“But what about me? How could you never tell me the truth?”
“I don’t know. At first it was just too hard to explain. You were so young. And then I was so miserable without her I just thought it would be better to get rid of all the reminders of her.”
Rorie sat silently, trying to absorb this new reality. Her mother hadn't abandoned them, she’d been mentally ill. Her father didn’t hate her mother, and might even still be in love with her if she was reading the situation correctly. It felt like the world had just been flipped upside down. In the middle of it all, one detail stood out, turning her heart stony and cold. “The two of you were put through hell because Mama’s family wouldn’t accept that she loved you, and even so, you couldn’t accept me for who I loved. You’re no better than them.”
She turned her head to look away from him, but not before she saw something she thought she would never see: a tear breaching the edge of her father’s eye and rolling down his stoic cheek. It shook her to the core. In all her life, she’d never seen him close to tears.
He cleared his throat. “Rorie, I was wrong.”
At the moment her father said her name, it felt like a hand reached into her chest and squeezed it with an iron grip. It was the first time he’d said it in twenty-five years, since before the night he’d found out her with her girlfriend and kicked her out of the house. On that night, he’d never said her name once, as if she no longer deserved to be called anything at all. She never thought she’d see him again after that, and she sure as hell never thought he’d admit to being wrong.
“Look, I just wanted to set the record straight about your mother. And when your girlfriend wrote and told me someone claiming to be Grace Mulloy had shown up, well, I didn’t think it was her, but I did kinda hope. Anyway, I’ll go out and call a cab to the train station, and leave you to your family dinner.” He rose slowly from the chair, his knees and back cracking from the strain.
As he stood, Rorie shook herself out of her stupor. She gathered up the photos from her lap and stuffed them back into the envelope to hand them back before he left. As she did, her finger brushed something else inside the envelope. Curious, she pulled it out and saw a newspaper clipping that had been carefully laminated to keep it safe. It was a picture of her that had been taken the night she won her Academy Award six years ago. Brow furrowed, she searched his face for the meaning.
“All I have left of the people I love most is in that envelope.” His words were mournful, so soft they could barely be heard. But she’d heard. He turned quickly toward the door to hide the tears that were brimming in his eyes.
Rorie’s eyes burned and she shut them tightly, determined not to cry. It felt like she might drown if she didn’t release the tears, but she wouldn’t do it in front of him. He abhorred weakness. Maybe later, once he’d left. If she was going to get through this, it couldn’t be with tears.
“Where you goin’, Pop?” she called out to his retreating back, her voice steady now. “You haven’t had any turkey yet. You know it’s your favorite.”
He stopped walking and turned. His face was composed. His emotions were kept in check, always the brave soldier, though surprise lingered in his shining eyes. He nodded slowly. “Well, if you think you’ve got enough…”
“I think we can scrape something together.” Rorie tilted her head toward the dining room. “You might as well come and say hi to my family, since you’re here.”
Rorie’s eyes were closed as she focused on the soothing sensation of cool fingers massaging her temples and scalp. Her head rested in Cecily’s lap, her ear pressed against the warm flesh of her thigh, and she could hear the rhythmic beating of a pulse—whether Cecily’s or her own, she wasn’t certain. Even from the bedroom, the house still smelled of turkey, though dinner had ended hours ago. Tyler had offered to drive her father back to San Diego. It was only then, after he was gone, that she’d allowed herself to cry. Once started, she couldn’t stop. She’d been curled up on the bed, head in Cecily’s lap, sobbing for the better part of two hours, and only in the past few minutes had it finally let up.
“You’re sure you’re not mad at me for bringing your father here today?” Cecily’s voice was thick with worry.
Rorie rolled her head so she could see Cecily’s face. “No, I’m not mad. And I’m not sad, even though I’m crying. I don’t have words to explain.”
Cecily nodded, brushing her thumb back and forth along Rorie’s lips When they were at their best together, neither of them needed words to understand.
