A spasm of fear squeezed Sarah’s heart. “Can Dr. Hernandez take it away?”
“It’s a certified check, made out to you. If it’s legitimate, it’s yours.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then Dr. Hernandez and the hospital administrators need to know that some nut case is running around the hospital handing out bogus checks.”
“That would be so cruel,” Sarah’s mother said. “Why would someone do such a hateful thing to a sick child?”
Could the letter and money be a cruel hoax?. Sarah wondered. The letter sounded so sincere. JWC truly seemed to understand what it was like to endure pain and to feel scared and alone.
Please let it be real, she prayed silently. If it was, and the money was truly hers, Sarah knew exactly how she was going to spend it. She needed to feel in control of her life again, and the money was the key to giving her back such control. “Let’s call Dr. Hernandez first thing in the morning,” Sarah said.
“All right,” her father agreed. He stared at the check. “Don’t get your hopes up, honey. It looks real, but we must verify it.”
Sarah nodded, afraid that her hopes for the money might be in vain. “I’ll wait,” she promised. An awkward silence fell, and her parents appeared preoccupied. Sarah took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about Tina.”
Her mother folded the letter. “She’s pretty shaken up.”
“I’ll go talk to her.”
“Take it easy,” her father admonished. “We love you both, Sarah. We don’t want to see either of you hurt.”
Sarah rapped lightly on Tina’s door and heard her muffled voice say, “Go away.” Sarah ignored the request and entered the room. Tina was lying on her bed amid a heap of stuffed animals and frilly pillows.
“Here. You can borrow this for that speech tomorrow,” Sarah said, holding out the green sweater.
“I don’t want it. I’m not going to school tomorrow,” Tina replied, barely audible.
Sarah found herself feeling sympathetic and exasperated. “Tina, you can’t let what’s happened affect you so much. It’s my problem.”
“How can you say that? You’ve been my sister all my life, and now—and now—” Tina dissolved into another crying jag.
“I can’t change it, Tina,” Sarah said.
“How will I face everybody?” Tina asked. “All the dumb questions that people will ask?”
“Nobody knows except us,” Sarah told her.
“Nobody?” Tina sounded hopeful.
“Scott knows,” Sarah answered. “I told him tonight.”
“Scott knows?” Tina flopped over on the bed and buried her face in a pillow. “How can I look him in the face?”
For a moment, Sarah was completely mystified by Tina’s reaction. Then she reminded herself that Tina was only thirteen. When she’d been thirteen, nothing had been more important to her than what her friends felt and thought about her. But what exactly would her friends think?
Sarah sighed and sat down on Tina’s bed. “Scott knows, but he won’t say anything to anyone. And neither will I.”
“You won’t?”
“Why should I? It’s nobody’s business.”
“Not even Cammie, JoEllen, or Natalie?”
Sarah realized that by discussing it with Scott, she’d lost the urge to tell anybody else. Besides, telling it around would simply make people ask a lot of questions she couldn’t answer. “Not even them,” Sarah declared. “I don’t think anyone should know.”
Tina rummaged around on the bed until she found a clean tissue. “All right,” she agreed, blowing her nose. “If you don’t say anything, neither will I. We’ll keep it a secret.”
Sarah was feeling weak and tired. Tonight had taken much physical stamina, and she still felt sick from the chemo medications. “Wear the sweater,” she urged as she stood. “You’ll look great. Goodnight.”
Tina mumbled, “Thanks. Good-night.”
Sarah glanced over her shoulder to see Tina sitting in the middle of her bed, clutching the green sweater to her cheek, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Tina was the rightful daughter, while she was the daughter of a stranger. Without another word, Sarah left the room.
Nine
SARAH FOUND IT difficult to concentrate in school the next day. All she thought about was the check from the One Last Wish Foundation and whether or not it was for real. Scott cornered her in the hall between classes while students hurried past them. “How are you doing today?”
“I’m all right.”
“Tina’s acting strange,” he commented. “She won’t even look at me.”
Sarah shook her head. “She has some strange idea that when her friends find out about my being adopted, she’ll be ostracized. It’s my problem, but she’s acting as though it’s hers.”
“She’ll get over it. School will be out in another month, and she’ll have the whole summer to deal with her feelings.”
Sarah thought about the end of school. As soon as it was out, she would have to return to Memphis for more tests and treatments. If she was lucky, the leukemia would be in remission. She wasn’t looking forward to the confinement. “It’s going to be a long summer,” Sarah said with a sigh.
“Maybe they’ll find you a donor,” Scott offered.
“They haven’t yet.”
“Sarah, don’t get discouraged.”
“I can’t help it. Nothing’s going right for me. Nothing.”
Scott touched her hair, and she drew back. The gesture was harmless and was meant in affection, but Sarah knew that her hair, a wig, was like the rest of her life—an illusion, a facsimile of the real thing. “I’ve got to go,” she told him. Without waiting for a response, Sarah turned and walked swiftly down the hall.
When she arrived home that day and came into the kitchen, Richie was sitting at the table with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. He was coloring a paper filled with line drawings of tulips. “Hi, Sarah. This is my homework,” he said proudly.
