Their Secret Child

by Mary J. Forbes

  "Uh-huh." Michaela bobbed her head. "'Bye, Blake. 'Bye, Aunty Kat."

  "Thanks for everything," Becky said politely.

  Kat saw them out the door. "See you soon, girls." Hugging Addie, she whispered, "You're glowing." With a wink and a wave, she went back into the house and shut the door.

  Addie couldn't ignore the warmth slipping across her cheeks. She and Skip...

  They'd gotten perhaps four hours of sleep last night and her body felt the pleasant ache of unused muscles. This morning's bathroom minor had reflected his kisses on her skin, and her marks on his. Wrapped in towels, they'd eaten omelets at seven, before donning jeans and short-sleeved shirts and driving to Kat's B and B.

  ''Where's your new t-t-truck, Mom?" Michaela asked as they climbed into Skip's Prius. "Is it nice? What c-c-color is it?"

  "Green and it's very nice, you'll see once we're home," Addie said, noting Michaela's stutter had returned.

  Because of Skip's presence?

  She tried not to think how her relationship to Becky would affect Michaela, but she and Skip had planned to tell the children the moment they got home. As he turned onto Shore Road, he flashed her a quirky smile, one that understood her worries and said they were in this together. But with each passing mile, Addie felt the weight of their goal push her deeper into the seat.

  Eight silent minutes later, they turned into Skip's lane and drove to the big white house with its turret and wraparound porch.

  The girls trailed Addie inside.

  "Aren't we going home, Mommy?" Michaela wanted to know.

  "Not for a few minutes, hon." She smiled brightly. "First, we have something to tell you both."

  Becky's eyes were wary, had been since Addie and Skip entered Kat's kitchen together. Now the girl looked from one adult to the other and said, "Come on, Mick. Help me put my stuff away." Whispering together, they ran up the stairs.

  Addie followed Skip's broad, blue-shirted back into the kitchen where he started a pot of coffee.

  A shiver cruised her skin. "I'm not sure this is the right time, Skip." Hugging her waist, she wandered to the glass patio-doors.

  He came to stand behind her. "There's never going to be a right time." Cupping her shoulders, he brought her against his chest.

  After a couple of seconds. Addie stepped away. "She's going to think we've conspired against her."

  "How so?"

  "We've been gone a day and a night."

  "We explained why."

  "The truck and house, I know. But I should've gone back to Kat's last night." Addie rubbed her arms. "Kids are incredibly astute. Did you notice how quiet Becky was in the car and—" she glanced at the ceiling "—just now?"

  "They've had a lot of excitement in the past twenty-four hours."

  Restless. Addie wandered the kitchen. "I have a bad feeling about this. It's too soon."

  "Babe—"

  Michaela ran into the room, her dark eyes wide and on Addie. "B-B-Becky s-s-says you're g-g-getting m-m-married!"

  Skip darted a look at Becky. He hadn't expected his daughter to come to the marriage conclusion. At least not yet. What had Addie just said? Kids are incredibly astute. Stepping forward, he nodded to the kitchen table. "Why don't you girls sit for a minute?"

  "Is it true?" Becky's gaze zipped between him and Addie.

  With his own sudden misgivings—maybe Addie was right, they should wait—he drew out a chair for the woman his daughter eyed with a newfound caginess. "That isn't what this conversation is about, Bean. Come." He motioned her forward. "Sit down."

  Michaela slid onto a chair adjacent to Addie, while Becky took the one next to him. which put her across the table from Addie, and Michaela opposite Skip.

  "Girls," he began, glancing at Addie. From somewhere she'd found the smile he didn't feel. "You both know Addie and I grew up on Firewood Island, right?"

  "Yup." Michaela nodded enthusiastically. "Mommy w-w-went to the same s-s-school I did." Unaware of what was in store, she grinned at Becky. "And the same school where you'll go next week."

  "Right," Skip said. "Which means we've known each other since we were little."

  "S-s-small as me?" Michaela wanted to know.

  "Almost," Addie said. Her eyes went from Michaela to Becky. "Your dad was two years older, so we really didn't become best friends until high school."

