Where the Truth Lies (26 page)

“What about love?” he snaps. “What about giving a kid whose own parents were too cracked out to take care of him, whose parents split up and whose mother had man after man after man in the house, most of whom were more interested in him and his
sister
… what about giving them a chance?”

“Del, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“When you sang me that song—
Daisy, Daisy
—I thought, ‘Here is the girl I’ve been looking for.’ It all felt like it came together, Emily. And I fell in love with you—I truly did.”

“But you fell in love with me because of my circumstances,” I say. “Not because of who I really am.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“It’s not? Who am I, then? What do you
really
know about me, aside from my past?”

He hesitates. “You had a right to know the truth.”

“I know. You’re right. But I’m telling you, after this is over, we’re done. I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to talk to you again.”

He snorts. “What do you want me to do? Drop you off back at Stonybrook? Let you walk into the headmaster’s office and explain what you’ve been doing for the past two days?”

I consider. “Yes. That’s exactly what I want you to do. You’re the one who’s always saying I had a right to know the truth. Well, I’m sick of lying. I’m not going to hide things from anyone, not anymore.”

He slows the car. He makes a left-hand turn onto an icy dirt road, leaning over to consult a set of printed directions.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says. “We’re here.”

chapter twenty-five

We’re at the entrance to a development of new homes—big houses, almost mansions, each one of them bigger than my house back in Stonybrook.

“She lives here?” I ask.

“Yes.” Del pauses. “You’re surprised.”

“Well, yeah. I guess I am.”

“Why?”

I don’t have a good answer for him, not at first. Then I remember.

“I had a dream last night,” I say.

“Like your other dreams?”

I nod. “Yes. I dreamed of rain, like I usually do. But this time it was more vivid. I was sitting in a car with my mother. Not Sandy—my mom. And I was a little girl, and we were parked on this dirt road in the middle of nowhere, except … I think we were in a trailer court. And we sat there in the car, in the rain, for a long time. I was crying. My mom kept telling me that we had to go, and that she would carry me and we’d run very fast to the porch, but I was so afraid. And then we saw another car pull up, and this woman got out. In my dream, it was my real mother. It was Sandy. My mom kept saying, “Let’s go, baby,” and I was crying, and she was crying, and … that’s it. We were just sitting there in the car, crying together. I was terrified.” I shudder. “So I guess I thought I remembered where my real mom lived. I guess I thought …”

“She lived in a trailer,” Del says. “And that would make things better?”

I nod. “I guess so.”

I can tell he’s irritated. “Why, Emily?”

“Because if she felt the need to abandon me in the first place, I guess I’d assumed that her life was too miserable to support a child. Maybe I thought she was too poor to take care of me, or that she didn’t want to bring me up under those circumstances.” I know I sound like a snob. “Then again,” I finish, “I guess some people just don’t want babies. Maybe she just didn’t
want
me.”

“She was only twenty when she had you,” Del says. “She dropped out of college to marry your father.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“All right,” Del says, pulling the truck slowly down the cul-de-sac. “It’s this one. On the left.”

He pulls the truck onto the curb, next to the mailbox of one of the most beautiful homes I’ve ever seen. It’s a contemporary saltbox, very New England, with what looks like a small vineyard in its backyard. The whole scene is blanketed in snow, giving it a peaceful, idyllic look.

He takes the Church of the Open Door pamphlets out of his pocket. Handing me one, he asks, “Are we going to do the same thing?”

I grab his arm. “Wait. Look.”

The front door is opening. There’s a minivan parked out front, not fifteen feet away from us. A woman emerges from the house carrying a bundled-up baby in her arms. She’s also holding a toddler by the hand.

Two little girls and their mommy. My mommy. Except not. I don’t have to think about it. I don’t have to wonder or speculate. I feel like, even if I were walking down a crowded street and passed her by, even if I didn’t know anything about the source of my dreams or the truth of my past, I would know that, somehow, this woman and I belong to each other.

I get out of the car. I don’t take any pamphlets with me. I walk down the sidewalk, toward her and her girls.

When I get close to her, I stare her right in the eyes.

“Hello,” I say, smiling.

She looks like me. Her
children
look like me, with the same red hair and the freckles that I’ve always hated so much.

This is my mother, living a good life with her kids. This is my mother who did not want me in her life. It’s enough to make any girl cry.

Except that I don’t. I’m done crying for now. I want to hear her speak to me. I want to see if I recognize her voice. I know now that it was her, so many years ago, singing
Daisy, Daisy
.

She stands there staring at me, holding on to her babies in the cold, for a few seconds. The look on her face is confused at first—and then it shifts. She seems startled. She stands there, half-frozen, staring at me.

