Finding Ashley

by Danielle Steel

  As she continued to pray about it, the results of the DNA tests came back, and there was no question, she and Michaela Ashley Moore Foster were a match, and Melissa would be too. The index of the test was high, which was very good. For Hattie and Michaela, it was cause for celebration. She called Hattie at the convent. They had both gotten the emails with the results at the same time. Michaela sounded jubilant and Hattie smiled for the first time in weeks.

  “When can I meet her?” Michaela was eager to meet Melissa now.

  “I’ll go up and see her as soon as I can, and tell her,” Hattie promised. Melissa still had no idea that Hattie had been to Dublin, and Saint Blaise’s, and had found Michaela Ashley. Hattie was smiling from ear to ear and Michaela said she had cried when she read the results. Her mother was still on location, but she had decided that she wasn’t going to tell her until after she met Melissa, so she could be more reassuring about her, and assure her mother that Melissa was a decent person. “I’ll try to go up this weekend, if I’m not working. And if I am, I’ll try to trade my shifts. I can go up and back in a day if I have to. I did last time.”

  “Thank you,” Michaela said, profoundly moved by what was happening. “Should I call you Aunt Hattie now?” It had been strange asking for her as Sister Mary Joseph at the convent, since she had introduced herself as Hattie Stevens when they met, and had been wearing normal clothes. Michaela was still surprised that she was a nun.

  “You can call me anything you want,” Hattie said, and promised to call her as soon as she had told Melissa. It was a moment Hattie was savoring, the opportunity to help heal her sister’s wounds of the past.

  Mother Elizabeth saw her face after the call. Sister Mary Joe was beaming.

  “It’s a match,” was all she said, and the superior understood immediately.

  “Congratulations. That should cheer you up.” She knew how she had been struggling.

  “I’d like to go up and see my sister this weekend,” she said hopefully, and the superior nodded.

  “Of course, you have my permission. Stay overnight if you’d like to. That’s a long drive to do round trip in one day.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” she said gratefully. All she wanted now was to see the look on Melissa’s face. It would make everything worthwhile, no matter how much the trip to Dublin had challenged her faith ever since. It was a small price to pay compared to what her sister had been through.

  * * *

  —

  Melissa was sanding the fifth door when Norm came by at the end of the day. He had promised to bring her more fine-grained sandpaper. She had seven more doors she wanted to do, and was just halfway through the project. He’d gone to Maine for a few days with friends to go sailing, and she missed his impromptu visits. He was the only person Melissa saw and spoke to on a regular basis. He’d been dropping by more frequently since the fire.

  “How was Maine?” she asked him.

  “Great. Perfect wind conditions for sailing and fresh lobster every night.” To his knowledge, she hadn’t been on a vacation since she’d lived there, and he wondered why she never went away. But she had nowhere to go, and no one she wanted to be with, so she stayed at home and worked on the house. “I’ll bring you some lobsters from Boston the next time I go,” he promised, and she laughed at the suggestion.

  “I wouldn’t know how to cook them.”

  “I’ll cook them for you.” It was the first time in four years he had suggested a meal with her. Usually they shared lemonade or iced tea on the porch, or a cup of coffee in winter. He had never invited her to dinner, but she seemed friendlier since the fire, so he risked it, and she didn’t seem to mind his suggesting a meal or offering to cook for her. “What did you do while I was gone?”

  “Two more doors.” She smiled at him.

  “You need to get out of here once in a while,” he said cautiously.

  “Why? I’m happy here.”

  They sat on the porch for a while, and she poured him a glass of wine. She was wearing shorts, and he couldn’t help noticing her long legs and the graceful way she moved.

  Everything was back to normal since the fire, except for the people who had lost their homes. They’d both read in the paper that the arsonist was back from his psychiatric evaluation and had been declared fit to stand trial as an adult, which was legally fair but unbearably sad. He had ruined his life along with those of the people he had harmed when he set the fire. He would certainly go to prison, at seventeen. Melissa felt sad every time she thought of it, and sorry for him. He had never had the chance for a decent life, and he surely wouldn’t now.

