She would never, ever beg for anything. Not even if—
“Oh, Mom…”
Ellen looked up and realized that Julie’s eyes had grown wide. Oh God, she heard all of that. Ellen flushed. “It’s nothing.”
“That’s not nothing. You never told me any of that.”
Guilt, deep and acidic, raced through Ellen. “It’s in the past, all of it.”
Julie eyed Ellen with wonder and sympathy. “I never knew. And I never asked, either.”
“You had other things on your mind,” Ellen said sharply. “Like what a horrible parent I was.”
Julie winced. “You weren’t horrible. But you weren’t easy, either. It would have helped if you’d communicated more.”
“I did my best.” No one knew better than she that some things were safer kept inside where they couldn’t hurt anyone.
“Wow. That’s bleak.” Julie tucked her hair behind her ear. “Everyone has a reason for being the way they are, don’t they? I knew that, but it never dawned on me that you had a past. You were just my mother. I should have looked beyond that.”
Ellen didn’t know what to say. Her instincts urged her to slam the lid closed on this conversation, but her heart, which felt painfully exposed, warned her not to give in to her usual reactions. Share, it whispered. Stop being so harsh.
It took a bit of a struggle, but Ellen managed to say, “I was taught not to be overemotional and to leave the past in the past.”
“Oh, Mom. Your past isn’t a memento you can store in a box. You carry it with you, everywhere you go. It’s there, Mom. It’s in your irritation with anything you consider disorderly, in your determination to never fail, and your need to control everything and everyone.”
“I sound like quite the prize,” Ellen said drily.
Julie’s smile flashed. “You’re not bad. But it makes you seem stern and abrupt, which, to a teenager, feels heavy and judgmental.”
“I try not to be either of those things. But, for the record, I’d like to point out that I’m not the only one who hid a difficult part of my life. It must have been terrifying when you found out you were bipolar. You were alone then. I wish you’d told me.”
“I was stupidly stubborn, too. I still am, I’ve been told.” Julie leaned back in her chair, unfolding herself and stretching her legs out so they rested on the ottoman. “But I did okay. Once you and Kristen understand each other, you’ll do okay too.”
“You really believe that?”
“I do. But you’ve got to be more open. Instead of acting like you’ve got all the answers, let Kristen know that you’ve got worries and fears, too, just like she does.”
Ellen swallowed. “I’m not used to talking about my feelings. But I’ll try.”
“Don’t try, Mom. Do.”
If it were only that easy. “Right. Now, about Kristen. I get the feeling that something is off, and it’s more than the mural incident.” Ellen noticed that Julie didn’t look surprised. “You know something.”
“I do, and you’d better be prepared.”
Ellen’s chest tightened. “She’s going to run away.” Ellen couldn’t think of the days after Julie had run off without her chest aching as if her heart had been newly ripped out. She was deeply relieved when Julie shook her head.
“I’ve already told you that Kristen will never run away. She’s not an adventurer. But she will fight to get her own way. She has a plan, Mom. One that will keep her here in Dove Pond.”
Which was exactly what Ellen had feared. “Will it work?”
“It might.”
Oh no. Ellen wet her dry lips. “I see. And if it doesn’t?”
“Then she’ll have no option but to go to Raleigh with you.”
“Then I need to block this plan of hers.”
Julie flicked an impatient look at Ellen. “Do you? If Kristen’s plan fails and she ends up in Raleigh, she’s going to be miserable.”
“At first, I’m sure. But she’ll make friends, and then things will be okay.”
“She doesn’t make friends easily. She never has. She’s like you in that respect.”
“I have friends. Not many, but enough.”
“Name one.”
“Oh, Julie, for the love of heaven. There’s…” Ellen shifted in her chair. “I— Oh! Denise Radcliffe. She and I’ve been friends ever since we worked together at Porter, Porter, and Turner years ago.”
“Exchanging Christmas cards is not friendship. It’s acquaintanceship.”
“We’re still friends.”
“When’s the last time you called her?”
Ellen shrugged. “I don’t have time for such things. I’ve been very busy.”
“Right,” Julie said in a flat tone. “Kristen takes great pride in her independence. She loves order, calmness, organization, and control—does that sound like anyone you know?”
“That sounds like… me?”
“It is a wonderful thing,” Julie said. “She has all your best qualities, but they’re balanced out with a few of mine. In many ways, she’s the best of both of us.”
Deeply touched, Ellen didn’t know what to say. She and Julie had never been able to talk like this, and it felt awkwardly new and totally wonderful. “She is a remarkable child. You were doing a fantastic job of raising her.”
Julie’s gaze rested on her mother’s face. “Thank you. And thank you for putting up with me all those years ago. I didn’t make it easy. Now I have Kristen, I understand that.”
They smiled at each other, and it was only the pressing knowledge that time was running out that made Ellen break the moment. “So. What’s Kristen’s big plan?”
“Oh yes. That.” Julie splayed her hands on her knees. “She is looking for her father.”
Ellen’s mouth dropped open. Good Lord, she hadn’t thought of that. She instantly traversed a line of scenarios, none of them good. “Where is he? I assumed he was off… Lord knows where, out of touch, as usual.”
