They talked about the adoption as they ate. Suzanne said she didn’t want a baby, not with the possibility that she’d be starting a business at the same time.
“Besides…there’s competition for babies. I want to adopt a six-or eight-or ten-year-old. I’m thinking a girl just because I feel as if I’d understand her better, but I’m not necessarily set on that.”
Carrie nodded. “I know what you mean. I’d be terrified to bring a little boy home! They’re mysteries to me. Except,” she had to add, even though even thinking about him hurt, “Mark’s son, Michael. He’s great.”
“See? I might respond well to a boy. So I don’t want to rule anything out.”
“Heck, you’re giving away my bedroom, aren’t you?”
Suzanne’s smile was wide and radiant. “Nope. That’s the beauty of my opening the yarn shop! My house will once again have three bedrooms.”
“You’re serious? You’d give up your workroom?”
“Are you kidding? I’d love to have you come to stay. I mean it.”
Feeling watery again, Carrie smiled at her. “Have I said how glad I am that you came looking for me?”
Suzanne made a face. “Despite everything?”
“Despite everything,” she said without the slightest doubt. “Knowing has helped me understand myself. Probably grow up a little! And I think maybe my relationship with my parents will be healthier. Mom sounds like she’s almost relieved not to have to keep my adoption a secret any longer.”
“They really want to meet me?”
“They really do. Dad said…” The memory momentarily choked her up. “He said that you’re my sister, and that makes you family.”
Suzanne blinked. “I guess it does. How funny!” She fiddled with her wineglass. “Aunt Jeanne keeps asking about you.”
Carrie examined her innermost emotions for the resentment she’d felt before and couldn’t find it. How could she judge her aunt and uncle, when she didn’t even know them or what their circumstances had been? From what Suzanne had said, she had been better off adopted out. Wasn’t that what they’d hoped for?
“I guess,” she said, “I’m ready to meet her. If she wants.”
Suzanne smiled and squeezed her hand. “She does. Thank you. She’s lived with an awful lot of guilt and regret. I think seeing you now would assuage some of it.”
In the moment of silence that followed, Carrie assumed that Suzanne, like her, was thinking about their missing brother. The brother who had said, You’re strangers to me. Let’s keep it that way.
She cleared her throat. “I made a vow. No more secrets. But I’ve been keeping one from you.”
“Really? Is it a bad one?”
“No-o.” Carrie hesitated. “I called Lucien. Gary. I was mad that he didn’t want to meet you. I told him he was being selfish, that one phone call would mean a lot to you.”
Her sister stared at her. “What…what did he say?”
“He said… Oh, Suzanne, I’m sorry! He said we were strangers, and we should keep it that way. He sounded so cool and uninterested!”
“Oh.” Looking stunned, Suzanne didn’t move for a long moment. Finally she roused herself to say, “Well, you heard his voice. We know he’s alive and…” Her optimism faltered. “Maybe not fine, I guess we have no idea, do we? But he’s out there. And…and he knows where we are.”
“Yes.”
“And the fact that you tried to protect me. That’s more proof you’re not self-centered. You called him for me, didn’t you? You don’t remember him.”
“I know how happy you’d be to have all three of us back together, even just once. I’d like it, too, of course, but…not the same way.”
“Well…” Suzanne shook herself. “When do I get to meet your mom and dad?”
“IS CARRIE COMING OVER pretty soon, Dad?” Michael asked. “Is she coming tonight?”
They’d spent the entire weekend together, and Michael had asked about her a couple of times. Why couldn’t Carrie come to the zoo with them? He bet Carrie could kick a soccer ball real far! Carrie said this; Carrie said that. Gritting his teeth, Mark had changed the subject each time.
Now Mark replied to his son’s request. “Nah. Not tonight. Heidi made enough dinner just for us.”
In fact, he was dishing up as they talked. He handed a glass of milk to Michael to carry to the dining room.
The minute he reappeared, his son persisted in the way only five-year-olds can. “Tomorrow? ’Cuz I’d like to see her. It’s been a long time since she came. ’Cept for that time when she was so sad.”
