by Remember Me
“And where did this take place, Margaret?”
“Just last week at your house,” Margaret answered coolly. “While we were in his study
and you were bringing in groceries from the car outside. He was telling me about the fringe
benefits of a life in politics. He demonstrated just how he got voted into office. I didn’t enjoy it
near as much as his secretary does, wow, can she scream. I know it’s probably no shock to you,
but if you don’t believe me, just ask him. I’m sure he’d love to tell you all about it. I know he
enjoyed it, but I thought it was pretty lame.
“If you wouldn’t have been in the kitchen while it was all going on, I don’t think I would
have gotten any thrill from it at all. The only thrill I really got was from the fear of being caught.
A Novel by Brett Barney Remember Me?
© 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 225
You know all about the thrill of doing something you really shouldn’t, don’t you? I wonder, are
your wild sexual interludes with all your lovers more enjoyable now that you’re married, and you
have that fear of being caught?”
“I don’t buy it, Margaret,” yelled Heather from below.
Margaret waited for a moment, but found she had grown tired of trying to upset Heather.
She kept her calm, but Margaret had lost her patience.
“Why would I lie to a woman who’s about to meet her death?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s just you and I now, except that I’m the one who’s at the other end of the lifeline
now. It’s a little game I like to call role reversal. You like playing games, don’t you, Heather?”
Margaret held out Heather’s rope so that she could see it over the edge of the cliff.
Heather could see the other end of her rope in Margaret’s free hand. It was tied to a large burlap
bag filled with rocks, identical to the one she had dropped moments earlier.
“Margaret!” screamed Heather as she searched for something to hang onto, “what are you
doing?”
“I’m preparing to cut you off from the lifeline,” explained Margaret calmly.
“You’ll kill me?”
“I don’t like the word kill, it sounds so terrible. I’m not going to kill you, I’m just
aborting you.”
“Margaret, what are you talking about? I don’t understand.”
“No, you wouldn’t, would you, mom?” Margaret’s voice showed signs of emotion now.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, Margaret, but why don’t I come up there so we can
talk. You’ve scared me, are you satisfied?”
Margaret slowly lowered a portion of the rope tied to the burlap bag down towards
Heather and began to swing it away from the mountainside.
“Margaret, please stop,” begged Heather from below.
“What’s it like to feel your life slipping away, knowing you have no control of your
destiny?”
“What do you want from me?” yelled Heather back up, her shoes began to slip on the wet
surface.
“I’m wondering if you’ll make as great of a clatter when you hit the valley floor as that
bag of garbage did.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Don’t you remember, mom?”
“Remember what?”
“Don’t you remember me? Don’t you, mom?”
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© 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 226
“Why do you keep calling me mom?”
“Does the number ‘87’ enlighten your memory at all?”
“Should it?” asked Heather.
“He’s my father, mom.”
“We never had a child.”
“Why mom? Did you kill it?”
“Who the hell are you to judge me. That was a long time ago. My abortions were
supposed to be kept confidential. I don’t know how you ...”
“Why did you do it, mom?” Margaret interrupted, her eyes in tears. “Why did you just
throw me away like that?”
“What,” screamed Heather in fear for her life. She could see Margaret’s grip on the bag
relaxing. “Do you want me to justify my abortions to you? I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“Did I mean that little to you?”
“I was young,” screamed Heather, pleading with the emotional girl above her. “I wasn’t
ready to have a child yet. There were still so many things I wanted to do with my life. I had to
have an abortion. It was all very innocent, nobody was hurt by it.”
“Nobody?! What about the child? What about me, mom?”
“You’re not my child, Margaret. There were no children, they never existed. They were
never alive.”
“Well, I guess if I never existed, then my mother never really existed either. We both
know that a child can’t exist without a mother. So I don’t really exist, do I?”
“Margaret, you’re just a little bit confused now. I don’t know how you found out about
my abortions, but they’re none of your business. You shouldn’t let yourself get so worked up
about a simple abortion. The choice was mine to make. Now help me back up, and we’ll talk this
over like rational adults.”
“Do you still think that those children never existed?”
“No, they were just abortions.”
“So then, I’m not really destroying you, because I never existed. In all actuality, I’m not
responsible for you falling off this ledge, you are. Let’s go through with the abortion now,
mom.”
“Margaret, no,” Heather screamed as she watched in horror.
Margaret released her grip on the burlap bag and it bounced off the cliff wall on it’s way
down past Heather. Heather grabbed at the wall, trying to find something to hang onto, but lost
her balance with her frantic movements. Her feet slipped out from under her on the wet surface
as she grabbed excitedly for something to stop her fall.
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© 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 227
Heather dropped from the ledge and plummeted towards the valley below. She glanced
up at the face of the young girl above her as she realized her life was no longer in her own hands.
The feeling of utter loss filled her heart and she fell powerlessly towards the ground below.
The fall ended abruptly as the harness tightened up against the rope and stopped the fall.
