The Confession (17 page)

McKenzie shook her head. “I can’t talk about this.” She started to walk toward the house before stopping and whipping back around. “It’s just like that son of a bitch to do this now. I finally step outside of my comfort zone and let somebody in, carve out a moment of possible happiness for myself, and he rises from the pits of hell to make sure I never forget what evil, people are capable of doing in the name of love.”

Emily was shocked by the anger radiating from her friend. This was not the way she envisioned her homecoming. Attempting to change the subject she asked, “So when are you going to tell me about this dream man you’ve met, and why am I only learning of it now?”

“Can we talk about Paul later?” McKenzie looked defeated. “I can’t think straight. I’d like to lie down for a bit before dinner. Mark didn’t look exactly thrilled with the news that I’d met someone, and I’m expecting an all-out interrogation over dinner.”

“Of course, go rest and we can talk later.” She reached in to hug her. “I’m really glad you’re home.”

Aimee pulled her car into the parking lot and turned off the engine. She stared up at the sign over the door that read Mahn Real Estate. What was she doing here? This visit was pointless; it wouldn’t accomplish anything. Still unable to shake her curiosity she opened the car door and stepped out.

On the short drive to Raleigh, she’d gone over what she’d say a million times, but she still sounded crazy. It’d been almost thirty years, what did it matter now? But she knew somehow, it did matter. She’d offered her mother her forgiveness, but had she truly forgiven her? She knew she must, for her own sake more than anything, but she needed answers. How much damage had the backlash of her mother’s action caused other people? It was the one question that continued to haunt her.

She tugged on the bottom of her jacket to straighten it, and pulled up her purse strap. She leveled her shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

“Hello, may I help you?” the chipper receptionist asked.

“I called this morning. I have an appointment with Camille Mahn.”

“Of course Ms. Morrison, please have a seat. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Aimee smiled nervously and folded herself into one of the straight back chairs along the wall. She fidgeted with the strap of her purse while questioning her right to be here. Deciding she shouldn’t be, she stood to leave.

The office door opened, and a tall, elegant, red haired woman in a trim black suit walked toward her. Aimee stiffened, her heart rate picking up speed.

The woman smiled and reached out her hand. “Ms. Morrison, I’m Camille Mahn. Come on in.”

Aimee shook her hand and tried to form a sentence. She was utterly speechless. Camille closed the door behind them and motioned for her to take one of the open seats in front of the large wooden desk.

Sitting across from her, Camille pulled out a blank sheet of paper and picked up a pen. “So how can I help you?”

Aimee stuttered, all the things she wanted to say flew out of her head.

“Are you looking to buy a home, or sell?”

“Neither,” Aimee was finally able to say.

Camille maintained her professionalism, and continued. “Then how can I help you?”

Aimee folded her hands in her lap and stared at them for a minute. She looked up at the beautiful woman her father had loved and planned to marry. “You’re going to think I’m crazy. I shouldn’t even be here.”

Camille’s expression portrayed her curiosity. “Why are you here?”

Aimee blew out a breath. Her nervousness increased as she realized exactly how insane it was that she was here. Her mouth twitched. “I know you don’t know me, but … ” She looked imploringly across the desk. “Have you led a happy life? I … I mean, well … ”

Camille’s brow creased. “You’re right, that is an odd question to ask someone you don’t know. The fact that you made an appointment with me to ask that question, I find even stranger. With that said, why don’t you tell me why it is you’re here?”

Aimee was surprised by the calmness in her tone. She didn’t seem angry, or even afraid, only curious.

“Did I mention that this is crazy?” Aimee chuckled when Camille nodded her head and raised her eyebrow. “Do you remember Robert Morrison?”

Camille’s eyes grew wide, and Aimee could hear her sharp intake of breath. It was her turn to stutter. “Aimee Morrison? You’re … are you … ?”

“I’m his daughter.”

Both women silently watched each other. Aimee wasn’t sure what to say next, and was relieved when Camille spoke first. “It’s been close to twenty-five years since I’ve seen your father. You were only a little girl. I heard about his passing, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

Aimee mumbled a thank you.

