MARY CLARK - Piece of My Heart

When Detective Langland answered her cell phone, Marcy did not bother with an introduction. “How does some website know that Johnny is adopted?” she demanded.

“What are you talking about?” The detective’s voice was gentle, even though Marcy had lashed out at her. “What website?”

Marcy could tell that this was the first Langland had heard of the report. She waited while Langland pulled up the article herself.

“Marcy, I’m so, so sorry. I promise you, it wasn’t me. Both fortunately and unfortunately, this case has been a huge news story, at least locally. The downside is that it’s brought out the vultures. No responsible journalist would invade your privacy that way. Plus it sounds like they only had one anonymous source, which would never be enough for reputable media outlets.”

“Johnny doesn’t know. Neither do our girls. We were going to tell him when he was a little older.” Marcy heard a heavy sigh on the other end of the line.

“Look, I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Marcy. But this website? I’ve never even heard of it, and I’m a cop. I’ll make sure all my people know how completely unacceptable this kind of leak is, and hopefully this crummy little site is the end of the story.”

“Mommy, look!” Chloe was stomping her feet in the water of the kiddie pool Andrew had set up for them in the backyard.

“You’ll let me know if any reporters contact you trying to follow up on this?” Marcy asked.

“Absolutely. I promise.”

As she hung up, Chloe was still trying to get her attention, sloshing around in the water. “Look how much I can make it splash!”

Emily crossed her arms in protest. “Stop it, Chloe. You’re making a mess, and the pool’s going to be empty.”

“Then we’ll fill it up again from the hose.”

“Well…” Emily struggled for a retort. “Then you’re taking water away from fish that need it.”

Chloe was telling her sister that wasn’t how it worked when the doorbell chimed. Marcy jumped up from the table. Please be good news. Please.

Through the living room window, she caught sight of a light gray Buick parked in their driveway.

“Andrew,” she cried out. His home office was down the hall. “Someone’s here!”

She ran to the front door and peered through one of the side panels of glass. She didn’t recognize the woman standing there alone, nervously looking down at her tapping foot. Marcy guessed she was around sixty years old. She had a soft, round face framed by a blondish gray bob, parted in the middle. She wore a short-sleeved navy-blue cotton dress with a simple chain holding a small cross pendant.

“Can I help you?” Marcy asked from behind the door.

“Mrs. Buckley?”

“How can I help you?” she asked again.

“My name is Sandra Carpenter. My daughter was your son’s… She gave him to you for adoption.”

Chapter 33

Marcy poured a glass of iced tea for their unexpected guest and then took a seat next to Andrew, who had emerged from his office just as Marcy opened the front door. Now they were seated at the kitchen table, where she was able to keep an eye on the girls through the sliding glass doors.

She felt Andrew’s hand squeeze her knee beneath the table. With that small touch, she felt so connected to him. He was the only person on the face of the planet who truly shared her pain.

She patted his hand and kept it there. Sandra had already explained her reason for coming over. She was offering to help however she could.

According to her, she had found the Buckleys’ address but no phone number on the papers that she’d been able to locate in her old files from the time of the adoption. Marcy wondered why she wouldn’t have simply called Father Horrigan to reach out to them on her behalf, but then recalled the priest mentioning that Sandra had switched to another parish after Johnny was born. Perhaps she was reluctant to involve Father Horrigan any further into matters involving her daughter and the adoption. Whatever her reasons, Marcy was starting to wish she had never opened the front door to their surprise visitor.

“We appreciate your keeping us in your thoughts, Sandra,” Marcy mustered. “I know this must be very hard on you, as well.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep,” Sandra said. “It didn’t seem right not to reach out to you. I know my daughter gave her baby up, but I still think of Johnny as the last living piece of my little girl, even though I have never been a part of his life. To know that he’s in danger—and to realize how scared you must be—makes me miss Michelle all over again. Does that make any sense at all?”

“Of course.”

“When Michelle was young, we were so close. She used to tell me I was her best friend, all the way up until she was in high school. When she decided to go to the University of Baltimore, she chose it over a more prestigious college in Colorado because she didn’t want to be so far away from home. She was always a top student, even though she was waiting tables part-time along with her classes. I trusted her when she told me she wanted to take time off from college for a little while. The couple that owned the restaurant she worked at in Baltimore was opening a sister restaurant near their vacation house in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, and wanted her to manage it for them. It sounded like a sensible move. They were offering her a nice place to live in their guest cottage. She’d make a lot of money during the summer, and then they would basically match that during the off-season for her to stay on their property and look after it. I understood why she saw it as a good opportunity. She was a short walk’s distance to the beach, and only two and a half hours from me, so we visited each other regularly. She even had room for me in the guesthouse, so it was like I had a little vacation spot of my own. She thought after three years, she’d have enough saved up to go back to college without any debt or even a part-time job, so she could commit herself a hundred percent. She wanted to be valedictorian. I remember her saying, Top of your class from a public school is better than the middle of the pack from Harvard. She had big dreams. She wanted to be a journalist.”

Marcy had no doubt this woman believed she had come here to help another family, but it was clear that Sandra’s thoughts and heart were still focused on her own loss.

Andrew, as if reading Marcy’s mind, began to rise from his chair. “Thank you so much for coming, and, again, we are so grateful that Michelle—”

It wasn’t enough to stop Sandra from reminiscing, and Andrew retook his seat. “My biggest regret is how I handled the news of the pregnancy. My views are very… traditional. Very. When she couldn’t even tell me who the father was, that she met him at a bar, I could have been more supportive. I did my best to focus on the matter at hand—how to take care of the baby—but I’m sure I left her feeling judged. I think that’s the moment everything began to spiral downward for her. After she gave up Johnny for the adoption, she pushed me away. I think she felt ashamed. I thought it was temporary, but weeks became months, and months became years. When the Philadelphia police called me about her overdose, it was so cold, as if I were a stranger.”

Marcy could see that this woman—a mother, just like her—was in pain, still mourning the loss of her own daughter. But to Marcy, she was a stranger, and her unannounced appearance at their front door ultimately did nothing to help them find Johnny.

Next to her, Andrew stood again, and this time, he did not let Sandra’s storytelling deter him. “Mrs. Carpenter, thank you so much for reaching out, and we’re sorry for your loss. We need to be alone as a family right now. Let me walk you out.”