  Becky's eyes remained riveted on Addie's face. Skip curled his hand gently around their daughter's forearm. "We became more than best friends. Addie became my girlfriend and I was her boyfriend."

  "Eww! I'm never having a b-b-boyfriend." Michaela pulled a face that drew a chuckle from Skip—until he sneaked a peek at Becky.

  Her face had gone egg-pale.

  His heart thumped hard.

  She knows, he thought. She knows where this is going.

  "Becky." Addie said softly, reaching across the table.

  The girl's mouth quivered. "You're...her."

  "Yes," Addie said.

  "What, Mommy?" Bewildered, Michaela looked from one to the other. "Who's her?"

  Becky turned and stared at Michaela, dazed perhaps to see the child on the next chair. Then her head turned and she looked at Skip. His heart plummeted when her bottom lip wobbled. Finally, her gaze settled on Addie. "Why?" Tears clouded her blue eyes. "Why didn't you want me?"

  Michaela's brows bunched. "Mommy, why's B-B-Becky c-c-crying? Who d-d-didn't w-want you, B-Becky?"

  "Bean," Skip said, needing to correct the child's mistake. "Addie wanted you very much."

  A tear dripped to Becky's cheek and it was all he could do not to haul her onto his lap and hold her forever.

  "I don't believe you," she said. "Either of you." Scraping back her chair, she jumped up and ran from the kitchen.

  "Becky!" Michaela leaped up. "Wait!" Two seconds later, her feet thundered up the stairs after the older girl.

  Addie set her fingers against her mouth and stared at the empty doorway. "I have to go to her." She pushed away from the table.

  Skip caught her hand. Her skin was cold. "No. I was the one who started this whole damned thing." Years ago, when I walked away from you. "Let me finish it." Fix it.

  Addie tugged her hand away. "It's me she holds responsible, Skip. It's me who needs her acceptance."

  "You heard her. She blames us both."

  She shook her head, her hair swaying along her shoulders. "Please. I know you want to intercede and make it all better, but I was the one who signed the papers."

  His heart pinched. "Because of me."

  "Because I made the choice."

  "I won't let you take this on your own, Addie. I caused your decision. I'm not blameless, you know."

  "No," she said, eyes somber. "You're not, but I still need to do this on my own, no matter the outcome." With that, she walked from the room.

  Distress pounding through his veins. Skip clenched his fists. What the hell had he done? He should've listened to Addie, waited until he was sure Becky loved her, sure his daughter could not reject her mother for any reason. He should've waited until the bond between them had locked and the key tossed away—and nothing, not one word, could break it open.

  Upstairs, Addie approached Becky's bedroom. The door was closed, but not shut. Through the three-inch gap—and the dresser mirror—she had a clear view of what was taking place. Becky sat on the bed, Michaela on her knees beside her, little arms wrapped around the girl's neck. They were whispering and rocking back and forth.

  Heart ravaging her rib cage, Addie knocked softly.

  The whispering persisted.

  She knocked again, louder this time.

  Becky checked the door before her gaze swung to the mirror and connected with Addie. The girl looked away.

  Cautiously, Addie stepped inside the room. Hands pressed behind her back, she leaned against the wall beside the door, not daring to come closer.

  Michaela looked at her mother. "Is Becky my sister, Mom?"

  "Yes, honey. She is."

&n
bsp; ''Why didn't you want her?" Disquiet and anger wove through her girlish voice.

  "I did, Michaela. I wanted Becky more than anything in the world."

  "More than me?"

  "Oh, sweet pea. You weren't born yet. I didn't know you when Becky was born."

  "Then how come you sent her away?"

  "I was very young and still in high school. I didn't think I could give her the home I wanted for her. I didn't think I could give her everything a little girl should have."

  "Like Barbies?"

  Addie's heart rolled over slowly. "Yes, like Barbies."

  "But you gave them to me."

  "When you were born, I was an adult. I was married to your father. I had a career. When I was in high school, I had nothing. I still lived with Grandma Charmaine."

