“You got pregnant,” Quinn said, finally grasping the magnitude of this confession.
Jo nodded. “I did. My parents tried to talk me into terminating the pregnancy, but I refused, really dug my heels in. In retrospect, I think the only reason I wanted to keep the baby was because I was desperate to hurt them. I thought I’d feel vindicated. What could be more of a punishment than having to stand by helplessly and watch their son’s child growing inside my body? They’d failed to protect me and had been more worried about Michael’s career than what he’d done. They tried to sweep the whole thing under the carpet and continue as if nothing had changed, so I set out to prove them wrong. I realize now how foolish I was, and how selfish, but at the time, I wasn’t thinking rationally.”
“What happened to the baby, Jo?”
“I was able to conceal my pregnancy until the end of the school year. I felt angry and defiant, but I didn’t feel any different physically. The pregnancy didn’t feel real to me at all until the baby began to move, and even then, I felt no connection to it. I ignored it. As soon as school let out for the summer holidays, my father packed me off to a ‘retreat,’ as he called it, for unwed mothers. You wouldn’t think they’d still have such places, but he found one in Ireland. Since abortion wasn’t legal there, there were still those who preferred to hide their shame and were comfortable enough to afford a place like St. Monica’s Home for Mother and Baby.”
“St. Monica is the patron saint of mothers,” Quinn said. “Was it an awful place?”
“No. It wasn’t at all like those horrid convents run by bitter old nuns whose only pleasure in life is inflicting misery on young women who’ve allowed themselves to sink into sin. It was a posh manor in the countryside, where the women were looked after by caring staff. Money goes a long way, even in a situation like that. I made friends with some of the other girls. The three months I spent at the home were peaceful and pleasant, and I allowed myself to forget why I was really there.”
Jo’s eyelashes shimmered with tears, and Quinn reached for her hand but didn’t ask any questions. Jo needed to tell her story in her own time.
“The baby was born in August. I had an easy labor. The whole thing lasted about three hours from beginning to end. There was a pediatrician on staff, and he took the baby away as soon as it was born. My father thought it best, and I didn’t disagree. I didn’t want to see the baby or hold it. I felt no love toward it. I was happy to finally be rid of it. Is that awful?”
“No, it’s not. You were sixteen. Hardly more than a child yourself. And the baby hadn’t been a product of love, or even desire.”
“No, it wasn’t. I never saw it, Quinn. I left the retreat a week later and returned home in time for the new autumn term. It was as if the whole thing had never even happened.”
“What became of the baby?”
“It was given up for adoption. To be honest, I never gave it another thought, and I was comfortable with that decision until I met you. Seeing what you’d gone through to find our birth parents, and the void left in your life from not knowing where you’d come from, I suddenly began to wonder what happened to my child and if I’d caused it years of pain and insecurity. I always believed my child was better off without me, but neither of us was better off not knowing our birth parents, were we? Sylvia might not be what we wished for or needed, but she’s a flesh-and-blood woman, and despite my anger toward her, I want to get to know her. Is that perverse?”
“No. I could have walked away from her, but I keep coming back. She frustrates me, annoys me, and baffles me, but she’s still my mother, and I want her in my life. There’s a part of me that needs her, and I think she needs me as well.”
“Is it too late to find my daughter?” Jo asked, her gaze begging Quinn to say it wasn’t.
“I don’t know, Jo. I suppose it depends on what you hope to accomplish. Do you want to find your child in order to ease your guilt, or do you want to be a part of her life?”
“I want to know her. Do you think she’d wish to know me?”
“I think there’s only one way to find out.”
“Will you help me find her?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start. My father handled the adoption, but he’s gone.”
“Hold on.” Quinn left the kitchen and returned a few moments later with her computer. “Let’s see if St. Monica’s still exists.”
“I highly doubt they’d just hand over the information.”
“No, but it’s a start. Where was it located?”
“Not too far from Dublin, I think.”
Quinn Googled St. Monica’s Home for Mother and Baby near Dublin. Several entries popped up. “It closed six years ago,” she said. “The manor house is now a care home for the elderly.”
Jo exhaled loudly. “Now what?”
“Did the home handle the adoptions or did they liaison with an independent agency?”
Jo shrugged. “I have no idea. I never asked any questions. By the time the baby was born, I only wanted my life back. I trusted my father to ensure the baby was placed in a good home. That was enough for me.”
Quinn closed the computer and pushed it aside. “Jo, there are ways to find a person. I found you.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I suggest you take some time to think about what you want. If you are ready to find your daughter, then we will leave no stone unturned; however, if you decide it’s best for everyone involved to leave things as they are, no one will think any less of you. This is a big decision.”
“Quinn, I’ve made up my mind. I must find her,” Jo said forcefully. “Will you help me?”
“Of course. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“Thanks, Quinn.” Jo pulled her into a warm hug. “I appreciate your support.”
“You’ll always have it, no matter what.”
Chapter 26
“I’m going to ring Drew Camden in the morning,” Quinn said as she snuggled deeper into her favorite spot on the sofa. “He was able to help me find Jo. I think he’ll make real inroads into finding Jo’s daughter.”