“I think I’m even more confused now that we’ve made our introductions.”

“I’ve only recently learned of you. Well, your past with my father.”

“That was a long time ago,” Camille said in a somber tone.

“I know. It’s just … I understand that you loved each other, and I wondered … ”

“Wondered what?” Camille asked.

Aimee shook her head. “I don’t know. If you were happy, I guess.” She nervously straightened the edges of her jacket, staring down into her lap.

“Are you wondering if I was happy without him?” Camille asked.

Aimee nodded her head.

“He was the love of my life, the one man that you never forget and always ask yourself what if. He’ll always hold a special place in my heart, but to answer your question, yes, I was happy. I was married a few years later and raised three sons with my husband. I’ve lived a good life.” She walked around the desk and sat in the chair next to Aimee.

“So, no regrets?” Aimee studied her face, searching for any sign that she meant what she said.

“I don’t think I understand exactly what is going on,” Camille said. “I think something has happened to you or someone you love and you’re searching for answers. Or maybe it’s as simple as you wanting to know more of your father.”

“Maybe a bit of both,” Aimee admitted.

“You were about three or four years old when I first saw you. You were at the carnival with your father and I was volunteering at one of the game booths. It was the first time I’d seen Robert since I’d given him back the ring. I could tell he was uncomfortable, but more than that, I could tell he was still feeling guilty about how we ended. We spoke for a bit while you tossed rings onto the bottlenecks.” Her tone softened and her eyes grew distant. “We were both happy with our lives, and that was all that mattered. He lit up like the sun when he talked about you. I thought I was a princess when I was a little girl, but I think you stole my crown.”

Aimee blushed. “I must admit to being a bit pampered by him.”

Camille chuckled and patted her hand. “I’m still not sure what you’re looking for, but I can tell you, I’m happy. I will never forget your father, nor will I regret a moment of the time I had with him. I’m a firm believer everything happens for a reason, even if we don’t understand it. Your father was the most amazing man I’ve ever known, and he was happy. That’s what I was grateful for above all else.”

Aimee let the tears fall as she thanked her for meeting with her and being so honest.

Camille handed her a business card and told her to call anytime, day or night.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Camille said, holding the door for her.

Aimee turned around. “Not everything happens for a reason. Sometimes life is altered when it shouldn’t be.”

Camille smiled reassuringly. “Maybe, but then it’s up to you to find the happiness in your new direction.”

“Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick,” Luther scolded, as Aimee walked through the front door.

“I’m sorry to worry you, Daddy,” she answered sarcastically.

“Very funny.” He smirked. “But you could have let someone know where you were going.”

“I’m sorry, it was a last minute decision and I left early.”

“I miss the uptight Aimee. This new impulsive you is causing me to worry, and if I wrinkle prematurely, I will never forgive you.” Luther pouted.

Aimee kissed both of his cheeks. “Nothing will ever happen to this face.” She pinched his cheeks dramatically. “You spend too much money at the Saks makeup counter for that.”

Luther slapped her hands away and turned his back to her, crossing his arms defiantly.

She stifled a giggle, cleared her throat to make sure it wouldn’t surface, and stepped in front of him. “I’m sorry if I worried you, I didn’t think you’d be up much before noon and thought I’d be back.”

“You’re forgiven. This time.” He uncrossed his arms and let them fall to his side. “Joan is driving me crazy. She’s running around the house looking for you. She’s upset about something, but I don’t think it’s a broken fingernail like I’d originally thought. She got really pissed when I asked her if that was her problem. She thinks I’m lying about knowing where you are. She won’t stop her damn squawking. She’s like a seagull at a picnic.”

“Aimee,” Joan called from the kitchen. “Aimee, come here? I need to talk to you.”

Luther waved his arms in the air like a bird. “Squawk, squawk.”

Aimee playfully swatted at him, and walked into the kitchen. She couldn’t see her sister, but she could still hear her. Her voice was coming from the garage.

Joan was sitting on the floor with her head resting on her knees, calling Aimee’s name.

“What are you doing? Why are you in here?” Aimee asked, standing in front of her.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.” Joan slowly rose from the floor. Black mascara streaked her cheeks and dotted her white t-shirt.