Richie attended preschool every morning and was looking forward to what he called “big school” in the fall. He took his schoolwork seriously and showed off every assignment. She had to smile, watching him bend intently over the page, his pudgy fingers wrapped around a crayon. “You’re doing a nice job,” Sarah observed, peering down at the page. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a black tulip.”
“Everyone colors them red and yellow,” Richie explained. “I want to make mine different.”
“They’re different, all right.” Sarah patted his head and felt a wave of sadness. It was hard to think they weren’t related to one another and never had been.
Her mother came into the kitchen and beckoned Sarah to join her in the living room. “I have something to tell you. The letter and the money are on the level,” she said once they were alone. “Your father sent a fax of both to Dr. Hernandez this morning. She’s called him back and said that there are several philanthropic organizations that do this kind of thing. The chief administrator at the hospital couldn’t give details, but the One Last Wish Foundation is legitimate.”
Sarah’s heart thudded. The hundred thousand dollars was really hers. Her mother’s face broke into a smile, and she hugged Sarah. “Honey, this is wonderful. I’m thrilled for you and very grateful to the mysterious JWC. I don’t know how this person knows about you, but I’m delighted someone wants to give you so much money. You are special. Do you know what you want to do with it?”
The time had come for Sarah to tell her mother what she planned to use the money for. Sarah knew it was going to upset her, but she was determined. “Maybe we should talk about it after supper, when Dad’s here,” she said.
“Oh, you can give me a little preview, can’t you? Come on, just a hint?”
“I’m sure I’ll spend some of it on new clothes.”
“Naturally. It’s your money.” Her mother’s brown eyes were bright with anticipation. “But perhaps I could offer some suggestions, what with summer coming up—vaca
tions and all—”
“Mom, I know what I’m going to be spending most of it on.” Sarah interrupted her mother’s sentence. She looked her directly in the eyes, took a deep breath, and calmly said, “I’m going to use it to find my birth mother.”
Sarah’s mom’s eager smile faded, and her face looked sad “Your father told me that’s what he thought you’d want to do. I said no, you wouldn’t. I thought you’d be able to put the adoption behind you. I thought we could do something wonderful as a family.”
“It’s not just for curiosity. Mom, I need the bone marrow. Maybe there are compatible donors in my other family.”
At the words “other family,” her mother winced. “I know it needs to be checked out, Sarah. I’ve been trying to prepare myself for this moment. I didn’t do a very good job, did I?”
Sarah had wanted to hurt her mother for lying to her, but now that she was actually confronted by the look of pain on her mother’s face, Sarah couldn’t stand it. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Mom.”
“I know. It would be unbelievably selfish of me if I tried to prevent you from finding your birth mother. Your father and I both realize that your life’s at stake and that you have to pursue every available avenue. I guess I’ve known since that moment in the conference room when Dr. Hernandez explained the necessity of locating a compatible bone marrow donor that we would eventually be facing this moment—searching for your birth mother.
“I hoped and prayed that they would find a donor through the national registry, but that’s not happening. I must admit that my hopes for finding an anonymous donor were purely selfish. I thought that if one was found, you wouldn’t have any need to look for your birth mother. That’s not true, is it?”
“I have to admit, I’m really curious about who she is and where I come from. It’s been on my mind a lot since you told me the truth.”
Her mother nodded. “Your father and I have discussed this also. We knew we had to help you find her, no matter what.”
“The One Last Wish money will make it easier,” Sarah said. “At least it won’t cost you all anything.”
Her mother smiled wistfully. “Oh, Sarah, it will cost us. I assure you, it will cost us plenty emotionally.”
“But not in money,” she insisted stubbornly.
Her mother turned toward the open window and gazed out. “I must confess, I’ve always been curious about her, too.”
“You have?”
“Certainly. I wanted a baby so badly, and well, if you must know, she didn’t want hers at all. I couldn’t imagine such a thing.”
Sarah felt wounded, thinking that her birth mother wouldn’t have wanted her. “How do you know she didn’t want me? Maybe it was just impossible for her to keep me.”
Her mother turned back around. “The lawyer swore us to secrecy. He made it very clear that the mother wanted nothing to do with her baby. I found it unbelievable, but I was delighted. Deep down, I feared the adoption process, because I thought she might try to come back and claim you someday. I’ve read about that happening.”
Sarah’s emotions were in a jumble. How could a mother not want her own baby? She watched her mother carefully, looking for a sign of deception. Maybe she wasn’t being totally truthful even now. Of course, for medical reasons, she had to locate her birth mother, but neither of her parents was happy about it. It was in their best interests for Sarah not to like the woman. “She hasn’t tried to reclaim me,” Sarah pointed out. “Maybe that’s just because she doesn’t know where to find me.”
“I was there, Sarah. You weren’t. The lawyer was very explicit.”
Sarah refused to accept her mother’s story. Even if there were a grain of truth in it, perhaps her birth mother had had a change of heart over the years. Maybe by reuniting now, Sarah would be bringing her happiness. Surely she must have wondered about the baby she gave up for adoption years before. A new thought occurred to Sarah. She asked, “How do we start looking for her? How will we find her?”