“I did see her Friday night,” Mark reminded him.
“But I didn’t.”
“No, I guess you didn’t. Scoot. Go sit down. I’ll get the rest.” Once he had the food on the table and had begun dishing up, Mark asked, “So, did Heidi show you pictures of the wedding dress she’s thinking of buying?”
Michael wrinkled his nose. “I s’pose it’s pretty,” he said doubtfully.
Privately Mark had thought it too lacy and elaborate for Heidi, but he hadn’t said so. On her wedding day, a woman had to feel beautiful. That was all that mattered.
“You’re going to have to be real careful with the rings. We wouldn’t want the pastor to say, ‘With this ring…’ and you to have to admit one of them had rolled under the pews.”
Michael laughed. “That would be funny, wouldn’t it, Dad? If everybody had to get down and look?”
Mark hid his shudder. He aimed a stern look at his son. “Heidi wouldn’t think it was funny. She wants her wedding day to be perfect, and because you love Heidi, you want it to be, too. Don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t do that on purpose!” Michael protested. “It just would be funny if…” He slumped. “I’ll be careful! I promise!”
“Good.”
He brightened. “Maybe Carrie can come to the wedding, too! You think, Dad?”
Dismayed, Mark thought, So much for distraction. “Heidi and Carrie don’t know each other.”
“But Heidi says it’s still a long time away…” His brow furrowed. “If it’s a long time, how come she’s buying her dress already?”
How to answer that? “Brides—women who are getting married—have to decide on lots of things for the wedding. Dresses their bridesmaids will wear, what the groom will wear, flowers, food for the reception afterward. The party,” he amended. “Even what words they’ll say to get married. So they take months to plan. I guess she just started by deciding on a dress.”
“What’s a groom?”
“That’s Peter. The man she’s marrying.”
“Oh.”
“And they plan the guest list pretty carefully, too, because only so many people will fit in the church, and they have to be sure they have enough food for everyone. So usually they can’t ask people who aren’t family or special friends.”
“But Carrie is my special friend. And yours. Right, Dad?”
Mark was getting a headache. “Why have you been thinking so much about Carrie?”
Michael carefully set down his roll. His face was solemn. “Well, you said Heidi might have her own kids. So she won’t be like my mom anymore. So I thought maybe Carrie could be.”
The stab of pain in his chest momentarily dulled Mark’s awareness of his throbbing head. Damn. He’d been too late. He’d thought he could still protect his little boy from disappointment, but, like Mark, Michael had already given his heart.
As gently as he could, he suggested, “You don’t know her very well, Michael.”
His son looked at him uncertainly. “Don’t you like her, Dad? I thought you liked her, too.”
“I do like her. But liking her doesn’t mean I think she should live with us and be your mom.”
Head bent, Michael crumbled his roll. “I liked having her here.”
“Yeah, I did, too,” he said, heartsick.
Michael stole a look at him. “Isn’t she coming over anymore?”
After I as good as accused he
r of thinking about nobody but herself? Uh huh. Sure.
Unable even to pretend to eat, Mark set down his fork. “I don’t know, Michael. I just don’t know.”
CARRIE CHATTED and helped her mother prepare the luncheon, but all the while she listened for the sound of a car engine. When she finally heard one, she raced to the front of the house.
“She’s here!”
Her father’s dry voice floated from the living room. “We do have a doorbell, Carrie.”
“Pooh! Come and meet her, Dad.” She flung open the front door and hurried down the steps to hug her sister, who had just dropped her car keys in her handbag and started toward the entrance. “Suzanne!”
“Wow!” Suzanne gazed in awe at the house, then turned toward the view. Just as Carrie’s mother stepped out the door, Suzanne said, “What an incredible garden! I’ve never seen such beautiful roses.”
It was the right thing to say. Beaming, Carrie’s mother came down the steps. “Suzanne, I’m Katrina St…” She gasped when Suzanne turned. “Oh, my gracious!” She stared from one young woman to the other. “You could be…” Pressing her hand to chest, she blushed. “Oh, dear. You are sisters! Carrie said you looked alike, but I thought she might be exaggerating! Oh, my goodness. Julian!” she called.