“He’s here in Dove Pond. Kristen wants to find him so she can convince him to let her live with him.”
Good God. This was far more serious than Ellen had expected. “You said she wants to find him. Dove Pond isn’t that big of a place.”
“He’s here, but…” Julie waved a hand. “It’s complicated.”
Ellen knew that hand wave, a rather dramatic “let the world sort it out.”
Her unease grew. “Explain ‘complicated’?”
Julie looked away, newly interested in the tree swaying outside the window. “It’s possible—likely—she doesn’t know who he is.”
What? “You never told Kristen who her father is? And he lived here, in town?”
“There was no reason to. We didn’t need him.”
“I see.” Ellen pressed her fingertips to her left temple, trying to work her way through this maze of Julie’s making. “How long has she been working on this plan of hers?”
“Several weeks. Missy and Josh are helping her. Kristen thinks she’s found a clue, but she’s on the wrong track.” Julie stuck her feet out in front of her and wiggled her bare toes. “There’s a lot she doesn’t know.”
Which explained the increased flurry of text messages, as well as Kristen’s distracted state. As much as Ellen hated hearing it, this was useful information. “You never told her his name?”
“No. I didn’t introduce them because…” Julie glanced at Ellen from under her lashes. “He doesn’t know about her.”
“Doesn’t know? Julie, that’s— Good God!” Ellen dropped back in her seat, too shocked to think clearly.
“I did it to protect Kristen. And me too.”
“But… don’t you think she deserves to know her own father?”
“Under normal circumstances, I’d say yes.”
“What do you mean, ‘under normal circumstances’?” Ellen asked, alarmed. “He’s not violent, is he?”
“Mom, no! Not at all.”
“That’s a relief.” A great relief. Ellen pressed
a hand to her heart, where it had thudded hard against her chest. “What sort of person is he, then?”
“He’s nice. Really nice.” Julie pulled her feet back into her chair and hugged her knees once more. “I just didn’t want the bother. Kristen and I didn’t need anyone else. We’re a family, the two of us.”
“So you kept Kristen and her father apart all these years for no other reason than that you wanted her for yourself. Julie, that’s rather selfish.”
Julie’s eyebrows lowered. “It sounds really bad when you say it that way, but I only wanted what was best for Kristen.”
“Did you?”
Julie frowned sharply. “I was trying to protect her. I wasn’t sure he’d welcome her into his life, and I didn’t want her to have to face rejection.”
“Julie! You could have told him without Kristen even knowing. Then, if he wasn’t willing to take on the responsibility of having a child, you’d have reason not to tell her. You never gave him that option.”
“I suppose.” Julie’s gaze dropped to where her hands were clasped together. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”
That was an understatement. Ellen’s thoughts traveled from one what-if to another. What a horrible set of circumstances. And poor Kristen! What she must be going through. “Julie, Kristen deserves to know her father.”
“What if he doesn’t want to be her father? She’d be hurt.”
“It’s possible. But, if he does accept her, then…” Oh no. She pressed her hand to her mouth.
Julie nodded. “You see?”
Ellen saw all too well. “If he chose to, he could challenge the will and cut me out of her life.” Oh, she would still see Kristen. But Ellen would only see her granddaughter here and there, and they’d never have a chance to develop a real relationship. This is horrible.
“Now you get it. It’s not worth the risk.” Julie said it as if that justified her decisions.
But did it? Ellen thought about her own father, about how mean he could be and how relieved she’d been when he’d finally left and hadn’t come back. But some days, at odd times, she also remembered the sweetness of his laugh and how charming he could be when he was sober. Those days were still priceless.
She wondered if she’d have traded the good days away just to be spared the bad ones, and her fingers found their way to the half-moon scar under her chin. “You’re sure this man is a good person?”
“He’s wonderful,” Julie said simply. “But Kristen doesn’t need a father. She needs you, Mom. But you two have to come to some sort of agreement, or it’s not going to work.”
“It’s not that easy, sweetheart, and you know it.” Ellen wished she had her agenda nearby. Writing things down always helped her think. “Where is Kristen in this plan of hers?”
“She found three potential candidates. So far, she’s eliminated two. That’s left a guy by the name of Jack Lind who does property management.”
“Is he her father?”
Julie shook her head. “I dated him years and years ago, but it was way before I had Kristen.”
“So who is the father?”
“What are you going to do if I tell you?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Ellen leaned back in her chair, her heart aching anew. It was funny, but she already knew what she was going to do, and she hated it. “Kristen’s adrift without you, Julie. She needs every anchor I can give her. If her father’s a great guy, like you say he is, then I’m going to do what’s right for her. I’m going to tell him the truth.”
“And if he invites her to live with him?”
Ellen blinked back tears. “I’ll worry about that if and when it happens.”
Julie’s eyes never left her mother’s face. “You could lose her.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Ellen asked sharply. “Kristen’s already lost you. If, in any way, I can make life easier for her, then I owe it to her to do it.”
Julie stared at Ellen. “Wow. That’s… that’s not what I thought you’d say.”
Every bone in Ellen’s body ached. “Believe me, it’s not easy. But you said I had to trust her to make her own decisions. I guess… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but that’s what I’m going to do.”