“And your mom?”
“Well, obviously the woman you met wasn’t her. I don’t think that’s really hit me yet, on top of everything else. And my real mother is out there, somewhere. But I have no idea where.”
Cecily’s brow creased. “Your dad didn’t know?”
Rorie sighed. “Nope, not a clue. He tried to keep track of her, despite her family, but one day she was checked out of the hospital and that’s the last he heard. It was years ago.”
“I want you to know, whatever you decide to do, we’ll do. If you want to report that impostor, or go looking for your real mother, or nothing at all. Whatever it is, I’ll be right there.”
Rorie wrapped her fingers around Cecily’s hand and lifted the palm of it to her lips, kissing it softly. “I know. I’m not sure what I want to do yet. I’ll call Helen at the law office on Monday and see what she thinks my options are, but after that, I don’t know. It’s really hard to think.”
“I should’ve kept my nose out of it, shouldn’t I?”
“No,” Rorie propped herself up on one elbow to get closer to Cecily’s face. “No, I’m glad you stepped in. You were right about that woman, and I wouldn’t listen even when you pointed out the red flags. I have to confess, I even gave her money.” Shame burned inside her at the admission. It had been a stupid thing to do.
“Oh, Rorie.”
“It’s nothing I can’t recover from,” she added hastily, not wanting Cecily to think less of her than she already might. “It’s just more than I wanted to lose.” A pang of grief shot through her. Money was the least of what she’d lost. “I wanted her to be my mother so badly. I overlooked so many obvious lies because of just how much I wanted it to be her.”
“But you got your father back instead.”
Rorie was buoyed by the thought. “I never would have dreamed it, but yeah, I do. Thanks to you. And he absolutely loves you!”
“I don’t know about that, but he certainly loves you. I could tell as soon as I talked to him on the phone how desperate he was to see you.”
“I still think you must have bewitched him. The father I remember would never have admitted to being wrong.”
“He’s mellowed with age, maybe.”
“Maybe we all have. There was a time I thought I could never forgive him for how he treated me, but now…I think I want to try. Maybe my mother's family has had a change of heart, too, if we knew where to find them.” Rorie nestled her head back into Cecily’s lap and closed her eyes. As Cecily resumed massaging her head, Rorie tried to imagine where in the world her mother might be.
Chapter 20
Rorie placed the folded Christmas stockings on top of the rest of the decorations in the box, then made a quick sweep of the living room before snapping the plastic lid on tight. The room around her felt strangely bare, and the sight of clean, empty surfaces prompted a touch of melancholy. She was surprised by how hard it hit her, this return to the status quo. She’d rolled her eyes at Cecily’s insistence that they put up a tree and lights, hang stockings, and otherwise festoon every inch of the house with something plaid, shiny, or snowflake-shaped. She’d never bothered with it before, reasoning that every public space was decorated anyway, and that setting up a shrine to snow and pine trees was a little silly when the weather in LA on Christmas was usually more like summer. But she’d gone along with Cecily’s desire for Yuletide spirit, and now that it was over, she missed the silly trinkets that had cluttered u
p her house almost as much as she missed Cecily. She’d kept them up as long as she could, but it was January and she’d put it off long enough.
They’d had a full five weeks together while both their shows were on hiatus for the holidays. With the exception of a few nights in Orange County when Cecily had lines to record at Grant Studios, they’d spent all their time at Rorie’s house. For the first time since she was a kid, Rorie had woken up on Christmas morning to presents under a tree, and eaten Christmas dinner with her father across from her at the table. Not enough time had passed for all the old wounds to heal when it came to her relationship with her dad, especially since talking things out wasn’t a strong point for either of them. But they were making progress and she was starting to believe in a future where he was an active part of her life again.
