The Confession (14 page)

Why couldn’t she open the door? The truth was already out; it wasn’t like it could get much worse. She needed answers. Her mother was the only one who could provide them. This time she would face her without crumbling into tears. She pushed herself up from the floor, straightened her blouse, and turned the handle, determined to be strong enough to hear the truth.

Stepping inside, she let her eyes adjust to the dim room. The shades were closed tightly and a small lamp on the nightstand provided the only light. She stood quietly next to the bed. Her mother had drastically worsened in the three weeks she’d been gone. She no longer appeared frail, it was much worse. Her eyes were closed but she could see the dark shadows that surrounded them, as well as the hollows they rested inside. Every bone in her body was prominent, resulting in a skeleton-like appearance. Her skin was gray and her breathing labored.

Her eyes fluttered open. She didn’t speak or smile, but studied Aimee in silence.

“Hello, Mother,” Aimee whispered.

Her mother motioned toward her water glass. Aimee picked it up off the nightstand, and using the straw helped her mother take a small sip. Her mother smiled, although weakly, before clearing her throat and motioning to Aimee to open the shades.

The sunlight flooded into the room causing both women to blink their eyes. Once her eyes adjusted, Aimee couldn’t stop her gasp at seeing her mother clearly. There was no color to the skin that now hung from her thin, weak body. She was literally skin and bones.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Her mother labored to pull herself into a sitting position.

Aimee walked over and helped her mother sit up, moving the pillows behind her for support. She weighed nothing at all. Her mother closed her eyes as if resting from the effort.

Her mother motioned Aimee to sit down in the chair next to the bed. “It’s my time. I’m not scared. I’m looking forward to being with your father again. I’ve always wanted to be with him. I made some poor decisions making sure he would be in my life.”

“We don’t have to talk about this today.” Aimee fought back the tears. Even with everything that happened, it was hard to see her mother fading away.

“Yes, we do.” She turned her head on the pillow and looked intently at Aimee. “I need to explain before it’s too late.”

Aimee sat in silence, unsure of her own readiness for the conversation to come.

“When I met your father, he was in San Francisco on a business trip. He was the handsomest man I’d ever seen.” Her mother smiled a genuine smile of remembrance. Aimee had never seen her mother look like that before. “I was a young girl, working in the café down the street from the hotel where he was staying. The first morning he came in, he was the only customer and he invited me to sit down while he ate his breakfast. He said he hated to eat alone. You and I both know that never changed.”

Aimee nodded her head. She had sat down for breakfast with her father every morning until she’d left for college.

“Over poached eggs and toast, he talked to me about his business, a little about his hometown, but mainly, about the girl who’d broken his heart.”

“I’ve heard the story of how you met, what does that have to do with me?” Aimee asked anxiously.

“Everything.” Her mother took a deep breath and continued. “He’d asked her to marry him and she’d refused. She came from a prominent family and they didn’t believe he was good enough for their daughter. In his mind, she’d chosen them over him. I knew his pain was fresh, and maybe deep down I knew his asking me to dinner was less about me and more about getting back at her, but I wanted to be with him. He made me feel good … special.”

Aimee uncrossed her legs and scooted back in the chair. “So you went to dinner, fell in love and got married. I know all of this.”

“No, you know the part we wanted you to know. I’m telling you the whole story. We went to dinner that night, and the next three nights after that. On the night before he was supposed to leave to go home, we made love. It was my first time.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I told him I loved him, and wanted to go with him. He told me he cared very much about me, but was still in love with her. He was a perfect gentleman about it, and hoped I understood. Of course I didn’t.”

She motioned for another sip of water. Aimee could see she was struggling to stay awake.

“You need some rest. We can finish this conversation later.”

Her mother shook her head. “Please, Aimee, let me finish.” She pulled the covers up a little higher, and neatly folded down the sheet over the top of the blanket. “I cried for days after he left. It was the most horrible feeling, being in love with someone and knowing they didn’t want you. I knew I could make him happy. I was also just as sure that she never could. A month later, I learned I was pregnant. I was so happy. I knew it was a sign we were supposed to be together.”

