Life Intended (9781476754178)

by Kristin Harmel

  “You did?”

  “I like someone else,” he tells me. “I think I realized that night just how much.”

  “Oh,” I say, temporarily flummoxed. “Okay. Well, then, uh, if you would ever be interested, then maybe we could, uh—”

  “Oh, I’m interested,” he says, cutting me off. Again, I can hear him smiling through the phone.

  “Oh,” I repeat. I take a deep breath, knowing that with these next few words, I’ll be thrusting myself into a new phase of life, one where my decisions matter again, where my heart’s involved, where I’m living—really living—for the first time in years. Win, lose, or draw, I’m back in the game. “So I wanted to ask you—”

  “Kate?” Andrew stops me. “You’re spectacularly bad at this. But I’m glad, because I wanted to be the one to ask you. I just wasn’t sure if you were ready yet. So . . . if you’re ready . . .”

  He’s the one who sounds nervous now, and the tremor in his voice makes me smile as he continues.

  “How about dinner?” he asks. “A date. A real date. Me and you. I—I like you, Kate. And I’d like to see what could happen between us, if we give it a chance.” He pauses and adds, “If you want.”

  “I want,” I say softly. I close my eyes and smile. It’s a beginning. I don’t know what will happen with Andrew, but I know I’m ready to find out, to make Patrick a beautiful piece of my past, and to choose to live in the present and build for the future. “How’s tomorrow night?”

  “I assume you mean after your class with your exceedingly charming and handsome sign language instructor,” he deadpans, “who you’ll no doubt be lusting over for the entire hour preceding the date.”

  I laugh. “Obviously.”

  “Then the answer is yes. Tomorrow night sounds great. But don’t think you’re getting away with a casual thing just because it’s after class. I’m making a reservation somewhere, and you’re getting an actual fancy first date, young lady, whether you like it or not. Even if Amy spends the rest of the class plotting ways to knock you off.”

  “Deal.” I can’t stop smiling.

  “See you tomorrow, then, Kate. I’m really glad you called.”

  “I am too.” We hang up, and in my stomach, I feel the fluttering wings of a hundred butterflies I didn’t know lived there anymore. I close my eyes and lean back in my chair. I’m ready for this. I know that now. “Thank you, Patrick,” I say aloud.

  And then the silence is broken by a voice from my doorway. “What’s wrong with you?” My eyes snap open, and I see Allie standing there, looking windblown and worried.

  I scramble to my feet. “Nothing, nothing. What are you doing here? Are you okay? Where’s your mom? How did you know where my office is?”

  Allie makes a face and steps through my doorway. “I’m capable of doing a Google search, you know. You’re right there. Kate Waithman, Music Therapist. Gave me an address and everything. Doesn’t take a genius.”

  “Okay. But why did you look me up? Did something happen?” I quickly assess Allie. Physically, she looks okay.

  “I need your help.”

  My heart skips a beat. “Did your mom do something?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize I’m actually hoping the answer is no, which means I’ve turned an important corner.

  “No, nothing like that. My mom’s fine. It’s my best friend.”

  “Bella?” I ask, startled.

  “Yeah. So you know she’s in foster care too, like I was, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So what happened was her grandma was her guardian, but she died like four months ago, and Bella had nowhere else to go, so she went into the system. They’re still trying to find a home for her.”

  “That’s so sad,” I murmur. “So what’s wrong? Is Bella okay?”

  Allie kicks at the floor with her sneaker. “Technically, yeah. Physically, I mean. But the thing is, she’s on her way to confront her mom. Her biological mom. She wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to stop her. All these years, she thought her mom was dead, but then she saw her sitting in the back at her grandma’s funeral a few months ago. Bella has been really, really pissed since then. Her mom didn’t even say anything to her!”

  “That’s terrible,” I murmur.

  “I know, right? So she wants to go ask her why she got rid of her when she was a baby. She wants to yell at her or something. She finally found her on Facebook or Twitter or something last night and figured out where she works, and now she’s going to confront her.”

