at the far side of the room.

  Jo laughed at his obvious discomfort. “You can do this, honey. If you can configure network systems, you can make up a bottle.”

  “Don’t worry,” Wanda added. “I’ll walk you through it. Believe me, I’ve seen firefighters and soldiers practically have a panic attack making up the first bottle.”

  Liam’s face relaxed a little as he accompanied Wanda over to the kitchenette.

  Jo gazed lovingly at Claire’s perfect face. Her little blue eyes were curious, studying Jo as though wondering if this could possibly be the person who’d carried her for nine months. Jo rubbed her palm gently over Claire’s soft head of blonde fuzz. Noah’s Italian genes hadn’t prevailed after all. Claire looked exactly like Mia, and nothing at all like her father, for which Jo was immensely thankful. There was no chance the Tomaselli family would recognize their grandchild and try to stake a claim.

  Liam appeared at Jo’s side holding a bottle of formula. He laid a burp cloth over Jo’s shoulder. “Why don’t you sit in the rocking chair to feed her?”

  “I’ll leave you two alone and give you some privacy,” Wanda said. “I’ll pop back in shortly.”

  Jo walked over to the rocking chair and sat down gingerly, afraid that even the tiniest movement might disturb the fragile parcel in her arms. Halfway through the bottle, Claire fell into a deep sleep, as limp as if she’d been drugged.

  When Wanda reappeared to let them know that Mia was ready for them, Jo handed Claire to Liam, and dug out the gift she’d brought for Mia.

  She was sitting up in bed waiting for them, looking even more beautiful than Jo remembered her. Her sleek blonde hair was woven into a loose braid that hung over one shoulder. Her eyes shone, and her face was flushed—a little fuller than normal, but it suited her.

  Jo approached her bed tentatively, blinking back tears. “Thank you, Mia. She’s perfect. I don’t know what else to say other than thank you from the bottom of my heart. I brought you a little something.” She handed the Tiffany box to her, pleased when the girl’s eyes grew wide.

  “I should be thanking you,” Mia replied, untying the ribbon. She removed the lid from the box and peered inside. “Oh, it’s gorgeous! I love it! You have excellent taste.” Her eyes wandered to Liam standing back from the bed cradling Claire.

  “Do you … ” Jo hesitated, searching for the right words. “Do you want to hold her?”

  Mia waved a dismissive hand. “No, I’m good. What’s her name?”

  “Claire,” Jo said. “I’ve always loved that name.”

  Mia gave a distracted nod, her eyes drifting back to the pendant.

  “Are your parents here?” Jo ventured.

  “It isn’t exactly a family occasion. It’s not like I’m making them grandparents or anything.”

  “I just thought … doesn’t your dad live close by?”

  Mia narrowed her eyes. “Chuck’s not interested in meeting you if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  Jo opened and closed her mouth, taken aback by Mia’s sharp tone. The girl could be incredibly callous at times, and yet she’d chosen them to be parents to her child. For that, they were indebted to her.

  Jo cleared her throat and changed tactics. “What will you do after this?”

  Mia shrugged. “Get a job.”

  “It shouldn’t be too hard to find work in a big city like San Francisco,” Jo said.

  “I’m not staying here.” Mia scoffed. “I’m going back.”

  Jo raised her brows. It surprised her to hear that Mia wouldn’t welcome the chance to stay clear of her past and memories of Noah. “Most of your friends have gone off to college already.”

  “I know. Rob—Mr. Gleeson’s been keeping me up to date on what everyone’s doing.”

  Liam shot Jo an incredulous look.

  Jo furrowed her brow in confusion. “You talked to Mr. Gleeson?”

  “Oh yes,” Mia stared at her, the faint hint of a smile curling on her lips. “He wrote me a long letter apologizing for what Sarah did to Noah. We’ve kept in touch ever since—mostly emails, the occasional letter.” She dropped her gaze and picked at the blanket on her bed. “He’s the only one who understands what it was like. You know—Noah having the affair and all that, and then killing himself.”

