The Midwife's Confession Part 9

Anna.

Alexandria, Virginia.

I could kiss my daughter goodbye in the morning, and it could be the last kiss I ever gave her. So every time I left for work, every time I sent her off with friends, I embraced Haley as if it might be the last time. She never balked, although I knew that day was coming. She was twelve, rapidly pus.h.i.+ng thirteen, and someday soon she would say, "Mom, just go." That would be okay. I wanted Haley to live long enough to rebel and say, "I hate you!" in the healthy, normal war dance of mothers and daughters all over the planet. So when she left the house with Bryan, slipping on her helmet and forgetting to say goodbye to me as they wheeled the bikes out of the garage, I stopped myself from calling her back for a hug. For a "Be careful." I just bit my lip and let her go.

Although Bryan had been back in our lives for nearly two months now, I wasn't exactly relaxed when I sent Haley out the door with him. Today, he was taking her for a bike ride along the Potomac River. I knew there was plenty to celebrate in that fact. First, Haley felt well enough to go for a ride. This was week eight in her treatment. A rest week away from the hospital and chemotherapy when she could act and feel like a normal kid. That alone was worth celebrating. Except for the puffy face from the steroids and the occasional b.i.t.c.hy little outbursts (which I secretly applauded because I loved that feisty toughness in her), she seemed like her old self this week. Second, Bryan was playing Good Dad with her. I wasn't used to it yet. Two months of playing Daddy didn't make up for ten years of desertion and part of my heart was still hardened with anger toward him. Oh, he'd sent child support checks every month from the day he'd c.r.a.pped out on us, cut by his bank in sunny California. He'd sent gifts on Haley's birthdays-gifts that showed he had no idea what her interests were. Barbie dolls and jewelry? Not hardly. Get a grip, I told myself now as I watched them pedal toward the Mount Vernon Bike Trail. He's here now. He's trying hard and Haley's loving it. Loving him.

I walked upstairs to my desk-my office away from the office. My desk overlooked the river, and even after living in the town house for seven years, it still took me a few minutes to tear my eyes away from the water and the distant tree-lined sh.o.r.e of Maryland. I was behind in my work, though, and I finally began answering the stack of email that had piled up in the past few hours. That was how I'd let Bryan know about Haley's relapse: by email. I'd written to him three days after I got the news, when I was finally able to stop crying long enough to clearly see the screen. I'd thought we were safe, d.a.m.n it! Ten years of remission should count for something. She was my kick-b.u.t.t kid, active and smart and so much fun that I'd choose hanging out with her over my friends any day. You'd never know she'd been so sick as a little girl and she had only the vaguest memories of that eighteen-month nightmare herself. But the new bruises, the fevers and uncharacteristic malaise scared the s.h.i.+t out of me. I resisted taking her to the doctor, afraid of what he'd say. When I finally did, and he told me the ALL was back, I couldn't say I was surprised. Devastated, yes. Surprised, no. I was surprised, though, by Bryan's response to my email. It had been Haley's first bout with leukemia that had sent him packing. Well, it had been more than that, but the leukemia had been the final straw. He'd moved from Virginia to California, as far from his sick kid and terrified wife as he could get, so I'd expected the news of Haley's relapse to make him disappear from our lives altogether. Instead, he called me. He'd just been laid off, he said. I couldn't remember exactly what kind of work he did. Something to do with software for a company in the Silicon Valley? Anyway, he said he was coming to Virginia. He wanted to help.

For days after that call, my mood jumped all over the place. Haley'd started her ma.s.sive doses of steroids and it was hard to say which of us was acting crazier. I was angry at how late Bryan's help was in coming. We could have used him during the past ten years. Now, though, Haley and I had become a team. Our favorite saying when she was helping me fix the plumbing in our town house or raking leaves with me in the yard was "We don't need no stinkin' man!" so I was worried how he'd fit in. Would he suddenly decide he wanted a say in her care? Forget that! And how would Haley react to him? She didn't remember him and never seemed to care much about the cards and gifts he sent. Living in Old Town Alexandria, Haley had friends from single-parent families, blended families, gay families, black families, Hispanic families, Muslim families. You name it. So I didn't think she ever felt as though she stood out by not having a dad.

