The Lost Cats and Lonely Hearts Club

by Nic Tatano

  “My boyfriend is a cop and tracked her down. But obviously I’m too late.”

  He slowly nods. “Yes, my fault.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Caitlin … your birth mother … realized you were her daughter when you testified before Congress. But by then she was in her last days. We talked about contacting you. She wasn’t sure and neither was I. Obviously the fact that you’re here tells me I made the wrong decision.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Father. Do you know her whole story?”

  “Yes, and I’m the only one who does. I’ve known Caitlin since she was a teenager. The church took her in after you were born. I was a rookie priest, right out of the seminary, and found her in my church one night, curled up on a pew, crying. She was only fifteen. She didn’t tell me everything until a few years later.” He smiles as he studies my face. “Seeing you in person … you are a carbon copy of her. Same eyes. Same color hair. All those freckles. And from what I’ve seen on television, same good heart.”

  I’m puzzled by that last part. “But she threw me away.”

  He slowly nods. “And that, in a strange way, turned her into an amazing person. She had gotten pregnant and after you were born the father took off. Left her with nothing, no place to live.”

  “The birth certificate said she was from Ireland.”

  “Her parents had moved to this country a couple of years earlier and she was a runaway. Abusive family situation. She ended up with a man who took advantage of an innocent teenage girl and then left her. She didn’t want to be sent back to her parents so she used her old Ireland address and lied about her age at the hospital so they wouldn’t track down her family.”

  “Do you know who my father is?”

  “He apparently died shortly after. He was a criminal. Not a good man. She never told me his name.”

  “I see.”

  “So she left the hospital and panicked when she couldn’t find the father. Remember, she was fifteen, alone in New York City, and scared with a newborn baby she couldn’t take care of.”

  “Why didn’t she just go to the police, or social services?”

  “She thought she’d get in trouble and the father would be charged with statutory rape, which he would have been. And she was worried they would find her parents. Even though your father abandoned her she still cared about him and didn’t want to see him go to jail. She was just a kid. So she went to a busy park in the richest neighborhood in Manhattan, thinking some wealthy family would find you and take you in. I know, it doesn’t make any sense, but when you’re young and desperate you don’t think clearly. But she knew you’d be found.”

  “And after that the church took her in.”

  “Right. And I was put in charge of her since I was overseeing an at-risk youth program. When she was about eighteen … that’s when she found her calling.”

  “Calling?”

  “She felt so much guilt about what she had done that she decided to devote her life to doing charitable acts.” He points at all the plaques on the wall. “She spent her life working for various benevolent organizations, every one of them involving children. You can see the result.”

  I study the plaques, all from well-known children’s charities. Saint Jude. Shriners. Her name on each, many reading “volunteer of the year.” I spot a framed photo and get up to get a closer look.

  It’s like a photo of myself. The priest is right. Dead ringer.

  Another photo shows her with a few children. I turn back to the priest. “So, does she have a husband? Are these her kids?”

  He shakes his head. “Caitlin never married. She was so devoted to charity, it filled her life. She was especially committed to helping at-risk children. It really enriched her, gave her purpose.”

  That makes my eyes well up as I move back to the couch. “You said you weren’t sure if you should contact me when she was still alive.”

  “Caitlin and I discussed it after she realized you were her daughter. She was afraid you would despise her and so was I. She was terminal and I wasn’t sure if she should die knowing her only child might hate her. You have to understand that while she was an incredibly giving soul, what she had done to you haunted her. But it drove her to do good. She attended Mass and prayed for you every day, even though she had no idea who you were or even if you were alive. She finished every prayer with please watch over my daughter.”

  Tears begin to roll down my face and Rory wraps an arm around my shoulders. “You were probably right not to contact me when she was alive. I’ll be honest, Father, I came here today without good intentions. And I did hate what she did to me. I simply had to know why she did what she did. I did not come here looking for a loving reunion. I was going to ask her why she threw me away.”

  The priest nods. “And that’s certainly understandable. After hearing your story about the foster homes, I don’t blame you for being angry.”

  “Now I feel awful about it.”

  “Don’t. She actually died peacefully, knowing you had turned out so well. She said she was proud of you and all the good you were doing. I guess charity runs in the family.”

  Rory pats my hand. “Madison is the kindest person I know.”

  “I wasn’t always this way, Father. Did she have any relatives?”

  “No. Only child.” He pulls some papers covered by a blue folder from an end table. I recognize it as a legal document. “I need to tell you about this. When she found out she was terminal six months ago, she had a will drawn up and left everything to the church, earmarked to build a children’s home. I have no doubt that once she discovered you were her daughter she wanted to leave everything to you, but she never got around to it. You certainly have the right—”

  “No, Father. You keep it. She should have a legacy. And it will help children in need.”

  “Very generous of you.” He reaches out and grabs a box, then slides it over to me. “I’ve been packing this up for you. Photos, some of her favorite things. The cross she wore every day, rosary beads. Her medical records, DNA tests and such, in case you need family history.” He then takes an envelope from the table. “And she wrote you a letter before she died.”