  “Oh, no.”

  Allie nods. “It’s just, I’m afraid for her. I think she’s going to get hurt. Not physically, I mean, but, like, her feelings.”

  “And you want to stop her?”

  Allie nods. “Will you help me? I know it’s not your job or anything, but I don’t know what to say to her, and you’re really good at making people feel better. I thought maybe you could, you know, figure out the right thing to say or something.”

  “Oh, Allie,” I say. She’s come here, of her own accord, to stop a friend’s pain. I’m so proud, my heart hurts. I stand and grab my jacket. “Of course I’ll help you. Let’s go.”

  Thirty-One

  On the way, Allie fills me in. Bella’s birth mother apparently works at a bar on First Avenue, just four blocks from my office, and her shift starts at seven thirty, which is fifteen minutes from now. Allie’s hoping we’ll get there in time to intercept Bella and calm her down.

  “Maybe it’s good for her to confront her mother, though,” I venture, playing devil’s advocate as we jog down the street. “Why are you so sure this is going to be a bad thing?”

  Allie shakes her head. “Uh-uh. No way. Her mom gave her up when Bella was fourteen months old because she was deaf. She is not a nice lady. She just threw her away because she wasn’t perfect.”

  I stop in my tracks, and I wait for Allie to stop too. “What?” she asks, her voice shaking a little. “We have to get there.”

  “Allie,” I say slowly, “you know that to me, you’re perfect, right?”

  She sniffles and looks away. “Well, that’s stupid.”

  “No, it’s not,” I say firmly. “You’re with your mom now, and that’s wonderful. I’m glad for you. But I want you to know that I wanted to take you in. I would have taken you in a heartbeat. I would have done anything for you to be my foster daughter.”

  Allie blinks. “But . . . I wasn’t even nice to you at first.”

  “I could see beneath all your tough layers, kiddo. You’re a good person, and I hope you always know that, no matter what.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re a good person too,” she says, then she surprises me by hugging me tightly. “Now come on. We have to go find Bella.”

  I nod, and we break into a jog once again. I wish I’d worn better shoes for this; I’m in kitten heels, and the balls of my feet are beginning to ache. Allie, in Converse sneakers, is oblivious to my pain and focused on finding her friend, so I struggle to keep up.

  Finally, we round the corner onto First, and Allie points. “There it is. The bar where Bella’s birth mom works.”

  I look up as I catch my breath. A sign with NICKEL NELLIE’S in peeling paint hangs above the doorway of a place that reminds me a bit of the dingy restaurant Allie escaped to in Queens in July. There’s something about the place that feels familiar, something that tickles the far recesses of my memory, but I’m sure I’ve never been here before. “Have you mentioned this place to me?” I ask Allie. “I feel like I know it already.”

  Allie shakes her head. “I never heard of it until today. Neither had Bella.”

  “Weird,” I murmur.

  “So should we just wait out here on the street to see if Bella comes by?” Allie asks. “Or should we go inside? What do you think?”

  I open my mouth to reply, but the words get caught in
my throat as a familiar-looking woman rounds the corner of First and Fifty-Seventh, headed toward us and the entrance of Nickel Nellie’s. Her hands are shoved into her jacket pockets, her head is down, and her stringy hair frames her drawn face. It takes me a moment to place her, largely because she’s aged far more quickly than I would have expected. But when I realize who it is, my heart nearly stops. I gasp aloud at the same time the woman reaches the door of the bar and looks up, noticing me. Recognition flashes across her face, followed quickly by a look of disgust.

  “Kate,” she says flatly, stopping dead in her tracks.

  I nod, stunned, my mind flashing back almost thirteen years, to the last time I saw her.

  “Candice?” I finally manage to say. “Candice Belazar?” It’s Patrick’s old girlfriend, the one he’d dated right before he met me, the one we fought about the night before he died. In a way, even though Patrick and I had made up, I’d never forgiven the woman for causing any pain or strife between us on our very last night together.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up,” she says, looking me up and down with a strange lack of surprise, like she’s been expecting me. “It only took you twelve years,” she continues. “But, gee, you must have been busy.” Her voice drips with sarcasm.

