Linn nodded slowly. “You need to tell her the truth, you know.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“No, it’s not easy for me to say,” Linn refuted. “I’m just telling you that these things come out eventually. And it ain’t pretty when it happens.”
It was true, especially in this case. Paula attempted to rub the tension out of her neck. “Sooner rather than later this time.” She met Linn’s frank gaze. “They’re hiring a private investigator this week.”
“You should tell them before they find out on their own.”
“How can I tell them I knew who Faith was and kept it from them?” Even now Paula cringed to think of it. Deb and Steve respected her and thought the best of her. Yet she had the answer they longed for, and she was keeping it from them for her own selfish reasons.
“Maybe I could just talk to Louise and get her to promise not to talk about it with anyone.”
Linn shook her head.
“You don’t understand what’s at stake.” Paula shoved her chair back and took her plate to the sink. Linn was practically a child. She may have had a difficult life, but she couldn’t understand all the repercussions of a situation like this. She wasn’t willing to throw away her marriage for the sake of honesty. She loved David way too much for that.
She didn’t want to think about this anymore. It was like a massive snarl of tangled yarn—hopeless and frustrating. She should finish the copy on the story she’d interviewed for last week. It was nothing particularly exciting. Just a local author who’d won a prestigious award. It would numb her mind to her own problems, and that was exactly what she needed.
When she got to her room, she fished her tape recorder, notebook, and a pencil from her bag. She pushed Play and jotted down the interesting blurbs she thought she’d use. When it reached the end, she started to push the Stop button. But before she could, another sound began. A click and then the sound of singing. A child’s voice, all airy and sweet.
Faith.
In the background Paula could hear Deb and herself talking, but Faith’s voice was loud and clear as if she held the recorder to her mouth. She wasn’t chattering, as Paula had thought. She was singing “The Wheels on the Bus.”
That was her child singing. Hers and David’s. The little girl she’d carried inside her own womb.
And had tried to abort.
Paula punched the Stop button. Her hands were unsteady, as if she hadn’t eaten all day. And her legs felt quivery and weak, like the cooked noodles from dinner.
What do I do, God?
She couldn’t believe she was even asking, but who else could she ask? She knew God was there, at least. And He was listening. On the other hand, hadn’t she brought this on herself? Didn’t she deserve whatever she got? Why would God help her out of her own mess?
Do you care, God?
She had always thought worshiping God was for weak people who were incapable of handling life on their own. She’d always felt a certain disdain for those who needed a crutch to get through life. But now she’d take a crutch if she could get one. She was clearly limping through life.
“Forgive me, God. I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears streamed down her face. “I’ve needed You all my life and didn’t see it.” She remembered all the times she repeated the “sinner’s prayer” silently in Sunday school and Vacation Bible School. But she hadn’t meant it then. She only followed along because it’s what the teachers thought she should do.
Oh, God, I do believe in You. I know Jesus Christ, Your Son, came to die in my place. I’ve known it since I was a little girl, and yet I’ve denied You. I’m sorry. Help me change. Help me.
Where had she gone so wrong? Why, when she’d practically been born in the church nursery, had she left the path her parents had tried to set for her? Her sisters had never strayed from the course.
She lay facedown on the bed. When had she decided she would take a different path? How had she gone so far from where she belonged?
It must have happened slowly, because she couldn’t remember ever making the choice. Only one bad decision at a time. And now those decisions had stacked up like so many bags of garbage.
How do I fix it, God?
Linn had made it seem so simple, but was it really as simple as telling the truth no matter what?
Paula suddenly remembered a Vacation Bible School she attended when she was ten or eleven. The theme was camping or something, because she remembered the kids were all spread out in sleeping bags in the church yard with a fake campfire in the center. Mrs. Young had been talking about the Ten Commandments all week, and she compared them to the guardrail above Jackson Lake’s dam. “Those rules aren’t there to cheat you out of fun. They’re there to keep you safe,” she said.
Why had it taken Paula so long to believe it? Lying about the abortion had only made a mess of things and caused tremendous pain. Yet the thought of telling David still scared her to the point of trembling.
Help me, God. I don’t want to lose him. I love him so much, but I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for what I’ve done.
She wished God would magically take her fears away. That He’d make her do what was right, just like Linn was doing. But maybe she wasn’t half the person Linn was.
She knew now that she’d have to tell the Morgans too. They would find out eventually anyway, and she’d rather they hear it from her. She wiped her eyes and rested her head in the cradle of her arms. She didn’t know how she was going to get through it or how she was going to say it, but they deserved to know the truth. At least most of it.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Paula paused on the Morgans’ doorstep, remembering the first time she’d come to their home. She’d been ready to get a big scoop, to put her name on the map at WMAQ. Now it hit her hard that there were people behind each scoop. Real people, real lives, real pain.
She was about to tell the Morgans what had happened to their birth daughter, and it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.
