Даниэла Стил - Finding Ashley [calibre]

Melissa looked devastated while she told Hattie the details she hadn’t told her before. Hattie was deeply moved by what she said. It was an awful story if what she said was true. And Hattie thought that it was. It made her feel almost guilty for being a nun herself, but things happened sometimes even in the Church that were hard to explain, or justify. And she believed what Melissa said, that they had covered it up. She’d heard about some of those convents and mother and baby homes herself. They had served a purpose at one time, but no longer made sense in today’s more liberal world.

“I never forgave Mom for it, I don’t think I ever would have, even if she were alive today,” Melissa said in a broken voice. Talking about it tore her heart out all over again.

“The nuns probably meant well, and it met a need in the early days. What seems wrong is their making money from it, even if it all went to the Church. And destroying the records. But in those days, people weren’t looking for the babies they’d given up, or their birth parents. That’s new, even in adoptions by the state. Those records used to be sealed, and no one could get that information, until the laws were changed,” Hattie said quietly.

“Burning the records was a very efficient way to seal the records forever,” Melissa said bitterly. “I’ve hated even the sight of nuns ever since. I stopped believing in God, and never went to church again when I came home. Mom didn’t dare press that point. Dad acted like he knew nothing, and Mom got sick a few months after I got back, so we never talked about it. You and Carson are the only ones who know.”

“Do you think it would make a difference if you went to Ireland yourself? Some old nun might remember something. It’s a long shot, but it might be worth it,” Hattie suggested.

“When I called them, the mother superior said there were none of the old nuns left. It was thirty-three years ago, and they’re all dead, retired, or had been reassigned years ago. There have been four mother superiors since. And no one wants to talk about it or remember. They sounded sympathetic, but were very skittish when I called. I don’t think going back there now would make a difference. I’ve tried to make my peace with it for thirty-three years. I almost have, but not quite. I still haven’t forgiven Mom, but what good does that do? With Robbie gone, it would be nice to know where my daughter is, just to meet her and make sure she is having a good life. I’m no use to her as a mother now, she’s an adult, and she probably hasn’t forgiven me either for giving her up, but I’ve lost two children. Robbie, who I loved so much, and a little girl called Ashley I never knew. I’m sorry, and it probably doesn’t make sense to you, but I just couldn’t stomach it when you became a nun. All I could think of every time I saw you were the nuns at Saint Blaise’s. It made you one of them. It’s nice not seeing you in your habit now. You look like you again. I could never understand why you’d want to be part of all that. I still feel traumatized when I see a nun. Fortunately, I don’t see them much anymore.”

“Most orders don’t wear the habit now. I’m sorry you went through all that, and I made it worse for you.” Hattie said it with deep feeling.

“Why did you do it?” Melissa looked baffled. “You were such a happy kid. Why would you want that life? We were never that religious, except for Mom.”

“Things happened that made it seem like the right choice, the only choice, at the time. It’s hard to explain.”

“You were a good little actress. You had talent. One minute you were starting to get good breaks, and the next minute you were gone.”

“Sometimes the careers we choose when we’re young aren’t the right ones for us. You gave up writing, and you had a lot more talent than I did. When I went to L.A., I realized acting and Hollywood weren’t for me.”

“That’s different. I couldn’t do it anymore after Robbie died. Feeling anything was just too painful. I wanted to be numb. You have to feel everything in order to be a decent writer. You can’t run away from the truth. And after Robbie, the truth just hurt too much, that he was gone and I’d never hold him in my arms again. I stopped feeling anything for Carson, or for anyone. It’s why I never blamed him for having an affair. I needed to stop anything I was feeling, for a long time.”

“And now?” Hattie asked, worried about her.

“I love my house, and I’m happy to see you again,” she said. She hadn’t opened the door wide to her, but it had opened a crack, and for now it was enough. “And sitting here like this, you don’t seem like a nun, just the sister I grew up with.”

“Thank you for letting me come,” Hattie said, deeply moved by Melissa’s openness with her.

“I think I needed to see you. It was very strange. The fire that almost took my house was started by an arsonist. When I found out, I hated him. I wanted him to rot in prison for what he’d done. I went to see the arraignment, like going to a public hanging, and all I saw was this terrified seventeen-year-old kid who’s had a terrible life, and is probably very sick. He wasn’t the monster I expected him to be, and as I drove away from the courthouse, I realized that I had forgiven him. He has bigger problems than my hating him, and he’ll probably never have a decent life in a mental hospital or in jail. Hating him was too heavy a burden to carry, and I realized then that I wanted to see you, and I couldn’t blame you forever for becoming a nun. You weren’t part of what happened at Saint Blaise’s. I can’t blame you for that. And if you’re happy with the life you’ve chosen, I don’t understand it, but I’m happy for you, and I’m okay with it.” A tender look passed between them, as Hattie reached out and touched her hand.

“I’m a nurse too, don’t forget that. I love the hospital work I do. My best years were at the orphanage in Kenya. Maybe it was a little bit like this house is for you. Being there healed a lot of my old wounds. I’d like to go back again one day, if they’d send me. But for now I’m satisfied with what I’m doing. And maybe we can see each other from time to time.” Hattie really hoped so. She had missed her so much.

“Do you want to spend the night?” Melissa asked her gently, and Hattie answered with regret.

“I can’t. I promised I’d be back tonight, and I’m on duty at the hospital tomorrow. They’re short-staffed and I can’t let them down.” Melissa nodded, and understood. She was grateful for the time they’d had.

“Next time. I want you to come up again,” Melissa said. “But I’m never going to turn this into a convent retreat,” she said, and they both laughed. It had been an important day for both of them, and explained some things that Hattie had never fully understood before. She was horrified by Melissa’s story about the convent in Ireland where she had given birth to her first baby and given her up. Hattie suspected that it would haunt Melissa until her dying day. She wished that she could do something about it, but it was too late. Melissa had lost both her children, and she had to find a way to live with it. She seemed as though she had, but it had marked her deeply, just as events in Hattie’s life had marked her. Life was like that, and they both knew it. The old wounds healed eventually, but the scars remained. And Melissa was deeply scarred by the baby she had given up at sixteen. There was no guilt involved in Robbie’s death, they had done everything they could for him and it had been a cruel turn of fate. But she would feel forever guilty for giving up a baby girl named Ashley, and allowing the nuns to take her away and sell her to strangers. Her mother had made it happen so she wouldn’t be embarrassed with her friends. There were some things Melissa could never forgive, and Hattie had paid a price for it too. Melissa’s profound hatred of nuns as a result had separated them for years.