Masquerade (30 page)

              It was almost more than Celeste could endure. She wanted to know all about it, but she couldn’t ask. Tongue burnt and aching and stomach roiling from nerves, she wanted to run to the closest bathroom and throw up. Instead, she forced herself to stay on task. “Do you know where Kate lives?”

             
Wrinkles formed on the nurse’s brow. 

              “I can  assure you,  I only have  Lily’s best interests

at heart. And I certainly don’t want to create any problems for Kate. Quite the contrary. I’d like to thank her. Lily’s been such a delight to me.”

              Don stretched. “Mind if I go for more coffee?”

              “That’s fine. Go ahead.” Celeste’s gaze never left the nurse’s face.              

              Setting her cup aside, the nurse retrieved the pen from her pocket and reached for a napkin. She scribbled something and slid the napkin across the table.

             
Kate Dryden. Ardmore Ave. Schreiber, IN.

Celeste’s jaw dropped. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know the street number,” the nurse said.

              “I should be able to find this. I live in Schreiber.”

              The nurse’s expression brightened. “Well, wonder of wonders. Kate works as a nanny now. We still get together on occasion. Jewel of a woman. Best friend I ever had.”

              Celeste quickly folded the napkin and eased it into her satchel as Don arrived back at the table. Should he be in on this piece of information? Nurse Dryden would probably recognize her. She couldn’t take Don with her and risk him putting the pieces together. Not yet anyway.

She’d visit Kate alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Celeste tugged on the kitchen drawer, and there it was. Mother’s unopened letter, beckoning her like a neon sign. Time to open the thing and get it over with.  She slapped a bologna and lettuce sandwich together and headed for the backyard, letter in hand. Anxious to meet Kate Dryden, Celeste hadn’t eaten much all weekend. She’d tracked the nurse’s number on Sunday and given her a call. The woman seemed nice enough and willing to talk with her. Tonight in fact, at the Corner Coffee Shop on Main Street.   

The neighbor’s Shepherd tracked her every move. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” She glared at the dog as she passed.

She unlatched the gate in the chain link fence and moved to the wooden bench resting under a large oak. Clutching the envelope, she stared at a robin pecking the ground. Persistent little fellow.

Just like Mother. Why she wanted to torture herself with more of Mother’s pleadings, she didn’t know. Except something compelled her to read the mystery letter at last. She slid the folded stationery from the envelope and eased it open.

What’s this? Father’s handwriting.

Dear Celeste,

It’s taken far too long to write this letter. I suppose it’s cowardly of me not to address you in person, but I think writing will help me sort out what I want and need to say better than if I’m standing in front of you.

And perhaps reading my words will help you think over things, too.

You’re my only child. I vowed when you were born, I’d always protect my baby girl, no matter what. You’d receive the best care, clothing, toys, and education. I realize now I failed you. In my zeal to provide for you, I denied you the right to think for yourself. As in my insurance business, I arranged everything so carefully for you, every last detail.

An unwed pregnancy didn’t fit the picture perfect life I’d planned for you. An invisible fetus seemed such a small thing to sacrifice for the health and well-being of my daughter.

Tears blurred her vision, dropped to the page, and smeared the ink.

I thought an abortion was your best chance at happiness, that “getting rid of the problem” was just a bump in the road, easily navigated and soon forgotten.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. I not only cheated you out of your child, but I cheated your mother and me out of a grandchild. On top of that, I let your mother bear the blame all these years, even though I was behind her every move.

Celeste pressed her fist to her nose. “Well, that’s great, Father. Always thinking about yourself. You and Mother belong together,” she whispered into the wind. “Did you ever once think about the child? She has a name, you know, and a face. And a heart as big as the sky.”

I can’t expect you to forgive me, Celeste, but I’m asking anyway.

“Hah! Forgive? You might as well ask the Pope to turn Protestant, Father. That’s how likely it is I’m ever gonna forgive you.” She smashed the letter into a ball, rocked with her arms folded tightly. Her sandwich sat untouched beside her. She flung it as far as she could. The bread and lettuce separated as they fell to the ground. From a low limb, two sparrows watched and a squirrel scampered over to investigate.

“Take it! Take it all!” she yelled at the creatures.

Abandoning the food, the squirrel skittered up the nearest oak.

“What more can anyone take from me?”

I brought Lily back to you.

What? Not a voice exactly, yet so clear. “Is that you, God?” She gazed at the patch of sky between the towering oaks. Pink streaks. Lovely. As if someone raked ruby-drenched fingertips across the expanse.

“I’m glad you finally showed up. Where were you when the doctor poisoned my Lily? Where were YOU?” She clenched her teeth and sobbed.

Where were
you
?

Celeste froze, then melted into the bench, shivering  as a  cloud covered  the blue space between the

oak tops. “I was there”—she beat her mouth with her fist— “oh God, I was there. I let it happen. I let them kill my baby. All of them.” A deep ache filled her stomach and she nearly doubled over.

But I didn’t.

The warmth of the sun drew her face upward as realization swept over her. “It’s all my fault. Oh God, forgive me. Please. I know what Barbara’s been telling me about you is true. I need you. Change me, God, ‘cause I can’t live this way anymore.”

She stared at the wadded letter in her fist. She worked it open, smoothed the wrinkles over her legs. When she turned the paper over, she discovered Mother’s handwriting.

I’m asking for your forgiveness, too, Celeste. No more excuses or rationalizations. It’s difficult to admit, but I was wrong. Your father and I both accept responsibility for our actions. We’ve come to this decision through counsel with Father Patrick.