The only thing missing was news about her mother—either of them. Despite putting her lawyer and a private investigator on the trail, there’d been no news as to the whereabouts of Grace Mulloy or her imposter. When it came to the real Grace Mulloy, it was just like her Pop had said. She’d checked out of the treatment facility in 1981 and vanished from the public record. So far, there was no trace of her, or any living member of the Courville family who knew anything about her. As for the grifter who’d stolen her mother’s name, and Rorie’s money, the check she’d written had been cashed at a convenience store in Nevada by a woman using a fake ID. The likelihood of finding her was slim.
Rorie was still ruminating on this when the sound of a ringing phone brought her back to the present.
“Ms. Mulloy? It’s Helen at Wellington, Floyd, and Associates. I’m calling with some news about Grace Mulloy.”
Rorie’s pulse ticked faster as she processed her attorney’s words. Maybe she'd been too hasty, and bringing that crook to justice wouldn't be so hard after all. “You found her?”
“Possibly. The investigator found a promising lead.”
“Well, that’s a relief. At least I might get some of my savings back.” The only drawback to a big Christmas celebration in December was a correspondingly large credit card balance in January, and Rorie wouldn’t turn her nose up at the prospect of recovering some of what she’d lost.
“No, you misunderstand. I meant the real Grace Mulloy. Your mother.”
Rorie’s breath caught. “You mean, you know where she is?”
“Maybe. The investigator is running down some additional leads, but he found a Grace Corbil who was admitted for a psych evaluation at a hospital in Lake Charles in 1985. It appears that she may still be in a residential facility in the area.”
“But Corbil,” Rorie stressed the second syllable. “Not Courville, or Mulloy?”
“He’s thinking she may have been using her maiden name, Courville, and it was spelled incorrectly on the intake forms. He’ll give you a call when he knows more, but I thought you might like the heads-up.”
Rorie set the phone down in a daze, then snatched it up again. The gnawing in her belly told her that this was too big to face alone. She needed Cecily. As the sound of Cecily’s voicemail message echoed in her ear, the familiar frustration of their long distance relationship made her groan. They’d made so much progress in communicating during the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving that Rorie had almost forgotten how difficult it could be to reach her when she was filming on location. She checked her watch. It was just past eight in the morning, but Cecily had probably left for work hours ago and might not be back at her loft until ten o’clock tonight.
She paced the length of the living room, considering what to do. She’d left a message with Cecily, but she didn’t count on hearing back. Should I call Pop? Rorie dismissed the impulse for now. She wasn’t sure how he’d react to the news, and didn’t want to get his hopes up if it turned out to be another dead end. She heard the squeak of the sliding door and saw Tyler enter, heading to the kitchen for breakfast. She stopped mid-stride, but not before he noticed her agitation.
“Hey Rorie, is everything okay?” He eyed her quizzically.
“Fine. I just might be getting news about my mother soon, and it has me on edge.”
Just then, her phone rang and she jumped. It was the investigator calling to inform her that the patient he'd been looking into was, indeed, her mother. He’d sent a scan of her photograph to the facility and they’d just confirmed that it was her. Rorie’s eyes glistened with emotion as she hung up the phone.
“They’ve found my mother. She’s in a residential facility in Louisiana, near Lake Charles.”
Tyler grinned. “That’s awesome! Are you going to go see her?”
Rorie bit her lip, considering. “I think I should, but I’m a little bit terrified. I have no idea what to expect.”
“Have you called Mom? Oh, wait. She’s on location this week, isn’t she?”
Rorie sighed. “Yeah, somewhere with no cell coverage, naturally. I’ve left a message, but I don’t know when she’ll get it. For now, I think I’ll call the facility and see if I can get any more details before I leave for work.”
Maybe by the time she finished that call, by some miracle Cecily would have gotten her message and would call her back. Please, Cici. Check your messages. This is too much for me to do alone.
“Come on, Cecily. Pick up the phone!” Rorie scowled as the now all-too-familiar voicemail greeting began to play. Her carry-on bag sat, packed, at her feet. A yellow cab pulled up to the curb outside. “Shit. I’ve gotta go.”