“Your father’s researching the process. I understand it can be rather involved. The first thing he has to do is try to locate the lawyer who handled the adoption. If necessary, we may have to get a court order to unseal the original birth certificate. It could take some time, so it’s a good thing we’re still using the donor registry.”
Sarah needed a bone marrow transplant, and she didn’t have a lot of time. The One Last Wish money could help, but the thing it couldn’t buy was time. “I’m scared,” Sarah admitted.
Her mom came over and put her arms around her. “That makes two of us,” she said. “I’m scared, too.”
Ten
HER PARENTS SET up a special savings account for Sarah at the local bank. “It’s your money,” her father told her. “The letter made it very clear it was to be spent on something you want. Your mother and I feel the same way. Regardless of how the search for your birth mother turns out, I can’t imagine it’s costing the full hundred thousand. You should have plenty left over for college, or for anything else you might want to do.”
No one said a word about the worst-case scenario, what Sarah knew was in their minds: If they couldn’t find a bone marrow donor, there would be no college, no life for Sarah. She forced herself not to think about that possibility and concentrated on the last weeks of school and on her hopes of finding her birth mother.
Sarah’s father was trying to locate the attorney who had handled her adoption; the lawyer, they’d learned, had retired and moved to Florida. “I’m hoping that once I reach him, he’ll give us the woman’s name without our having to go through the courts,” he explained to Sarah.
“Her name?” Sarah asked.
“Obviously, we need her name before we can begin to search for her. The lawyer, Mr. Dodkin, knows her name, but he’s under no obligation to divulge it without a court order. He can also help get a copy of your original birth certificate, which contains her name.
“There’s an organization called Independent Search Consultants, and I’ve learned a lot from them. They are trained professionals who help adoptees find their birth parents. One of the women there, Mrs. Kolelin, has been very helpful. She told me that once we get your birth mother’s name, we can begin the search in earnest. It won’t be easy. No telling what’s happened to her over the years or where she might be living.”
“Can these people help us?” Sarah asked, eager for the search to start.
“There are records searchers, who tell me that no matter how obscure the trail is, there’s always a clue in the paperwork left behind—physicians’ records, social security registrations, tax records, information like that. Once we have a name, we hire a private investigator, one who’s handled cases like this before, and the PI will find a current address on her.”
“What if the lawyer won’t tell us her name?” she asked. The entire situation felt like a TV movie, from the One Last Wish Foundation’s mysterious check to hiring a private detective. She didn’t say anything to her father and just kept listening.
“Fortunately, in Arkansas, the courts are fairly lenient about opening records for medical reasons.”
“Why Arkansas when we live in Georgia?” Sarah asked, confused.
“That’s where you were born, Sarah—in Little Rock, Arkansas.”
It took Sarah days to adjust to the information that she hadn’t been born in Georgia. All her life, she’d believed she had been born in Ringgold, at the same hospital as Tina and Richie. Now, she discovered another lie that had been fabricated to “protect her.”
“What’re you doing?” JoEllen asked when she found Sarah in the library one day after school.
“A report,” Sarah fibbed.
“About what?”
“Arkansas.”
JoEllen made a face. “Don’t you ever quit? School’s out in two weeks. Why work so hard now?”
“It’s personal. It’s a report just for me.”
“Tell me what it’s about.” JoEllen’s interest was real.
Sarah was tempted to spill all. Keeping her past a secret was taking its toll on her, but she remembered her promise to Tina. It still mattered to Tina that kids not know that she and Sarah weren’t blood sisters. Sarah flipped the encyclopedia shut and turned to JoEllen. “Actually, it’s for extra credit. I missed so many tests when I was hospitalized.”
“Is that all?” JoEllen looked disappointed.
“That’s all,” Sarah replied, flashing a bright smile to discourage any further questions.
* * *
On Memorial Day, Scott’s family hosted the neighborhood’s annual picnic and barbecue. Every family on the block showed up and brought a dish to share. By late afternoon, both Scott’s and Sarah’s yards were overrun with people. The aroma of sizzling hamburgers and hot dogs saturated the air, and music blasted from outdoor speakers.
Sarah heaped her plate with food from a picnic table and made her way to the back corner of her yard. She ducked a flying Frisbee and slipped through a break in the hedge to a small clearing sheltered by a canopy of leaves. This spot had served as a hideaway she’d shared with Tina when they’d been younger. The ground was bare dirt except for two weathered tree stumps. Sarah sat on one of the stumps, balancing her paper plate on her knees.
“Are you in there, Sarah?” Scott’s head poked through the hole in the hedge. “I thought I saw you sneak back here,” he said with an easy grin.
“Too much racket out there. I wanted to eat in peace and quiet,” Sarah explained.
“Want some company?”
“Sure. Pull up a stump.”
Juggling a plate and a large slice of watermelon, he settled on the other stump. “I’d forgotten about this place,” he remarked. “I haven’t been back here in ages.”
“I was just thinking about the tea parties Tina and I used to give for our dolls. We sat the dolls in circles around these stumps and served them tap water and cookies.”
Scott smiled impishly. “I remember the talent show you gave for your teddy bears, too.”
Mother, Help Me Live Page 5