  It was after six o’clock when Norm left. He said he was having dinner with friends at the tavern that night. He didn’t ask her to join them, and knew she wouldn’t have anyway. She was like a wild horse, always skittish. It had taken years for her to get comfortable with him, while they worked on her house together.

  She was putting their glasses in the dishwasher after Norm left, when Hattie called her. They hadn’t spoken since her supposed retreat. Hattie had been avoiding her until she got the results of the DNA test.

  “What have you been up to?” Hattie asked her, as though they spoke all the time.

  “Sanding some doors, clearing away brush in case there’s another fire.”

  “Don’t you have people to do that?”

  “I like doing a lot of it myself. How was your retreat?”

  “Interesting. I’ll tell you about it when I see you.”

  “I can hardly wait,” Melissa said sarcastically, and they both laughed.

  “I have some time off this weekend,” Hattie told her.

  “Do you want to come up?”

  “I’d love it. I have permission to spend the night.” Her saying it that way made Melissa wonder how she stood living such a restricted life, needing permission for every move she made. But that was the life she had chosen. She had given up her freedom forever. Melissa couldn’t have tolerated anyone telling her what to do, and never had.

  “You’re welcome to stay.”

  “I’ll be there by lunchtime. I’ll get an early start,” Hattie said, barely able to contain herself. “Do you need me to bring anything?”

  “Just you.” And the best news she’d ever had, Hattie said to herself. She couldn’t give her Robbie back. But she had found Ashley. Michaela Ashley. Hattie couldn’t wait until Saturday. She was counting the hours.

  Chapter 8

  Hattie left the convent at seven a.m. on Saturday morning, and kept her foot on the gas all the way from New York. There was no traffic at that hour, and she kept the convent station wagon right at the speed limit the entire time. She couldn’t wait to get there and see Melissa’s face when she heard the news. Hattie was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. The morning had been cool when she left the city. It was the end of summer, and what a summer it had been. Hattie’s spirits had risen ever since they got the results of the test. Michaela had called every day, wanting to know if Hattie had told her yet, and she had to keep reminding her that she wouldn’t see Melissa until Saturday.

  She made it in just under four hours, which was some kind of record. Melissa was pushing a shiny green wheelbarrow full of twigs and branches when Hattie drove up and stopped the car. She got out quickly, and hugged Melissa, who looked happy to see her. Hattie pointed at the wheelbarrow.

  “You look like a farmer.” She laughed at her, and Melissa grinned.

  “That’s what I am. I’ve got six boxes of apples for you to take back to the convent. I’ve got tomatoes too, if you want them.”

  “They’ll love it.”

  “Do you want a cup of coffee?”

  “Actually, I’m starving,” Hattie admitted, as she followed her up the steps to the kitchen. She’d left the convent before breakfast. And as soon as they walked in, she could smell cinnamon buns in the ove
n. Melissa had bought them for her again. She put two on a plate, set them on the kitchen table, poured the coffee, and a minute later they sat down.

  “You look happy,” Melissa commented, as Hattie took a single bite of the bun and set it down.

  “I am. Mellie, I have something to tell you,” she said, as her older sister raised an eyebrow in interest. “I didn’t go on a retreat. I went to Ireland, to Saint Blaise’s.”

  A cloud crossed Melissa’s face instantly at the words. “Why? We already know they destroyed the records. Why did you do that?”

  “Because I hated the look in your eyes when you talked about it the last time I saw you. I thought that maybe, as an insider, I could talk to some of the nuns, and find someone who’d been there when you were, and might remember something useful.”

  “And did you?”