“Still no Mom?” Tyler was back from his afternoon classes and Rorie had just finished giving him instructions for watching the house while she was away.
“No. I hate that I have to do this without even talking to her, but apparently my mother’s caseworker starts her maternity leave at the end of the week. If I don’t meet with her tomorrow, it’ll be at least another three months before she’s back.” Rorie grabbed the handle of her bag and rolled it down the driveway while Tyler followed.
“I’ll try to get a hold of Mom. What hotel are you staying at?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to find something when I get there.” Rorie fought back panic at all the details she hadn’t had time to take care of in her rush to book a last minute flight.
“Do you have a rental car?”
Rorie shook her head. The cab driver honked the horn and she jumped in surprise, then scurried the last few steps and reached for the door handle.
“You should get to the airport. I’ll go back in and book you a car and a hotel. Anything else?”
“I think that’s it. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Nah. Easy-peasy. I’ll text you the info for when you land.”
Rorie smiled gratefully. “Thanks, kiddo.” She laughed when she heard the term of endearment come out of her mouth, just like Cecily always used. She reached up and ruffled his hair for good measure.
The only flight still available had been into Houston, a two hour drive from Lake Charles. Because of an electrical storm, Rorie’s plane circled the city for over an hour, so by the time she had landed and made it to the rental car agency that Tyler had arranged, it was already past midnight. There was a missed call from Cecily on her cell phone, but no message. Somehow, the lack of a voicemail increased her weariness. After a half-day at work and a half-day spent traveling, Rorie considered staying overnight near Houston, but decided to press on since she had a hotel reserved for her just a few miles from her mother’s facility.
As the Houston skyline shrank behind her, the road grew dark. There were no streetlights on this stretch of Interstate 10, just the reflection of her headlights against the painted stripe on the road, and the occasional flash of high beams from a car passing on the westbound side. Rain beat a staccato rhythm against the roof of the car as the windshield wipers swished, and now and again some lightning crackled in the distance.
The windshield grew foggy from the humidity and Rorie switched on the air. The car was filled with the damp smell of vegetation that immediately reminded her of colle
ge, the omnipresent odor of the bayous. A sign on the side of the highway welcomed her to Louisiana, but with the smell, she hardly needed a sign to tell her where she was.
She hadn’t been back to Louisiana since graduation. It’d been a dark time for her after Cecily left, and she’d once vowed never to return. Just crossing the border into the state made her nerves jangle, though her much improved circumstances reduced the severity from what it might otherwise have been. In fact, her trepidation came less from memories of the past than from the unknown of what lay ahead.
What will Mama be like? The fact that she’d needed to be in a residential facility for all these years didn’t bode well for the severity of her mental illness. Schizophrenia was the most likely diagnosis, her father had said, although at the time she’d left, they hadn’t been sure. Once the Courvilles took her back home, he’d received no further word. Speaking with the caseworker on the phone today, Rorie knew there was no mention of either her or her father in her mother’s records. It was as if they had been erased from her mother’s life. She’d packed whatever she could find to prove who she was: a birth certificate, a copy of her parents’ marriage certificate, and some photographs. She hoped it would be enough to be allowed in.
An hour outside of Lake Charles, Rorie stopped at a gas station and checked her phone. Cecily hadn’t called back, and given the late hour, Rorie hesitated to try her again. Loneliness weighed on her, heavier now than it had been at any point since Cecily took the job in Portland. Maybe the weeks they’d just spent together had spoiled her and made it harder to be apart. Maybe just being in Louisiana again influenced her subconscious, stoking long dormant fears of abandonment. That fear was the weak point in her armor and had ruined many a relationship in the past. It had taken root fully when Cecily had walked out on her in college, though her mother’s leaving had planted the seed. Once your own mother leaves you, it’s hard to trust any woman to stick around.
Love's Encore Series (Books One and Two) Page 39