Karen Young - Private Lives

The truth was, no matter how Elizabeth wished it otherwise, Gina was basically flawed as a parent. She was a less-than-perfect mother. Of course, Elizabeth would never tell her that, or anyone else. She, above all others, understood Gina, knew where she came from. Her personality had been set in their early years as they’d been shuffled from one foster home after another, both longing for permanency and parents of their own. Knowing firsthand the damage that was done when children were denied the stability of a good home, why didn’t Gina do the right thing? It was this failure on Gina’s part to protect Jesse from the damage they’d suffered that confounded Elizabeth most.

Watching Jesse now, Elizabeth knew the bittersweet pain of loving someone else’s child. If Jesse were hers, she’d never be subjected to the terror of feuding adults. If Jesse were hers, she’d treasure the child as a gift from God. If Jesse were hers, it would be a second chance for her and she’d be a good mother the second time around. And this time, she’d never let go.

Elizabeth received an e-mail the day after the article appeared in the newspaper, and her first reaction was total surprise. The address on the screen was unfamiliar, but the subject grabbed her instantly, which was exactly what the writer intended, she decided later. Usually, she went through her messages and deleted anything she didn’t recognize, as well as annoying advertisements and worse. How she’d managed to get on some of those lists, she hadn’t a clue. But the highlighted e-mail wasn’t an advertisement or a pitch to draw her into a porn site.

“Daughters of Judge Matthew S. Walker,” she read. The sender was somebody named Blackstone at a local television station. The name meant nothing to Elizabeth. She decided it was probably something to do with the article in the newspaper yesterday. Unlike Elizabeth, her editor had been pleased over the publicity. She’d probably dance a jig at the possibility of a live TV spot in a market as large as Houston. Still…

“Daughters of Judge Matthew S. Walker,” she read again, her hand hovering on the mouse. Being only human, curiosity got the best of her and she opened the e-mail.

Hi, Elizabeth.

You don’t know me yet, but it’s my hope that you will want to. I’m Lindsay Blackstone. You may have seen my show on WBYH-TV, “Lindsay’s Hour,” which is now canceled, I’m sorry to say. Anyway, I read the article about you in the Sunday Chronicle and, guess what? My sister Megan and I are your sisters! After Judge Walker’s death twenty-five years ago, we were adopted by Joseph and Emily Blackstone and now we would like, more than anything, to meet you.

Elizabeth’s heart was beating wildly in her chest now. Her sisters’ good fortune had been hard for the five-year-old Elizabeth to accept. While they’d been basking in the attention and care of two loving parents, she’d been surviving the trauma of numerous foster homes. Everything about that time was so painful that she never—absolutely never—allowed it to surface in her mind.

Megan is doing her residency at Hermann Hospital and hardly has a life at all, but she’ll make time to meet you. She’s as eager to know you as I am. Also, I was telling my producer here at Channel 6 about you being my sister. He saw the article, too, but as he has small children, he already knew about you and that you’d won the Newbery. Oh, by the way, congratulations on that! He said he hoped I had inherited some of that talent. He’s always trying to one-up me, but this time I have to agree. However, I hardly think my gift of gab is in a class with your awesome talent as a writer. Which brings me to this: When can we get together, Elizabeth? Just name the time and place. It’ll be wonderful to reconnect, don’t you think? Please call.

Elizabeth stared at a string of numbers, three for Lindsay, her office phone, her cell phone and her home, as well as numbers for Megan. There was even a number for the Blackstones at home. She’d signed the e-mail, “Love, Lindsay.”

She sat looking at that salutation for a long time. Rejecting it. Disbelieving it. Drumming up some kind of relationship with her biological sisters was the last thing she wanted or needed now.

Her throat was tight and her hands, resting on the keyboard, were unsteady. First, the article exposing facts from the past that she’d worked so hard to forget, and now this. She had known when she won the Newbery Medal that some of her cherished privacy would be compromised, but she hadn’t expected her whole life to become an open book. Hand on the mouse, Elizabeth deleted the e-mail.

She clicked the icon to bring up her word processing program and opened a new document to begin work, but thoughts of her sisters were not as easily zapped as an e-mail. Her peace of mind was destroyed. Her thoughts were in chaos. Lindsay’s interest was too late. Not wanted or welcomed now. After twenty-five years, they expected just to knock on her door and she’d open her heart and life to them? Even if she was somewhat curious about them, it wouldn’t happen. Couldn’t happen. She had all she needed in her life now and it didn’t include them. She had her career, she had Gina and Jesse, and yes, even Louie, although he’d probably react to that with an ironic twitch of his mustache considering how difficult it had been to become her friend. Another thought struck her. Lindsay’s sudden desire to “reconnect” now was probably a ruse to get an interview, not a genuine need to get to know a long-lost sister. More intrusive publicity. Nothing could be less appealing to Elizabeth. She had enough on her plate without reuniting with two people who were virtual strangers to her. And in Gina, she had a sister in the truest sense of the word. Together, they’d shared the hell of growing up as wards of the state and that was a bond far stronger than some distant blood connection with no memories attached.

She clicked on her file list and opened the document she’d been working on yesterday, determined to get back to work. The tension in her began to ease eventually as she immersed herself in a world that she controlled, a world of discovery and wonder, a child’s world. Something that Jesse had said last night had given Elizabeth an idea for a scene. Jesse, to her delight, proved a rich resource for her books. Focused again on her work, she had the scene almost completed when Gina rushed in.

“The hearing’s Friday morning at ten,” she said breathlessly. “Maude just called. She wants you to be a character witness. And Louie, too.”

Elizabeth saved the document before turning to look at Gina. “Did Maude say she wanted to talk to me or Louie about our testimony?”

Gina wrapped both arms around herself, looking anxious. “No. I mean, I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask. I just freaked out once I heard the hearing was actually scheduled. He’s going to steal her from me, Lizzie, wait and see!”

Elizabeth suspected the same thing herself and had been diligently trying to figure out how to counter whatever maneuver Austin had up his sleeve. Knowing if she revealed her fears, Gina would be even more panicked, Elizabeth rose from her chair and went over to a leather couch, patting a place beside her. “Try not to panic, Gee. Austin would have to produce very damaging evidence against you before a judge would rule in his favor.”

“He wouldn’t have to look very hard to find stuff,” Gina said, sitting gingerly. “I’m unemployed, I can’t afford an apartment for us on my own, I’ve got a mountain of debt on three maxed-out credit cards, I—”

“Those debts were incurred by both of you,” Elizabeth said, thinking there were worse things than debt and homelessness that would be unflattering to Gina as a mother if Austin’s lawyer chose to use them. “Besides, you wouldn’t be in such desperate circumstances if Austin hadn’t forced you out of the firm. This is probably just harassment on his part and he doesn’t want Jesse at all, Gee. Deep down, it’s your claim to a financial settlement that’s driving him.”