  Addie willed Becky to look at her—please—but the girl continued staring at the hooked rug beside her bed where bold mosaic patterns seemed to enclose the secrets of the earth.

  Michaela said, "Becky's sad, Mommy. She thinks you didn't love her, but I told her you did."

  "Oh, baby." The tears came fast and furious and Addie swiped at them with shaky hands. "I loved her so much. More than my own life. When I let the nurse take her away, I thought my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I wanted to die," she whispered.

  Michaela looked concerned. "I don't want you to die, Mommy. I want Becky to be my sister and live with us."

  Addie tried to smile. "I want that, too, but she lives with Skip and that's good because he's her father."

  "Her real father," Michaela reasoned.

  "Yes."

  "Like you're her real mother?"

  "Yes."

  At that Becky broke her silence. "I already have a mom," she retorted without looking up.

  "But she's—" Michaela began and Addie quickly held a finger to her lips. Shhh.

  "Hedy was a wonderful mom," Addie said, thankful for this tiny inroad to speak to Becky. "I'm so glad she was in your life." With all my heart, I wish I could bring her back for you.

  "She gave me everything," the girl went on, still not acknowledging Addie. "I loved her." She raised her head and looked at the photograph of a laughing, light-haired woman in a wooden frame on her night table. "I miss her." Her voice came as if from a great distance.

  "I know you do, honey," Addie said. "And I never want to take away your love for her. I will never want to replace her in your heart, Becky. She is and always will be your mother."

  Michaela said. "But you'll be sort of her mom, right?"

  "Only if Becky wants that." Addie said, but the girl's attention was back to the rug and its vibrant blocks of color.

  Addie struggled not to walk across the room, not to enfold both children in her arms. Years ago, she thought her heart had split into a trillion segments. But, here in this room, watching her child's grief and anger, her sense of rejection...

  Addie's soul lay in shreds at her feet.

  Chapter Thirteen

  From the desk drawer Becky removed her diary. Outside the bedroom window sunshine sparkled on the leaves, turning them into gold and making the trees look as if they were dressed for a celebrity event.

  Today had been a celebrity event for her.

  Addie Malloy was her biological mother.

  But hadn't she known way down deep? Hadn't there been something different about Addie? Something Becky couldn't quite reach, couldn't quite touch?

  Her eyes burned. Oh, man. What would her mom think? What would she say? How would Hedy feel about Addie?

  Brushing at her tears, she smoothed back the diary's next fresh page.

  Mommy, I miss you soooo much. Please tell me everything is going to be all right. Show me in some way that you're still with me. I think of you every clay. I miss youevery day. I don't know what to think about Addie. How should I feel? I don't want her to take your place. She gave me away. You NEVER gave me away. You died trying to keep me safe. Addie said she never wanted to adopt me to anyone. She wanted to keep me. Then why didn't she ? Oh, Mommy. I'm so confused so confused so confused. I hate feeling this way THIS WAY.

  She shut the diary. Her nose prickled. When she couldn't hold back anymore, she put her face in her arms over top of the book and cried.

  School started four days later, on a clear and sunny day that belied the pounding of Addie's heart as she walked to her classroom. Thinking of Becky and Skip within the walls of the school, she had taken extra care with her makeup and appearance this morning and worn her favorite denim skirt and light-knit green top.

  Throughout the day she would teach ninth- and eleventh-grade math, though her final block consisted of twenty seventh-graders. She knew without checking her attendance roster that Becky was in that final block.

  Writing the upcoming homework assignments on the sideboard, she wondered if Skip had made the right choice upon registration. Maybe he should have put Becky in Lisa Wallace's math class.

  And maybe, Addie thought, she and Skip should not have told the girl. Maybe they should've waited for a later date. A much later date.

  Oh, face it. Later would still be too soon. No matter how many weeks and months went by—and regardless of how tight the bond between her and Becky—the right time, in Addie's mind, would never be justified. Such were the logistics of the matter.

  Except, there was nothing logical—her dad's word—about telling a child you gave her away at birth.

  Like an unwanted gift.

