Diane Chamberlain - The Midwife's Confession

“I’m sorry,” Tara said, but I saw her tighten her hand around Grace’s as if she had no intention of ever letting her go.

“When I was well enough to travel,” I continued, “we went to Wilmington. Lily would have been about seven weeks old by then. We worried that someone thought Lily had been abandoned, which in a way she had been, and that they’d moved her to foster care, so we searched through the foster system.”

“How terrible for you,” Tara said, but she was still clutching Grace’s hand hard.

“I saw the letter your midwife wrote to me,” I said. “I… It’s hard to take it all in. Did you have any idea?”

“None,” Tara said. “Noelle died recently….” She looked at Grace. “Did you tell her?”

Grace nodded.

“She committed suicide and my friend and I found the letter and we began searching for the ‘Anna’ Noelle was writing to. We finally figured out it was you, but we didn’t know whose baby she…whose baby died. We never in a million years thought it was mine.”

“Didn’t you see your baby…I mean, wouldn’t you know if your baby suddenly looked different?” I asked.

“It was the middle of the night when she was born and my labor had been very difficult. When Noelle brought her to me in the morning, I guess she’d already…made the substitution, because that baby was definitely Grace.”

“I don’t think much of your midwife,” I said.

“She did a terrible thing,” Tara said. “But it’s hard for me to let it define who she was.”

“Tell her about the babies program,” Grace said softly.

“Would you like to tell her?” Tara asked. “You’re more involved with it than I am.”

“She started an organization to help babies…preemies and poor babies and sick babies,” Grace said. “She won the Governor’s Award for it, but she wouldn’t accept it.”

I couldn’t look at her as she spoke. I was so afraid of attaching to her. Instead, I looked at Tara. “Maybe this is why,” I said, sweeping my hand through the air to take in the three of us and our predicament. “Maybe she felt she didn’t deserve any awards.”

“Could be,” Tara agreed. She put her arm around Grace. “I think we need a DNA test,” she said. “And I think we’d both better lawyer up. I don’t mean that in an adversarial way, but we—”

“I agree completely,” I said. “We all need to know what we’re dealing with. But I did explain to Grace earlier about Haley’s need for a bone marrow donor. She’s extremely ill. She’s—” I shrugged, giving into the word “—she’s terminally ill. And Grace agreed…”

“Grace didn’t know what she was agreeing to, Anna,” Tara said. “I’m sorry, but I have to put the brakes on right now, okay? Let’s take things a little more slowly. I’ll have my lawyer contact yours and see what timeline they recommend for the DNA test and then go from there.”

I felt like jumping from my seat and barring the door. “In a normal world, that would make sense,” I said. No tears. Please no tears . Tara was a cool customer and one thing I’d learned in my line of business was the need to stay calm. Still, I couldn’t keep the tremor out of my voice. “Please understand, Tara. I don’t know if Grace is Lily…” I looked at Grace. “I’m sorry to speak about you in the third person,” I said. “I just don’t know, but what if she is? And what if she’s a match for Haley? And what if we find that out too late? We haven’t been able to find a donor and a sibling has a one in four chance of being a good match.”

Tara shook her head. “You’re asking a lot of her,” she said. “That decision will just have to wait.”

“I want to do it,” Grace said. She looked at her mother. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t, honey. You don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to,” she repeated.

Please let her, I thought.

I saw Tara weaken. A lawyer would say to wait, I was sure of it, but this was different. This was two mothers. Two daughters.

“All right.” Tara gave in. “If you’re sure.”

57

Emerson

Jenny’s ice cream sundae had melted into a mocha-colored soup in her bowl and she pushed the soft liquid around with her spoon. My salad was practically untouched. We sat by the window in the cafeteria, surrounded by the chatter of doctors and nurses and visitors, but Jenny and I were in our own little bubble.

Maybe we should have gone with Tara to the girl’s room. I told myself that giving them privacy had been for the best. It was going to be confusing enough as it was; adding two more people to the mix could only make it messier. But I’d been glad Tara hadn’t wanted us with her. I didn’t think I could stand to watch her go through it all. I felt so guilty. Guilty for not telling her the moment I suspected that Grace was Anna Knightly’s child. Guilty that it was my daughter who hurt Grace with the truth. And I was tormented by the thought of how Tara felt at that moment.

I could imagine the conversation between Tara and Anna Knightly. Two mothers fighting over their daughter. Of course, Grace would always be Tara’s. Anything else was unthinkable. Yet Anna’s baby had been stolen from her. How could she not demand at least a part of that child’s life back?

Jenny pushed her bowl of ice cream soup away from her. “I am so sorry, Mom,” she said once again. I’d lost track of how many times she’d apologized.

“Look,” I said, moving my salad aside, “you screwed up by not telling me you overheard. I screwed up by not talking to Tara right away. But none of that would change the fact that Noelle did what she did and now everyone has to deal with the consequences. That’s what you and I need to focus on. Helping Tara and Grace handle what’s coming.”

“I don’t want her to move away and be part of some other family and live up here and—”

“I doubt any of that will happen,” I said. “Grace is sixteen and she’ll have a say in any decision. And you don’t think Tara would say, ‘Oh, here, she’s yours,’ do you?”

“What would you do if you were in Tara’s place right now?” Jenny asked.

I blew out a breath and looked up at the ceiling. “I would give the other woman—Anna Knightly—I would give her my deepest sympathy, but I would do just what I hope Tara is doing. Get Grace out of here and let the lawyers handle everything.” I was worried, though. Jenny and I had debated over getting something to eat because we thought Tara would call us within minutes. Now, nearly forty minutes had passed. What was taking so long?

“How would you feel in Grace’s shoes right now?” I asked.

She gnawed on her lip for a moment. “I’d want to get to know the people,” she said. “My other family. But I wouldn’t want them to try to take me away from you and Dad. I absolutely wouldn’t let them. And I’d feel sad that your baby died that way. That’s so awful. Poor Tara.”

“I know,” I said. “It’s unbearable to think about.”

“I just can’t stand how Grace must be feeling right now.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” I looked her in the eye. “They’re really going to need our support, Jen,” I said.

“I think we should have gone with Tara to the room,” she said.

My daughter was braver than I was. “You want to be with Grace?” I asked.

Jenny nodded.

“All right.” I got to my feet. “Let’s go find them.”

58

Grace

Mom was being her usual self, chatting up Haley and Anna as we waited on the couch in Haley’s room for a nurse to come swab my cheek. Someone had brought in another chair so everyone could sit and I was still cold, even though I knew the temperature in the room was fine. I had the blue blanket wrapped around my shoulders again and it felt like armor. I didn’t know what to hope for. If I was a match, I was afraid of what would happen to me next. If I wasn’t a match, Haley could die. When I thought about it that way, I knew I had no choice.