Making a fist, she knocked on the door. How could she say the words? How did someone tell a mother and father that their birth child had died without their knowledge? Would they want to talk to Louise? Would they hate the woman for what she’d done? Paula couldn’t even guess how they’d react.
The door swung open, and Deb greeted her with a warm smile. It made Paula feel like Judas must have felt after betraying Jesus to the authorities.
Steve shook her hand and led her into the living room while Deb put a cartoon on for Faith in the other room. Paula barely caught a glimpse of Faith as she passed.
She and Steve made small talk until Deb returned to take a seat on the sofa beside her husband.
“You said you wanted to talk with us about something important,” Steve said. “Did you find out what happened at the hospital?”
Paula wasn’t ready to delve right in. First she had a confession to make. She crossed her legs and tucked her feet to the side. “Before we get into that, I want to apologize, Deb.” She made herself meet Deb’s eyes. “When you came to the office last week, I—I lied to you.”
Deb shook her head. “About what?”
Paula was afraid to look at Steve. Looking at Deb wasn’t much easier. “When you asked me if I’d found out anything new, I said I hadn’t. But that wasn’t true.”
She saw hope flicker in Deb’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by something else: fear.
“What did you find out?” Steve clasped his wife’s hand tightly.
Paula had started this, and she had to finish. But, oh, what she’d give to change it all. “I met last week with a woman who worked in the NICU at the time of your child’s birth. She remembers everything quite well.”
Deb clutched Steve’s hand.
“She was working two jobs at the time to meet some financial obligations. Her second job was also at Chicago General. She assisted a doctor who performed abortions.”
She expected to be interrupted
, but the Morgans simply sat frozen, a horrible mixture of hope and dread stamped on their faces.
She wanted to ease their fears, but the truth was as bad as or worse than anything they were expecting. The most compassionate thing she could do was get to the point.
“Right before the nurse was scheduled to work in the NICU, there was a botched abortion. The nurse was instructed—”
“Wait,” Steve said. “What’s a botched abortion?”
“There are rare instances when babies survive an abortion,” Paula explained. “I found some articles online about it. Anyway, the nurse was instructed to get rid of the baby, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.”
“Get rid of it?” Deb asked.
Paula’s heart started some kind of syncopated rhythm that interfered with her breathing. “The doctor wanted her to—to kill the baby.”
Deb’s fingers spread across her lips.
“The nurse was terribly torn. She couldn’t afford to lose her job, yet what she held in her hands was so clearly a tiny baby. And the child was breathing on her own.”
“What did she do?” Steve’s voice was monotone and knowing.
“She sneaked the child downstairs to the NICU. She kept the baby wrapped in her scrub top so no one would see it. When she reached the NICU and the other nurses left, she placed the baby in an incubator and treated her as a patient. She didn’t know what she was going to do. Eventually a doctor or nurse would come in and discover the baby, and she knew she’d lose one or both jobs. But she couldn’t stand the thought of letting the infant die.”
Deb’s eyes glazed over.
Paula stared down at her own hands, laced together like an innocent schoolgirl’s. This was her baby she was talking about. Her child, whom she’d nearly destroyed. She blinked the thought away. She had to focus on the Morgans. This would be the most difficult moment of their lives, and it was her job to somehow soften the blow. The thought was almost enough to make her choke. This blow would come down like a sledgehammer, no matter how she delivered it.
She forced herself to continue. “In another incubator your birth child lay struggling for her life. As you know, the doctors expected that she wouldn’t make it. Deb, you were in surgery at the time.”
Deb gave a short nod.
“The nurse stabilized the baby she smuggled down to the NICU.”
Paula struggled to find the words. How could she explain to the Morgans that their baby had died that day? That they’d been cheated from holding her little body or telling her how much they loved her?
Paula again felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. “The rest of this is going to be very difficult to hear.”
Steve nodded. “Go on.”
Paula didn’t want to go on. She wanted to run from the room and never come back. But she owed the Morgans the truth. She lifted her face and met their eyes, looking back and forth from one to the other to assess their preparedness for the news they were about to hear.
“Shortly after the nurse stabilized the secret infant, your birth child stopped breathing.”
A soft moan tore from Deb’s mouth, and Steve wrapped her in his arms. His own face took on the numbness of someone who has just come through a trauma.
Paula put her hand on Deb’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”
They sat together, saying nothing, a triangle of pain. “She died?” Steve asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
Deb wept silently, and Steve held her like she was the most precious thing on earth.
Paula blinked until her vision cleared. “The nurse knew your birth child had no chance of survival. She knew you’d had a hysterectomy and wouldn’t be able to have any more children.”
“She switched the babies.” Steve met her eyes over the top of Deb’s head.
“Yes.” Paula wanted to add so much more. She wanted to tell them about Louise’s struggle to do the right thing. About her desperation to spare the Morgans from the pain of losing a child. But they weren’t ready to hear that yet. They just needed to grieve.