  “You’re still angry with me?” I ask. Patrick had broken up with Candice two months before he met me, but still, she’d always acted like I’d stolen him right out of her hands.

  She ignores my question. “So is that your kid?” she asks, jerking her chin toward Allie, who’s following our exchange with wide eyes. “That figures.”

  I shake my head, completely baffled by her anger, which seems wildly misplaced.

  Allie is tugging on my arm now, trying to tell me something, but I hardly notice; I’m too busy staring at Candice, trying to puzzle out what’s happening here. “Candice, I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say.

  She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Right, just like you had no idea that what I had with Patrick was more than just some fling. Not that you cared.”

  Anger sizzles inside of me, along with a rush of possessiveness. “I’m sorry you got hurt. But you and Patrick were over before I met him. You weren’t with him that long, Candice. You’ve got to let it go.”

  She laughs. “Oh, do I? Thanks so much for your advice.” She shakes her head, and for a split second, I see sadness there before a smirk takes its place. “Anyway, it’s too late, you know. I have no idea where she is.”

  I’m completely lost now. “You have no idea where who is?”

  She rolls her eyes dramatically, and finally, Allie tugs my arm so hard that I have no choice but to look at her. She is Bella’s mom, she signs quickly. Why do you know her?

  I stare at Allie, completely perplexed. Bella’s mom? I sign back. I know from Allie that Bella is thirteen, which means she would have been born a whole year before Patrick died. I’m absolutely positive that if Candice had had a baby, Patrick would have mentioned it to me. We didn’t keep anything from each other, and surely he knew I would have been mildly amused to know that his ex had gotten herself knocked up so soon after they’d broken up.

  It’s true, Allie signs back. I saw her picture on Facebook. It’s her.

  Candice interrupts us then with a derisive snort. “Really?” she asks bitterly. “You learn sign language now because you got stuck with a deaf kid, but you couldn’t be bothered when my kid needed you?”

  I ignore her insult, because I’m so confused by her words. “You have a child?”

  “So you’re going to play dumb now? After all this time?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t have a clue what you mean?” I snap. But my stomach is tying itself into knots as I stare at her. I don’t know what she’s getting at, but whatever it is, I have the feeling it’s going to change everything. “Allie says you’re Bella’s mother?”

  “Bella?” Candice asks. “I have no idea who that is.”

  Allie and I exchange confused looks. “Well, then who are you talking about?” I ask.

  “Hannah, obviously,” Candice adds, and for a minute, I stop breathing.

  “Hannah?” I whisper.

  “Seriously?” Candice says, throwing up her hands. “Why are you acting like this is news to you?”

  “Hannah?” I repeat. “You’re telling me Hannah actually exists?”

  “What, did you think I was making her up? I mean, I’m no angel for the way I handled it all, but I told Patrick she was his daughter, okay? You can’t accuse me of keeping it a secret.”

  “Wait, what?” I whisper as I go completely numb. Allie is tugging on my hand, but I can barely feel it. All I can think is Hannah. Hannah. Hannah. The name echoes in my head over and over. This is real. Candice Belazar is standing in front of me, telling me Patrick had a daughter named Hannah. Still, I can’t wrap my mind around it.

  “Kate!” Allie finally snaps at me, tugging so hard I feel like my arm is about to pop out of its socket. I look down, and she signs to me quickly, She’s talking about my BFF, she signs. Hannah Belazar. She goes by Bella because of her last name.

  My jaw falls as I stare at Allie. Slowly, I turn my attention back to Candice. “You’re telling me Patrick had a daughter named Hannah?” I ask. “He really had a daughter?”

  For the first time, Candice looks uncertain. “Wait, he told you, didn’t he? He said he was going to tell you.”