  He hands it to me and my emotions are hung up in my throat. I turn it over in my hand and see “Madison” written in beautiful handwriting. “I think I’ll read this later, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure.”

  I reach into the box for a worn, silver crucifix on a chain, pick it up and put it around my neck. Then the dam holding my emotions back breaks. I begin to cry and hug Rory for dear life.

  Nick looks up from his book as I enter his room carrying the box. “You were gone a long time. So that was your mother?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did she say?”

  I put the box on the floor, sit on the edge of the bed and pet Bumper who is curled up at the foot. “She had just passed away.” My eyes start to well up and Nick pulls me close, hugging me while gently stroking my hair.

  “I’m sorry, Madison. Maybe I shouldn’t have—”

  “No, actually it’s very good that you did. All my questions were answered, and more.” I tell him the story, then grab a photo from the box and hand it to him.

  “Wow. Talk about a family resemblance. I’d swear this is you.”

  “No kidding.” I reach into the box and take the letter. “And she wrote to me before she died.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I haven’t had the nerve to look at it yet. Would you read it to me?”

  He takes it from me. “Sure, Madison.” He pulls me close as he leans back. I rest my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him while the kitten crawls onto my lap. He opens the envelope and starts to read.

  Dear Madison,

  It seems strange to address you in that way, as I only learned of your name a few days ago when I realized your story matched mine. By now Father Anthony has told you everything and why I did what I did.

  When I
saw you testify before Congress I was devastated by what I had put you through. And then I was proud that you had accomplished so much, overcoming such adversity, using your position to make the world a better place. I wanted to tell everyone, “That’s my daughter!” but of course I had no right to do that. While I gave birth to you I was not your mother in a traditional sense. And while what I did was such a terrible thing, not a day went by that I didn’t think of you and pray that you were safe and loved. Obviously some of those prayers went unanswered, and I am sorry your childhood was such an unhappy one.

  Madison, I can never write an apology that will make up for my actions, and I certainly don’t expect your forgiveness. But please know that I spent the rest of my life trying to help children in need.

  I am so happy you turned out to be such a beautiful, successful and compassionate woman. I wish you all the happiness in the world, and am hopeful when we do meet in Heaven that you will accept me. Until then, I will watch over you since I finally know who you are … a woman with a beautiful and kind heart.

  Love and peace,

  Caitlin

  Nick gently folds the letter like a priceless heirloom and puts it back in the envelope, then sets it on the nightstand. He takes my chin and tilts it up, noting the tears are flowing. “Beautiful letter.”

  “I feel awful. I went up there wanting to hate her and now …”

  He kisses the top of my head. “Madison, you couldn’t possibly hate anyone. You’re not wired that way. The last line in that letter is spot on. You’re a woman with a beautiful and kind heart. Actually you have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. I thank God every day that I met you.”

  His words send me over the emotional edge. I bury my head in his chest and cry it out. He holds me, saying nothing, simply stroking my back. Finally I’m all wrung out and look up at him.

  He brushes away my tears with his thumb. “Your mother prayed that you would be safe and loved. I can take care of that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I’m already awake, looking at Nick who’s still asleep as the sunlight spills onto his face. I actually slept well, probably because my emotions had drained me.

  Or maybe because of who I was sleeping with.

  More important, did Nick tell me he loved me last night?

  Too much to sort out right now. At least the mystery of my mother has been solved, painful as it was.

  Bumper wakes up, moves up from the foot of the bed and meows.

  Nick’s eyes flicker open. He yawns and smiles. “Morning, gorgeous.”

  I give him a sly smile. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mister.”

  “I was talking to the cat.”

  I sit up straight. “Hey!”

  He reaches up and runs his hand across my cheek. “Look at that, I made you smile.”

  “Thanks. And thank you for last night.”

  “My job, remember? Damsels in distress.”

  “And I was in serious distress.”

  “Sleep well?”

  “Yeah. When you get a thirty-five year old demon out of your head, it helps.”

  “I can imagine.” He looks at the clock. “You better get going on your Sunday morning show.”

  “In a minute.” I lay back next to him and he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “In a minute.”

  No longer in need of a cat sitter and with Nick able to take care of himself, Sunday brunch moves back to one of our favorite restaurants. I’ve let everyone read the letter from my mother, and of course they were all touched.

  My brain must resemble one of those lottery machines, with thoughts bouncing around like ping pong balls. Finally finding my mother, my guilt about hating her all these years, what Nick said to me last night, memories of foster homes dredged up. I want to send my brain on a vacation, spend a week doing totally mindless stuff that requires no thinking. If you’ve got a big book of Sudoku puzzles, I’m your girl.

  “I think Madison has been taken over by the pod people.” Tish jolts me out of my trance.

  I look up at her. “Sorry. I’ve had a lot to process in the last twenty-four hours.”