Paula pulled two tissues from her bag and handed one of them to Deb.
“What—what happened to our child?” Steve asked.
Deb burrowed her head into Steve’s chest, as if she didn’t want to hear the answer.
Paula forced herself to reply. “The nurse is a compassionate woman. She buried her in her backyard under a big oak tree.”
After a brief pause Deb wept openly. The sound of it raked Paula’s heart, making her feel completely helpless. There was nothing she could say to comfort them.
Steve’s eyes were fixed, his mouth set in a flat line. His numb horror was as bad as Deb’s weeping.
“I’m so sorry,” Paula said again.
Deb clutched Steve’s shirt sleeve and dissolved into deep, raw sobs. Her naked pain tied knots inside Paula’s stomach.
The Morgans needed to be alone. They needed to grieve in peace. Paula stood, grabbing her bag. She touched Steve’s shoulder on her way out of the room and cast one last look at the couple before leaving.
She drove home in a fog as thick as Jell-O. Her heart was still at the Morgans’ house. It was all her fault. All her fault that they were grieving. That Faith had cerebral palsy. That Louise had carried three years of guilt.
Yet Paula hadn’t told the Morgans about her role in this nightmare. She braked at a red light and closed her eyes.
I’ve done it again. I’m hiding the truth. Why is telling the truth so hard for me? Why didn’t I just tell them I was the one who had the abortion?
The answer came quickly and clearly: Because you’re afraid David will find out. It was her greatest fear of all.
Do I have to go that far, God? Do I have to lose my husband because of one terrible choice?
She asked the question but didn’t really want to know the answer.
What should she do? Did the Morgans really need to know who Faith’s birth mother was?
You owe them the truth.
The thought was a punch in the stomach. And what about Faith? Paula had already denied the child once. Denied that she even was a child by trying to get rid of her. Now she’d denied Faith again by refusing to claim her.
What a failure she was. Paula, successful reporter and businesswoman. Confident and competent. Was it only a facade? Who was she really? The self-assured woman who could handle anything—or the woman who cowered from truth in a dark corner?
God, I’m tired of living this way. I’m tired of hiding secrets.
The Morgans deserved the truth, and Faith deserved to be acknowledged as her child, even if the Morgans chose not to tell her.
The light turned green and Paula accelerated. She had to tell them who she was, but now wasn’t the time. Not when they just found out about their birth child’s death. She would give them time to recover from that blow before she dealt the next one.
She only hoped her courage didn’t fail her in the meantime.
CHAPTER
THIRTY
Linn rang up the customer and handed her the change. After she marked the cup as a skinny, decaf latte, she slid it down toward Adam and picked up the rag to clean the counters.
She still hadn’t told him she lied to him, and this was her second day working with him after she made the decision to tell him the truth. She’d chickened out, and that’s all there was to it. Then today, when she promised herself she would do it, they had customer after customer file through the doors. Now it was nearly time to close, and she still hadn’t apologized.
Should she ask to talk after work? She’d have a thirty-minute wait for the bus, but maybe he’d want to go home and sleep since he had an early class too.
“Something wrong?” Adam tossed the words over his shoulder as he set the milk to steam.
Linn scrubbed at a spot of sticky flavoring. “No.”
Except I have to tell you I lied, and essentially have to own up to my feelings for you, all the while making sure you don’t hold out any hope for me because
I am so not right for you.
“You look like something’s on your mind.” He poured the milk into the cup and put a lid on it before passing it off to the woman.
Now’s the time, Linn. Just say it.
The bell above the door jingled as two men walked through. Linn glanced at the clock, feeling a mixture of relief and dismay. Only two minutes until closing.
The men only wanted plain coffee, so she rang them up and handed them the cups. “Help yourselves.”
Adam had already started the cleanup process, wiping down the steamer and espresso machines. The counters were clean, and she’d already cleaned the blender. She rinsed out the rag, wrung it out, and laid it on the faucet. When she eyed the clock again, she saw it was eleven o’clock. The store was empty of customers, so she went and flipped the lock on the front door and turned the sign to Closed.
Time was running out, and now she’d let two days go by.
Ask him. Just ask him and stop standing here like a lost little girl.
“Adam?”
He stopped wiping the steamer prong and looked at her from across the room. “Yeah?”
Her heart seemed to forget how to operate. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes when we’re finished here.”
He went back to wiping down the steamer. “What for?”
She bit the inside of her lip. Joe had already left, and she was acutely aware it was only the two of them. “I just—can we talk for a few minutes?”
One side of his lips turned up in a semblance of a smile. “Sure. I’m almost done.”
Linn went to the back room and removed her apron. After grabbing her coat, purse, and book bag, she went out to the front where Adam had seated himself at a corner table, away from the cold windows. He’d turned off the front lights to indicate they were closed.
She joined him, hanging her coat and purse on the chair back, scrambling for what she’d say and how she’d say it. Why hadn’t she given it more thought?