Julie scrunched up her nose. “I should tell you who he is, then. I have to say, you’re much stronger than I was. You’re doing what I should have done, but couldn’t.”
“Yes, well, don’t think I’m just going to hand her over. No matter what happens, I’m going to keep an eye on her. I may have to find another job and give up my home in Raleigh, but I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
“Pinkie promise?” Julie held out her pinkie.
When Julie had been in elementary school, she’d made Ellen pinkie promise to everything. As worried as she was, Ellen had to smile. “I’d forgotten how you used to do that.”
Julie’s answering smile was worth millions. “A pinkie promise is a solemn vow.”
Ellen held out her pinkie. “Pinkie promise, then.” She dropped her hand back into her lap, wishing they could actually touch. It was with a thickened voice that she managed to say, “So. Who is he?”
Julie leaned back in her chair, clasping her hands behind her head. “He’s going to be shocked when he finds out about this.”
“Surely he knows it’s a possibility.”
“Mmmm. Maybe. Like I said, it’s complicated.”
Uh-oh. “There’s that word again.” Ellen frowned. “Julie?”
She shrugged. “Fine. He doesn’t know he’s Kristen father because he and I never… “Julie waved her hand.
“That’s— Julie, explain yourself. I don’t understand.”
“Fine. I ordered Kristen’s father the way you might order a pizza. ‘I’ll have a double pepperoni, thin crust, hold the anchovies.’ ”
“What does that m—” Ellen sat up straight. “You used a sperm donor?”
Even bathed in blue light, Julie’s cheeks were obviously flushed. “I wanted a kid, but I didn’t want to put up with a father. And geez, don’t look so shocked. Lots of women do it that way.”
“Oh, Julie. How could you?”
“It wasn’t hard. And I was careful. When I decided to have Kristen, I took my time. For three years, I lived on the cheap and saved every penny from my bartending job. I investigated the sperm route, but I hated how random it felt. There are profiles, and you just… click, click, click until you find one you like. They have childhood pictures and family health screenings and all sorts of things. None of them seemed… right, know what I mean?”
Ellen had no idea, but still stunned, she nodded anyway.
“Then I ran into this guy I used to know, and in the middle of a conversation about how we’d been broke at various times in our lives, we mentioned the crazy things we’d done to make money. That’s when he told me about how much cash he’d made donating sperm to a place in Atlanta where he was going to college.” Julie chuckled. “It was perfect. Like the heavens had led me to him. I thought it would be both safer and more personal if my baby’s father was someone I knew at least a little. So I went to the company I’d spoken to before and went through their files. I already knew his eye and hair color, his height, his family, his college and major—” She shrugged. “All said, I knew a lot of stuff. It took a while, but I eventually figured out which donor he was, and the audio confirmed it—the donors answer survey questions like, ‘Where do you want to be in ten years?’ and ‘How would you describe your personality?’ I think they want women to feel like they know the potential donor personally, which is ironic, when you think about it.” The light around Julie flared and then dimmed for a second.
“Julie!” Ellen slid forward in her seat. “You have to tell me who he is.”
Julie looked at her hands, which were paler now. “You have more tea.”
“Enough for another visit. I’ll have Ava make more. But please, I need a name. If Kristen figures out who he is and confronts him, it could go badly.”
Ellen leaned forward. “Who is he?”
Julie opened her mouth just as the light around her flared wildly.
Ellen closed her eyes to shield them from the brightness. When she opened them, the room was dark.
Julie was gone.
“No!” Ellen stood and stared at the empty chair. “Julie! I have to know!”
In the growing darkness, as if from a long distance away, came a faint whisper.…
CHAPTER 18 Ava
A cold March rain pitter-pattered through the trees and tapped against the windows of the front parlor. Ava sat in a window seat, leaning against a bank of tasseled pillows, a red wool blanket tucked over her legs. When she was growing up, Momma had kept the parlor off-limits, saying it was for guests only. But Ava and Sarah had never understood this formal way of thinking, and once the house was theirs, they’d moved the stiff, antique furniture to other rooms and had invested in two well-cushioned chairs, a huge TV, a comfy couch, and a coffee table big enough for board games. After that, they spent most evenings in this room, Sarah reading her books while Ava worked on paperwork for her businesses or watched TV.
Now Ava sat here alone. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it.
Sarah will never forgive me. Ava tugged the wool blanket higher, her gaze drifting over the front yard. Here and there in the garden that meandered down the sides of the front lawn, dark brown shrubs waited for the warmth of spring. It was barely six in the evening, yet Ava was already wearing her pajamas, her slippers on the floor beside the window seat. In the days since her fight with Sarah, Ava had found herself longing to go to bed and forget the world even existed.
It had been exactly two weeks and two days since Sarah had stormed out, but it felt more like a month. Ava was achingly lonely, and the house, which had always felt like home, now seemed as empty as she was.
She sighed and tugged the blanket a little closer. She’d called Sarah hundreds of times but to no avail. Sarah refused to answer. Ava had been forced to leave numerous rather rambling messages, none of which had said anything she wanted them to say.
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