“I suppose,” Gabe replied noncommittally.
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Yes. Don’t do anything until Jo’s given this matter some serious thought.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that she seems to have made a life-altering decision based on nothing more than momentary impulse. Let’s assume for a second that she has no trouble finding her daughter. What then? Will she commit to being a mother to her, or will she barge in, disrupt the lives of this girl and her parents, and then disappear again? She admitted that she’d given this child no thought over the past fifteen years. Who’s to say that once she satisfies her curiosity, she won’t lose interest?”
“That’s a pretty grim view of Jo’s motives, Gabe.”
“Perhaps it is, but you yourself said that Jo doesn’t appear to have any lasting relationships in her life. So, if she’s not ready to commit to taking part in her daughter’s life, she shouldn’t cause her this kind of emotional upheaval. I have an American student who calls this type of behavior a ‘seagull mission.’”
“And what would that be?” Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow at the odd comparison.
“It’s when someone swoops in, shits on everything, and takes off.”
“Gabe!”
“Come on, Quinn. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that Jo is doing this for the right reasons?”
Quinn’s gaze slid away from Gabe’s blue stare. No, she couldn’t say that, and if she were honest with herself, a part of her agreed with Gabe. Jo had nearly died in Afghanistan. She’d woken up frightened and alone in a German hospital and had done what anyone in her situation would do—took stock of her life and found it wanting. Establishing a relationship with the daughter she had given away fifteen years ago would make for instant family—or, if Jo wasn’t emotionally prepared to deal wit
h the reunion, cause unnecessary pain for the child and her adoptive family.
“I think you are right, to some degree,” Quinn finally conceded. “Which is why I need to help her. I don’t think she should be pursuing this on her own. Besides, once this quest becomes more than just an idea, it will seem more real to her and she’ll consider the consequences of her actions.”
“I hope you’re right, Quinn. You seem to have an awful lot of faith in her.”
“And you have none.”
Quinn reached for the remote and turned on the TV, putting an end to the conversation. She was angry with Gabe, but she was also angry with herself for falling into this emotional trap. Gabe was nothing if not clear-eyed when it came to her family, and to date, he’d proven to be correct on most counts. She loved Jo fiercely, but she didn’t really know her sister—not yet. Except for Logan, none of her siblings were at all what she might have expected had she known she had a twin sister and three brothers. She resolutely refused to think about Brett, but Jude was frequently in her thoughts.
“I think I’ll go visit Jude tomorrow,” Quinn said. “Will you mind the children?”
“Of course,” Gabe replied. “I’m sure he can use a bit of company.”
“You’ve changed your tune,” Quinn replied. Gabe’s history with Jude blinded him to Jude’s despair and his inability to conquer his addiction.
“Just because I don’t trust him around the children doesn’t mean I don’t wish him well. He’s struggling, I know that, and I genuinely hope he can find the strength to overcome his dependency on heroin.”
“Me too. I wish I could help him somehow.”
“Just be there,” Gabe replied. “The rest is up to him.”
“That’s the problem.”
Chapter 27
Winthrop Rehabilitation Center was housed in a red-brick manor about twenty miles south of Cambridge. The beautifully landscaped property was gated, and a camera was mounted on one of the pillars, its electronic eye focusing on Quinn for a few seconds before the gate slid open. She’d called to make an appointment before arriving and was asked for her license plate number and make of vehicle. Unexpected visitors were turned away. She checked in at reception, where she had to present two forms of identification and was issued a visitor’s pass. She felt a sense of violation when her bag was searched but complied without a word.
“I do apologize, but there are those who’ll try to sneak in contraband for their loved ones. They don’t think they’re doing any harm, but they’re only setting them back in their recovery,” the security guard explained as he handed back her bag. “Have a pleasant visit.”
Quinn found Jude in the garden. He was sitting on a wrought-iron bench, his eyes closed, earbuds in his ears. His head bobbed gently to the music he was listening to and his foot tapped to the beat. He looked no different from any other young man, but it’d been only a few months since he’d survived an accidental overdose and near strangulation. Quinn hoped he’d lost his taste for erotic asphyxiation after his near-death experience, but somehow, she doubted it.
Jude’s eyes opened a fraction, as if he were waking up from deep sleep, but then flew open when he saw her walking toward him down the path. “Quinn!” he exclaimed with pleasure. “What a surprise. This place is so boring, I’m losing what’s left of my mind.”
“Well, thanks. And there I thought you were actually happy to see me,” Quinn replied with a smile.
“I am. No one except Mum and Logan comes to see me, and this joint’s full of recovering drug addicts—the most miserable people on Earth. We’re not allowed so much as a fag or a drop of alcohol. It’s torture.”
Quinn took a seat on the bench and handed Jude a small package. “I brought you some treats. Chocolate is the next best thing to drugs, right?”
“Not really. I wish you’d snuck in a bottle of lager.”
“Against the rules, I’m afraid.”
“I know.” Jude sighed. “But a bloke can hope.”
“How have you been?” Quinn asked, taking in Jude’s healthy color and fuller face.
