UNSEEN
Page 23
Liz bit her lip. "Yes, yes of course.”
"When Abby said this to me, I didn't understand what it meant. I thought maybe you and her father were fighting over custody or something, and I didn't think it was my business to interfere. That's why I didn’t come sooner. I just didn’t understand. But recently my sister made a comment about seeing you at the clinic last summer, and it all just sort of clicked.”
Liz listened intently.
Jake stood and looked her in the eye. "Liz, your daughter wants you to know—that she forgives you.”
It was horrible to watch the agony on her face as she fought to keep her composure. Tremors of emotion tightened her cheek and chin and she looked to the side. The silent assault on her heart was most noticeable in the energy with which she wrung one wrist like a towel. It was clear she had no desire to cry in front of a man she barely knew. Yet his words had found a soft target deep inside.
He felt helpless to ease her silent torture. He had hoped his words would bring her comfort and some semblance of peace, not worsen her pain.
"I'm so sorry,” he said, standing. "I meant to help..."
"No," she gasped, "No. It's okay. Thank you. Thank you so much."
"I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
Liz discreetly dabbed at the liquid gathering in the corners of her eyes. "There was so much guilt. I didn't realize the depth of it until I started taking those classes. I needed to hear those words. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear them. Thank you so much for telling me."
He didn't know what to say. Part of him felt like it would be appropriate to describe her daughter and let her know more about her. And the other part of him was screaming at the first part to keep its big mouth shut. She didn't need to know more about the child she had aborted. It would only drudge up more guilt. Wouldn't it?
He stood awkwardly, painfully aware that he was ill-equipped to be of any more use to his grieving neighbor. And as he did, his eyes came to rest on a photograph sitting on a table next to the television. His eyes narrowed. The woman in the photo bore a remarkable resemblance to the mysterious old woman who had given him the white flower all those months ago. She was younger in the picture, and the nose looked a little different, but that was her. He was sure of it. He stepped forward to get a closer look. "Who is the woman in this picture?” he asked.
Liz moved next to him. "This one?” She pointed. "That’s my grandmother.”
"Does she visit you often?”
Her shoulders sank slightly. "No, she passed away three years ago.”
Three years ago? How then had she paid him a visit last summer? He reached to pick up the picture. "May I?”
Liz nodded.
There was a gold plated inscription on the bottom of the picture frame which read: Margaret Annette Atwater. As he examined the photo closer, he couldn’t help but notice that it wasn’t the nose alone that was different. The woman in the photo had brown eyes. That was odd. He was sure the old woman who had visited him had green eyes. He remembered them because they were so bright and vibrant. He’d never seen anyone with such brilliant green eyes before.
Wait. That wasn’t actually true. He had seen brilliant green like that before—in the eyes of a little strawberry blond girl named Abby.
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Do you have questions?
Would you like to hear when new books are released? Feel free to contact me.
JohnMichaelHileman@gmail.com
Other books by John Michael Hileman:
MESSAGES
As of this publication, MESSAGES has been in the top ten of political fiction every month since January 2012.
VRIN: ten mortal gods
Bestseller in the category of Christian Science Fiction
Also check out
Miracles: 32 True Stories
by Joanie Hileman
As of this publication, Miracles has enjoyed nineteen weeks on the top-ten list in the Inspirational category at Amazon.com.