Aimee fought the urge to interrupt again. This wasn’t making any sense. How had this all resulted in a kidnapping from a hospital nursery?

“I contacted him through his job to tell him my good news. He wasn’t as happy about it as I was. I learned that upon his return home from his trip, the girl changed her mind, and they were engaged to be married. He told me he would do right by me and financially support me and the baby, but he loved her and couldn’t lose her again. Of course I was devastated.”

“This isn’t making a lot of sense.”

“It will.” Her mother took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she stared forward, almost like she was reliving every moment of the past. “Knowing that we needed to talk face to face, and believing if he saw me again, especially carrying his child, he would realize we were supposed to be together, I flew to North Carolina. I was about seven and a half months pregnant by then. I went to his office and sat patiently in the waiting area beside a beautiful woman with red hair. That is the moment my life changed.”

“Who was she? Was she his fiancée?”

“She was, and he hadn’t told her. Imagine his surprise to see me, big as a house, sitting next to his fiancée. The scene wasn’t pleasant. She cried and handed him back his ring. He begged her to listen, to understand, but she refused. He was angry at me, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of my stomach. It was like it was finally real to him, just like I’d hoped it would be.”

“So he married you?” Aimee asked, still trying to understand.

“Not right away, but being the gentleman he was, he put me up in a small hotel in town, and took me to see the local doctor. The doctor confirmed my due date, although I still like to believe he’d never doubted it was his baby. I’d been there for a couple of weeks before he finally asked me to marry him and move here permanently. Of course I said yes.”

“It sounds like it should be a happily ever after, so where does stealing someone else’s baby come in?” She knew she sounded snappy, but this still didn’t answer any of her questions, and she was growing impatient.

“Aimee, I know you’re angry with me, and I understand that, but I want you to fully comprehend what I was going through. In order for that to happen, I have to explain the events that led up to it.”

Aimee folded her arms across her chest, and swallowed the unkind words she wanted to shout. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“He wanted the baby to be born in North Carolina, so we decided I would rush back to San Francisco, quit my job, pack my apartment and get back as soon as possible. Your father wasn’t able to come with me because of work. It took me a little longer than expected. The day I was scheduled to leave, I had an accident. I fell down the stairs outside of my apartment building. I was rushed to the hospital. Our little girl didn’t make it. I’d lost the baby.”

“I’m sorry.” And she genuinely was.

“I was distraught. I was convinced that now that there wasn’t a child between us, he wouldn’t marry me. I just couldn’t live without him.” Her mother closed her eyes and attempted to take a breath. “I couldn’t help myself; I was pulled toward the nursery on my way out of the hospital.” Her mother looked away from her and stared at her hands. “I watched a nurse place you in one of the bassinets and walk away. I know it was wrong. It felt like I was out of control of my own body. I walked inside, picked you up, and walked you out.”

Aimee knew her mother expected her to agree with her decision, to fully understand she’d taken her with the best of intentions. She couldn’t do that. More than her own pain, she’d seen the pain her mother’s selfishness had inflicted on others.

“I appreciate you telling me the truth.” Aimee could feel her chest tightening as she struggled to control her urge to cry. “I’m going to let you rest.” She closed the shades again, hoping to hide the emotions she knew were written all over her face. She turned to leave.

“Aimee … ” her mother called, her voice strained.

“I’ll check on you later.” She choked as the damn began to break. Without turning back around, she rushed from the room.

Aimee skimmed her feet across the grass, lifted them, and let the tire swing. She leaned back and swung her legs again to gain momentum. It all felt so surreal. For twenty-eight years she’d believed she knew who she was, and where she came from. Today, she felt lost, alone, and somehow misplaced. The fact that her mother had done it for the love of her father was not a comfort. It didn’t change the fact that she’d stolen another family’s child. That she had stolen Aimee.