  The thought broke the chalk between Addie's fingers.

  No! No and no.

  Becky had been very wanted. From the moment Addie realized she was pregnant, she had wanted the baby. Yes, she had cried and worried about her future and how she would raise her child, but she had never not wanted the baby, nor had she considered terminating the pregnancy.

  Before leaving Becky's bedroom last Saturday morning, Addie tried to impress that wanting over and over. Sadly though, the girl hadn't seemed convinced. She'd ignored Addie until she left the room and went home. An hour later Skip brought Michaela to the house, and Addie spent the remainder of the weekend—between house repairs and Charmaine and Lee's questions, trying to explain the situation to her youngest child.

  She had not seen Skip or Becky since, and the lack of that connection worried Addie.

  To further her reservations, Michaela's stuttering returned fivefold, reminding Addie of the years when Dempsey lived with them. The child whined about wanting to see Becky, to call her, to visit the Dalton house, until late last night, after she knew the girls were in bed, Addie phoned Skip.

  "How's it going?" she'd asked without preamble.

  "Going," he said. He sounded tired. And crushed. "I didn't think she would take it this hard. She's barely come out of her room all weekend." He sighed. "When I found her, she wasn't this defiant."

  "When you found her, she'd been in four foster homes, Skip. She was ready for a real home. I've seen it at school. Kids leaving long-term foster care are so ready for permanence and stability they do the adapting—even when it's back with their own parents. They'll do anything to make it work."

  "Then why didn't she latch on to you?"

  "Because she's had time to adjust, time to make you hers, so to speak. You've given her a feeling of security, and that security allows her to express her hurt and anger elsewhere. Which is a credit to what a great father you are. She feels secure enough in you, in not losing you, to take out her anger on me."

  "Doesn't make me feel better," he grumbled.

  "Bear with her. I'm betting she's bottled up a lot of Jesse's actions and behaviors, and now, after all is said and done, the woman who tossed her aside shows up and wants her back."

  He was quiet for an extended moment. "You didn't toss her aside."

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. "To her I did. Think of it, Skip. How would you perceive your mother had she given you up and then waltzed back into your life at a later date?" He had told her of Miriam's comments during their night together, of hi
s parents reliving their own situation when Addie became pregnant.

  "Hell, I don't know how I'd feel. Guys are different."

  "But wouldn't you feel a sense of abandonment?" she stressed. "Of being unloved by your biological mother?" Addie's voice wavered. "Wouldn't you be terrified and angry?"

  "Maybe. Guess it would depend on my life with the adopted parents. Most are incredibly loving, Addie."

  She sighed. "I know. This is so damned hard."

  "Aw, honey. Look. Friday after school I'm taking her to see my mom. Maybe getting to know other family members will help the transition."

  Although he couldn't see her, Addie let a smile evolve. "Becky needs family so much. Once things settle, I'd like her to meet Lee and my mother, as well."

  "She really likes Kat."

  "Did she say that?"

  "Yeah. At supper tonight. Out of the blue, she said she liked Kat's house and thinks Blake's cute."

  "Typical girl."

  "Yeah." His voice held a grin. "I had to remind her he was her cousin."

  "What did she say to that?"

  "Cool." Pause. "She said she's never had cousins or siblings. You know she's goofy over Michaela."

  "And vice versa. My daughter called me selfish tonight because I haven't let her call Becky."

  "Why haven't you?" Skip asked.

  "I wasn't sure if she would want...either of us after... God, I've done it again, haven't I?"

  "Done what?"

  "Failed her. Even in this."

  "Addie, you didn't fail her. You're giving her time. I'll tell her she can call Michaela tomorrow. How's that?"

  Her heart rolled over. "Thank you."

  The line was quiet for a few moments. Skip said. "She told me tonight that she'd suspected you were her mother from the day we met you at the library."

  "Oh?"

  "After we got our books and you'd already left, she asked me if there was something between us. She suspected we didn't like each other, if there was something in our past." He let out a soft laugh. "Smart kid."

  "And then some. She questioned me about you the day her and Michaela helped extract honey."