  “Not at Saint Blaise’s. They have a new mother superior, who gave me the party line. God, what an awful place that is. It made me cry, thinking of you there. It’s a home for old nuns now. I walked around, but no one told me anything, or had been there then. They’ve all died or been dispersed. But I discovered that there’s a book about the convent, about the adoptions they did there, and what it was like then. It’s called Babies for Sale and it was written by an ex-nun. I’ll give it to you,” she promised. “Her name is Fiona Eckles. She’s a professor of literature at Dublin University now. She was a midwife at Saint Blaise’s then, when you were there. She’s been released from her vows. Her name was Sister Agnes. She didn’t remember you. I showed her a picture of you at sixteen.”

  “I don’t think I remember her either,” Melissa said, frowning. “There were two or three midwives. It was a pretty grim experience. To lower their liability, and reduce the risk for mothers and infants, they gave no drugs, no spinals or epidurals, nothing for the pain. All deliveries were natural. I guess it covered them nicely, no matter how bad it was for the girls. As far as I know, they only had one bad incident, a girl who bled to death in minutes. They didn’t even have time to call the doctor. When they finally did, she was dead when he arrived. She was fourteen. It was terrible. I think the placenta separated or something.

  “Maybe I knew Sister Agnes by sight, but I don’t remember her. We only saw the midwives when we delivered. I was in so much pain, I don’t remember anything except wanting to die on the delivery table. I couldn’t believe how civilized it was when I had Robbie. It was night and day. I had an epidural with him. At Saint Blaise’s, it was all very primitive and basic. You went through as many hours of labor as it took, you pushed the baby out, and they took it away and didn’t even show it to you. They sewed you up, and as soon as you could stand up, they put you on a plane and sent you home. So what did this Sister Agnes say?” She spoke in a monotone, remembering clearly the horror of it all.

  “She said all the same things you did about the place. She asked to be released from her vows when she left. She gave up being a midwife too. She didn’t remember much about the girls. She said it was a factory, a baby mill for profit, for the Church, just as you said. I think it turned her against the Church forever. Her book about it is very harsh, deservedly so. What she remembered were the names of some of the adoptive mothers, the famous ones. Apparently a lot of Hollywood stars adopted babies there. She remembered three major movie stars who adopted babies the year you were there and she told me their names. It was a long shot, but the only one I had. I figured that our only hope of finding your baby was if one of them had adopted her. So I went to L.A. after I spoke to Fiona Eckles. One of the movie stars had died years ago. Her daughter is an actress and doesn’t know she’s adopted, and I’m happy to say you’re not related to her. She’s a first-class narcissist living with the lead singer of a punk rock band. I pretended to interview her for an online magazine.”

  Melissa laughed when Hattie said it. “Oh my God, you’re crazy! When did you do all this?”

  “When I told you I was on the retreat. I was playing Sherlock Holmes. I got a three-week leave to do it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone with you.” Hattie wasn’t sure that was true, but she didn’t argue with her.

  “I didn’t want you to be disappointed if nothing turned up. The second famous actress adopted a baby boy, so that was a dead end. Marla Moore was the third actress. She was forty years old when she adopted a baby at Saint Blaise’s, and her husband was sixty-two. He died three years later. They were too old to adopt through normal channels in the States, so they went to Saint Blaise’s. They adopted a baby girl, who is a social worker now, married to an entertainment lawyer. They have two very sweet children, Alexandra, who is four, and Andrew, who’s six. Her name is Michaela Ashley. Ashley is her middle name. Marla’s husband didn’t like the name, so they gave her the first name of Michaela.” Hattie was crying by then, and so was Melissa. “She looks so much like Mom that it’s scary. She’s a beautiful girl. We had a DNA test, and we just got the results a few days ago. I’m related to her genetically, so she’s your baby, Mellie. She tried to find you when she turned eighteen, and they told her the same thing they told you, that the records were destroyed in a fire. She gave up after that, but she always wanted to find you. She wants to meet you now.” Melissa had leapt to her feet by then, with tears running down her face, which had gone pale, as she stared at her sister.