“What’s wrong? Is it Mother?” Aimee asked anxiously.

“Yes, it’s Mom,” Joan snapped. “She’s lost her mind. She’s so far gone that she’s a complete lunatic. I don’t know what to do. Should I call someone? Is it her medication? Should I call the doctor? What do you think?”

“Come into the kitchen and tell me exactly what happened. You’re not making any sense,” Aimee said, calmly leading her sister to the door.

Joan hurried her step and walked in front of her like it was a first grade playground line up. She sighed and let her sister have the lead. By the time she’d reached the kitchen, Joan was already seated in a stool at the breakfast bar. Aimee didn’t know her sister could move that fast. She must have wanted that particular seat badly. Aimee snickered.

Joan scowled. “I don’t know what you could possibly find so funny right now.”

Climbing onto the stool next to her, she asked, “So what happened this morning that has you so upset?”

“Mom’s talking crazy, and then breaking into tears. She’s mumbling about the will, and ladybugs, and not making a lick of sense. I don’t know what to do. She’s — ”

“Tell me exactly what she said, Joan.”

Scowling at being interrupted, she snapped her reply. “She said that she kidnapped a baby wrapped in a ladybug blanket and that she needed to talk to the lawyer about the will before it’s too late. What should we do?”

Aimee wasn’t sure how to handle this. Her mother had told Joan the truth as she’d promised, but she hadn’t considered the possibility she wouldn’t believe her.

She took a deep breath and turned to look directly at her sister. “Mom’s not crazy. She doesn’t need a doctor.”

Joan jerked her head up and glared at her. “How can you say she’s not crazy? Did you hear a word I said?”

“Do you remember when Mother told you I was adopted?” She had her sister’s attention. “I wasn’t. That wasn’t the truth. Three weeks ago, she told me she’d taken me from a hospital when I was a baby. She stole me.”

Silence settled around them as the tension built.

“You’re a liar!” Joan quickly jumped from the stool and stepped back. Her face was blood red beneath the streaks of makeup, and her eyes were small slits as she glared at her sister. “She would never do such a thing!” Her voice cracked. “Why would you even say something like that? Do you really hate her that much? You’re evil, that’s what you are.”

“Please, listen to — ”

“Listen to what? Your lies, you’re disgusting lies? You’ve always hated her and now you’re trying to make me hate her too. You’re evil … and mean … and … and … a bitch! That’s what you are. A bitch!”

“That’s enough.” Bob walked into the kitchen, his eyes focused on Joan. “I understand you’re upset, justifiably so, but this isn’t getting you anywhere.”

“Did you hear what she said?” Her voice spiked, sounding like nails on a chalkboard. She threw herself into his arms. “Why is she saying those things?”

As Joan lay sobbing against his chest, Bob looked over her head at Aimee, and mouthed, “You okay?”

She nodded her head and then shrugged her shoulders. How was she going to make Joan understand any of this? She felt like she was having an out of body experience, and none of this could actually be happening. But seeing her sister bawling, Luther leaning on the kitchen door jam, with worry lines creasing his forehead, and Bob watching her with intensity, she knew it truly was.

In a soft, calming voice, Bob suggested, “Why don’t you both go upstairs and talk to your mother together?”

“You can’t be serious,” Joan said in disbelief. “I won’t let her upset Mother. I can’t. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Aimee opened her mouth to speak then closed it again. It wouldn’t make a difference if she reminded her that Mother had already confessed the truth. Joan had taken it as mindless rambling, and nothing Aimee could say would change that.

Bob stepped back from Joan, placed his hands on her shoulders and looking very serious, said, “I think it’s important.”

“Oh my god, you believe her!” Joan took a step back from him. She turned in a circle, looking at one, then the other, before stopping to stare at Aimee. The corners of her mouth twitched, forming a sneer. “Of course you do. It’s sweet, perfect, innocent, little Aimee. If she said it, then it must be true. Aimee would never tell a lie. She’s never done anything wrong in her entire pampered, perfect, life.”

Luther stepped out of the doorway and crossed the kitchen to stand next to Aimee.