“I’m here, dear,” he said from the top of the steps. His gaze, too, studied his daughter and her sister with some incredulity. “The resemblance is remarkable. Well, Suzanne. I can see why Carrie never had any doubt that you were indeed her sister.”
Suzanne smiled warmly at both. “I was amazed when I met her. Mom—my mother—said Carrie— Linette…” She closed her eyes momentarily. “I’m getting so tangled up. I’m sorry! She said Carrie looked just like I had as a baby. I remember peering at photos of me at that age and thinking, nah. For one thing, I frowned a lot the first few months. I guess I had colic. Carrie was always sunny and grinning at total strangers.”
“Yes, she was.” Her mother smiled. “She loved grocery lines, because she could drop things and get whoever was in line behind us to pick them up, over and over.”
“Well, come in,” Dr. St. John invited her. “We don’t have to keep you standing out here.”
“But I hope you’ll show me your garden later.”
“Of course I will!” Carrie’s mother said with delight.
The luncheon was wonderful. Carrie was proud of both her parents and her sister. They all behaved beautifully, nobody said anything that was even unintentionally hurtful, and they actually seemed to like each other. Suzanne gushed about how wonderful Carrie was, which went over well with the parents, and they talked about how they could tell from the moment their adoptive daughter first smiled at them that she’d been loved.
“We didn’t know about you,” Carrie’s mother said. “We knew her parents had died, and about her brother, but nobody said she had an older sister, too.”
Suzanne explained about how her aunt and uncle had already had two children of their own in a modest home, and didn’t see how they could cope with five. “They knew that I was old enough to realize I was being taken away, and that I would probably have the hardest time being adopted. But my aunt in particular has always been haunted by regret. Carrie has agreed to meet her…” She stole a look at Carrie. “Oh, dear. Have you told them?”
“Yes, she has,” her mother said, “and I don’t know how she could stand to wait this long! She was the most curious child you could imagine!”
Carrie grinned at her mom. “I think the word you always used was ‘nosy.’”
They all laughed.
Suzanne continued, “I hope meeting Carrie will be healing for Aunt Jeanne. I know the decision was—” her hesitation was barely noticeable “—primarily not hers.”
Katrina St. John looked at her adopted daughter’s sister and said, “She’s not alone in having regrets. I’ve been haunted, as you put it, by the memory of Carrie’s—and your—brother. If I’d had more confidence in myself…” She pressed her lips together, then continued stiffly, “But perhaps, if we could all go back and do it again, Carrie wouldn’t have been available for adoption at all, so I can’t wish for that.”
Carrie, sitting to her right, reached over and gave her hand a quick, loving squeeze.
Suzanne looked at each of Carrie’s parents and said with patent sincerity, “I think Carrie was very, very lucky. I’m glad you took her. I worried so about her, and all the time she was growing up with exactly the kind of parents she deserved.”
“My dear.” Still gripping Carrie’s hand, Katrina St. John took Suzanne’s as well. “I don’t see how we can help but think of you as a daughter, too.” She hesitated. “That is…if you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” Suzanne’s eyes flooded with tears. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”
Meeting her father’s amused, affectionate gaze, Carrie felt a huge swell of love and gratitude that almost, but not quite, disguised the grief that lay deeper inside her.
If only Mark were here, too, she thought.
And Lucien. However wary, however reluctant to commit to the notion of having family, he should be here, too.
But for today, she would try to be glad because her parents and Suzanne and she were together. She wouldn’t let herself think about the fact that, while she could hope Lucien someday would come into their lives, she had to accept the fact that Mark was gone from hers forever.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ANOTHER REUNION, and Carrie didn’t know how she felt about this one. She did know she was grateful not to be meeting her uncle today. She had gathered—as much from what Suzanne hadn’t said as from what she had—that Uncle Miles was the one who’d insisted on placing the unwanted children up for adoption and who had scoffed at his wife’s grief.
