The Confession (18 page)

Bob took a few steps, until he was standing directly in front of Joan. Without taking his eyes from her, his expression softened, and his tone seemed distressed. “It’s true, Joan. Your mother told me herself. If you’d take a moment to think about it, she tried to tell you as well.”

Joan stood there with tears streaming down her face, shaking her head, and mumbling, “It’s not true. It’s not true.”

“I’m so sorry,” was all Aimee could say.

“I don’t believe you, any of you. I’m going to talk to Mom and figure out why you’re all saying these horrible things.” She turned to Aimee, her eyes a mixture of anger and hate. “I don’t know what game you’re playing.” She pointed a long red fingernail at the ceiling. “That woman gave you a home when nobody else wanted you, when your own family tossed you away. Instead of being grateful to her, you spread terrible, vicious, lies. You may have fooled all of these people, but I’ve known you’re malicious for a long time.”

“Joan, that’s enough,” Bob snapped. “Go and talk to your mother, but I recommend you calm down first. You will need the ability to listen if you’re going to hear the truth.”

Joan glared at him. Without another word, she stomped from the kitchen and ran up the stairs.

Aimee collapsed onto the stool. Her entire body felt drained.

Before anyone had the chance to react to the scene they’d just witnessed, Joan came barreling back into the kitchen. Her face was twisted with pain, and wet with tears. The three of them flocked around her, trying to make out the words she kept whispering repeatedly.

Aimee felt her legs give out and grabbed Luther’s arm to stop herself from falling. She began to weep. The woman she’d grown up believing was her mother was gone.

Mark crossed the hallway and picked up the ringing phone. There was a long pause on the other end of the line. It sounded like someone was crying.

“It’s Aimee.” Her voice choked when she spoke.

Mark couldn’t remember ever having felt as helpless as he silently listened to Aimee fall apart. He wished she wasn’t so far away and he could hold her.

Emily walked into the room, apparently having heard the phone ring. He put his hand over the receiver and told her he believed Aimee had lost her mother.

She motioned with her hands.

“Aimee, hold on a second, Emily wants to speak to you.”

He couldn’t make out Aimee’s response. He told Emily she was in bad shape when he reluctantly handed her the phone. Their conversation was short as he listened to Emily say “I know” and “I’m so sorry” and “Don’t you worry about that right now.” It was clear Aimee had been able to stop crying long enough to get out a few sentences.

His heart soared when he heard Emily say, “You take your time, and we’ll see you when you get back.” That meant she was coming back. The relief he felt was surprising, and a bit frightening.

Emily handed him back the phone, and covering the receiver, she said, “She’s really having a hard time, let her cry if she needs to.”

He frowned at her. “I’m not a complete bastard, you know.”

“No you’re not. Just pig headed.” She smiled sweetly and walked from the room, closing the door behind her.

“Are you still there?” he asked Aimee hesitantly.

She spoke softly that she was, the crying beginning to cease. “I didn’t mean to fall apart. I heard your voice, and … ” She blew out a breath. “It’s been a long day.” She inhaled again. “Joan shut herself in her room, leaving all the funeral arrangements to me, which I strangely appreciated, as I cope better when I stay busy. I finally find a moment to sit down and return Emily’s call, and … well … maybe I shouldn’t have stopped moving yet.”

“I wish you weren’t going through this.”

“It’s been a horrible couple of days.” There was another long pause before she continued. “So much has happened.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He could hear her crying again. “I can be a very good listener.” He scooted back in the chair.

In a very soft voice she whispered, “I wish I could. Talk about it, I mean.”

He assumed she was too upset to talk. “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

There was another long pause. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, for what?”

“I’m sorry for falling apart on you. I’m sorry for the way I left. I’m sorry for … ” He could hear her sigh again.

“Please don’t apologize.” His tone softened. “You just lost your mother, so I think you deserve to fall apart. As for the way you left, you received an urgent call and you had to rush out, I get it.” He cleared his throat. He knew he needed to say something about the last night they’d been together, and why he’d pushed her away, but he didn’t know how to put it into words. Hell, he didn’t even completely understand it himself. “I’m the one who should apologize. I … I … Well, I didn’t handle things very well. I was so upset with my father and his attempt to sweep the past under the rug that … that I lost myself for a moment. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He ran his hands through his hair.