  Rory pats me on the shoulder. “But you got some sense of closure. The question that had been haunting you all these years was finally answered. Now you can move on.”

  “I guess. But there’s something else right now that has moved to the front burner. I think Nick told me he loved me last night.”

  A.J. shakes her head. “What do you mean, you think he told you he loved you? Did he say I love you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Tish stops eating. “He either said it or he didn’t.”

  “Okay, you all read the letter. That line where my mother hopes I will be safe and loved. Nick said, ‘Your mother prayed that you would be safe and loved. I can take care of that.’”

  Tish nods as she considers it. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. I went to sleep.”

  “Did you not respond because you weren’t sure what to say, because you didn’t want to tell him you loved him?”

  “I don’t know. I was exhausted and emotional. It didn’t really hit me till I woke up and thought about it.”

  Rory pats me on the shoulder. “He loves you, and we all know it. But you’re doing what you always do, Freckles. Acting like a man.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Every time a guy makes a commitment he always has this little voice in his head wondering if he could have done better, even if he’s dating the most beautiful woman in the world. A man could have Nicole Kidman in his back pocket and still wonder if Miss Universe is available. And you’ve played the what if? game your whole life, both with romance and your career. You have always second guessed your decisions.”

  “I know, but—”

  “She’s right,” says A.J. “By the way, I think he told you he loved you.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right. I needed it, too. I didn’t want to be alone after what happened yesterday. And if he wasn’t around I would have come over and crawled in bed with you.”

  A.J. flashes a wicked grin. “There wasn’t a vacancy next to me.”

  Tish studies my face. “Do you love him?”

  “Yeah, but you know how hard it is for me to say the L-word. I love having him there when I get home. We get along great. He’s incredibly thoughtful and so sweet to me. He’s funny and smart and we have a lot in common. I’m more physically attracted to him than any man I’ve ever dated.”

  “I think I’ve figured this out,” says Tish.

  “What?”

  “Rory’s right. You sneaked off and had a sex change. You’re now a man who can’t commit.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Oh, by the way, I’m having lunch with Jamison tomorrow. I called him up with some bogus stuff about needing a video produced for my law firm. So maybe I can get the guilt monster off your back.”

  My cell rings the minute I walk into the newsroom on Monday morning. I see it’s Congressman Dexter’s office calling. “Madison Shaw …”

  “Hi Madison, Brad Dexter. Wanted to make sure you were in the newsroom today.”

  “Yeah, at least until I go out on a story. You got something for me?”

  “I’m not sure you want it, but I’ve got it. You’ll be buried in paperwork.”

  “I’m not on a timetable. Can you email everything to me?”

  “I’ve actually got a messenger outside in your parking lot. I didn’t want an electronic paper trail and wanted to make sure it was hand delivered to you and not simply left at the desk. I’ll tell him to make the delivery.”

  “Thanks, I really appreciate that. Did you have time to look at it?”

  “Only enough to know that there’s a pretty big haystack for you to sift through in order to find the needle.”

  “Well, if it’s there, I’ll find it. Thanks so much for your help.”

  “If you need any more, just call.”

  The call ends and I he
ad down to the lobby, expecting a typical young bike messenger in shorts and a helmet. Instead I see a middle-aged man in a dark suit carrying a large box. He sees me and heads in my direction. “Miss Shaw, this is for you.”

  He hands me the box which weighs a ton. Obviously the Congressman wasn’t kidding about the size of the haystack. “Thank you. Do I need to sign anything?”

  “No.” His suit jacket is open and I can see a shoulder holster inside. He’s obviously a Fed, probably one of Brad Dexter’s FBI friends.

  “Okay. Appreciate you doing this.”

  “I’m not really here. Have a nice day, Miss Shaw.”

  He turns and leaves the building. I decide to take the box to the parking lot rather than leave it sitting on my desk all day. Reporters are too damn nosy and I don’t want anyone knowing what I’m working on. I reach my car and lock the box in the trunk.

  Can’t wait to get home and start digging.

  Tish shows up after dinner, looking like she needs to talk. “C’mon, let’s take a walk. Need to tell you some stuff.”

  “Sure.” I turn to Nick, who’s watching television. “Tish and I are going for a walk.”

  “Okay. Be back by ten. And I want your Algebra homework done, young lady, or no video games.”

  “Very funny.”

  We head out the door and start down the block. “He looks like he’s in good spirits,” says Tish.

  “He’s getting more feeling back in his legs every day. Doctor says the prognosis is looking up.”

  “That’s great, Madison. I’m happy for both of you.”

  “So what’s up?”

  “Had lunch with Jamison today.”

  “And …”

  “I have good news and bad news.”

  “Uh-oh. What’s the good news?”

  “He picked up the check.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “You know that torch the Statue of Liberty has? The one he’s carrying for you is bigger and burning bright as hell.”

  “Aw, shit.”

  “Madison, I took my best shot. Really. Tried to flirt, even had my hair down and glasses off.”

  “Damn, you are a good friend. For you that’s like showing up naked.”