“Fine, I s’pose. They feed us well. They should, given the fortune they charge to rehabilitate junkies like me,” Jude said bitterly. “I feel awful. Logan’s sinking his life savings into this place. I’m not worth it, Quinn!” Jude exclaimed. “I should have died. I’d have made everyone’s life that much easier. I see the pain in Mum’s eyes every time she comes to see me, and the expectation in Logan’s. He wants to believe I’m cured, fit to go back out into society.”
“And are you?”
“I’m not fit for society. I’m not fit for anything. I’m a fuck-up, Quinn.”
“You are not. Stop talking rubbish. We all have our vices.”
“Yeah? What’s yours?”
Reliving the lives of those who are long gone and getting crushed beneath the wheels of the train wreck that was their lives, Quinn thought miserably. “I can give you a list as long as my arm,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought; can’t come up with a single one. Helpful to know my two siblings practically walk on water. Makes me want to hurl. And speaking of siblings, how’s Jo?”
“She’s well,” Quinn replied carefully.
“You paused. What’s up? Come on, dish some dirt. Surely I can’t be the only tosser in this family.”
“I thought you’d met her.”
“Very briefly. I didn’t have family relations on the brain at the time, if you know what I mean. She’s fit, I’ll give her that.”
“Fit?”
“You know, hot. Get with the lingo; you’re not that old.”
“Right. I’m still getting to know her. She’s not an easy person to get close to.”
“You don’t say. Logan thinks she’s distant.”
“Yes, I suppose she is. There’s a reserve there that’s difficult to break through, but I’m trying. Despite her aloofness, she feels like family.”
“Like your bro in New Orleans did?” Jude asked, smiling cruelly. “Sorry, that was a low blow. How’s that going, by the way?”
“My father is in the process of filing an appeal.”
“Are you angry with him?” Jude asked, going to the heart of the matter.
“Yes and no. I can’t fault him for wanting to help his son. I’d do the same for one of my children.”
“Really? Even if they were guilty of attempted murder?”
“Yes, even then.”
“So, I s’pose nearly topping myself with heroin is not as bad as it gets, in terms of parental disillusionment.”
Quinn didn’t take the bait. She knew what Jude was doing. He wanted her to reassure him that he hadn’t lost the love of his family despite his failings. He longed to be comforted, revealing something of the softness beneath the brittle shell, but Quinn was in no mood to coddle him. Feeling sorry for him would only enable him to continue on this path of self-destruction.
“Jude, here’s an idea. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, get clean, and get out of this place. You have your whole life ahead of you; don’t waste it. Making one mistake doesn’t make you a hopeless failure; it makes you human. No, it’s not fun being sober after years of living high, and no, it’s not easy to own your mistakes and take responsibility for your own wellbeing, but guess what? Everyone does it. It’s called being an adult.”
“Wow, tell it like it is, sis!” Jude exclaimed, but he wasn’t offended by her honesty; he was smiling into her eyes. “Thanks, Quinn. Thanks for caring. Not many people do.”
“Have you spoken to Bridget?” Quinn asked. Jude’s girlfriend was partially to blame for his overdose and near death. She was an enabler, a seductress whose siren call Jude couldn’t resist.
“Nah. Can’t talk to anyone on the phone, and only immediate family is allowed to visit. Those are the rules. Besides, Bridget’s toxic.”
“Are you through with her, then?”
Jude nodded. “We’re finished. Besides, I’m in love.”
“Are you?”
“One of the nurses. She’s so strict, she can put any jail warden to shame. Suddenly, I can think of other fun things to do with a belt. She can spank me anytime,” he joked, arching his brows suggestively.
“I think that’s my cue to leave.”
“Was it something I said?” Jude chuckled at Quinn’s discomfiture. “Lighten up. Just messing with ya. All the nurses are draconian in here, to save us from temptation, I think. I’m glad you came,” he said, his voice softening. “Bring the kiddies next time. I’d love to see them.”
“There will be no next time. You’re getting out of here.”
“I’m getting out of here,” Jude repeated. “Make sure to throw me a wild welcome home party.”
“Will do. I hope you’re up for juice, ice cream, and balloons.” Quinn gave Jude a kiss on the cheek and stood, ready to leave.
“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Jude said, his voice hopeful.
“Sooner than you think.” Quinn could feel his gaze on her as she walked away, and for some reason, she wanted to cry.
Chapter 28
October 1588
Leitrim, Ireland
After a period of rest and decent food, Rafael felt physically stronger, but the burden of worry hadn’t eased. Captain de Cuéllar had returned to the castle, exhausted, ill, and bitterly disappointed to have missed the Spanish ship. He’d seen it in the distance, hovering on the horizon as it set sail for home. The ship had been their last hope, and now the men had no choice but to prepare themselves for the long northern winter.
Captain de Cuéllar tried to hide his despair, but his soul was shattered. The inevitability of spending the winter in Ireland weighed heavily on his mind, and despite his usual optimism in the face of adversity, he didn’t believe anyone would return for them come spring. They were on their own, in a place where one man’s sympathy was the only thing that stood between the survivors and certain death.
The Betrayed (Echoes from the Past Book 7) Page 14