  My heart is racing, and for a moment, I feel a sharp stab of betrayal. If Patrick really had a child, how could he have not told me? It’s not possible, is it? We told each other everything. The possibility that Hannah is real, and that Patrick kept her a secret, boggles my mind. “She’s thirteen?” I finally say. Just like the Hannah in my dreams.

  Candice glances at Allie and shrugs. “Yeah. So what?”

  “And Patrick knew about her all along?” The words actually hurt to say aloud.

  It takes Candice a moment to meet my eye, and when she finally does, I see shame in her face. “Not exactly.”

  “Not exactly?”

  She shrugs. “I told him when she was fourteen months old, okay? I just couldn’t do it anymore. Not when I found out she was deaf.”

  Allie just stiffens and glares at her. I’m so stunned, I don’t even have the words to come to her defense.

  “When?” I finally ask weakly. “When did you tell Patrick?”

  Candice grimaces and looks down. “The day before. The day before he died. I—I asked him to take her.”

  And suddenly, I understand. The fight I had with Patrick that last night. The fact that he’d been too involved in the conversation with Candice to call. The way he’d looked at me when he said he had something important to tell me.

  He never had a chance to tell me about Hannah. But he was going to.

  “I asked if he wanted her,” Candice continues, apparently oblivious to the visceral reaction I’m having to her news. “He was surprised, of course, but he said he totally wanted to take her if it was okay with you. He said he’d talk to you.”

  “He tried,” I murmur.

  She ignores me. “He was real happy, you know. Happy to have a kid, even though he was pissed that I hadn’t told him.”

  I feel numb. If Patrick had lived, he would have asked me that night about taking Hannah in. I would have said yes. I would have become Hannah’s mother, just like in the dreams. “Why did you wait so long?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell him when you found out you were pregnant?

  Instantly, I’m furious with her. Maybe Patrick’s death was inevitable. But Candice’s decision to take away his child wasn’t. Sure, it would have complicated things for me to have Candice in the picture, but Patrick could have spent the last fourteen months of his life getting to know his daughter. Candice took that from him. From us.

  She shrugs and looks away. “
Patrick had already dumped me by the time I found out, okay? I had to have some pride, you know? And my new boyfriend, Carl, said he was cool with raising her as his own, just as long as Patrick never knew about her. Carl, he was worried that Patrick would mess things up for us and I’d want to go back with him or something.”

  “So what changed?”

  She looks at me like I’m crazy. “I don’t have health insurance. And Carl, he said he wasn’t going to spend money on a kid who wasn’t his. So I didn’t really have a choice, did I? I was just trying to do what was right for her.”

  “Yes, you’re a real saint,” I mutter.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “You got no right to judge me.”

  I don’t even have a response to that. I shake my head in disbelief. “So what happened to her? To Hannah?”

  “Hell if I know. I gave her to my mom. Then my mom stopped speaking to me when I had Tammy and Sandy. Said I was gonna be a crappy mom to them too, and she didn’t have room for three kids. I told her to go to hell, and that was that.”

  “Tammy and Sandy?”

  “Yeah. My twins. Who are normal. No offense.” She glances at Allie, and I do too. Allie looks like she’s about to punch Candice in the face. I’m not sure I’d blame her. Maybe I’d even help. “Anyways,” Candice continues, “my mom was pissed I kept them while I unloaded Hannah on her. But they were just easier, you know? Then my mom died, and I don’t know what happened to Hannah after that.”

  “So you just let her go into the system?” I demand. “You didn’t even try to find her?”

  “Don’t you dare get high and mighty on me, Kate. You didn’t want her either.”

  “That’s not true!” I say, clenching my firsts. “I never even knew about her! Patrick never had a chance to tell me. I would have taken her in an instant. How can you not know that?”

  Candice looks genuinely stunned. “I just figured—”

  I open my mouth to reply, but we’re interrupted by Allie, who steps pointedly between us and says, “Stop. Right now. She’s here. Bella’s here.”