Carrie and Suzanne were joining Aunt Jeanne at a restaurant in Bellingham for lunch rather than going to the house. They’d arrived first and were already seated in the booth, chatting as if nothing of importance was about to happen.
Suzanne was facing the door, and she was the one to lift a hand, wave, and then slide out of the booth.
“Aunt Jeanne,” she called and then, in surprise, “Ray! I didn’t know you were coming.”
Ray?
Carrie took a deep breath, nerved herself and slid out, too.
The woman who was approaching, her hand on the arm of a young man, looked just as Carrie imagined her birth mother would have at this age. Her face was lined and her hair streaked with gray, but she’d maintained a slender figure and was petite beside the man who Carrie realized was her son.
Her gaze went straight to Carrie. “Oh-h,” she breathed, and then tears welled in dark eyes that looked just like Suzanne’s and Carrie’s. “Oh, my dear. You’re Marie’s spitting image, just like Suzanne said!”
With more generosity of spirit than she’d been sure she possessed, Carrie stepped forward and took both her hands. “And yours, too. My goodness. Suzanne didn’t warn me. Are you sure you and my mother weren’t twins?”
Jeanne Fulton laughed shakily, through her tears. Her hands gripped Suzanne’s so hard it hurt. “I never thought I’d see this day. My dear Linette. No, Carrie. Thank you for coming. Thank you.”
“I’ve looked forward to meeting you.” She gratefully reclaimed her hands when her aunt finally released them and turned to her son.
“Carrie, this is your cousin, my son, Ray.”
“Good to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand.
A tall, handsome man who was, if she remembered right, thirty-five or-six, he looked wary and not, despite the polite words, very friendly. Perhaps he’d come to protect his mother from the imposter, or to protect his inheritance, if there was any, from a cousin he’d thought safely expunged from the family tree.
No, she was being unjust. The occasion was awkward enough to explain any reserve.
“Suzanne tells me you’re married and have two children.” She slid back into the booth when they all realized a waitress, la
den with a tray, was trying to pass. “Do you have pictures?”
“If he doesn’t, I do,” Aunt Jeanne said, sliding in beside her. “What grandmother is without pictures of her grandchildren?”
He laughed. “I’ll let Mom show her collection. My brother has a son, too.”
They all made a business of looking at the menu and ordering. “One check,” Aunt Jeanne told the waitress over their protests. “My treat.”
Then she took out an entire envelope of photos, many Carrie recognized as school pictures. Carrie murmured polite things, but felt no instant connection with these children, who were—she had to think for a moment—first cousins once removed. Perhaps they looked more like their mothers, or took after Uncle Miles’s side of the family. None had the bright dark eyes, slightly sallow skin and thick dark hair of their grandmother’s French heritage.
The conversation felt strangely superficial—Aunt Jeanne talked about sewing for her granddaughter, Ray about breaking ground for a Burger King he’d contracted to build, Carrie about her job, Suzanne about the space she hoped to lease for her yarn shop. She said nothing about applying to adopt a child. Carrie wondered what Uncle Miles would have to say about that.
Only when Aunt Jeanne talked about her own parents did the conversation feel meaningful. “My father had a heart attack in his forties.” She shook her head. “Maman was never the same. Then, after Marie’s death, she had a stroke. She went into a nursing home and died six months later.”
Suzanne nodded. “I mostly remember there always being something sad about her.”
Her aunt reached over the table and took Carrie’s hand, her grip painfully tight and yet also having a faint tremor. “I wish she’d lived to meet you. It would have meant the world to her. If she could have seen how much you look like Marie…”
As if impatient with the emotion, Ray glanced at his watch and mentioned needing to be back at the site. Aunt Jeanne looked flustered and apologized to everyone for unstated offenses while fussing about getting the check from the waitress. Carrie decided she could develop a sound dislike for Uncle Miles sight unseen. She’d already guessed from things Suzanne had said that he was a bully, and his son, who didn’t reassure his mother and who scowled when the waitress didn’t immediately appear, had taken after him.
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