I guess I'd convinced myself that she didn't care about Bryan, but she surprised me. When I asked her if she wanted him to come, she said, "h.e.l.l, yes! It's about time." I'd laughed. She had a mouth on her for a twelve-year-old. I knew where she'd gotten it from, so what could I say?

Bryan showed up two weeks after we spoke on the phone, and it shocked me how easily Haley welcomed him into her life. It made me proud of myself-I'd done a better job than I'd thought of not turning her against him, which had been a challenge. I told her she got her computer skills from him. She sure didn't get them from me. She'd created a website for siblings of missing kids practically by herself. I'd made excuses for his complete absence from our lives. "He loved you so much that he couldn't bear to watch you suffer," I'd said, when I explained about the divorce. "And then he got a job in California and it's hard for him to travel across the country." I was sure that she'd figured out that was B.S., but it didn't seem to matter to her. She wanted her father.

She didn't remember him at all. It was a stranger who showed up in her hospital room during her third week of chemo. He'd held the basin for her while she got sick. He sat frowning at her bedside, his hands knotted beneath his chin, as she slept fitfully after an aspiration of her bone marrow. He brought her lemon drops when she complained about the nasty taste in her mouth from the chemo. He bought her bandannas in a rainbow of colors because she hated her baldness. But he didn't recognize Fred, the tattered stuffed bear who was her constant companion, as the gift he'd given her on her first birthday.

She seemed comfortable with him from the start. More comfortable than I was, that was for sure. She looked nothing like him. Her resemblance to me had been strong from the day she was born. She had my light brown hair and green eyes, while Bryan was very dark haired-or at least he used to be. He showed up now with George Clooneylike salt-and-pepper hair. He still had those long-lashed brown eyes behind rectangular-framed gla.s.ses and a nose that looked like it came out of the Roman Empire even though he was of English and German descent. He'd been thirty-five when I last saw him and he'd been a good-looking guy back then. Now at forty-five, he looked a little softer all over and the skin around his eyes was beginning to wrinkle-like my own-and I had to admit to myself if to no one else that the anger I'd felt toward him had done nothing to dull the attraction I'd once had for him.

He rented an apartment not far from Old Town and began looking for work, but he hadn't yet found a job and I thought all three of us were glad. The truth was, he was a help. An enormous one. I'd been up for the directors.h.i.+p of the Missing Children's Bureau when Haley relapsed, and I'd really wanted that job. I'd worked for MCB for years, frustrated by the organizational structure that needed changing. I wanted to be at the helm. When Haley got sick, I thought I'd have to let someone else take the appointment, but with Bryan's help, I'd been able to accept the job. Haley was spending most weekdays at Children's Hospital in D.C. and most weekends at home. I could bring work with me to Children's, but when I needed to attend a meeting or whatever, Bryan took my place at her bedside. He'd brought her to the doctor twice this week, both times for routine blood work. Taking her out for something fun, like he was doing today, though, was the biggest help of all. He was treating Haley like a normal, healthy kid. Like his daughter. Yet I didn't completely trust him. I kept waiting for him to get his fill. To pack his bags and escape to the West Coast again. I'd kill him if he hurt Haley that way. Just slaughter him.

Haley had forgiven him for the way he'd treated her in the past, obviously. Maybe she'd never even been angry with him. He'd caught her in time. She didn't yet have that p.i.s.sy teenager's att.i.tude toward her parents, although the steroids could sometimes make her seem like it. I caught the brunt of her irritable moods. Not Bryan. She was sweet as sugar around him, and I knew she was afraid of losing him again.

I'd been working online for over an hour when I heard Haley and Bryan walk into the kitchen from the garage. I went downstairs and found them laughing. Haley was tying her blue bandanna back onto her head. She'd lost her hair over the course of a single day and she'd cried from sunup to sundown. As far as I knew, she hadn't cried since.

"Have fun?" I asked.

"She's like a machine on a bike." Bryan touched her shoulder proudly, as though he had something to do with how she'd turned out. I honestly wasn't sure how much I had to do with the person Haley had become, either. She'd been born smart and self-confident and independent. The independence was a problem, since I wanted to keep her chained to my side. I'd lost one child and I had no intention of losing this one.

"Dad hasn't ridden a bike in a long time," Haley said, "but he only crashed three times."