We understand if you can’t find it in your heart to forgive us, but we hope you will.

Wiping her eyes, she slumped against the back of the bench, totally spent. She blew her nose with the napkin. Could she forgive?

An hour later, Celeste walked into The Corner Coffee Shop, drained, but anxious to piece together the rest of Lily’s history. Open burlap bags of beans lay to the side of the door. The aroma soothed her. The pine floors creaked as she moved past a man reading a newspaper and headed toward Kate Dryden. The former nurse sat in

a back booth, looking much the same as she did eight years ago, minus the medical uniform.

Celeste inhaled a tremulous breath and stepped up to Kate’s table.

The nurse lifted her gaze and slipped from the booth. Deep lines etched her brow. Gray now streaked her dark hair, but the same shock of white graced her forehead. She rubbed her wrist watch. “Please, have a sit. Can I buy you some coffee?”

“No, nothing for me.”

“I’m glad you called me, Celeste. Relieved, really. I’ve wondered all these years what happened to you.”

“Why didn’t you contact me? Let me know my baby survived.”

“Well, you did come in to abort your child.”

The comment stung, but she deserved it.

Kate’s features crumpled. “I’m sorry. That was harsh.”

“No, you’re right. And I think for the first time in eight years I’m taking responsibility for that decision.”

The waiter brought Kate’s coffee. She added two creams and a packet of sugar. Stirring, she studied Celeste.

“What happened that day?” Celeste savored the aroma, but too much adrenaline pumped through her to think about actually drinking a cup. Truth be told, her appetite left the day she entered William-Myer Women’s Clinic.

“You were medicated. In a lot of pain.”

“I do remember that, actually.” Celeste tucked her hands under her legs. “And tracking your dark head as you moved about the room. You were kind to me, although I certainly didn’t deserve it.”

“None of us do.”

“And now I know you were kind to my baby, too. Why?”

“Something dawned on me that day. Something long in the making. I’d worked for almost a year as an OB-GYN nurse, helping to bring life into the world . . . and take it out. I’d deluded myself into thinking I was helping hurting women. In reality, I only added to their grief and pain.” She sighed and shook her head. “So many faces branded on my brain. Women who said, ‘Please, tell me I did the right thing.’ Others filled with regret only minutes after the procedure. Eyes longing for reassurance. Comfort. My rehearsed spiel did little to satisfy them, or me. In the end, all I could say was, ‘Honey, it’s over. Now you can get on with your life.’”

“Words that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Kate drew a triangle on the table with her finger. “You mentioned on the phone that you’re a teacher. Sounds like you did move on.”

“Yes, but at great cost mentally and emotionally. For a while I believed the lie—that what grew within me was merely a blob of cells easily discarded. That once I aborted I could finish college uninterrupted. But really it felt like I waded through wet cement to graduate. Then I married and started teaching. All looked good on the outside; inside I was dying a slow and agonizing death.”

“I know. When I finally forced myself to see the truth of which you speak, I simply couldn’t help destroy another human life. I wanted to blow the whistle on the doctor, but he destroyed all the files. And of course my testimony would’ve implicated me as well. My husband said to let it go. But it bothered me. A lot. Not long after I rescued Lily, the doctor died of cancer, and the practice closed.”

“So, how did you save my baby?”

“When the doctor realized Lily was born alive, he quickly handed her over to me and told me to take her to
the
room.”

“The room?”

Kate’s jaw quivered. “The storage room, to be left to die.”

Celeste’s stomach convulsed. She pressed her hand to her mouth.

“Something in me rose up strong and fierce. I charged out of the room—I knew I had to act fast. I stopped at the storage room and grabbed an infant blanket. I wrapped the baby and placed her in a maternity tote we gift to new mothers. She was so tiny and her body so burned, and of course her arm.” Her voice shook. “I was crazy with fear, but I knew I was doing the right thing.”

Celeste squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head. “Thank you.”

“I had a nurse friend at Kinser. I had to take the chance they’d admit Lily. Just to be on the safe side, I reported  her  as  an  abandoned  baby.   But I don’t think

anyone believed me. In all the flurry of activity to save the child, nobody asked questions, thank God. I know He was watching out for that little one.”

“Why the name
Lily
?”

“I brought her in, so the nurses asked me to name her. Such a delicate little gal
.
Lily
jumped into my mind. Odd, really, with all those burns, her skin was still so pale.” Her gaze swept over Celeste’s face. “Like yours. I kept track of her until she was released, even thought about adopting her myself. But as you can see, I’m, well, older, and my husband wouldn’t agree to it. He knew we’d most likely be burdened with a disabled child. I realized God’s part for me was to rescue the baby, not rear her.”

“She’s disabled, but hardly a burden. More like this amazing—”

“Blessing?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“My sister was Down syndrome. She seemed to see things the rest of us didn’t.”

“I know what you mean.”

“She’s gone now, died a few years ago, but I’ll never forget the joy and simplicity she brought to my life.”

“I didn’t want to abort Lily. I need you to know that. Probably seems hard to believe—”

“Not really.” Her lips formed a sad smile. “Many women are pressured into it.”

“I love Lily, and now that I know she’s mine, I want to move forward to claim her. I know, I can see the headlines: ‘Mother Wants Child She Tried to Abort.’ Who’s

going to believe me?”

“I do.”

Celeste inhaled and nodded slowly. Why would this nurse who knew so little about her believe so strongly in her?