I’m wearing my winter coat with my hair pulled back in a ponytail and the hood pulled tightly around my face. While she’s still watching me, I lower the hood. I pull my hair free, and let my red waves fall over my shoulders. Then I look my mother in the eye again.

But she doesn’t react the way I hope. There is no glimmer of recognition, at least not that I can tell. Instead, she says, “Hello. Cold enough for you?”

Her voice gives me a fresh chill. Even though I haven’t heard it in years, I recognize it.

Before I have a chance to say anything else, she rushes to the car with her children, glancing back at me just one more time. There’s a look of fear in her eyes.

And then I realize: of course. A truck like Del’s, in this neighborhood … she’s
scared
of us.

I walk back to Del’s truck and climb inside, rubbing my hands together beneath the red blanket.

“What was that?” Del asks. “You barely said anything! Don’t you want to confront her?”

I shake my head.

“Why not? Emily, go tell her who you are! This is what we came here for. You’re about to miss your opportunity.” He pauses. “She’s your
mother
, Emily, and she abandoned you. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

I nod.

“Don’t you want her to be sorry? What kind of person abandons her baby? It makes her a monster, Emily. Em—look at her. She’s a monster.”

I watch while she helps her little girls into the car, leans over to buckle their seat belts for them. Then she gives us one last glance, climbs into the driver’s seat, starts the car, and pulls away.

“She’s gone,” Del says.

“She’s not a monster,” I say.

“What?” he asks, irritated.

“I said, she’s not a monster.”

He pauses. “Then what is she? What kind of woman does what she did, and then goes on to live a life like this?”

“Any woman,” I say. “Del, she’s just a person. She’s not my mother, not anymore.”

“Yes, she is! Emily, I have paperwork, I can prove it to you—”

“My mother lives in Connecticut,” I tell him firmly. “And I want you to take me to her. I want to go home.”

When we get close to campus, Del says, “I’m sure the police are waiting.”

I’m sure they are, too. There’s no way my parents haven’t put two and two together and called them.

“Maybe you should drop me off here,” I tell him. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.” I pause. “Are you going home after this?”

“That depends on your definition of home.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna return this truck to my sister. Maybe stay there for a few days.” He hesitates. “I’m eighteen, you know. I have plans. I’m not going to college. There’s no reason for me to go back to the Marshalls’ house.”

“Maybe not, but you owe it to them to let them know you’re safe. They love you. They adopted you. You can’t just
leave
.”

He’s pulled into a parking lot. From where we sit, I can almost make out my parents’ house.

“I suppose that, even if I don’t go home, you can just tell your parents who you were with, and they’ll call up Doug and Sharon,” he says.

“Well, sure.”

“And that’s what you’re going to do?”

I nod.

He puts his hand over mine. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? Emily, we could be good together. We
are
good together.” He swallows. “I really do love you.”

I know he means it. But my feelings for him are gone. “I have to go home now,” I tell him.

He looks like he wants to cry. “I don’t want you to go.”

“There’s nothing left for us to do,” I say. “It’s over, Del.”

Finally, it seems, he understands. He nods. His eyes are wet. “Okay.”

“I’ll stall everyone for a while. I’ll give you a chance to get away.”

He gives me the tiniest grin. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.”

I know he will. I give him a hug. He puts his arms around me, and we sit together in his truck that way for several moments. As I replay the events of the past forty-eight hours in my head, I realize I have no idea what I’m going home to.

I pull away from him. As I feel his hands sliding from my body, I know it will probably be the last time he ever touches me. I feel a sense of bittersweet relief. “Be good,” I tell him. Like he’ll ever listen to me.

His blue eyes glisten. “I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep.” Then, just as I’m about to walk away, he says, “Wait. Emily?”

“What is it?”

“Here.” He holds out the blanket. “I want you to keep this.”

For a second, I almost say no. But his look is pleading, and without thinking about it, I reach out and take the blanket from his hands.

“Don’t lose it,” he says. “It’s special.”

“Don’t worry,” I tell him. I tuck it under my arm. “I’ll keep it safe.”

Then I get out of the car; the afternoon is so cold that the wind feels almost sinister. I watch him pull out of the parking lot, watch as he heads down the road toward the interchange for the highway.

Then, once he’s out of sight, I walk back to campus, heading for my parents’ house. The door is unlocked. They’re waiting for me.

chapter twenty-six

I’m not sure exactly what I expect, but it’s not this. I was anticipating cops, but there aren’t any. Instead, once I make my way to the voices in my dad’s study, I walk into the room to see my parents, along with Stephanie and Ethan.

I stand in the doorway. They all look at me, stunned.

“Hi,” I say. Then, in the awkward silence that stretches between us, I add, “I’m home.”

My mother leaps off the couch and runs across the room to me. She holds me so tightly that I almost can’t breathe.