  “You found Ashley?” she said in barely more than a whisper, shaking from head to foot until she had to sit down. Hattie put her arms around her and hugged her.

  “Michaela Ashley,” she said, choking on a sob too. “She’s so beautiful and so nice, wait till you meet her. And she looks like you and Mom. She moves like you, and has your eyes and hair.”

  “Were they good to her?” Melissa wanted to know.

  “Marla Moore doesn’t sound like the mother of the year, but Michaela said she had everything she could have wanted, and kind people around her. Marla was on location making movies a lot of the time. She was all in favor of Michaela finding you, if she wanted to, but the records being destroyed made it impossible. I hate to think how many people have tried and given up.” Melissa nodded, since she had too.

  “When can I see her?”

  “She said she’d come to New York to see you and bring the kids. You could invite them here if you want.”

  “Does she hate me for leaving her?” Melissa’s eyes looked huge as she questioned her sister.

  “Not at all. I told her you were sixteen. She’s not angry. She seems like a very well-adjusted woman. She works with inner-city kids in L.A. They have a good life, live in a beautiful home, and are responsible people. They’re a sweet couple. I think Marla took good care of her. She’s apparently not a very maternal person, but Michaela loves her, and seems very forgiving. She thought there was no hope that she’d ever find you.”

  “I thought so too. I can’t believe what you did,” Melissa said to her, overwhelmed with gratitude. “You’ve been flying all over the world, looking for her.”

  “You always did everything for me. It was my turn. I thought I might have the inside track because of the Church, but I got nowhere at Saint Blaise’s. Fiona gave me the only lead when she remembered the three movie stars who adopted in 1988. You were meant to find each other, Mel. You can call Michaela later if you want, or now. She knew I was coming here. She’s been calling me all week.”

  “What if she hates me when she meets me?” Melissa said, suddenly seized by panic. “I’m not as glamorous as her movie star mother. I’m a farmer now, just as you said. I crawl around under the house and up on the roof, and drag tree trunks around with the tractor. I don’t even own high heels anymore. I threw them all away. Oh my God, Hattie, I’m a mess.” She was laughing and crying at the same time and couldn’t stop. And then, finally, she looked at her sister seriously, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m scared.”

  “So is she. So was I when I went to mee
t her. She’s lovely. And trust me, she has no axe to grind about you.”

  “Does she know about Robbie?”

  Hattie nodded. “I told her. She felt terrible for you. Now you need to figure out when you want to see her. I think it might be better in New York. Coming here and staying with you might be a little intense for the first time. It’ll be easier to meet on neutral turf. Like New York.”

  “New York isn’t neutral. I haven’t been there since the divorce, when I bought this house. I swore I’d never go back. I have too many memories there, of Carson and Robbie. It’s too hard for me.” She looked genuinely panicked.

  “You’re going to meet your daughter, Mel. It’s a happy event, not a sad one. You’ve waited thirty-three years for this. You can do it.” Melissa was turning fifty soon, and the last time she’d seen her baby girl, she was sixteen. Hattie couldn’t imagine it, waiting that long for something that important that she’d been robbed of as a young girl.

  “What’ll I wear? I need to buy clothes. All I have is the old stuff I wear up here.”

  “You can come a day or two early and buy something nice. I don’t think she’ll care. She’s not that kind of person. She’s honest and real. She really loves her kids. They’re very sweet. They want to meet you too.”

  “Oh Christ, I’m a grandmother and I’m not even a mother anymore.” Her eyes filled with tears again as she reached out to hug Hattie. She felt as though she’d been given an entire world.

  “Yes, you are a mother. You have Michaela,” Hattie said softly.

  “I gave her up.” Melissa sounded convulsed with guilt.

  “You had no choice, Mel. You’re still her mother. She has two mothers now.”

  “Will her adopted mother hate me? Does she know?”