"Twice," Bryan corrected her, grinning.

I could tell how much Haley liked saying that word. Dad. She used it a lot, as though she was making up for all the years she'd never been able to say it.

"Stay for dinner?" I asked, but Bryan shook his head.

"Gonna give you two some girl time." He drew Haley into a hug. "Want to do this again tomorrow?" he asked.

"Sure," she said.

"You have homework?" I asked.

"Not much." She was keeping up with her schoolwork even during the weeks in the hospital. I didn't think I'd have her motivation if I were in her place. She didn't want to fall behind her friends.

"Go do it and I'll finish up my work and then we can eat."

"Okay," she said, heading for the stairs. She looked over her shoulder at us. "Bye, Dad," she said.

"See you tomorrow." Bryan waved.

We listened to her clomp up the stairs. "Thanks for your help today," I said.

"It's my pleasure. Believe me."

"She's enjoying getting to know you."

"Not half as much as I'm enjoying getting to know her."

I felt angry all of a sudden and I turned away from him to take two plates from the cabinet above the dishwasher. We'd had long conversations about Haley's condition and treatment. Long talks about Haley. I'd shown him videos of her in ballet cla.s.s and playing T-ball and beating the c.r.a.p out of another swim team with her phenomenal b.r.e.a.s.t.stroke. But we hadn't talked about the way he left. His cowardice. The sheer meanness of it. "I can't handle the possibility of losing another child," he'd said before he left us the first time Haley got sick. Well, neither could I, but that didn't give me the right to walk out the door.

Neither of us had uttered a word about Lily. When I told him I'd been named the director of the Missing Children's Bureau, I'd watched his face for a sign that he got it, but he acted like I'd said I was the director of a publis.h.i.+ng company or a preschool, something that had nothing at all to do with our lives.

I'd have to talk to him about it at some point, because I'd burst if I didn't and it was really p.i.s.sing me off that he acted as though he could waltz back into our lives without consequence. Right now, though, I didn't dare do anything that would hurt the relations.h.i.+p he was forming with Haley.

I set the plates on the counter, then walked to the garage door. "So we'll see you again tomorrow?" I asked, pulling the door open.

"Right." He walked to the door, then turned to face me, smiling. "She's going to grow up to be just like you," he said. "She already reminds me of you."

"What do you mean?"

"You know," he said with a shrug. "Just...pretty incredible." His smile was sort of rueful. I could see the regret in his eyes. "See you tomorrow," he said.

He left and I watched him walk through the open garage door to his car where he'd parked it on the street. Don't you fall for him, too, I told myself. I wouldn't. Too much water under that ol' bridge.

I had salmon baking in the oven when the phone rang an hour later. I picked up the receiver from its cradle near the fridge. I always answered the phone, never bothering to look at the caller ID. That came from years of wanting the phone to ring. Of wanting answers. I always answered the phone with hope in my voice.

"h.e.l.lo?" I turned the heat down under the rice.

"It's Jeff Jackson."

Oh, s.h.i.+t. Haley's oncologist, calling at six o'clock. Not a good sign. I tensed.

"What's wrong?" I asked. She's doing so well, I wanted to say. Please, please let her have this week in peace.

"Just got the lab reports," he said. "Her blood count's low."

"Oh, c.r.a.p." I ran a hand through my hair. "Jeff, she looks great. She went for a long bike ride today and-"

"She needs a transfusion."

I shut my eyes. "Now?"

"I'm afraid so."

"d.a.m.n it!"

"I'll call Children's and have them get a room ready for her," he said, then added softly, "Sorry."

It took me a few minutes to pull myself together before I went upstairs. I stood quietly in the open doorway of Haley's room. She had no clue I was there and she was Skyping with one of her cousins. I could see one of the twins-Madison or Mandy, I could never tell them apart-on her monitor. Madison or Mandy was laughing and talking. She held a boxy little Westland terrier in her arms and was making the dog wave at the camera with its paw. Bryan's sister, Marilyn Collier, lived an hour away in Fredericksburg and she and her four girls had remained a big part of our lives in spite of Bryan's absence. Haley loved her cousins and they loved her. Tears burned my eyes as I listened to her talking a mile a minute to Madison/Mandy. I hated spoiling the moment.