“Emily,” she says, “baby.” Then, over and over again, she says, “Baby baby baby. My baby.”

And here in this moment, I know that it’s true. I put my arms around her, waiting for her to calm down. My father comes over to fold me into another hug. The three of us stand there together, everyone shaking and crying, until we finally pull apart.

“Emily, do you know how worried we were? We thought we’d never see you again,” my dad says.

I look past him, at Ethan and Steph. Even though it’s a school day, both of them are in street clothes.

“Why would you think that?” I ask.

“Because of your note. We figured you’d run off with Del. We didn’t have any idea where you were …”

“I’m sorry,” I tell them. “I had to go.”

“Yeah, it was a nice note,” Steph says, her tone cautious and quiet. “Not exactly the most descriptive good-bye.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. Then, looking at the four of them, I realize that I’m in a room surrounded by people who love me. Beyond that, I quickly learn that they’re all people who know about the baby. In my absence—they felt they had no other choice—Steph and Ethan have filled in all the blanks for my parents. I know there will be plenty of discussion later on, but for now, my mom and dad are nothing but relieved to see me. Looking around at all of them, it becomes clear: this is love.

So I tell them where we went. I tell them that I saw Emily. “I had to know she was all right,” I say. “I had to know she was loved and safe. Otherwise … I don’t know. So when Del showed up and said that he’d found her, I just—”

“Had to go,” Ethan finishes.

“Yes,” I say. I glance down at his arm. He’s wearing the watch that Stephanie and his mother gave him. Some things, I realize, are not going to change.

Once Stephanie and Ethan have both hugged me, once we’ve talked some more and everyone is slightly more calm, my father says, “Well, you two, I suppose you ought to get back to class where you belong.”

They both look at me, reluctant.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll be there soon.”

Once they’re gone, my father shuts the door behind him, and the three of us sit in the warm silence of the room. My mother and I are on the sofa, sitting close to each other, holding hands. Del’s red blanket rests at my side.

My dad leans against his desk. “We called the police, you know,” he says. “If you weren’t eighteen yet, you could have gotten in real trouble. But you left a note, and we
knew
you were with Del … we just didn’t know where.”

“I didn’t tell you everything,” I say.

Both of my parents pause. “What?” my mother asks. “What else is there to tell us?”

“I went to see Sandy Gray,” I say.

There is silence. It lasts for a long time. There is an underlying tone of something—call it terror—in my mother’s voice. “Did you speak to her?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t have to. I know who she is, and I know what you did.”

“Baby, you have to understand—”

“It’s okay, Mom. She has a good life, I have a good life … there’s no reason to go digging into the past.” I pause. “But there’s just one thing I want to know.”

My mom nods. “Okay. What is it?”

“Why did you do it? You were a widow. I didn’t belong to you. Why didn’t you take me back to her? Why didn’t you take me home?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, baby … I
did
take you back.” My mom swallows hard. “You were three. It was a few weeks after your father died, and I didn’t know what to do with you, but I knew where your mother lived. So we drove to her house together. It was pouring down rain—no wonder you’ve always been afraid of water. It was raining so hard that I could barely see the road, and I told you that I was taking you home, and you were crying. You said you didn’t want to leave me. I was the only mother you knew. And then we got there, and she lived—”

“In a trailer court,” I finish.

“Yes. How did you know that?”

“My dreams. I remember now. We watched her come home, and she didn’t look good, did she?”

My mom shakes her head. “No. She’d had a drug problem when she was married to your father. It was why they split up. She couldn’t handle the responsibility of a child, not as far as I knew. She couldn’t even take care of herself. She was a mess. And once we got there, once I saw her … Emily, you were my baby. As much as I knew it was the right thing to do, in my heart I couldn’t let you go. It was obvious she was still using, that her life was no life for a little girl to be living, and I just couldn’t do it.”

I don’t know how to tell her that I understand. So I don’t say anything. I stare at my hands. My father crosses the room, sits on the other side of me, and wraps his arms around the two of us. As we hold each other in near silence, I know this won’t be the last conversation we have about this, not by far. But for right now, it’s enough. What else is there to say? I’m home. We are all safe. That’s all that matters, at least in this moment.

And then, it seems, everything is over. For the time being, anyway. After we talk for a while longer, after I watch my father pick up the phone and call Del’s parents, letting them know what has happened, he sends me back to class.

Before I can go up to school, I have to put on my uniform. Stephanie is still in her room, getting dressed.

We stand alone in the quad, quiet.

Finally, Stephanie says, “I’m sorry, Emily.” She looks at the carpet. “I know I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you.”