The jerk spun Heather around and she saw the end of the rope, tied to the burlap bag, drift past
her on its descent to the bottom.
Heather looked up to where Margaret sat, still looking down at her. Margaret’s hand no
longer held the rope, but it remained there, still anchored to the tree at the top of the cliff. Then
Heather realized that it was just a trick.
Hanging on the rope, her composure lost, she began to cry helplessly. She looked back up
at Margaret for some sort of explanation, but the expression on the girl’s face had not changed.
“Your daughter was right,” Margaret yelled down to Heather. “There’s a big difference
between you and I. I place a value on every life, no matter how small or unworthy. I didn’t want
to kill you. I just wanted you to understand what you did, mom.”
Margaret began to say something else, but stopped suddenly as the firm grip came to rest
on her shoulder. She turned suddenly, startled by the intrusion, and gazed up into the soft blue
eyes above her.
“What are you doing h
ere?” Margaret asked the older man standing above her.
“Come on, Margaret,” Raymond replied. “It’s all over now. Let’s help her back up.”
“Let her pull herself up. Let her experience the struggle I had to go through.”
“I was there to help you when your life depended on it,” Ray explained to his daughter.
“The situation is no different now. Give me a hand, Margaret. She understands now.”
Margaret remained silent. She turned around and grabbed a hold of the rope, starting to
pull Heather back up to the top of the mountain. In a short time, Heather reached up for help over
the top of the ledge.
Heather’s hand clasped Dr. Drake’s as he pulled her over the side of the hill to the flat
land above. Heather looked him over for some time before she recognized the man from her past.
“Dr. Drake?” Heather asked, completely confused.
“I’m really sorry about all this. You both probably have a lot of questions to ask me, and
I know this is all my fault. I didn’t want things to turn out like this. I thought what I was doing
was right. Now I see that I was wrong to hide the truth from you both.
“Heather, I would like you to meet my daughter, Margaret. Margaret was surgically
removed from your womb during the third abortion which I performed for you. I and a colleague
of mine, Dr. Penn, placed her inside what we called an L.S.A.U., or life sustaining artificial
uterus. The remainder of the pregnancy was finished inside this device.
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© 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 228
“We kept the procedure a secret from everyone involved. Margaret must have stumbled
upon it and come searching for you. I never intended for any of this to happen, but I’m glad it
did. I’m tired of carrying these secrets around with me.”
Heather looked at Margaret with amazement. Margaret didn’t look up from where she
stood staring at her feet. Ray could tell that she felt ashamed for what she had done. Her tears fell
more steadily now, as the realization of her actions ripped at her emotions.
“It’s all right, Margaret,” he assured her as he reached out and put his arm around her to
comfort her. “I should have been more careful with the information. I didn’t know how you
would react to it. I should have told you the truth long ago. You were ready to hear it.”
“You mean she’s my daughter?” Heather asked, trying to make sense of the situation.
“No,” Ray answered sternly. “She’s my daughter. You aborted her.”
“How did you find me?” Margaret asked, her eyes in tears.
“I finally realized where I knew the name Todd Whitmore from, and I called your friend
Amy. She told me about your venture through my files. Your aunt told me you had been
spending a lot of time with his daughter. I didn’t figure it all out until I saw Heather in the family
picture when I visited him. He seems pretty shook up. He told me how to get up here. Then I
followed your footsteps in the mud.”
“How do you know Todd?” Heather asked.
“He’s the father of a child I delivered for somebody else, eighteen years ago. I told him
all about it. I’m sure he’d love to explain it to you when you see him tomorrow. He’s really upset
right now.”
Ray looked down at his daughter. She wept uncontrollably, and he knew it was time to
leave. He looked over at Heather and nodded a good-bye, then turned around and led his
daughter away from the edge of the cliff.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he told Margaret. “Let’s go home.”
Ray and Margaret walked away from Heather, leaving her with the climbing gear. She
didn’t follow right away, but stood staring off into the cold, wet night.
Margaret finally sat down with her journal the next evening.
“... My father brought me home early this morning. We left the note from Carol to her
mother in Heather’s tent last night, and I explained most of my ordeal to my father this
afternoon. He’s been really supportive of me.
My mother and he sat down for several hours talking about my options now. I saw Amy
this morning and told her about the trip to Harrison. She’s been a good person to rely on, and
was interested to hear about Todd Whitmore. Her mom finally sat down and told her about him
when she learned about our venture through my dad’s files.
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© 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 229
I didn’t realize how messed up I was until I arrived home and had some time to think
about things. I really regret some of my actions during the past week, but I’m glad I finally faced
Heather. I made some mistakes which won’t be easy to live with, but I felt that Heather should
know the truth.
Now comes the hard part. My father told me about Edward Penn, and how he wanted to
come forth with the results of this project if it were successful. I’ll meet with Mrs. Penn soon. He
explained some of the scenarios which could happen if we go public, and things could get ugly.
Dad hasn’t pressured me at all, and the choice is mine to make.
Oh, did I mention that Richard Nelson wrote me from Nevada...”