I knocked lightly on her open door.

"Whoops!" Haley quickly turned off the screen. She swiveled her chair to face me, all innocent green eyes. "I finished my math, Mom, so I was just Skyping for a minute with Mandy."

I couldn't have cared less if she was lying. Let her Skype. Let her do whatever she wanted.

"That's okay," I said, then sighed. "Dr. Jackson just called, honey. He said your blood count's low."

"s.h.i.+t."

"Don't say s.h.i.+t."

"You say it all the time."

"Yeah, well, I shouldn't."

"I don't want to go in, Mom." Her eyes pleaded with me to let her stay home and my heart cracked in two.

"You've got to, honey. I'm sorry."

She dragged herself to her feet. "This totally sucks."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Does this mean I won't be able to get chemo next week?"

I couldn't tell if she was hoping she wouldn't have to have chemo or if she was worried the weeks of chemo would have to be drawn out that much longer.

"It depends on how your blood work looks by then," I said. "Get what you need and we'll hit the road."

She frowned at me, her hand gripping the arm of her chair. "Mom?" she said. "Don't tell Dad, okay?"

Maybe another mother wouldn't have understood, but I did. She was scared. It was her illness that had caused Bryan to turn tail years ago. Now they'd spent a healthy, happy few days together, and she was afraid of appearing sick to him again.

"He won't leave, honey," I said, and I walked out of her room, hoping against hope that I hadn't just told her a lie.

17.

Emerson Wilmington, North Carolina "My G.o.d," Tara breathed. She grabbed the letter and read it through in silence.

I felt my heart beating in my ears. I touched the paper in her hands. "I don't know what to do with this," I said.

Tara looked up from the letter. "I can't believe Noelle would do something like that," she said.

I shook my head. "Neither can I. It seems impossible."

"Here we go!" The waitress appeared at our table again, this time with my salad and Tara's steak. "I wasn't sure if you wanted your dressing on the side or on the salad," she said as she set the plate in front of me.

"This is fine," I said, looking at the little cup of dressing. I wasn't going to eat the salad either way, so it didn't matter. I just wanted her to put the food on the table and leave.

"Is there anything else I can get you right now?" she asked.

"No," Tara said. "Thank you. We're fine."

The waitress walked away and Tara pushed her plate to the side of the table, her appet.i.te apparently gone, as well. "Maybe this is why she stopped being a midwife," she said.

Of course. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of that.

"I feel like I didn't know her," I said. "I know I've said that a lot lately, but now I really, really feel that way. I don't know whether to hate her for this or feel sorry for her that she was holding on to this hideous secret all these years."

"Is there a chance this is...just not true?" Tara asked. "I mean, maybe she was writing a novel or...a short story or something and this was just a literary experiment."

"I love that idea, Tara," I said. "But do you really believe it?"

Tara gave a small shake of her head. "She killed a baby," she said slowly, quietly, as if trying the words on for size. "Some poor woman didn't even know that her baby died."

"And that she was raising another woman's child."

"And this woman's baby was kidnapped." Tara held the letter in the air. "Do you think she might have written another email or letter to Anna?" she asked. "One that actually made it to her?"

"I've wondered that myself," I said. "But wouldn't we know? Wouldn't it have come out? Wouldn't there have been a monumental lawsuit?" I reached for my winegla.s.s, but the room was beginning to spin and I lowered my hand to my lap.

"Did you find any doc.u.ments in her house that might be related to a suit?" Tara asked.

"No, nothing like that," I said.

"Maybe she did actually mail a letter, but made it anonymous so Anna couldn't figure out who she was."

I nodded. "It sounds like she was planning to make this letter anonymous," I said. "She just talks about the 'extraordinary parents' to rea.s.sure her-Anna-that her daughter was being taken care of, not that she planned to reveal who they were. So I don't think she was going to reveal who she is...who she was...either."

"What did she mean about the article in the paper?" Tara asked.

"No idea," I said.

"What does Ted say?"

"I haven't told him." Maybe I never would. I'd thought of telling no one at all, trying to forget what I knew, but I couldn't live with the secret. I couldn't live with it alone, anyway. "What do we do with this, Tara? Do we ignore it?"

"I don't think we can," Tara said.