She recalled the years of striving to win her mother’s approval. The time she finally came to the conclusion that nothing she did would ever be viewed in a positive light. Was it all because she was a constant reminder of her mother’s greatest sin? Or was it simply because she didn’t belong to her?

She turned when she heard a car rolling slowly up the long driveway and smiled when she realized it was her Uncle Bob. Not really her uncle, but he’d been her father’s best friend for as long as she could remember, and a major person in her life.

He stopped the car and got out when he spotted her. In his mid-fifties, he still had the boyish face of a man in his early thirties. His dark hair was slightly grayed, giving him a distinguished air. He was tall, close to six foot three, and carried himself with confidence combined with a carefree attitude. The combination was magnetic. Aimee had no doubt that women all over North Carolina were swooning in his charismatic wake.

He beamed as he approached her. “Hey there, Buttercup, I heard you were home again.”

She slid out from the hole in the tire swing and spread her arms. “Uncle Bob.”

He pulled her into his arms and lifting her from the ground, swung her around in a tight bear grip. “I’ve missed you so much.” He set her back onto the grass, and placing his large hands onto her shoulders, studied her face.

“You’ve been crying.” He squeezed her shoulder in comfort. “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. Having just lost your father, and now having to say goodbye to your mother as well.”

She could only nod her head as her chest tightened, threatening the tears would start again.

“How is she doing?” he asked.

“Not very good, I’m afraid. I can’t believe how much she has worsened in only three weeks.”

“Three weeks? Were you home three weeks ago? Why is it the first I’m hearing of it?”

She wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and just spill her heart to him, to tell him everything that happened. She was unsure why she felt the urge to protect her mother from his disapproval, but she remained silent.

“I was only home for a day and had to leave.” She said, trying to avoid actually lying to him. The truth would come out soon enough.

She could see his confusion, but he didn’t press her any further. “I came to check on your mother as well, but I really wanted to check on you. Are those tears caused by your mother’s weakened health, or just by your mother?”

She chuckled. “Both.”

Bob had never hidden the fact that her mother wasn’t his favorite person, and that he disapproved of the way she treated Aimee. “Don’t you worry, Uncle Bob is here and will make sure she’s on her best behavior … or else.”

He turned, and placing one arm protectively over her shoulder, began to steer her toward the house.

She couldn’t go in yet. She wasn’t ready to paste a fake smile on her face for Joan or her mother, and she wasn’t ready to say the words she knew her mother was waiting to hear.

Without looking up, she reached up and squeezed his hand. “Do you think we could take a walk before we go inside?”

“I would love nothing more.”

Arm in arm, they turned from the house and walked down the long drive in comfortable silence.

The tree’s overhead bowed toward each other, causing a canopy to filter the bright sunlight. “It’s been a long time since I’ve walked this route.” She turned to look at him. “I remember when Dad and I would walk this road almost every night after dinner.”

“He loved those times with you. When you drove off to college, he showed up at my place, trying to hold it together and babbling about how he wasn’t ready to let you go. I remember having a moment of jealousy … that he was your father and I wasn’t.” He laughed. “I’d had those moments over the years, when I realized I would never be a father, and seeing how much joy you brought to his life.”

“You would have made a terrific father.” She leaned her head against his arm.

“I’d like to think so. But I’ve always felt blessed just being your uncle. You’ve grown into a fabulous, successful woman. You made your dad proud every day of his life.”

Aimee wiped a tear from her cheek, and snuggled in closer. “Do you think he was terribly unhappy with Mother?”

He kicked at a rock in the road, and pushed his other hand into his pants pocket. She could feel the deep breath he took, and realized he was struggling to answer her.

She stopped in the road, and turned to face him. She felt a sudden urgency to know. She placed her hands on his arms, forcing him to face her. “Was he?”

His eyes searched hers, and he expelled another breath. He bent his head down in silence for a moment, and then looked at her again. “I wouldn’t say he was unhappy, and I know he never regretted having you girls, but I think … Oh, Aimee, I don’t know how to answer this question.”