  Jo swallowed, unsure what to say. It made sense in a way that Robbie and Mia felt a certain empathetic connection. After all, they’d both been betrayed by their partners and lost them in the most tragic of circumstances. But it seemed inappropriate for them to be communicating. Granted, Mia no longer attended Emmetville High, but she’d been Robbie’s student, nonetheless. Even more disturbing was the fact that Robbie’s wife had been carrying on with Mia’s boyfriend and they’d died in a suicide pact together. Jo averted her gaze and pretended to adjust her glasses. It wasn’t appropriate. She’d have a quiet word with Robbie about it when she returned home. Grieving people didn’t always think straight—she knew that firsthand.

  She cleared her throat, searching for something to say. “It was thoughtful of him. I know he felt guilty about what Sarah did.”

  Mia leaned over and reached for her purse on the bedside locker. “I have the letter right here. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you we’d been in touch, since you’re such good friends and all.” Before Jo could say another word, Mia pulled out a folded sheet, opened it up, and began to read.

  Dear Mia,

  Words fail me as I attempt to pen an apology that can do little to compensate you for your loss. My wife, Sarah, was entirely responsible for what happened to Noah. Regardless of whether the relationship was a mutual one or not, she abused her power as a teacher to influence a student. To some degree, I’m also to blame for not realizing what was going on and stopping it. One of my students lost his life and I must live with the guilt of that as I was married to his killer.

  Jo grimaced. Married to his killer? Is that who Robbie really thought Sarah was?

  Mia paused and glanced up to make sure she had Jo’s full attention.

  Jo shivered. She remembered that look in Mia’s eyes, she’d seen it before—it was almost like she knew she was inflicting pain and was enjoying every minute of it.

  Mia continued reading aloud.

  I miss Sarah every day, but I realize now that I’m missing a woman who never existed, a fantasy woman who didn’t really love me. I know you feel the same deep sense of betrayal and my heart goes out to y
ou for the pain you’re experiencing. I only hope that as time goes by, we can both find happiness again.

  “He goes on for several more paragraphs, but that’s the gist of it.” Mia sank back on her pillow, a sly grin on her face. “He’s so lonely. Maybe I should introduce him to my mother.”

  15

  The first few weeks after Jo and Liam brought Claire home were a grab bag of moments of sheer bliss and utter chaos. Jo took a leave of absence from work and was endeavoring to throw herself into motherhood wholly and unreservedly, from the night feeds that left her foggy from lack of sleep, to the endless mounds of laundry, and dirty diapers.

  Liam didn’t work as late anymore. Now, he had a real family to come home to and Jo could tell he cherished every minute of it. He proudly pushed Claire around the mall or through the park in her stroller on weekends, basking in the oohs and ahhs of passersby admiring the bundle of perfection that was his daughter.

  Jo asked Robbie to be Claire’s godparent, and he readily accepted, relishing his role and making a point of stopping by to visit after school and bring her yet another stuffed animal he couldn’t resist adding to her collection.

  “I wish Sarah was here to share this with me,” he said one Friday afternoon as he cradled Claire in his arms.

  “I do too,” Jo agreed wistfully. “It breaks my heart to think she’ll never know my daughter.” She smiled sadly at Robbie. “It’s going to be hard for you at Christmas. Why don’t you spend it with us this year?”

  “I thought I’d spend the day by myself out of town somewhere.”

  “Nonsense. You’ve spent enough days doing that,” Jo countered. “We’d love to have you. How’s everything going at school anyway? We haven’t talked about it much. I’ve been so preoccupied with Claire.”

  “It was awkward at first,” Robbie admitted. “Some of the staff and students wanted to do something to commemorate Sarah and Noah. But the Parent-Teacher Association was opposed to any sort of memorial plaque. The football team suggested a tribute marker next to the field for Noah, but in the end, Ed decided against it. He felt it would be better not to memorialize the event like some kind of Romeo and Juliet tragedy. He had visions of weeping teenage girls leaving floral tributes at the foot of the plaque.”