“Right,” I say bitterly. “You’re such a sympathetic friend that you did everything possible to sabotage my relationship with Ethan.” I glare at her, pulling on my tights. “You were so jealous of me you couldn’t even see straight. Why don’t you just admit it?”

Her voice is soft. “Emily, he’s all I have.”

“He’s your brother!”

“Exactly! He’s my only brother, and lately I’ve felt like he’s the only person who really cares about me. My family has fallen apart. My own father barely sees his kids anymore. And then you swoop into his life, and he goes crazy for you … of course I was jealous. How could I not be? He’s the most precious thing in the world to me.”

I take a deep breath. I’m tired of fighting: with Del, with Stephanie, with anyone.

“Is he still mad at me?” I ask.

She gives me a blank look. “What do you think?”

“I honestly don’t know. He was pretty upset a few days ago. I mean, I kept a huge secret from him. I kept it from all of you.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Steph says. “I get it. I might have done the same thing in your position.”

“You might have?”

She nods. “I don’t know. Probably. I can’t imagine what it must have been like.”

I’m more than a little surprised by her reaction. I never expected that she would forgive me. But before I can say anything at all, she explains a little further.

“When I found the note, I knew you were with Del. I got
so
scared, Emily. Everybody knew he was bad news. We didn’t know if he’d taken you, if you’d gone with him willingly—we didn’t know anything.”

I take a step closer to her. I have known this girl since we were twelve years old, both of us still in braces. We’ve had a thousand sleepovers together as roommates and best friends. We’ve seen the worst of each other, over and over again. And I love her so much, regardless of anything. After all, we’re all in it together here. All of us boarding students, alone in the world, our parents off living their lives with only an occasional thought of their own children. Now, more than ever, it seems sickening. We don’t belong to anybody, do we? How can I possibly hold a grudge, when she and I have lived such similar lives, when you really get down to the heart of the matter?

I hug her. She feels so familiar, so warm. We stand in my room and cry together. After a few moments, I pull away and say, “I’m sorry things have changed so much between us. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you know.”

She nods. “I know. Neither did I. And … I’m sorry, too. For telling you what to do with Ethan, for breaking his watch … for everything. I was awful.”

I nod. “Yes. You were.”

“ …”

“ …”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” she says. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Me, neither.”

She reaches out again, like she wants to touch me. But at the last moment she lets her arm slip back to her side. We stand there looking at each other.

“You never answered my question,” I say.

“About what?”

“About Ethan. Is he still angry with me?”

“He’s upset,” she says. “It was a big secret to keep. But come on, Em—you know him almost as well as I do. Ethan can’t stay mad at someone to save his life.” She pauses. Then she almost giggles. “Well, except maybe Del. I think he’ll be holding a grudge against him for quite a while.”

“He shouldn’t blame Del,” I say. “Del was just doing the only thing he knows how to do.”

Steph shrugs. “Well, he’s gone now. That’s good.”

I nod.

“And Ethan will forgive you.”

“Steph?”

“Yes?”

“What about us?”

“What do you mean,
us
?”

“I mean you and me,” I tell her. “Everything is different.” I look around the room, so warm and familiar, and I know that it will not last. Things are changing. There’s nothing we can do.

“We’re still friends,” she says. “Aren’t we?”

“Yes.” Then, thinking out loud, I say, “School will be over soon.”

“We’ll keep in touch.” She hesitates. “Right?”

I try to smile. “Of course.” But we both know it isn’t true.

I’ve finished getting dressed. I can’t believe I’m going to go back up to school, as though nothing ever happened. And then it occurs to me—

“Steph?”

“What?”

“Did you tell everyone? About the baby?”

She gives me a long, hard look. Then she takes her thumb and index finger, zips them across her lips, locks them shut, and tosses an invisible key out the window.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“It’s okay.” She pauses. “There’s something else, Emily. Something came for you yesterday.” She goes into her room, returns with an unopened letter. It’s from Renee.

17 April

mild and sunny

2:30 afternoon

stuck in boring study hall

Emily,

I called Madeline . She is in West Virginia like we thought . I caught her after school one day and we talked for a long time. She goes by Mazzie Moon now, not Madeline Moon-Park—tha
t
’s why it was so hard for us to find her. And i
t
’s funny … we did
n
’t talk about her mother, or anything that happened. Just how sh
e
’s doing and what sh
e
’s been up to. Sh
e
’s different now. Just from her voice, I can tell sh
e
’s been through so much.

I am going to Yale this summer. Madelin
e
’s roommate, a girl named Katie Kitrell, is also going. Guess what I did? I put her down as my roommate choice at Yale. She wo
n
’t know who I am, or that I know Madeline, but I feel like it will be a way for me to watch over Madeline . I just want to be close to her, even if i
t
’s only through another person.

How are your nightmares? Are they calming down? Have you heard from Del yet?