“There’s no need to apologize. I understand.”

“Yes there is.” He stood up and began to pace. He could tell by the tone of her voice that she clearly didn’t understand. The look of hurt she’d worn that night was still etched in his mind. “It was wrong of me to take advantage of your friendship. I mean … ” He took a deep breath and plopped back into the chair.

“Let’s forget it happened, okay?”

“I’m not sure I want to forget it happened.” He smiled at the memory of her lips parted beneath his. “But if you insist, I will remove myself from the jackass of the year nominations. I was beginning to believe that I was finally going to win an award.”

The sound of her soft laughter touched him and he knew that she didn’t think he was a complete ass after all.

Something shifted in him, and he realized how much he wanted to hear her laughter, and know he’d been the one to cause it. He wanted to pull down the wall he’d so meticulously constructed and let himself believe again.

Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Do you think after you get back, you’d let me take you dinner?”

The sun beamed down on the small group wearing all black, as they filed slowly across the grass, past the headstones, and took their places beside the casket blanketed in white roses.

Aimee stood between Luther and Bob, staring blindly at the casket before her. It’d been two years since she’d stood in almost this exact spot and buried her father. She’d been inconsolable that day. She could still remember the way the breeze caressed her wet cheeks, the way the birds sang, and the smell of the cut grass. She remembered the anger she’d felt that he wasn’t beside her feeling the same breeze, and hearing the same sounds.

As much as she still missed him, a part of her was grateful he hadn’t lived to discover her mother’s betrayal. She knew it shouldn’t matter, he would have been her father regardless of the fact that it wasn’t by blood. But the lost feeling she currently suffered from would have been easy for him to see. It would have hurt him deeply.

She tried to hold onto the happy memories of him. To cling tightly to the stories she’d been told over the last couple days of how happy he’d been with her. If she’d brought him a fraction of the happiness he’d given her, she was glad she’d been a part of his life, regardless of the circumstances.

She prayed to feel the same emotions now. That feeling of sadness and loss that she’d felt then. She wanted to know she could feel that way about her mother. No matter how deep she searched, she couldn’t find them. She felt a loss, but the pain her mother inflicted was hard to forget. The lives she’d destroyed weighed heavily on her heart.

Luther nudged her in the side with his elbow. She turned and looked in the direction he motioned. Her hand flew to her chest, and her gasp was audible to those beside her. Mark and Emily stood watching her silently from the other side of the casket.

“Did you know they were coming?” Luther whispered into her ear.

She looked up at him and shook her head.

Aimee felt a moment of joy that they’d come all this way to be with her. That moment didn’t last long when the reality of the situation fully hit her. Her stomach churned and a large knot formed in her throat. The woman she believed was her birth mother was standing beside the casket of the woman who’d quite possibly stolen her baby.

She didn’t realize she was crushing his hand until Luther yelped. She turned to him and apologized before squeezing it again. “This is so right, and so wrong, all at the same time.” She said to him through gritted teeth. “What should I do?”

He looked at her with pity and shrugged his shoulders.

Bob took her other hand and pulled her slightly toward him and whispered in her ear. “That’s her isn’t it? Oh my god Aimee, she looks so much like you. What’s she doing here?” Without waiting for a response, he continued. “Is that the guy you’re hung up on? Is that Mark?”

Aimee could feel herself blush as she watched the men flanking her on either side, sizing up the new arrivals. All the whispering captured Joan’s attention and she turned to glare at them.

Aimee felt like there was a tennis ball wedged in her throat. She grasped both of their hands and squeezed before whispering, “Don’t say anything. Please don’t let Joan know who they really are, not before I figure out how to handle this.”

Both men nodded their heads reassuringly. She caught Mark’s eye as the pastor began to speak, and she tried to show her gratitude for his presence without speaking.

She leaned against Luther for support as the pastor introduced Joan and invited her to speak. Standing there in a short, tight, sleeveless, black dress, she looked like she was heading out to a nightclub instead of a funeral. She turned and stared longingly at the large picture of her mother, and began to sob.

The small group waited patiently for her to continue. She wiped her eyes and mouthed the appropriate “Thank you” and “I’m so sorry” as she looked shyly at the tops of her shoes. She cleared her throat and began.

“We all knew this day would come, but for me, it’s still much too soon.” She paused, and covered her heart with her hand. “Linda Marie Morrison was a wonderful mother, and my best friend.” She turned and locked eyes with her sister. “She was giving, even to those who didn’t deserve it, and never asked for anything in return. She wasn’t always treated with fairness, but she never complained.” She stroked her hand lovingly over the casket. “She’s where she will always be happy. Standing next to the man she loves, looking down from heaven on all of us.”

“Does anyone else feel inclined to applaud her performance?” Luther whispered.

Bob snickered, and tried to cover the sound with a cough.

Aimee glared at both of them, nudging them with her elbows.

The pastor turned his attention to Aimee and invited her to say a few words. All ability to speak escaped her. She looked over at Emily, a woman who’d been so hurt by her mother’s selfishness. She glanced over her shoulder at the granite headstone marking the years the earth had been blessed with her father, and turned her gaze to Mark. She would never agree with what her mother had done, but as her heart filled with longing for the life she’d never have with him, a part of her wondered if she somewhat understood the desperation her mother had felt to hold onto the man she loved.

Aimee cleared her throat. “It’s never easy to lose someone you care for.” She looked over at Emily and Mark and felt her chest tighten. “Since my mother became ill, I’ve learned many things about her that I’d never have discovered had we not known her time was short.” Her eyes welled with tears as she struggled to find the words. “I don’t think anyone truly understands the impact they have on the lives of others. How they can completely alter another’s life by the decisions they make. If I’ve learned anything from our last days together, it’s the importance of honesty, selflessness, and, above all, forgiveness. She only wanted one thing in this life, and that was to be with my father forever. She has that now and can rest in peace.”

The pastor said a few closing words and the mourners each stepped forward to place a single rose on the casket as it was slowly lowered into the open earth. Aimee buried her head in the crook of Bob’s neck and let him comfort her.

“Beautifully worded, and those who know the truth will respect your honesty.” He smiled down at her with obvious pride.

She turned when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Emily smiled at her and pulled her into her arms. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She stepped into her arms and closed her eyes, letting the comforting feeling seep into her. Stepping back from Emily, she looked up at Mark standing directly behind her. Her pulse raced when he stepped over and took her hand. No words were spoken, but his eyes told her what his words could not.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Her eyes darted between the two of them in awe.

“We wanted to be here for you,” Emily said. “These are hard times, and I’ve discovered that when you’re surrounded by people who care about you, it makes them a little easier.” She smiled sympathetically. “We may not have known each other long, but I’ve already come to care for you. I wanted to see for myself you were holding up okay.”

Aimee felt uplifted by her sentiment, and had to admit that having them here was comforting. But the minute she thought any further than her own needs, she knew it was wrong they were.

Aimee made the introductions between Bob, Mark, and Emily. Luther planted a kiss on each of Emily’s cheeks and gently placed her hand into the crook of his arm to escort her to the cars waiting to take them back to the house.

Mark stepped in beside Aimee and softly rested his hand on her lower back as they walked across the grass.

The remainder of the day went by in a blur as well wishers came and went. By late afternoon, Aimee was glad to close the door behind the last guest. Luther had reluctantly left her to return to New York. Joan had, once again, locked herself in her bedroom, leaving Aimee with the responsibility of cleaning up. Mark and Bob were picking up discarded coffee mugs and paper plates, and Emily was wrapping leftover food and placing it in the refrigerator. It was surreal to see Emily standing in the kitchen of the home she’d grown up in. Her relief in having her there was still in constant battle with her deep rooted knowledge of how wrong it truly was. She’d be almost relieved when the results of the DNA tests came back.